Hetty Wainthropp Investigates (1996–1998): Season 2, Episode 1 - Poison Pen - full transcript
Everyone in her village thinks nosy spinster Helga Allowby is sending noxious poison pen letters. Some recipients move out of the village, one man attempts suicide, and mistrust pervades the village. Helga wants Hetty to prove her innocence, so she comes undercover as Tara Hall, a visiting painter and asks Helga to send her similar letters to lower the villagers' suspicions. Meanwhile Robert and Geoffrey take a case on their own: checking out the fiancée of an older rich man. They set a trap for her with a handsome friend of Geoffrey's--will she or won't she? Hetty begins to think Helga IS the author of the letters, but there may be another candidate, even more unlikely.
Come on, Philby!
On her way, home!
Good boy.
Get in the car, please.
Come on, love,
it does no good.
You won't get away with it!
We've become too successful,
that's the problem.
You shouldn't have let 'em print
our address in the newspaper.
They didn't exactly ask permission.
We're going to have to choose
our cases carefully.
We never have to do that before.
... detective agency.
This one is not a case.
Right.
He only wants a photo
of you in black leather.
What?
That should be easy to satisfy.
Sorry, no callers at the house.
Put it in writing please and we'll
give it our attention in due course.
So where are we going
to get the black leather?
Oxfam shop?
All we've got to do, is take the ones
with the least work, for the best pay.
How like a man!
Well, I'm the accountant.
And we are a business.
I didn't go into this to make money.
Well, not just to make money.
- I did it for the...
- For the interest.
You like puzzles, Mrs Wainthropp.
So do I.
She likes tidying people up.
I don't like mess.
People whose life have got into a mess.
Ask for help,
it's right to help.
If you get the proper fee.
Now, this one here, look.
Decollage note paper with a crest.
A man of means who
can afford to pay.
I never thought that I have
to choose, reject people,
all these letters and phone calls
and more coming in all the time.
Oh! Second post.
Life is choice, Mrs Wainthropp.
Orh! Funny one here.
This is a poison pen letter.
It could be abusive, obscene.
It could accuse you of crimes you
couldn't prove you didn't commit.
It could threaten to kill you...
...or hurt your children.
That's sick!
Damn!
All right, I'm coming!
Wainthropp Detective Agency?
No callers at the house!
You got my letter, I see.
You better come in.
There's no truth in it, Mrs Barnsby.
None at all.
I hardly need to tell you that.
Obscene lies. Filth!
Just like all the others.
I don't know what to
think, Mr Winterton.
Copies seem to being sent everywhere,
it's very embarassing.
I can't talk to Tommy
about it in any depth.
It would take a trained social worker.
All he says is
"Everyone knows I'm his favourite".
Meanwhile, it seems better
to keep him out of school.
Why should you pay
for an investigation?
Because I'm the prime suspect.
Repressed middle-aged
spinster living alone
watching the village from
her upstairs window.
Classic case.
What are you repressing?
Disappointment mainly at a wasted life.
I was an accountant.
Good at my job.
But the firm was taken over
and I was made redundant.
I came back to the village
to look after my parents.
They died and left me
reasonably comfortable,
so I can well afford
to employ you.
How much were you thinking?
Six hundred.
Three hundred now and three
hundred when the job's done.
Have you had any of these
poison pen letters yourself?
Yes, some of them actually accusing
me of writing the letters.
But, they could have been from anyone.
Six hundred and no knowing
how long it will take?
With all the publicity,
we have a lot cases offered.
When you think what we're
in a position to charge...
- We'll accept the case.
- Eh?
It's not a question of money,
it's a question of need.
There'll be expenses on top,
but we're not extravagant.
I can't see why the police can't help.
You think they'll be
able to do something.
It's an impossible job.
Local postmark.
Means they were posted anywhere
in the Ackersley area.
Fingerprints.
Lots on the envelope,
none on the actual letters.
He or she wears gloves.
Paper? You can buy anywhere.
They have to licked the stamps.
There's something in spit.
DNA?
Have you any idea how much a DNA
test of the whole village would cost?
And we can't force people
to give samples.
It's not a custodial crime.
A nuisance, not a felony.
Nuisance?
There's folks left their homes.
I have to see a couple tomorrow,
about to move out to a flat in Preston.
There's marriages broken, there's
a woman on tablets for her nerves.
Can you prove she won't
be on tablets anyway?
Ah....
The Sergeant at Ackersley is doing his best,
but as you say, it's a low priority.
I say?!
And we haven't the time or the money.
Anyway, this isn't a case for forensics.
It's not logical, it's psychological.
Twisted motives.
Think laterally.
Don't get me wrong, Mrs Wainthropp.
I'm delighted you're taking it on,
but er, I tell you frankly.
You're on a hiding to nothing.
Aaah!
Six jobs on hold, all
paying better money.
I was thinking.
You and me might take on
one of the other cases.
Ourselves.
We'll have to tell her.
Not immediately.
I've never kept anything
from her, you know.
At least, not very often.
Nothing really important.
If you're a detective,
who is paying you?
I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to
reveal the name of my client.
You don't need to go to Shepton Fell
to find out who's writing the letters.
It's Miss Allowby.
Done, at £500 a week.
His name's Harold Skimmer.
We'll need transport.
Ah ah, not a car, Jeffrey.
Now once and for all,
we just can't afford.
It's an investment!
We could use the reward money.
That £15,000 has gone
into the building society
to top up my much depleted
redundancy money.
What's wrong with your friend's scooter?
We can't always rely on it.
She sometimes uses it.
Well find out if she'll sell it to us.
We might be able to afford that.
Right.
If you can get it cheap enough.
How do you know it's Miss Allowby?
Who else would it be?
She watches everyone.
Selling your house and
moving in to town?
It's a big step.
We haven't sold it yet.
What did the letters accuse you of doing?
Personal matters.
Private.
Lies!
They're late.
People don't think, I've got a
child to collect from school.
If they were all lies...
Miss Allowby wouldn't have seen anything
because there'll be nothing to see.
What she saw, she made something of it.
But there was nothing, okay?
We've only been here two years.
We wanted fresh air and
scenery for the children.
Then the letters.
Just insults at first.
Calling names.
Yuppies and such.
Then worse. Sick.
And at the end,
copies sent all over.
You can see everything
from that bloody window.
And the village people,
look at me, talking.
Quarter to three.
What kind of time is that?
If people is serious about buying a house,
you'd think they'd be punctual.
Here's a car.
I'll go walk on the streets
for a while and ask about.
It's all local.
Coconut ice, that's old village.
The mango surprise is new village.
It doesn't sell.
I remember the village
shop when I was a girl.
[indistinct] in a jar.
Oh gobstoppers, liquorice [indistinct]
and sherbet [indistinct].
Those days are gone.
We mustn't hanker.
Have you made a decision?
Oh, the fudge.
They're mixing then, do they,
the old and the new?
They mix...
...mixing in might be oversaying
in the situation.
Pound of fudge, you said?
Half a pound.
Gift-wrapped?
It is extra, but worth it.
Gift-wrapped? Huh huh.
I was just wondering who mainly
receives these poison pen letters.
Old or new villagers?
Oh yes?
You're from some bloody
newspaper, arent' you?
Pardon my French.
Do I look like a reporter?
They come in all sizes.
They've been here then,
asking questions?
We prefer not to talk to reporters.
It's a private matter between ourselves.
That will be £3.50.
Including the gift box
with mordern view.
I'm not a reporter.
Only came to see the village.
Mrs Harrow gave me a lift from Preston.
She told me about the letters.
Their business.
Call woman or something
like that, everyone know it.
Something like what?
Black lace came into it,
that's what I've heard.
And latex underwear.
And you believed it?
- No, oh no!
- Oh no.
The new villagers are yuppies.
People with jobs in town.
Paid off ... houses because
it's an area of scenic beauty.
And the old villagers?
Put up a living from traditional
village occupations.
Mostly farming I suppose.
Oh, bed and breakfast, gift shops,
jobbing, gardening, cleaning.
Living off welfare.
It's all sheep around here.
They're not labour intensive.
What's this?
Hague a la bou...
Ah ah, better not.
She sees these things on TV, but
they never seemed to come out right.
There's some scrag end not gone
off yet, at the back of the fridge.
With a hog pork.
You never get tired of hog pork.
It's safe and entirely free from additives.
Ah! She's home.
How are we gonna tell her?
Straight out.
Best way.
Have a good day, luv?
Aw, you look tired.
Shall I get you some Dubonnet?
We've got something to tell you.
Oh, can't it keep?
Mrs Harrow been bending
me ear all afternoon.
Straight out you said, Mr Wainthropp.
Straight out what?
It's not important really.
Yes, it is!
You... you remember the er...
...the decollage note paper
...th-th-the man of substantial means.
Oohf... Jeffrey and me er...
...are underemployed at the moment.
And with so many cases pending,
...there's an effect on cash flow.
They need our services, Mrs Wainthropp,
and they're not going to wait forever.
There's nothing for us to do here
while you're out on your own,
so we've taken on a case.
I'll have that Dubonnet now.
We'll come to the "decollage" gentleman
in a minute, one case at a time.
Think laterally, the DCI said.
I'm not sure I know
how to go about it.
Well you lie in your bath
with your eyes closed
and say the first thing that
comes into your head.
- Is that really it?
- Yeah.
We've no room here for
that kind of behaviour.
If you don't mind me
saying, Mrs Wainthropp,
why are you keeping
this case to yourself?
I'm not, we're discussing it!
Discussing is not the
same as doing it.
Mrs Harrow wouldn't have talked
freely in front of you, Jeffrey.
Do any of them talk?
No. None come to think of it.
Who's writing these letters?
Whose turn next?
Does everyone get them?
Can't tell.
They keep it to themselves until
it's public and then say it's all lies.
It may have something to do with
old villagers and new villagers.
New villagers mainly get them.
I've too little to go on.
And I don't know how to find out.
That's lateral thinking.
You have to get one yourself.
Get what?
If you were one of them,
persecuted like on the receiving end,
they might trust you.
You haven't even lay
down on the floor yet.
I'll have to be living in the
village though, wouldn't I?
Temporary.
You've heard.
Everybody's heard.
People said you write the letters.
How could I have known...
the details?
There are no details.
It's not true.
Nothing happened.
If you say so.
What am I to do?
Now, the decollage gentleman.
Ah. He's thinking of g-...
He's thinking of getting married.
It's a serious intention.
He wants us to check up
on the lady in question.
We don't do divorce.
They're not even married yet.
It will end in divorce.
Bound to if he's already checking
up on her before they're wed.
No, he saw a program on telly.
- Alright.
- They do it in America.
Hire a private eye to make sure
your intended is the faithful type.
How?
Well, the way it's usually done you.
Get someone to make themselves
agreeable like and if she responds...
You might call it ...
...entrapment.
In the nicest possible way.
Ya.
And which of you two clowns will
be making himself agreeable?
Anyway, you can't start immediately.
I shall need Jeffrey to go to
the reference library first.
Bed and breakfast?
Don't you remember me?
I came yesterday to look at the village.
I was fascinated, it's got such possibilities.
I thought you were one of them reporters.
A painter.
Tara Hall.
Perhaps you've heard of me.
No.
How surprising is that?
I've quite a reputation among
Royal Academy circles.
But perhaps you don't get to the Royal
Academy quite as often as you might like.
Painters come in summer.
We don't get winter painters.
Well I'm on a field trip.
Just a sketch pad, camera,
and change of undies.
I'm used to travelling rough.
Yes, rocks are my speciality.
There's a card in your window,
"The Old Forge".
The Old Forge never do
B and B in the winter.
They've got his mother with them.
Glick Cottage she might get
in if she don't mind mice.
I do mind mice.
Good morning.
Miss Allowby will know.
She knows everything.
This lady is a painter of rocks,
looking for B and B.
Tara Hall.
- Rocks?
- Yes.
Rocks!
- Yes.
- Yes!
I think I've heard of you.
Wasn't there something
in the Sunday papers?
Maybe.
Beryl Pacey might take her.
They've converted the pigeon loft.
That's right, they have.
Bed and breakfast starting this summer,
but they might take one early.
All their defences went up the
moment you came into the shop.
I've told you, they think
I write the letters.
Where did you get your artistic
patters? Very good.
Jeff looked it up in the
reference library.
The Beginner's Background to
Modern Art in ten easy lessons.
Through here to the bathroom and toilet.
- Oh yes.
- I hope you like a shower.
Shut up Bertie.
Shoo!
Shoo!
That's Bertie.
We couldn't bear to have him put down.
He keeps trying to get back in again.
Let me know if there's anything you need.
I will, thank you.
I'm sure you'll be very comfortable.
They're good people.
How long will it take before everyone
in the village knows I'm here?
Hmm, old village by this evening.
New village don't always notice.
I need them to trust me.
Unlikely.
I thought...
...if I was to get one of the letters.
Good.
Good!
I'll write it myself.
I brought some of that cheap
notepaper and a black pen.
- No.
- No?
It wouldn't be convincing.
You'll never bring yourself
to write the words.
I'll do it.
I'll do it now.
I'll have it in the post by half past four.
Just as well I can iron shirt.
Will you be taking that bit of cotton
wool off before we get there?
Hmm?
Oh!
Is it alright if I come in and sit?
You are that reporter.
Painter.
Of rocks. We know that now.
I didn't.
Then you must be a newcomer.
I wouldn't say that.
Five years.
Twenty more and you
may begin to call it that.
Twenty more years, George,
and you'll be dead.
We'll be the old villagers then.
I'm Janet Bransby.
Tara Hall.
I'll er, I'll put you on the grapevine
for one bit of news anyway, Janet,
cause I know it'll interest you.
John Winterton.
I've heard.
- This is...
- Mr Cullimore. We've met.
Who's John Winterton?
A teacher at the school where
Janet and the boys used to go.
Tried to end his life.
Coward's way out.
Good Lord decide when
it's your time to go.
We're famous for apple's cake and parking.
True test of the north.
Yeah. Yeah, you told us.
I'm a good catch, you see.
Those were Mother's very last words.
"You're a good catch, Harold,
for any young lady".
"You must be wary."
Yeah. You've said.
Every Friday they go out,
the four of them.
Girl's night.
Old school friends.
Right.
They're all married.
She's divorced.
Can Mr Wainthropp see her through
the window, do you think?
Club don't have windows, Mr Skimmer.
Is she enjoying herself
a little too much?
Dancing close to strangers and such.
Aye, I never thought when I first
saw her on the cosmetic's counter
that it would come to this.
They wouldn't let me in!
Members only.
Good morning.
There's a letter for you.
Nobody knows I'm here.
Didn't you leave a forwarding address?
I'm a free spirit, Mrs Pacey.
Anyway I didn't even know where
I was gonna be staying.
Local postmark.
This is vile.
There's been a mistake made.
It's addressed to you.
- I'll tear it up.
- No, no, no.
No, I'll keep it.
You don't seemed to be much surprised.
We are surprised.
Having me getting the letter, yes, but,
you seemed to know what kind
of thing it was before I opened it.
What you're asking is have
we ever had one like it?
It's part of what I'm asking, yes.
No we haven't. But we
know folks that have.
I went for a walk around
the village last night.
I went up to the church.
They told me what happened to
the head teacher at the school.
Huh. Nothing happened to him.
He did it himself.
He was never what you might
call a practical motorist.
His car ran out of petrol before the
carbon monoxide could kill him.
Doesn't seem to be much sympathy
for him in the village.
Oo, I suppose they believe
what was in the letter.
Was it true?
There is a history.
But it was long ago...
... and nothing more than
affectionate behaviour.
Here he's kept out of trouble and done
a good job, until the letter started.
Kept on... got worse.
Why do anything like
that is beyond me.
Sorry to shock you.
But I wanted you to know
what you're up against.
John Winterton's were horrible.
They terrified him, yet
inflamed his imagination.
He cracked under the stress
and did something rather stupid.
Then the last letter arrived.
Copies to the boy's mother,
the local paper, and the police.
You seemed to know a lot about him.
Knowing about people is my hobby.
Oh I wish I could draw.
I know art is suppose to be funny
these days, but not as funny as this.
Oh, I brought you something.
A map of the village...
on my own computer...
showing where everyone lives.
Who's old village, who's new village
and who, as far as I can tell,
has heard from poison pen.
These letters and the copies made,
just five so far...
...are they always the truth?
I can't say for all cases.
John Winterton was true.
And that Mrs Harrow...
...I had a feeling...
Gentleman callers in the afternoon.
Drive me into Preston will you?
I'll get a taxi back on expenses.
I don't know how to begin.
The way Mr Skimmer did it.
He was bringing his mother's
prescription in regularly,
just fell into conversation.
Is there any chance it could be true?
Why should I answer?
Because whoever sent those letters,
forced you out of the village.
and I'm trying to find out who it was.
There's every chance it could be true.
Now please get out of my way.
You knew what was going on.
I don't think you understand our
kind of marriage, Mrs Wainthropp.
Let's just say there may
be faults on both sides,
but we have two children
that we both loved.
And now if you'll excuse me.
This is a working lunch.
I'd like a glass of Dubonnet
and a Scotch Shake please.
Cat got your tongue?
My throat has gone dry.
What're you trying to say?
I had it all worked out before I came in.
Just give me a minute.
Oh, it's that thing.
I expect so.
What?
There's no need to be embarassed.
Young fellow me lad.
Not in these day and age.
They're over by the pharmacy.
Gossamer light.
A whole display unit.
Just pick up a packet and pay.
Nobody will think anything of it.
Thank you.
Wuh, it's been a long day.
You don't get much light to
do painting in the winter.
Enough.
Give me time to brood.
About rocks?
No, I've been brooding about
my poison pen letter.
I can't make it out.
My first full day in the village.
I thought I might talk to some
of the other folk about them.
You can talk if you like.
You'll find they won't.
See ya.
I don't think she recognizes
either of us in a romantic light.
She called me young fellow me lad.
She called me grandpa.
I'm afraid so, Jeffrey.
When it comes to entrapment,
you're too young and I'm too old.
We'll have to find somebody more suitable.
Harrows left the village.
Davenport's left the village.
Winterton took to suicide,
still in hospital.
Parmby.
Accident with farm machinery.
That leaves one.
The old villagers look
after their own, usually.
Get someone in the ...
and you are bound to it.
Well I had nobody to exert
that kind of pressure.
Put something in it,
won't you please.
Or the fire will go out.
Why did you stay?
Nowhere else to go.
Any road.
What's to hide.
I still get the letters, you know.
Poison pen?
It's a comfort in a way.
Nobody else writes to me.
What do they say?
Just general abuse.
But he puts a £10 note in the envelope.
He?
Well a woman wouldn't send me money.
Why don't you find yourself a bird
sanctuary somewhere down south.
That pigeon kept me awake
these past two hours.
Jim's just feeding him now, huh.
Oh, there's a...
Oh, so there is.
Two days in a row.
I find that interesting.
If that's Mr Skimmer again, I'm
lying down with a sick headache.
Wainthropp Detective Agency.
It's not Mr Skimmer.
I want to take a packed lunch today.
I want to ask around the village.
The poison pen seems to
have taken a fancy to me
and I want to know more about him.
Her.
Why her?
Always is, ain't it?
What do I say?
Buy something expensive
and tell her she meet you.
You could have done that.
When it came to the test,
he found he couldn't.
Has it got organic collagens
for after-shave moisturizing?
Full of them.
And a delicate, yet totally masculine
fragrance to enhance personal freshness.
While we're on the subject,
I think you're beautiful.
Would you like to come out with me?
Sorry, I'm already spoken for.
Oh.
Not a bag, I'll just stuff the er...
Wait.
Take your glasses off.
How about this evening?
I heard your husband had
an accident with a tractor.
Farm's a dangerous place when
your mind is distracted.
Spanner, please.
I hope you won't take it amiss,
but from what I've heard,
there was talk of fraud.
Talk's cheap.
There was nothing proved.
I can see it's not easy for you.
Oh, I'm not so badly off now.
We got the insurance and
I've sold the mill quota.
It was my husband trying
to hang on to the farm.
But she's still here.
We will be when I've sold it.
Sixty.
Seventy.
Eighty.
Ninety.
It's not enough, Mr Wainthropp.
A hundred?
Don't worry, Mr Skimmer.
They will be under our expert
surveillance the whole evening.
Afternoon.
Is Tara Hall staying here?
I'm her nephew.
Make it hundred and fifty.
The Sergeant at Ackersley had a letter
from our anonymous friend this morning.
Keep your grass off my patch.
They think like a landscape gardener.
Technical terminology?
Grass, the informer, patch,
the territory.
Right.
I've been hurt once already
in me life, Kev.
I've had a bad marriage.
And a breakup that's painful.
You can't blame me for wanting
somebody rich, but steady.
I don't.
If its only twenty nine, everybody
thinks you must be old at thirty.
But I am only 29, Kev.
I've got to put my glasses on,
we keeping bumping into people.
Bump! It adds to the excitement.
All me friends have settled
for boring marriages.
If you're a woman, you make your
own amusement in this town.
I'm sure I've seen those two before.
What could they be doing
in a place like this?
Selling drugs, probably.
They look the criminal type.
The trouble is,
my mother doesn't understand me.
This job you do,
stock control, you said,
in a cardboard box factory.
Aye?
How could you possibly afford to
spend so much money taking me out?
If we had proper transport,
we'd be dry.
Oh, go away you loathsome
bird and stop distracting me.
Oh!
I'm too old for this game.
It's logic I need.
I think I missed something.
I've been doing some lateral thinking.
It's murder getting up.
You were five months pregnant
and you have nobody
to exert pressure and make
the father marry ye.
I didn't really liked him much anyway.
So what were you gonna do?
She's a witch.
She knows ways.
How to get rid of a baby.
With herbs and such.
And when the letter arrived
and all those copies...
Well, everybody knew, so I thought
I might as well have it.
Thank you, Mandy.
At first, I thought it was to do
with old and new villagers.
No, it won't.
Both get letters.
Then I realized, it's naught
to do with poison pen either.
Not in the usual sense.
Explain, please.
The letters most people get in the
beginning are just a smoke screen.
All lies.
But the final letters hit the truth.
And they get results.
Tom Parmby's death was an accident.
Easy to arrange with a tractor.
Better than going to prison.
And they collected the insurance.
And what's the result for Mandy?
She didn't get rid of the child.
She gave birth to it.
And she's rearing it.
You've come a long
way in a short time.
I've come further since.
It's all about controlling people.
Somebody making herself
responsible for the whole village.
You think it's a woman?
I do.
Dishing out punishments.
Laying down the law.
And disguising it all
behind poison pen letters.
You never expected me
to solve this case.
Because even if I did,
I'll never be able to prove it.
And meanwhile, you've been
the one to call in a detective.
Proof of innocence, Miss Allowby.
You've decided I'm the poison pen?
Yes.
Very good!
Classic.
The person who calls in the detective
is really the criminal all the time.
Classic plot for a detective story.
Doesn't mean it isn't so.
Do you want to know the
real reason I came to you?
Yes, I do.
I knew weeks ago who the poison pen is,
but I couldn't prove my case either.
And since I'm already the prime suspect,
nobody would believe me.
But if the super grand sleuth
were to point the finger at the poison pen,
that's another matter.
You've been using me.
If you like.
I don't like it.
You've been making a fool
of me, Miss Allowby.
And I don't like it at all.
Oh, please!
Don't undervalue yourself.
You've come further in
three days on your own
than I did in three months
with a lot of help.
And you are right.
It is all about control.
Though I'm not the controller.
What help?
I gather facts.
Put them out over the Internet
on my computer.
I've friends there.
My only friends.
We consult, compare similar cases.
Reached a decision.
Now I need you to do what I can't do.
Confront the real poison
pen using my evidence.
Who?
Keep your grass off my patch.
That's police language, Mr Cullimore.
I don't expect you to understand.
Try me.
A village policeman knows everything
if he can read the signals.
I only used my knowledge when I needed
to and I kept my village in order.
Then, they retired me.
Took it all away and left me to rot.
There was still work to do,
you could help people.
Oh I do help people!
I help the school kids with their reading.
Keep the church all tidy, bell ringing,
help folks with their [indistinct]
when they grow [indistinct].
Helping folks my middle name.
And the letters?
- Was that helping?
- It was.
People need keeping in order,
they're happier.
We don't have a village policeman now.
There's still a job to do.
Those letters were vile.
The language.
I felt sick.
I knew what to write.
You feel no shame, do you?
I was doing my duty.
I always will.
You can't make an omelette
without breaking eggs.
I don't think you'll be making any more
omelettes in Shepton Fell, Mr Cullimore.
No.
Go away now, please.
Gave me the final check before I left.
Not bad for a week's work.
And the decollage gentleman?
There's been a bit of a problem.
We've not been paid.
We were too successful.
She gave Mr Skimmer the push
and Kevin's moved in with her.
Mr Skimmer says he may sue us.
Let's say it's left you feeling a bit...
...dirty.
Maybe a bit.
As if you've been used.
You could say that.
It's the same with me.
We shall have to choose our cases
more carefully from now on.
Go old boy.
Go on.
Home!
On her way, home!
Good boy.
Get in the car, please.
Come on, love,
it does no good.
You won't get away with it!
We've become too successful,
that's the problem.
You shouldn't have let 'em print
our address in the newspaper.
They didn't exactly ask permission.
We're going to have to choose
our cases carefully.
We never have to do that before.
... detective agency.
This one is not a case.
Right.
He only wants a photo
of you in black leather.
What?
That should be easy to satisfy.
Sorry, no callers at the house.
Put it in writing please and we'll
give it our attention in due course.
So where are we going
to get the black leather?
Oxfam shop?
All we've got to do, is take the ones
with the least work, for the best pay.
How like a man!
Well, I'm the accountant.
And we are a business.
I didn't go into this to make money.
Well, not just to make money.
- I did it for the...
- For the interest.
You like puzzles, Mrs Wainthropp.
So do I.
She likes tidying people up.
I don't like mess.
People whose life have got into a mess.
Ask for help,
it's right to help.
If you get the proper fee.
Now, this one here, look.
Decollage note paper with a crest.
A man of means who
can afford to pay.
I never thought that I have
to choose, reject people,
all these letters and phone calls
and more coming in all the time.
Oh! Second post.
Life is choice, Mrs Wainthropp.
Orh! Funny one here.
This is a poison pen letter.
It could be abusive, obscene.
It could accuse you of crimes you
couldn't prove you didn't commit.
It could threaten to kill you...
...or hurt your children.
That's sick!
Damn!
All right, I'm coming!
Wainthropp Detective Agency?
No callers at the house!
You got my letter, I see.
You better come in.
There's no truth in it, Mrs Barnsby.
None at all.
I hardly need to tell you that.
Obscene lies. Filth!
Just like all the others.
I don't know what to
think, Mr Winterton.
Copies seem to being sent everywhere,
it's very embarassing.
I can't talk to Tommy
about it in any depth.
It would take a trained social worker.
All he says is
"Everyone knows I'm his favourite".
Meanwhile, it seems better
to keep him out of school.
Why should you pay
for an investigation?
Because I'm the prime suspect.
Repressed middle-aged
spinster living alone
watching the village from
her upstairs window.
Classic case.
What are you repressing?
Disappointment mainly at a wasted life.
I was an accountant.
Good at my job.
But the firm was taken over
and I was made redundant.
I came back to the village
to look after my parents.
They died and left me
reasonably comfortable,
so I can well afford
to employ you.
How much were you thinking?
Six hundred.
Three hundred now and three
hundred when the job's done.
Have you had any of these
poison pen letters yourself?
Yes, some of them actually accusing
me of writing the letters.
But, they could have been from anyone.
Six hundred and no knowing
how long it will take?
With all the publicity,
we have a lot cases offered.
When you think what we're
in a position to charge...
- We'll accept the case.
- Eh?
It's not a question of money,
it's a question of need.
There'll be expenses on top,
but we're not extravagant.
I can't see why the police can't help.
You think they'll be
able to do something.
It's an impossible job.
Local postmark.
Means they were posted anywhere
in the Ackersley area.
Fingerprints.
Lots on the envelope,
none on the actual letters.
He or she wears gloves.
Paper? You can buy anywhere.
They have to licked the stamps.
There's something in spit.
DNA?
Have you any idea how much a DNA
test of the whole village would cost?
And we can't force people
to give samples.
It's not a custodial crime.
A nuisance, not a felony.
Nuisance?
There's folks left their homes.
I have to see a couple tomorrow,
about to move out to a flat in Preston.
There's marriages broken, there's
a woman on tablets for her nerves.
Can you prove she won't
be on tablets anyway?
Ah....
The Sergeant at Ackersley is doing his best,
but as you say, it's a low priority.
I say?!
And we haven't the time or the money.
Anyway, this isn't a case for forensics.
It's not logical, it's psychological.
Twisted motives.
Think laterally.
Don't get me wrong, Mrs Wainthropp.
I'm delighted you're taking it on,
but er, I tell you frankly.
You're on a hiding to nothing.
Aaah!
Six jobs on hold, all
paying better money.
I was thinking.
You and me might take on
one of the other cases.
Ourselves.
We'll have to tell her.
Not immediately.
I've never kept anything
from her, you know.
At least, not very often.
Nothing really important.
If you're a detective,
who is paying you?
I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to
reveal the name of my client.
You don't need to go to Shepton Fell
to find out who's writing the letters.
It's Miss Allowby.
Done, at £500 a week.
His name's Harold Skimmer.
We'll need transport.
Ah ah, not a car, Jeffrey.
Now once and for all,
we just can't afford.
It's an investment!
We could use the reward money.
That £15,000 has gone
into the building society
to top up my much depleted
redundancy money.
What's wrong with your friend's scooter?
We can't always rely on it.
She sometimes uses it.
Well find out if she'll sell it to us.
We might be able to afford that.
Right.
If you can get it cheap enough.
How do you know it's Miss Allowby?
Who else would it be?
She watches everyone.
Selling your house and
moving in to town?
It's a big step.
We haven't sold it yet.
What did the letters accuse you of doing?
Personal matters.
Private.
Lies!
They're late.
People don't think, I've got a
child to collect from school.
If they were all lies...
Miss Allowby wouldn't have seen anything
because there'll be nothing to see.
What she saw, she made something of it.
But there was nothing, okay?
We've only been here two years.
We wanted fresh air and
scenery for the children.
Then the letters.
Just insults at first.
Calling names.
Yuppies and such.
Then worse. Sick.
And at the end,
copies sent all over.
You can see everything
from that bloody window.
And the village people,
look at me, talking.
Quarter to three.
What kind of time is that?
If people is serious about buying a house,
you'd think they'd be punctual.
Here's a car.
I'll go walk on the streets
for a while and ask about.
It's all local.
Coconut ice, that's old village.
The mango surprise is new village.
It doesn't sell.
I remember the village
shop when I was a girl.
[indistinct] in a jar.
Oh gobstoppers, liquorice [indistinct]
and sherbet [indistinct].
Those days are gone.
We mustn't hanker.
Have you made a decision?
Oh, the fudge.
They're mixing then, do they,
the old and the new?
They mix...
...mixing in might be oversaying
in the situation.
Pound of fudge, you said?
Half a pound.
Gift-wrapped?
It is extra, but worth it.
Gift-wrapped? Huh huh.
I was just wondering who mainly
receives these poison pen letters.
Old or new villagers?
Oh yes?
You're from some bloody
newspaper, arent' you?
Pardon my French.
Do I look like a reporter?
They come in all sizes.
They've been here then,
asking questions?
We prefer not to talk to reporters.
It's a private matter between ourselves.
That will be £3.50.
Including the gift box
with mordern view.
I'm not a reporter.
Only came to see the village.
Mrs Harrow gave me a lift from Preston.
She told me about the letters.
Their business.
Call woman or something
like that, everyone know it.
Something like what?
Black lace came into it,
that's what I've heard.
And latex underwear.
And you believed it?
- No, oh no!
- Oh no.
The new villagers are yuppies.
People with jobs in town.
Paid off ... houses because
it's an area of scenic beauty.
And the old villagers?
Put up a living from traditional
village occupations.
Mostly farming I suppose.
Oh, bed and breakfast, gift shops,
jobbing, gardening, cleaning.
Living off welfare.
It's all sheep around here.
They're not labour intensive.
What's this?
Hague a la bou...
Ah ah, better not.
She sees these things on TV, but
they never seemed to come out right.
There's some scrag end not gone
off yet, at the back of the fridge.
With a hog pork.
You never get tired of hog pork.
It's safe and entirely free from additives.
Ah! She's home.
How are we gonna tell her?
Straight out.
Best way.
Have a good day, luv?
Aw, you look tired.
Shall I get you some Dubonnet?
We've got something to tell you.
Oh, can't it keep?
Mrs Harrow been bending
me ear all afternoon.
Straight out you said, Mr Wainthropp.
Straight out what?
It's not important really.
Yes, it is!
You... you remember the er...
...the decollage note paper
...th-th-the man of substantial means.
Oohf... Jeffrey and me er...
...are underemployed at the moment.
And with so many cases pending,
...there's an effect on cash flow.
They need our services, Mrs Wainthropp,
and they're not going to wait forever.
There's nothing for us to do here
while you're out on your own,
so we've taken on a case.
I'll have that Dubonnet now.
We'll come to the "decollage" gentleman
in a minute, one case at a time.
Think laterally, the DCI said.
I'm not sure I know
how to go about it.
Well you lie in your bath
with your eyes closed
and say the first thing that
comes into your head.
- Is that really it?
- Yeah.
We've no room here for
that kind of behaviour.
If you don't mind me
saying, Mrs Wainthropp,
why are you keeping
this case to yourself?
I'm not, we're discussing it!
Discussing is not the
same as doing it.
Mrs Harrow wouldn't have talked
freely in front of you, Jeffrey.
Do any of them talk?
No. None come to think of it.
Who's writing these letters?
Whose turn next?
Does everyone get them?
Can't tell.
They keep it to themselves until
it's public and then say it's all lies.
It may have something to do with
old villagers and new villagers.
New villagers mainly get them.
I've too little to go on.
And I don't know how to find out.
That's lateral thinking.
You have to get one yourself.
Get what?
If you were one of them,
persecuted like on the receiving end,
they might trust you.
You haven't even lay
down on the floor yet.
I'll have to be living in the
village though, wouldn't I?
Temporary.
You've heard.
Everybody's heard.
People said you write the letters.
How could I have known...
the details?
There are no details.
It's not true.
Nothing happened.
If you say so.
What am I to do?
Now, the decollage gentleman.
Ah. He's thinking of g-...
He's thinking of getting married.
It's a serious intention.
He wants us to check up
on the lady in question.
We don't do divorce.
They're not even married yet.
It will end in divorce.
Bound to if he's already checking
up on her before they're wed.
No, he saw a program on telly.
- Alright.
- They do it in America.
Hire a private eye to make sure
your intended is the faithful type.
How?
Well, the way it's usually done you.
Get someone to make themselves
agreeable like and if she responds...
You might call it ...
...entrapment.
In the nicest possible way.
Ya.
And which of you two clowns will
be making himself agreeable?
Anyway, you can't start immediately.
I shall need Jeffrey to go to
the reference library first.
Bed and breakfast?
Don't you remember me?
I came yesterday to look at the village.
I was fascinated, it's got such possibilities.
I thought you were one of them reporters.
A painter.
Tara Hall.
Perhaps you've heard of me.
No.
How surprising is that?
I've quite a reputation among
Royal Academy circles.
But perhaps you don't get to the Royal
Academy quite as often as you might like.
Painters come in summer.
We don't get winter painters.
Well I'm on a field trip.
Just a sketch pad, camera,
and change of undies.
I'm used to travelling rough.
Yes, rocks are my speciality.
There's a card in your window,
"The Old Forge".
The Old Forge never do
B and B in the winter.
They've got his mother with them.
Glick Cottage she might get
in if she don't mind mice.
I do mind mice.
Good morning.
Miss Allowby will know.
She knows everything.
This lady is a painter of rocks,
looking for B and B.
Tara Hall.
- Rocks?
- Yes.
Rocks!
- Yes.
- Yes!
I think I've heard of you.
Wasn't there something
in the Sunday papers?
Maybe.
Beryl Pacey might take her.
They've converted the pigeon loft.
That's right, they have.
Bed and breakfast starting this summer,
but they might take one early.
All their defences went up the
moment you came into the shop.
I've told you, they think
I write the letters.
Where did you get your artistic
patters? Very good.
Jeff looked it up in the
reference library.
The Beginner's Background to
Modern Art in ten easy lessons.
Through here to the bathroom and toilet.
- Oh yes.
- I hope you like a shower.
Shut up Bertie.
Shoo!
Shoo!
That's Bertie.
We couldn't bear to have him put down.
He keeps trying to get back in again.
Let me know if there's anything you need.
I will, thank you.
I'm sure you'll be very comfortable.
They're good people.
How long will it take before everyone
in the village knows I'm here?
Hmm, old village by this evening.
New village don't always notice.
I need them to trust me.
Unlikely.
I thought...
...if I was to get one of the letters.
Good.
Good!
I'll write it myself.
I brought some of that cheap
notepaper and a black pen.
- No.
- No?
It wouldn't be convincing.
You'll never bring yourself
to write the words.
I'll do it.
I'll do it now.
I'll have it in the post by half past four.
Just as well I can iron shirt.
Will you be taking that bit of cotton
wool off before we get there?
Hmm?
Oh!
Is it alright if I come in and sit?
You are that reporter.
Painter.
Of rocks. We know that now.
I didn't.
Then you must be a newcomer.
I wouldn't say that.
Five years.
Twenty more and you
may begin to call it that.
Twenty more years, George,
and you'll be dead.
We'll be the old villagers then.
I'm Janet Bransby.
Tara Hall.
I'll er, I'll put you on the grapevine
for one bit of news anyway, Janet,
cause I know it'll interest you.
John Winterton.
I've heard.
- This is...
- Mr Cullimore. We've met.
Who's John Winterton?
A teacher at the school where
Janet and the boys used to go.
Tried to end his life.
Coward's way out.
Good Lord decide when
it's your time to go.
We're famous for apple's cake and parking.
True test of the north.
Yeah. Yeah, you told us.
I'm a good catch, you see.
Those were Mother's very last words.
"You're a good catch, Harold,
for any young lady".
"You must be wary."
Yeah. You've said.
Every Friday they go out,
the four of them.
Girl's night.
Old school friends.
Right.
They're all married.
She's divorced.
Can Mr Wainthropp see her through
the window, do you think?
Club don't have windows, Mr Skimmer.
Is she enjoying herself
a little too much?
Dancing close to strangers and such.
Aye, I never thought when I first
saw her on the cosmetic's counter
that it would come to this.
They wouldn't let me in!
Members only.
Good morning.
There's a letter for you.
Nobody knows I'm here.
Didn't you leave a forwarding address?
I'm a free spirit, Mrs Pacey.
Anyway I didn't even know where
I was gonna be staying.
Local postmark.
This is vile.
There's been a mistake made.
It's addressed to you.
- I'll tear it up.
- No, no, no.
No, I'll keep it.
You don't seemed to be much surprised.
We are surprised.
Having me getting the letter, yes, but,
you seemed to know what kind
of thing it was before I opened it.
What you're asking is have
we ever had one like it?
It's part of what I'm asking, yes.
No we haven't. But we
know folks that have.
I went for a walk around
the village last night.
I went up to the church.
They told me what happened to
the head teacher at the school.
Huh. Nothing happened to him.
He did it himself.
He was never what you might
call a practical motorist.
His car ran out of petrol before the
carbon monoxide could kill him.
Doesn't seem to be much sympathy
for him in the village.
Oo, I suppose they believe
what was in the letter.
Was it true?
There is a history.
But it was long ago...
... and nothing more than
affectionate behaviour.
Here he's kept out of trouble and done
a good job, until the letter started.
Kept on... got worse.
Why do anything like
that is beyond me.
Sorry to shock you.
But I wanted you to know
what you're up against.
John Winterton's were horrible.
They terrified him, yet
inflamed his imagination.
He cracked under the stress
and did something rather stupid.
Then the last letter arrived.
Copies to the boy's mother,
the local paper, and the police.
You seemed to know a lot about him.
Knowing about people is my hobby.
Oh I wish I could draw.
I know art is suppose to be funny
these days, but not as funny as this.
Oh, I brought you something.
A map of the village...
on my own computer...
showing where everyone lives.
Who's old village, who's new village
and who, as far as I can tell,
has heard from poison pen.
These letters and the copies made,
just five so far...
...are they always the truth?
I can't say for all cases.
John Winterton was true.
And that Mrs Harrow...
...I had a feeling...
Gentleman callers in the afternoon.
Drive me into Preston will you?
I'll get a taxi back on expenses.
I don't know how to begin.
The way Mr Skimmer did it.
He was bringing his mother's
prescription in regularly,
just fell into conversation.
Is there any chance it could be true?
Why should I answer?
Because whoever sent those letters,
forced you out of the village.
and I'm trying to find out who it was.
There's every chance it could be true.
Now please get out of my way.
You knew what was going on.
I don't think you understand our
kind of marriage, Mrs Wainthropp.
Let's just say there may
be faults on both sides,
but we have two children
that we both loved.
And now if you'll excuse me.
This is a working lunch.
I'd like a glass of Dubonnet
and a Scotch Shake please.
Cat got your tongue?
My throat has gone dry.
What're you trying to say?
I had it all worked out before I came in.
Just give me a minute.
Oh, it's that thing.
I expect so.
What?
There's no need to be embarassed.
Young fellow me lad.
Not in these day and age.
They're over by the pharmacy.
Gossamer light.
A whole display unit.
Just pick up a packet and pay.
Nobody will think anything of it.
Thank you.
Wuh, it's been a long day.
You don't get much light to
do painting in the winter.
Enough.
Give me time to brood.
About rocks?
No, I've been brooding about
my poison pen letter.
I can't make it out.
My first full day in the village.
I thought I might talk to some
of the other folk about them.
You can talk if you like.
You'll find they won't.
See ya.
I don't think she recognizes
either of us in a romantic light.
She called me young fellow me lad.
She called me grandpa.
I'm afraid so, Jeffrey.
When it comes to entrapment,
you're too young and I'm too old.
We'll have to find somebody more suitable.
Harrows left the village.
Davenport's left the village.
Winterton took to suicide,
still in hospital.
Parmby.
Accident with farm machinery.
That leaves one.
The old villagers look
after their own, usually.
Get someone in the ...
and you are bound to it.
Well I had nobody to exert
that kind of pressure.
Put something in it,
won't you please.
Or the fire will go out.
Why did you stay?
Nowhere else to go.
Any road.
What's to hide.
I still get the letters, you know.
Poison pen?
It's a comfort in a way.
Nobody else writes to me.
What do they say?
Just general abuse.
But he puts a £10 note in the envelope.
He?
Well a woman wouldn't send me money.
Why don't you find yourself a bird
sanctuary somewhere down south.
That pigeon kept me awake
these past two hours.
Jim's just feeding him now, huh.
Oh, there's a...
Oh, so there is.
Two days in a row.
I find that interesting.
If that's Mr Skimmer again, I'm
lying down with a sick headache.
Wainthropp Detective Agency.
It's not Mr Skimmer.
I want to take a packed lunch today.
I want to ask around the village.
The poison pen seems to
have taken a fancy to me
and I want to know more about him.
Her.
Why her?
Always is, ain't it?
What do I say?
Buy something expensive
and tell her she meet you.
You could have done that.
When it came to the test,
he found he couldn't.
Has it got organic collagens
for after-shave moisturizing?
Full of them.
And a delicate, yet totally masculine
fragrance to enhance personal freshness.
While we're on the subject,
I think you're beautiful.
Would you like to come out with me?
Sorry, I'm already spoken for.
Oh.
Not a bag, I'll just stuff the er...
Wait.
Take your glasses off.
How about this evening?
I heard your husband had
an accident with a tractor.
Farm's a dangerous place when
your mind is distracted.
Spanner, please.
I hope you won't take it amiss,
but from what I've heard,
there was talk of fraud.
Talk's cheap.
There was nothing proved.
I can see it's not easy for you.
Oh, I'm not so badly off now.
We got the insurance and
I've sold the mill quota.
It was my husband trying
to hang on to the farm.
But she's still here.
We will be when I've sold it.
Sixty.
Seventy.
Eighty.
Ninety.
It's not enough, Mr Wainthropp.
A hundred?
Don't worry, Mr Skimmer.
They will be under our expert
surveillance the whole evening.
Afternoon.
Is Tara Hall staying here?
I'm her nephew.
Make it hundred and fifty.
The Sergeant at Ackersley had a letter
from our anonymous friend this morning.
Keep your grass off my patch.
They think like a landscape gardener.
Technical terminology?
Grass, the informer, patch,
the territory.
Right.
I've been hurt once already
in me life, Kev.
I've had a bad marriage.
And a breakup that's painful.
You can't blame me for wanting
somebody rich, but steady.
I don't.
If its only twenty nine, everybody
thinks you must be old at thirty.
But I am only 29, Kev.
I've got to put my glasses on,
we keeping bumping into people.
Bump! It adds to the excitement.
All me friends have settled
for boring marriages.
If you're a woman, you make your
own amusement in this town.
I'm sure I've seen those two before.
What could they be doing
in a place like this?
Selling drugs, probably.
They look the criminal type.
The trouble is,
my mother doesn't understand me.
This job you do,
stock control, you said,
in a cardboard box factory.
Aye?
How could you possibly afford to
spend so much money taking me out?
If we had proper transport,
we'd be dry.
Oh, go away you loathsome
bird and stop distracting me.
Oh!
I'm too old for this game.
It's logic I need.
I think I missed something.
I've been doing some lateral thinking.
It's murder getting up.
You were five months pregnant
and you have nobody
to exert pressure and make
the father marry ye.
I didn't really liked him much anyway.
So what were you gonna do?
She's a witch.
She knows ways.
How to get rid of a baby.
With herbs and such.
And when the letter arrived
and all those copies...
Well, everybody knew, so I thought
I might as well have it.
Thank you, Mandy.
At first, I thought it was to do
with old and new villagers.
No, it won't.
Both get letters.
Then I realized, it's naught
to do with poison pen either.
Not in the usual sense.
Explain, please.
The letters most people get in the
beginning are just a smoke screen.
All lies.
But the final letters hit the truth.
And they get results.
Tom Parmby's death was an accident.
Easy to arrange with a tractor.
Better than going to prison.
And they collected the insurance.
And what's the result for Mandy?
She didn't get rid of the child.
She gave birth to it.
And she's rearing it.
You've come a long
way in a short time.
I've come further since.
It's all about controlling people.
Somebody making herself
responsible for the whole village.
You think it's a woman?
I do.
Dishing out punishments.
Laying down the law.
And disguising it all
behind poison pen letters.
You never expected me
to solve this case.
Because even if I did,
I'll never be able to prove it.
And meanwhile, you've been
the one to call in a detective.
Proof of innocence, Miss Allowby.
You've decided I'm the poison pen?
Yes.
Very good!
Classic.
The person who calls in the detective
is really the criminal all the time.
Classic plot for a detective story.
Doesn't mean it isn't so.
Do you want to know the
real reason I came to you?
Yes, I do.
I knew weeks ago who the poison pen is,
but I couldn't prove my case either.
And since I'm already the prime suspect,
nobody would believe me.
But if the super grand sleuth
were to point the finger at the poison pen,
that's another matter.
You've been using me.
If you like.
I don't like it.
You've been making a fool
of me, Miss Allowby.
And I don't like it at all.
Oh, please!
Don't undervalue yourself.
You've come further in
three days on your own
than I did in three months
with a lot of help.
And you are right.
It is all about control.
Though I'm not the controller.
What help?
I gather facts.
Put them out over the Internet
on my computer.
I've friends there.
My only friends.
We consult, compare similar cases.
Reached a decision.
Now I need you to do what I can't do.
Confront the real poison
pen using my evidence.
Who?
Keep your grass off my patch.
That's police language, Mr Cullimore.
I don't expect you to understand.
Try me.
A village policeman knows everything
if he can read the signals.
I only used my knowledge when I needed
to and I kept my village in order.
Then, they retired me.
Took it all away and left me to rot.
There was still work to do,
you could help people.
Oh I do help people!
I help the school kids with their reading.
Keep the church all tidy, bell ringing,
help folks with their [indistinct]
when they grow [indistinct].
Helping folks my middle name.
And the letters?
- Was that helping?
- It was.
People need keeping in order,
they're happier.
We don't have a village policeman now.
There's still a job to do.
Those letters were vile.
The language.
I felt sick.
I knew what to write.
You feel no shame, do you?
I was doing my duty.
I always will.
You can't make an omelette
without breaking eggs.
I don't think you'll be making any more
omelettes in Shepton Fell, Mr Cullimore.
No.
Go away now, please.
Gave me the final check before I left.
Not bad for a week's work.
And the decollage gentleman?
There's been a bit of a problem.
We've not been paid.
We were too successful.
She gave Mr Skimmer the push
and Kevin's moved in with her.
Mr Skimmer says he may sue us.
Let's say it's left you feeling a bit...
...dirty.
Maybe a bit.
As if you've been used.
You could say that.
It's the same with me.
We shall have to choose our cases
more carefully from now on.
Go old boy.
Go on.
Home!