Jonathan Creek (1997–2016): Season 3, Episode 1 - The Curious Tale of Mr Spearfish - full transcript

Anyone in residence?

You're early.
We haven't got to be there till eight.

Oh, yeah. We've got ages.

Can I put a couple of bits
through your washing machine?

- Mine conked out this morning.
- Whatever.

Can we not make it a late one?

It's tomorrow morning,
that big court case with His Nibs.

- Oh, that's right.
- The press will have a field day,

Adam Klaus up
for propositioning a waitress with a kipper.

I've got to be there
as a possible character witness, so...

Only I know what you're like at dinner parties -



blethering away
till three o'clock in the... My God!

- What the hell's all this?
- Just a few odds and sods.

Odds and sods?!
It's like the relief effort to an earthquake zone!

- Are you planning a prison breakout?
- So I know what goes with what.

Now, don't upset my system.
It's a Zen thing for me, washing.

- I have to be in the mood.
- You'll do this by seven?

Are you mad?
I thought you could finish it tomorrow.

Oh, yes. I've got Widow Twanky staying.
It'll be no sweat.

What are their names again,
these friends of yours?

Saul and Sadie Beetroot-Stain?

Bechtenstein.
I met her last year at this press thing.

Ever since, she's been badgering me to visit.

I'm convinced she thinks I'm Jewish.

- What do you mean?
- What do you mean?



What do you mean, THINKS you're Jewish?

THINKS I'm Jewish.
Every time we meet I get this,

"What are you doing
for Yom Kippur?" Stuff like that.

- What?
- Nothing. No.

She knows about me, though?

- She knows I'm not kosher?
- Oh, yeah.

- 'Cause if you've been telling fibs...
- Oh, don't be ridiculous.

Dr Creek, we meet at last!
Such a pleasure. I've heard all about you.

Maddy, darling!

- Hello. I'm Madeline. Hi.
- Jonathan, nice to meet you.

My husband Saul, who's in insurance.
Come and meet our new neighbours.

Alice and Lenny Spearfish. They've
just bought Tierra Santa on the corner...

So, um... what do you think
of my husband's yarmulke?

- He made it himself.
- Mmm! Exquisite!

.. ly decorated,

with all the lovely stitching.

You ever need a seamstress,
I'm telling you. But then,

you'll be quite handy
with a needle yourself, Jonathan.

You're not the first gynaecologist
to use that spoon,

but it's always an honour.

Confidentially, I wouldn't mind a word later
about one or two matters.

- Yes, actually...
- So, Lenny, what business are you in?

- You seem to have done well for yourself.
- Yes, we... came into some money,

- totally by chance.
- .. would be one way of looking at it.

- Maybe chance had nothing to do with it.
- Well... It just happened that way.

Come on, Alice.
We can share the secret of our success.

Why shouldn't they know the truth -
that I sold my soul to the Devil.

Sorry. I suppose
that's a bit of a conversation stopper.

Whoops. "What kind
of a cranky tale's he going to spin us?"

Well, no more or less than the truth,
I can promise you.

Fine.
If you want to cut me off, that's great.

You wouldn't think, two months ago,
life had anything left to offer us.

Three years of marriage, we were on the ropes -
overdrafts, negative equity...

Every day, we just seemed to sink further down.

It came to a point, one Monday,
a few quid in my pocket from that giro,

I don't know... I just had to wash away the pain.

Coming home afterwards,
well, I'd heard about this place,

the weird kind of stuff they sold.

I don't know...
Today, something made me go inside.

He asked me what I was seeking.
Solutions? Revelations?

Would I like to know
what the future held in store?

I said I had no future, that was the problem.

There was nothing in there I wanted to buy.

He said, in that case,
maybe I had something to sell.

What can I say?

It was like some kind of adrenalin surge.

The ultimate escape.
The ultimate "screw you" to God and the world.

I gave him his commission.

Of course, it was all a con.
How could I sell my soul to Satan?

I didn't believe in souls,
didn't believe in Satan...

until the next day.

I'd finally got round to having a go
at this dead tree in the garden.

Alice!

To cut a long story short,
it was over 200 years old.

I can formally declare, having taken evidence...

They held a coroner's inquest
and declared it treasure trove.

Overnight, we were ?1.3 million richer.

Yeah, that'd be great if you could do that...

The day we moved out, Alice found the document.

Of course, when I told her what it was,
she wasn't best pleased.

God and the Bible she took very seriously.

Don't worry about it. It's...

Me? By this time, I didn't know what to believe.

The Fire Brigade's first thought
was a short circuit somewhere.

The loss adjuster said no.

The pattern of spread
pointed to it starting in the hall,

in one of those tea chests,
maybe, of old papers.

Caused by?

No one was prepared to say.

Either way, the evidence was gone forever.

Along with everything else. Our entire past.

Our whole life together up to that point.

Burnt to hell.

Well, that was another evening of fun and frolics.

"This is my next-door neighbour.
He's in league with Lucifer. "

Followed by a private consultation
about her intimate marital problems.

She asked about caps moving.
I thought she meant yarmulkes.

I said, "Have you tried toupee tape?"

Why did you tell her I was a doctor?
You've got no scruples.

- Truth and fiction, there's no...
- Will you shut up for a sec?

For goodness' sake, Alice.
Our whole life's a gamble.

Stop being such a misery.
The night's young. We're still young.

I'm not in the mood
for blowing a fortune on a little silver ball.

You can go on your own!

Can we drop you anywhere?

He's always had the bug.
Of course, now he's got the money.

He'll find some club,
casino somewhere, and that'll be that.

He's not what you think he is.

That's not the real Lenny,
the man I married. It's just...

You're talking about temptations
beyond anything he's ever experienced.

Somehow... I don't know...

We've got to find a way
to deal with all this or...

Well, it was nice meeting you both.

So, when you arrived
with his breakfast, Miss Cretiss,

at 8.15 in the morning,

your exact words,
through the hotel room door were -

and let's be quite clear about this -

- "Good morning. Room service. "
- That's correct.

Not "Good morning. I've come to commit
an unnatural act with a grilled herring,"

but, "Good morning. Room service. "

- Correct.
- Despite which, when he opened the door,

wearing what you described
as a "nancy kimono bed jacket",

he made what was to be the first
of several improper suggestions.

- Yes, he pointed across the room.
- With his finger?

At that stage, just with his finger,

and said, "Let's have it
over there on the table. "

"Let's have it over there on the table. "

And as you crossed the room,

you noticed he had now let his bed jacket
fall open with, in your words,

"his wedding tackle standing to attention".

Bearing in mind it was over my shoulder.

- Pardon me?
- I was facing the other way,

but I could see it over my shoulder in the mirror.

Quite so, Miss Cretiss.

Can you believe the mendacity, Jonathan,
the sheer vindictiveness of some people?

Here, do you want a job?

It's no exaggeration to say
it's the assassination of Kennedy again.

Actually, it is an exaggeration.

Huh! It's not enough our dates
across the Channel are in serious trouble.

Did you see the figures for Paris?

- It's a disaster.
- Sorry?

Our Tour de France
will be one big oven-ready turkey

if tickets don't start moving
in the next seven days,

while I'm stuck here,
facing a possible order for six-figure damages.

You just can't see these people
for the parasites they are.

She'll be on a healthy commission.
How much have you signed away now?

An adventurous portfolio,
balancing medium- to high-risk investments.

She said, in 12 months,
we could double our stake.

Lenny... It's scaring me, all this.

I wondered if we should talk
to someone... from the church.

About what? Look, I'm on a roll now
for the first time in my life.

- I can't explain it. I don't want to.
- You'll have to account for this one day.

One day. You live for one day,
you miss out on now.

Now is all we have, Alice.
You've got to learn to make the most of it.

Place your bets, please.

Three, red.

Look, Troy... I paid what I owed.

Everything.

We're even!

Do you think so?

This isn't real!
I don't believe you're saying this!

- You paid for some woman...?!
- Look, I'm sorry. It happened.

Business transaction. I was barely conscious.

You're missing the point.
This guy - her pimp, whatever he was -

fired two bullets into my chest
and they bounced off!

No blanks, no bullet-proof vest.

It's all happening to me, Alice.
It's like I can't lose anymore.

I have the power to do anything I want.

Look, at no time did I incite her
to have sex with a fish.

Like I said, she dropped the tray on my foot.
She said, "There goes your kipper. "

- I said, "Oh, f... "
- Yes?

"Forget the kipper. "

"Sod the kipper. " "Blow the kipp... "

I- I don't know. I can't remember.

Mr Klaus, isn't the truth that you were aroused
by this woman from the moment she walked in?

I was not aroused. I just had a tense night.

As any man knows,
sometimes it's like that in the morning.

- Like waking up with a stiff neck.
- Yes, exactly!

- You been in yet?
- No. What are you doing here?

Do you remember Dr Faustus and his missus?

I just got a call from her.
It's all getting weirder by the second.

Mr Klaus, do you deny
that when Miss Cretiss cried out in shock,

your response was to perform, in front of her,
an act of gross indecency with a Union Jack?

No!

I just grabbed for something to cover myself up.

- There were some props on the chair, and I...
- Mr Klaus! Yes or no?

When this poor lady screamed,
did you or did you not hang a flag on it?

I can't go tonight. I've got to go
to the theatre, assuming he gets out alive.

OK. I'll leg it, then.

- Oh, anything I should look out for?
- See if those bullet marks wash off.

Of course, the danger
is your imagination starts filling in the gaps.

Like this contract
with the Devil bursting into flames.

Maybe something else
in that tea chest was combustible.

It was just old papers from the loft,
letters and diaries of my mum's,

stuff of my dad's - both deceased,
but you know how you hang onto things.

- I hate to think what they'd have made of this.
- Religious people?

Very proper and correct.

She'd worked in service to dukes and lords.
She was very conscious of her place.

He was a devout Catholic. Brought me up
with a very clear idea of good and evil.

It's the same in your religion.
We both worship the God of Abraham.

Well, yeah... No, sorry. Actually, I'm not...

Anyway, this prostitute thing...

I rang up the police, and they had him
straight down there to identify the body.

It seems she'd been double-crossing this bloke
she worked for, who's a bit of a psycho.

He just let her have it.

They said if he finds out
Lenny's still alive as a witness...

If you're going to put all this in your book,
maybe you should inspect the evidence.

Even the police surgeon was baffled.

No, question.
They'd gone through my shirt and burnt the skin,

so why didn't they penetrate,
when bullets from the same gun...?

You got lucky once, friend.

Twice? I don't think so.

Yeah?

- Come on, then.
- Lenny!

See, look.

He can't.

Come on! What's stopping you?

Come on, you bastard! Fire!

He's dead.

He couldn't have been having a fit?
What colour was his face?

The only thing I thought I saw
was like a little red birthmark on his cheek

that was there one minute,
and the next second seemed to have gone.

It's so unreal, this whole thing,
like something out of a Frank Capra movie.

There were no entry wounds
anywhere on the body?

No poison darts tipped
with the venom of an Afghan swamp adder?

No doubt, if they find anything,
we'll be the first...

- What are you doing?
- What?

- You're not going to iron that?!
- Oh, I suppose you just put it on as it is,

all wrinkled to kingdom come.

Take no pride in your laundry of any kind?

So, come on. A man sells his soul to the Devil,
then he wakes up and he's a millionaire.

Bullets can't harm him, and a guy that tries
to kill him just crumples to the floor.

What if... Lenny Spearfish
pulls off this amazing jewel robbery.

To explain away his new-found wealth
pretends to dig it up in the back garden.

All this diabolism stuff is just to distract
his wife, who takes that stuff seriously.

Plus, it gives him an excuse
to start enjoying himself again -

the gambling and sleeping around.

The other guy is in on it,
making it all look real,

except he cocks up the bit by the pool
and accidentally cracks his head open.

Amazing. I am very impressed.

I never thought that stain would come out,
but a little bit of Biotex...

Shame you can't starch your tongue, isn't it?

Try as I might, I don't see Lenny Spearfish
as this machiavellian trickster.

A good trick needs invention.
It needs precision. It needs expertise.

What else does it need, just as important?

It needs an audience, otherwise what's the point?

Why make a parchment miraculously catch fire
if there's no one to see it?

Those bullets bouncing off -
who's he trying to impress?

The girl's dead, the killer's just scarpered.
The only person spooked was Lenny himself.

Hang on a sec. If we're saying
they're not tricks, what are we saying?

What?

It's what you said
about being in a Frank Capra movie.

A little light came on suddenly,
just for a second, then fizzled out again.

Very irritating.

Do you know what? I'm wondering
if everyone's right. Maybe I am Jewish.

There's no telling
what's lurking in my family tree.

I never knew
if my father had a name, let alone a foreskin.

So, come on. Sunday morning shoppers
and all that. No time to hang about.

Are these notes accurate,
what she said yesterday?

Of course they're accurate.
God! I'm in agony here, Jonathan!

What did you put in this bra,
quick-drying cement?

Is this the latest funky idea? A crime writer
and a gynaecologist team up to solve murders?

What are you looking for?

She said she saw a little red birthmark
on his face that suddenly disappeared.

That ring any bells with you?

Ooh, nice watch. Rolex?

Do you want to hear
something you don't want to hear?

- Um...
- That woman who came here,

talked him into all those stocks -
she's coming back this morning.

Well, I got lawyers to check her out
on all the professional registers.

Apparently, her name's not listed anywhere.

Anthea Spacey does not exist.

So, come on, Lenny.
How much of all this do you believe?

The Devil has granted you power and prosperity
in exchange for your immortal soul

We're here. That guy
who tried to kill me is lying in the morgue.

That's not what I asked.

You should ask my wife.
She seems pretty convinced.

God-fearing family. Good Catholic parents.

My tribe were all Londoners.
Didn't believe in anything.

Part of me still doesn't.

All I know is that something's happened
that's turned my life around,

and I don't knock it and I don't question it.

If you'll excuse me,
I think that's my business adviser just arrived.

Don't ask me
to explain this, Mr Spearfish. I can't.

One expects
a little upward movement, a little down,

but early indications across the board are...
well, I think healthy barely covers it.

Would you like to know how much money
you've made in the last 24 hours?

This is impossible, surely?

Leaky pen.
Is there somewhere I could just, er...?

Then I'll try to make some sense of it for you.

- When she comes out, keep her talking.
- About what? Where are you off to?

Going for a shufti round her car.
See if I can find out who she really is.

Yes?

Let's just say it's not getting any easier.
I'm running out of ideas, but... we'll see.

Right. Bye.

Oh... There it is.

You took your time.
Have you never driven an automatic before?

I've never driven a car before!
I didn't want to risk anything.

She said it wasn't getting any easier
and she was running out of ideas.

The guy made an unreal killing
on the stock market in one day.

"Unreal" is the word,
although things are becoming clearer.

You had a good squint at his chest last night.
I don't suppose you looked at his wrists?

We know the man's a gambler and likes a drink,

so there's every reason to take that story
about a night on the town at face value.

The guy's obviously loaded.
Ripe for some high-class hooker

to whisk him up to her room somewhere.

By this time, he's totally out of it.
He'll buy anything she's offering.

Let's imagine that for top dollar,
there are some special services she performs.

I'm afraid there's no way those grazes
I saw on his wrists were caused by a Rolex.

Aah!

If he had a good time,
he wouldn't remember it.

The guy shoots at him in the dark,
hits the bedpost or whatever,

the pain in his chest
makes him think he's been hit.

The rest of the story is anyone's guess.

I was forgetting you were an expert
on handcuffs and their associated abrasions.

I may write a small monograph on the subject.

Which all begs the question,
where do we go from here?

My place?

Ooh, you know that feeling when someone's
been at your nipples with a spanner?

Oddly enough, no.

You're a bit too nifty with that starch.

Where's your hand? There.

See what you've done to it, look?

All in there... Yeah, and there.

Bloody hell!

- Alice, what...?
- It's all over.

If I couldn't live with myself,
how could I live with him?

God will forgive, I kept telling him,

but you have to let go.

He had to stop wanting it
and just settle for what he had...

before...

"No way," he said.
He wasn't going back to those days again.

I said, "Well, you'll have to take
the consequences, I can't go on, so... "

It's not like
I've stopped loving him, it's just...

I don't know, it frightens me so much, all this.

I just had to get some space.

Of course. You have my bed tonight.
We'll grab some sofas.

Yes!

What's happening?
Don't tell me the game's afoot, Watson.

Amazing what you can find on the Internet
if you know what you're looking for.

- Yeah, what have you got?
- Possibly your disappearing birthmark.

Of course, it still doesn't explain why,
that's the real puzzler.

- Why what? What you on about?
- Sorry, it'll have to keep. I'm late for court.

She said, "Where is it?"
I said, "You're sitting on it. "

- Morning. You're looking worryingly chipper.
- Excuse me.

Not all is doom and gloom today, Jonathan.

Check out this sudden upsurge
in our continental fortunes.

My God! 14 sell-outs.

Requests for extended runs
in Paris, Lyon and Toulouse.

The box office finally is blooming -
triggered, it seems, by events in this building.

The sniff of a sex scandal.
You know the French.

This case has worked wonders for my profile.

Indeed, there's an artist's impression
of my profile in this one,

which is extremely flattering
if anatomically impossible.

That's very unfortunate.

How serious is she, do you think?

Well, listen...

Maybe you should consider
exploiting this to your advantage, because...

I'm thinking if we can get
some kind of waiver from her in writing,

it would free you up, then -
let's face it - she'd be out of your hair forever.

Yeah... Right.

That sounds good to me.

So, based on your long
professional association, Mr Creek,

would you describe Mr Klaus as a celibate man?

- Well, hardly that, no.
- A monogamous man, then?

Well, not entirely.

Would you say that he "puts it about a bit"?

Mr Creek?

Mr Creek? I'm still waiting.

- What's up?
- Plenty. They want her to sign a document now,

renouncing any future claim on the money,
which is in his name.

I said, "You'd have to be barmy. " She said,
"If that's what he wants, he's welcome to it. "

She left half an hour ago,
aiming to get there for three.

Fine. I'll just have time to fill you in.

- On what?
- On what this madness has all been about.

Want her to sign in blood, Lenny?

No one's forcing anyone to do anything.

If Mrs Spearfish chooses to surrender
her share for whatever reasons, that's her right.

The marriage having reached
a point of irretrievable breakdown,

they should do as they see fit.

- If I'd known it would come to this...
- We haven't got all day.

We'll need two witnesses to the signature, so...

If you wouldn't mind?

Well, they've pretty much
made up their minds, so why drag it out?

Right, I'll...

I'll say goodbye.

Well, it seems I totally misjudged them.

Oh, I wouldn't say that,
Miss Spacey, or whatever your name is.

I think you judged them both to perfection.

Cutting her off without a penny
was never the object of the exercise.

The point was to take them
to the wire and back.

I haven't a clue what you're talking about.

Clues. Yes, there were
plenty of them knocking about,

but they all got obscured
by this pact with the Devil nonsense.

Impressionable young couple,
one starts dabbling in the occult...

What else would they think when their life
started changing for no apparent reason?

They didn't know it would have changed anyway.

That Mickey Mouse manuscript
had nothing to do with anything.

You had it when you said
this echoed a Frank Capra movie.

Frank Capra? Whose most famous film...

- "It's A Wonderful Life".
- .. was all about...

.. a man who's saved by a guardian angel.

Someone, some mystery benefactor,
was making all this happen,

someone rich enough
to finance buried treasure in the garden

and miracle profits on the stock exchange.

But how was it being engineered?

You haven't just guessed
that someone's about to dig up an old tree.

That points to some kind of surveillance,
professional operators watching their every move.

The bullet thing was a fluke,
but what about that stunt by the pool?

- You got lucky once, friend...
- By now, Lenny's on this mad high.

He's got nothing to fear. The Devil will save him.

Sure enough, the guy seizes up,
paralysed by some unseen force.

See, look. He can't.

The only clue was a red birthmark that appeared
on his face for a second, then vanished.

Of course, it wasn't a birthmark,
and it wasn't blood,

and it was a sleepless night
before the answer popped into my head.

It was the red dot from a laser gun-sight,

suggesting we were
into a very clever piece of technology here.

A weapon that can target and disable
without leaving a mark on someone's body.

The 34700 Air-Taser.

Effectively jams the neuro-muscular system

by firing two small probes
on a fine wire into the attacker's clothing.

Basically, a kind of long-distance stun gun.

The victim totally loses control of his body,
in this case with fatal results.

But who'd be toting something like that around?

If not MI5, then MI something.

Suddenly, we're looking at a figure
with so much clout, it's frightening.

And this afternoon in the courtroom,
it all dropped into place.

That thing about not knowing
what's lurking in your family tree...

Of course, I'd already seen it...

in this house yesterday morning.

Two blue-eyed parents
and a brown-eyed daughter?

Genetically, most unlikely.

Yes, the sweetest irony of the lot.

The carefully-disguised gifts
and covert protection were all meant for Alice.

Alice's mother would have
had every opportunity back in the '60s...

She's worked in service to dukes
and lords and... goodness knows who else.

.. for a little dalliance with someone
of noble - dare one even say royal? - birth.

How about it, Anthea?

How high up, as they say, does this one go?

You know what my job,
my life, would be worth if I told you that?

Well, high enough for any tell-tale letters
and diaries in that tea chest

to be torched
using some remote-controlled gizmo or other?

Let's just say it was 30 years
before the facts became clear.

The brief was to see
that she and her family were well provided for,

without alerting them to the truth.

Budget and resources weren't a problem.

Budget and resources
weren't a problem, but Lenny Spearfish was.

The spectre of him gambling it all
meant you had to move quick.

We could hardly leave her alone
with a lunatic with a gun at large.

Then, disaster. Alice walks out on her husband,
on everything you've been setting up for her.

I'm no marriage counsellor, but something
told me it was still solid enough... underneath.

They just needed shaking up a bit
to knock some sense into them, basically.

All this because no one can tell her
who her real father is.

They'd rather she lived the rest of her life
believing this black magic baloney.

Well, maybe... one day.

In the end, it's not my decision.

So, I think I can rely on you
to keep this to yourselves.

Why on earth would you do that?

So, go on, then. Who's your money on?

You're kidding?

I wouldn't put it past him.

And after what has been a deeply distressing time
for me, personally and professionally,

I thank God that once again
good has triumphed over evil.

Thank you very much indeed.
Thank you. Thank you.

- What happened?
- Didn't you hear? They threw out the case.

11th-hour evidence.

We acquired statements
from six other hotel guests, men of stature,

who have all in the past paid off Miss Cretiss
to keep allegations of misconduct out of court.

She was forced to admit
this was a scam she'd worked for years,

exploiting compromising situations
for personal gain.

These are dated five weeks ago.
You could have stopped this coming to court.

And averted all that publicity
that got our ticket sales moving in France?

Fortuitous how it's all panned out, although
business affairs are a secondary consideration.

What is important is that I have emerged
from this sordid affair without a stain...

Bastard! Think you're such a big-shot!
I'd have needed a magnifying glass.

Bloody cheats, that's all you are, the lot of you!

- Oh! Now I've got Coke up my nose.
- There's a novelty.

Actually, I can recommend a good laundry service.
Come to think of it, if you ever need a gynaeco...

Jewish humour. Don't you love it?