Lovejoy (1986–1994): Season 2, Episode 9 - Raise the Hispanic - full transcript

I'm not moaning, Lovejoy,
but how many more trips?

One more should do it.

You know, we're missing a rather
crucial item, considering the circs.

The bed, I know. Your end up.

Hello, Ralph.

- Morning.
- Where's that awful thing going?

This, my love, is a Sheraton sideboard, and
as such, will go in a very eminent position.

- But it's ugly.
- Is it ugly, Tinker?

- Exquisite.
- So that's official.

- What can we do for you?
- I wondered if you'd seen Roger at all.

- You've not lost him again?
- Sensible fellow, if you ask me.



Big meeting with my housekeeper,
Francis Beauchamp,

discussing the menu for the reception
with the dear old-fashioned thing.

She wants to do something clever with fish.

See you.

Why is it some blokes always seem to
land with their feet in the honey?

Take this fellow, Roger,
who Amanda's marrying.

He walks in out of nowhere
and into a dowry like this.

Come on. Look.

Bavarian china to eat his dinner off,

Sheraton to put the Bavarian china on,

Chippendale for the after-dinner nap.

What did I start married life with?

Oh, yes...
I remember like it was yesterday.

It wasn't too good a day either.



It was a card table, two fold-up chairs
and a packet of paper napkins.

Still, they say the early struggle
makes you a better person.

Who wants to be a better person?

Lovejoy, scramble!

- Oh!
- It's the third time this week, Roger.

- What the hell do you think you're doing?
- Do you really want me to spell it out?

My God, whoever christened you Roger
had a feel for the right name.

I'm just saying goodbye to an old friend.

Have you tried shaking hands?

Once the vicar's done the business,
I'll be a model of propriety.

Lovejoy, please don't say anything.
The job's everything to me.

Go on.

What's it to do with you guys anyway?

Well, nothing, I suppose,

except that Ralf Peagram is more
of a friend than a customer.

Well,

since you are here, let me thank you for the
marvelous job you've done on the furniture.

It should be the sort of place
a respectable man can settle down.

Adiós.

I don't know much about love, Lovejoy,

but shouldn't Amanda be told
or her father perhaps?

No. Too many people get
hurt that way, Tink.

Besides, Amanda thinks
he's the bee's knees,

Ralph can't wait to have
a toff in the family

and Francis Beauchamp's doing
something clever with fish.

No, I believe him.

Once he gets married, he'll settle down.

Well, don't give us a hand, will you?

Well, if you insist,
and there's no sugar in this.

Beds. Lovejoy, Malcolm Tandy's your man.

- Beds for all occasions.
- Malcolm Tandy...

Why don't you two take a drive
and see what he's selling these days?

Wouldn't it be better if we phoned him first,
find out if he's got what we're after?

Why is he so smart when it's not needed?

- What have I done now?
- I want to surprise him, not send a telegram.

The man owes me money.

And that, dear boy, puts him on a par
with the South American condor,

a creature so rare folk will travel
a thousand miles just to get a glimpse.

Or in this case, just 50 up the motorway.

Aha!

- There you go.
- "I owe you £400. Malcolm Tandy."

- Is he good for it?
- Of course he is.

Now, remember, it's a four-poster I'm after,
elegant, but sturdy, dainty, yet robust.

When you agree on a price, slap that down
in front of him and watch a grown man cry.

And there is still no sugar in this, Eric.

Here's to you, Francis.

You've done a marvelous job.

- Hasn't she, Bill?
- I'll say.

But I'm among savages.

Do you know that not one person here
can name the main dish?

Good Lord. Really?

Well... fish, isn't it?

And nobody savors anymore. They... guzzle.

I mean, look over there,
that furniture man talking to my daughter.

Oh, Lovejoy, you mean.

I'll have you know, my darling,
that Lovejoy is a man of impeccable taste

and great refinement.

- Lovejoy...
- Excuse me.

Have you met Francis Beauchamp,
my housekeeper?

Well, it's an ace bun fight.
I've really pigged out on this salmon.

Salmon a la Grecque,
actually, but never mind.

Lovejoy, I've got something to show you
in my study.

New piece in the collection.

See you later, Fran.
Save us a pudding, won't you?

- You should open this to Joe Public, Ralph.
- Why? Can't stand the man.

It's too good a collection
to keep to yourself.

Of course, they're no better than trade
themselves, you know, the Peagrams.

Made their pile in tin.

Ralph saw tin was on the blink,
so he made a dash for plastics.

Caught it at the right time.

Bill, if I told you that I saw a bed
coming up the drive, what would you say?

I'd say
we're in for a very interesting cabaret.

Can I help you at all?

- Ralph or Lovejoy about?
- Surely you're not guests?

My dear lady, do I look the type
who'd barge in uninvited?

Frankly, yes.

Ah... And how is married
life suiting Mrs. Hall?

Well, put it this way, if you see Mr. Hall,
tell him I miss him.

He's not at it al...
Y-y-you haven't lost him today, surely?!

Lovejoy's in the study with Dad.

Tinker, that's hideous.

What do you think of that, my friend?

Magnificent.

Oliver Cromwell slept in that bed.

Yes. It was just before
the Battle of Cuxham.

- I remember the 42nd...
- Not very well though.

I don't want to sleep on history.

I want to sleep on a soft mattress
with chintzy frills all over it,

daisies, butterflies, sprigs of lavender...

- You're a sympathetic man, Tinker.
- It has been said.

Your very good health, Mrs. Hall.

I don't want a house full of old furniture.
I'm sick of it.

Can't you have a word with Dad and Lovejoy?

I'll try, but I have a little
problem of my own to sort out first.

Eric, bring our passenger.

Where did you get this, Ralph?

Museum in Toronto going bust.
They were offloading...

Come in.

Greetings, both.

I'm sorry I'm late, Lovejoy.
Pile-up at Junction 13.

- Glad you could make it.
- You're smiling.

- What's gone wrong?
- So young-ish, but cynical.

It's party time, Lovejoy,
if you hadn't noticed.

- Did you get it?
- The bed? Yes. It's down there in the trailer.

You do know that Amanda prefers
the work of Terry Conran...

How is Malcolm Tandy?

Big. Er... bigger, really.

- Did he pay the I.O. U?
- Oh, yes. Yes, he did.

Well, it wouldn't actually
fit into my wallet.

- Why? Did he pay you in pennies?
- No, no, no, all in one piece.

You've blown it, haven't you, on some nag?

Oh, good heavens! I see you've got
one of my favorite malts over there.

And if you don't come clean in two or
three seconds, I'll shove it up your nose.

Where's my money?

Eric!

He's a thoroughbred, Lovejoy.

He's called Lassy, with a Y.

Lassy, this is the nice gentleman
I was telling you about.

I know you deal in antiques, Lovejoy,
but this is ridiculous.

Malcolm was a bit strapped, Lovejoy,
and, like I said, big.

He's got terrific form though, Lovejoy.
He's won seven races this season already.

He's down to run another
at Bungay, Friday week.

Good luck at Bungay.

Good luck at Bungay!

Deaf, as well as fat.

In my opinion, Lovejoy,
it's a pretty good investment.

Yeah, Lovejoy, and we can soon
train him down to his fighting weight.

My grandad used to keep two greyhounds.
Black and Decker, they used to call them.

- Maybe he'd like another one.
- Oh, he's dead.

The dog's not too frisky either.
They'd probably enjoy each other's company.

Drinks, anyone,
to soothe the troubled brow?

- Thank you.
- No, thank you.

They've got a long journey
back where they came from.

Listen, boys, since Lassy seems
to have made himself at home...

The walk from the car knackered him.

Why don't you go back to the reception,
decide what to do with him later?

- I've decided.
- Lovejoy, I only ever had one rule in business.

Never say no to anything
in the first five minutes.

Let's go join the party.

Yeah, but what about the bed? I mean, we
can't just leave it out there on the lawn.

I mean, people will... pass remarks.

We'll put it in the stables till tomorrow.
Save you the trip to the rectory.

Come on, Eric, I'll show you where.

That's it. Come on.

That'll do you.

- Do you like horses, Eric?
- I prefer dogs.

You think Lassy can run?

I tell you, boy, I've got a colt out there
in the pasture right now who can fly.

You ever seen a horse gallop
when it's feet don't seem to touch...

- You hear something?
- No.

Who's up there?

Thanks all the same, Ralph,
but we made do with the straw.

No, don't bother coming up.
You might hurt yourself.

Helen!

I don't understand. Your wedding day!
You've only been married three hours.

I know.

I've a very low boredom threshold.

You ever do that to me again, Ralph!

My housekeeper's daughter for God's sake!

Ah... Is that who she is?

I think it's time we had a talk,

a real talk.

Exactly the right time.

Only, not in front of strangers, I think.

My study, right now.

I thought you and Amanda were friends.

More than that, almost sisters.

Is this how you treat family?

You're not my family, Ralph.

Your mother will have to be told.

You realize that, don't you?

Good.

Eric, for my daughter's sake...

You know what I'm saying.

Well, you ain't said it yet, have you?

Don't mention what you've seen here today.

Not to your parents

or Tinker or Lovejoy.

No one. Do you understand?

Right.

I like to keep things in the family.

Especially problems.

Saves people getting hurt.

I don't want that.

Take it.

I mean, if what you've
just seen got around,

who knows, you might be one of those people
who gets hurt.

Oh, the salmon a la Grecque is a
ballet upon the tongue, Mrs. Beauchamp.

I knew there was French in you.

I wasn't sure exactly where, but I knew.

- Excuse us, Francis.
- Excuse me.

I've given it Ralph's five minutes,
and the answer is still no.

Can't we wait till after Bungay? Eric is
so looking forward to training him up.

I'm an antique dealer, not a dog owner.

- There is a problem. The dog's only worth 300.
- So where's the other ton?

Tandy said he'd bet it for us at Bungay.

Oh, good. You're fired.

But I don't work for you.

I felt like saying it. It felt good.

- Lovejoy...
- You're fired too.

What?

- You all right, young Eric?
- I need a drink.

If you don't love my daughter,
why the hell did you marry her?

There are other reasons for marriage
apart from love.

I see, a gold-digger!

Oro. ¡Mío!

- Right!
- Buenos días, senor Stacy.

- ŸCómo está?
- Juan Stacy está muerto.

Y enterrado en la hacienda, Little England.

ŸQuién es usted?

You're a bright chap.
Work it out for yourself.

- I never thanked you.
- What for?

For keeping quiet
about my farewell party with Roger.

What did you think I was going to say?

"Hey, everybody,
bet I know something you don't."

Thanks.

She resents our friendship, Helen does.

Ralph's mine. She's getting back at me.

You will stop me if I'm being indiscreet,
won't you?

I'll try.

- But it's much more than a friendship.
- Stop.

Much more.

He's such a vital man,
you see, so youthful!

And he's always been so good to Helen.

Mrs. Beauchamp,
I don't know much about kids,

but, surely, at 20,
they're responsible for their own actions,

even if those actions are...

Bonking the bridegroom?

- Sorry.
- Yes, even that.

But Ralph has always been so good to Helen.

He even tried to take her father's place.

That's maybe what she doesn't like.

Yes. Well, Roger should have known better.

He needs taking down a peg or two.

To be quite honest,
it's beginning to look rum.

No one's seen the fellow since teatime,
leave alone the bride.

You were to pick up the newlyweds
at six o'clock, go to the airport?

Bali for honeymoon? Oh, it's rum. Rum.

Best you have a word with the guv'nor.

Ladies and gentlemen,
well, my watch says six o'clock.

Time to muster on the main drive to see
the bride and groom off on their honeymoon.

Er... time for one more waltz though, so,
ladies and gentlemen, take your partners.

- One, two, three.
- Everything all right?

He's done a bunk, hasn't he? God knows why.

- Has anyone looked?
- Of course they have!

Sorry, Lovejoy. It's not your fault.

Yes, these two have looked. No sign of him.

- How's Amanda?
- Left her in her room, drowning her sorrows.

Amanda! Amanda!

Amanda, no!

No!

Lay off a minute, fellas.

Look at me, you lot.

All dressed up like a dog's dinner,
nowhere to go.

Well...

somewhere to go, but no one to go with.

Amanda, come on.

Do you fancy Bali with me, Lovejoy?

Sun, sand,
all the romance you could wish for.

Black coffee.

All those who said I was crazy to marry
a bloke I'd only known for three months,

you were right!

The bastard walked out on me!

Don't let that spoil the party though.

What's happened to the music?

A super do, Ralphie, super,
in spite of everything.

Yes. Thanks, Bill.
You'll be all right, walking?

Fine, don't worry.
Everything will work out.

Oh, the stragglers are just on their way.

Good party, really, though.

I'm sorry, I still think
we should tell the police.

He's only been gone six hours. The police
don't even consider that as missing.

He's panicked, hasn't he?
It's a bit late, but he's panicked.

Some blokes do
at the thought of a lifetime's commitment.

What do you say, Amanda? Call the police?

No, do as Lovejoy says.
Wait until the morning.

Sorry I made a fool of myself, Dad.

He'll turn up, won't he?

Blokes like that always turn up,
don't they, Lovejoy?

Always.

Lovejoy, you and your friends
had better stay the night.

- OK with you, Dad?
- Oh, yes, of course. You're very welcome.

They say a dog's for life. Well, let me tell
you, some lives are shorter than others.

This could be one of them.

All right. I see you. Come on.

Come on, then. No, wait!

Lassy! Lassy!

Lassy! Lassy!

You're quicker at this than on the track...

Lassy!

Shh!

Lassy? Lassy!

Sit! Heel! Stay!

Catch! Fetch! Something. Anything.

Just come here, you prat!

Typical of your new money is that.

They leave the windows open, the lights on.
They don't care.

Lassy!

Shh!

Shh! What is it? What is it?

That's a very nasty thought you've got.

It's been a very funny day.

I suppose a doctor
wouldn't rule out insanity.

Lumme. I have been talking to you
like you understand me.

Trouble is, I think you do.

Well, why shouldn't I?

Better men than me talk to plants.

Why shouldn't I talk to a dog
and have him understand what I'm saying?

Too much booze.

That's the more probable explanation.

Yeah.

Come on, stop messing about, Roger.

Ah! Ah! Ah!

Get him, boy!

Tinker, Eric...

Shh... Now, you stay there, Lassy.

Stay.
Wake up! Come on, wake up!

- Wake up, Eric!
- I don't want your money!

- I'm glad to hear it! Come on, get dressed!
- What is it? Oh!

You two get to the police station.
I'm going to stay on guard here.

- Police station?
- It's a one-man-band in the next village.

Haul the fella out of bed
and don't take no for an answer.

In a suit of armor,

16th century Italian?

Yes.

Bullet hole in his bonce?

Only you didn't see it?

Nor you.

I keep telling you, Sergeant, Mr. Lovejoy sent
us straight down here the moment he found it.

Then he went back to stand guard.

- So where does this dog fit in, this collie?
- Greyhound.

You said it was called Lassy.
You can't have it both ways, son.

No, Lassy is a greyhound, Sergeant Hartley,
and he found the body.

A moment ago, this Lovejoy did.

They both did, Sergeant,
man and dog side by side as one.

Ah. In a study,

two o'clock of a morning,

in a suit of armor,

16th century Italian,

bullet hole through his forehead...

On his wedding day.

- Eric, must you?
- Whose wedding day?

Roger Hall's.

But you just said he was dead!

What's going on here?

That is what we want you
to come down to find out for us.

We'd forgotten about the West African ax
whistling past his ear.

- Eric, do you have to?!
- Ax?

Somebody threw an ax at Mr. Lovejoy.

You were trying to cover up for him, eh?

No. I was trying not to confuse the issue
with irrelevant details.

Didn't hit him by any chance, this ax?

No. No. Thanks be to God,
it landed in the curtains behind him.

Pity. Sounds like a troublemaker.

Mr. Lovejoy is a very good friend of ours,
Sergeant. Now, can we go?

If it's all right with you, Eric?

Right.

There'll be nookie
at the bottom of it somewhere.

You mark my words. There always is.

This funny day is turning
into a funny night.

I mean, everybody's got their own idea
of a good night out, haven't they?

It's just that mine happens to be
dinner with Jane Felsham,

and then, well, you know, on from there.

You'd think that would be easier to
organize than this, wouldn't you?

Baby-sitting a corpse
with a soppy greyhound.

Evidently not, because I'm the one
stuck with a dead body and a dog

and somebody else has got the girl.

Come on, Lassy.

It's time we shared this experience.

Let's wake a few people up.

- Ralph, what is it?
- Don't ask me, love.

Ah... You'll be this Lovejoy, then.

And this is Lassy.

You look a bit heavy for a runner, boy.

All right, Lovejoy, spit it out.

- Make it good.
- What the hell's going on, Lovejoy?

I'm not sure that you should be
here, Amanda.

Oh, for heaven's sake!
Am I some wilting violet?

Suit yourself.

It's Roger. He's been shot.

And he's inside there?

'Fraid so.

Someone's had him away!

Hold on a minute.
Are you telling us you saw him in there?

He's dead.

We didn't actually see anything.

Roger dead, in there?

Someone's moved him, armor and all.

This is in very poor taste, Lovejoy.

And someone flung an ax at me
and it landed in the curtains.

Very handy.

Someone killed Roger Hall,
then had a go at me.

Good party, was it?

Don't come the old acid with me, mate.
I know what I saw.

You know what you think you saw.

The best of us
can fall prey to alcoholic fantasy.

Come on, Lovejoy, in your keenness
to solve the mystery, you made a mistake.

- Let's all go back to bed.
- Just a minute, sir.

If this Roger Hall is missing,
then I think I should take some details.

And as for you, Mr. Lovejoy,
there may be charges to follow.

It's all right, Ralph.
I know where Roger is.

It's not the first time,
so I guess there must be something in it.

- What are you talking about?
- Helen's missing too.

My daughter, Sergeant.

I guess they must have run off together.

Mr. Lovejoy,
you've been upsetting too many people.

I want you out of this house first thing.

This is it, Lassy.

Time to show us your stuff.

- How many packets is that?
- We like sugar cakes, don't we?

Come with us, Lovejoy.
It'll take your mind off things.

What are you planning to do
with my friend anyway?

- Your friend?
- This dog is the only one who believes in me.

- Aren't you?
- But this is a recognized method of training.

That's right.

- Come with us.
- No.

- What's the matter with him?
- He's having a good old British sulk.

Nobody believes me.

- What, not even you?
- Not even me.

Right, this is it. Give me about
a 100-yard start, then let him go, right?

Nice wabbit. Lassy go catch wabbit.

Tinker boil wabbit for Lassy's tea.

Mmm. Good dog. Wait for it. Wait for it.

Now, imitate the action of the bullet!

Excuse me! Wrong way!

Come in.

You're the last person I expected to see.

- Milk and sugar.
- No thanks.

- And, before you ask, no sign of Roger.
- That figures.

Helen Beauchamp turned up. Cheeky bitch.

- Said she'd been staying with a friend.
- That figures too.

You still reckon you saw him, don't you?

It's not the kind of thing one makes up.

But dead...

I can't take it in.

- Are you sure?
- It's the truth. Why would I want to hurt you?

- Some other explanation, maybe.
- Yeah, that I'm going...

There's a few takers around here for that.

- Then where is he now, Lovejoy?
- How about your father's estate?

That's big enough to lose a body in.
Just needs finding.

If you want to live with the thought that he left
with another woman, that's all right with me.

- I never liked him anyway.
- I did.

I loved him.

I always thought you were worth more.

It's nice of you,
but I've never kidded myself.

My shelf life was just about to begin.

Along comes this handsome stranger,
whisks me off my feet.

What was I supposed to do,
tell him no thanks?

I'm sorry.

Please come back and help me, Lovejoy.

So, why do you two doubt the nookie theory
so beloved of Sergeant Hartley?

I've had time to think it over.

But we ourselves caught Roger in flagrante
several times,

as did your father and Francis Beauchamp.

- But is that reason for someone to kill him?
- At least we're talking like he's dead.

You are, Lovejoy, but some of us
still have faith in alcoholic fantasy.

- I don't.
- You will, dear boy. You will.

No, but when we took that bed
up to the stable, we found him with Helen.

There was a bit of a barney.

Mr. Peagram made me promise
never to tell anyone else ever about it.

I mean, he threatened me.
Even gave me some money.

- Money?
- How much?

Well, that's not the point.

The point is he looked fit to kill.

What do you think, Amanda?

Well, put it this way,
why should Roger run off?

I knew all about his stuff on the side,

and he knew I knew.

And you didn't mind?

That's the man I wanted to marry.

Why would your dad know Spanish?

Family made their pile in Venezuela.

Farming.

- And who's John Stacy?
- No idea. Why?

It doesn't matter anyway.
He's muerto, dead.

- I heard your dad and Roger talking about it.
- Well, why didn't you tell the police?

They weren't very interested
in anything I said, remember?

I am. Please help me, Lovejoy.

- You're sure your dad's not around?
- He's in London.

It's a regular board meeting.

Right, up there lies the finest
tracking device known to man.

Give him a whiff of this and take him round
the house and see if he can pick up a trail.

Why?

It belongs to whoever flung an ax at me,
the same person who killed Roger Hall,

in my alcoholic fantasy, of course.

I'm going to the Gothic hall.
There's more armor there.

- What shall I do?
- Go with them.

They look suspicious on their own.

Oh-oh.

- Where's he taking us?
- The folly.

How very apt!

I don't suppose you'd fancy a chat, would
you? First, how about an introduction?

I'm Lovejoy, but then,
you er... you already know that, don't you?

Lovejoy!

Lovejoy! We've done our bit.

Lovejoy?

Lovejoy!

Lovejoy, speak to me.

Help me, Eric. Amanda, go and get a doctor.

- He's not dead, is he?
- No, he's not dead. Get him up.

- Right, come on.
- Put him on this sofa here.

- Careful.
- Doctor's on his way.

It's me, Tinker.

I know. I can smell it.

Eric, what happened?

Gothic hall. Bump on the head.

Did Lassy get the scent?

- Lie still, Lovejoy. Dr. Williams won't be long.
- Did he?

- It took us to the folly.
- Was Roger there?

No, but if somebody is trying
to kill you, Lovejoy, I want to know who.

- What's that place, Amanda?
- Gardeners use it.

- But he's not here. Honestly, we've looked.
- Might have passed through.

You mean someone carried him here
in full armor?

- Why not?
- Why here though?

This could be one reason.

- What's beyond those trees, Amanda?
- More trees for half a mile, then the lake.

Well, Roger, I hope you're out there,
otherwise we're all sunk.

The police aren't going to drag
a lake that size on a whim.

Your whim.

Maybe they won't have to.

Why the visit?

I'm very pleased to see you and all that,
but you never were a dropper-in on folk.

- This one you made, Henry?
- No, German.

This here's Italian.

Lighter, more refined.

You can just imagine them raising their
visors and having an ice cream, can't you?

Well, you might think this is a daft question,
Henry, but supposing I was to say to you if...

What are you doing?

Do you know, in all my years in this game,

I've only ever met one beggar with a suit of
armor better than your 16th century knight,

and that's Pulex irritans.

Who's he?

Your common flea, mate.

And I think your dog's playing host
to a crusade of 'em.

This dog's been with me 24 hours a day
and I haven't been bitten yet.

Aye, well, animals are like
that, aren't they?

They don't pick on their own kind.

One bloodsucker won't
often pick on another.

- Thank you, Henry.
- Bring him over here.

Come on. Up!

That's it. Now, you hold his head, and we'll
get rid of this lot in a minute or two.

What was that about a daft question?

Supposing I murdered someone, stuffed them
in a suit of armor and flung it in a lake.

It would sink, wouldn't it?

It's not fair, Lovejoy. You said we were going
to take it in turns on this lookout thing.

It's all very English, isn't it?

The lake,

the picnic,

the trusty companions, the good book,

the jumping fish

and the gentle hum of an ageing teenager
moaning his guts out in the background.

Well, I'm here to learn about antiques,
not sinking the Bismarck.

It's an important part of your education,
old boy.

Oh, rubbish. What's he know about armor?

Half an hour with one of his pals
and suddenly, he's an expert?

Besides, I want the toilet.

There's a lot of rubbish talked
about armor, you know, Tink.

Some's heavy, some isn't.

These guys had to fight in it,
so it had to be portable.

- What sort of weight are we talking about?
- Well, Italian, about 50lb according to Henry.

That's dispersed weight,
so you'd hardy notice it.

- Want a sandwich, Eric?
- No. I want the toilet.

What, again? What's the matter with you?
What's the matter with him?

We used to fish a lake like this
when I was a boy.

Here we go, Eric,
back into the mists of time.

Of course, we never knew
there was nothing in it.

My father, God rest his soul,
would never tell us.

Kept us occupied during
the long summer vac.

I sometimes think that set the pattern
for the rest of my life,

a lake with no fish.

Lovejoy!

I know, you want the toilet.

No, look!

- Oh!
- It's him, all right.

Now what?

It grieves me to say it, but the Old Bill.

Mind you, I don't see that local plod
nailing Ralph. Do you?

- Are you sure it is Ralph?
- Who else is there?

We'd need Amanda's help.
Will she give it against her own father?

She loved this poor sod more than him.

When you think about it, they make submarines
out of metal. They float up and down.

And you were expecting this one to surface,
eh, Lovejoy?

If he'd been Australian,
he'd have come up sooner.

All that fizzy beer and stuff.

Bit of a gas himself,
is Mr. Lovejoy, Inspector.

I think a long natter is in order.

You're coming the old acid.
First you didn't believe me.

- Now, it's nudge-nudge wink-wink.
- Hold on, you two. Hold on.

Why were you so interested?

Everybody thought I was seeing things.
I knew different.

I told you two days ago
and you didn't believe me.

- Difficult.
- Difficult? I've got the bump to prove it.

- Who gave you that?
- The bloke who killed Roger.

- Bloke?
- He means Ralph Peagram, Mr. Burgess.

We must flush him out. A trap needs laying.

Dodgy.
We need the right kind of bait, don't we?

Yes.

Come in.

- Lovejoy.
- I thought I said you weren't welcome here.

I certainly don't feel welcome, Francis.

Where's Amanda, Ralph?

- She went off at the crack of dawn.
- It's just as well, I think.

Your opinions aren't of great
interest to me anymore, Lovejoy.

You've been paid,
and as far as I'm concerned...

I've got some bad news for you.
Well, for Amanda, that is.

- Found Roger's body.
- Where?

In the lake.
Whoever dumped it there made an error.

It's understandable, of course.

What error, Mr. Lovejoy?

They thought armor would sink.

OK, let me finish my breakfast
and I'll be with you.

Built
by one of the first Peagrams, that.

Brought his mates down here for card games
the old woman didn't approve of.

- Half a mile away.
- You never had that trouble?

With wives, I mean.

You mean,
did she mind if I played with the lads?

No, boy. She played with the lads herself.

Lovejoy, if this is true, you know...

- They must be going into the trees, sir.
- There's no need, Ralph.

It will put Amanda's mind at rest.

It must have been grim for
her, not knowing.

Of course, I never did think much of him.

After you, Lovejoy.

Don't.

What did the pathologist say yesterday,
Mr. Burgess.

- Are you sure you want to know?
- Yes.

Single bullet, .45 caliber,
through the forehead at close range,

almost certainly using a silencer.

Does your father have such a gun?

Dozens, all shapes, all sizes, all ages.

- Quick?
- Instant?

- So, what's in the suit of armor today?
- A wet suit full of polystyrene.

- There he is.
- Looks like I owe you an apology.

- One of several, I reckon.
- For doubting you, I meant.

The flying ax, the bang on the head...

In short, for trying to kill me.

Why would I want to do that?

Because I was the only person
who'd seen that body,

apart from you, who shot him.

I still am.

Don't get smart, Lovejoy. Don't get smart.

- Who's John Stacy?
- Who told you about him?

I heard you and Roger
having a slanging match in the study.

I knew muerto meant dead, so I looked in
one of those Spanish-English dictionaries.

Enterrado means buried.

John Stacy dead and buried
in Little England farm.

Did you kill John Stacy?

I am John Stacy,

Ralph's partner for 20 years,

and friend for much
longer, from schooldays.

- So where's Ralph?
- He died.

Trampled to death
by 2,000 tons of stampeding beef.

I scraped him up, buried him.

Years later, one of the mainline Peagrams
croaked and Ralph inherited all this place.

Where does Roger fit into all this?

Because his name's Rodrigo,

Ralph's son by some dark beauty out there,

indistinguishable from another,
except that she must have had a brain.

Six months ago, she told Rodrigo
to get over here and make a pitch.

He can't tell him all this and let him off.

Let's call it off!

Blackmail. He knew who I was.

So I killed him.

I can't lose all this, Lovejoy.

Been too much of a slog,
building it up from the wreck it was.

Too many people depend on me now.

Where's your mask, Ralph?
You know, the slinky black number?

I don't need all that today.

I'm sorry. I would pay you,
if I thought it would work,

but you know the trouble with Danegeld.

The Dane keeps coming back.

That's it. Let's go.

Get him, boy!

That was the dirtiest trick of
all, Lovejoy,

bringing her.

That's the way she wanted it, Ralph.

It's the way she wanted it.

You've got to put that money on Lassy.

He gave me that money
so I wouldn't tell anyone.

But you did tell everybody.
Come on, where's your faith?

Eric...

- Tandy's here, Lovejoy.
- Oh.

I'm sorry, Lovejoy.
I know he's not all I cracked him up to be.

Turned out quite well actually, Malcolm.
Turned into quite a hero. Well worth 300.

- Thinking of keeping him.
- Don't say things like that, Lovejoy.

So you're changing your mind again,
are you? He is useless after all.

- I didn't say that.
- You were desperate for him.

I even told you he wasn't a runner
but you wouldn't have it.

Saved my life actually, Malcolm, but 300 from
400 leaves a ton, which I would like, please.

Later, Lovejoy, later. With interest.

Just lob me an insult for now,

vile, as much as you like, go on, and loud.

As a companion?
Oh, he's fine as a companion.

As a runner, rubbish.

He's got quite a turn of speed actually.

For God's sake,
don't ruin it for us both!

I don't think there's any call
for that kind of language, Lovejoy.

I mean, he's rubbish, but you might as well
run him since he's entered.

I've no idea what he's talking about.

Explain the facts of life to
him, will you, Tinker?

The girlfriend's got a fortune on Lassy
to win for both of us.

Well, don't expect me to bet on him.

Oh, no, I'm sorry,
I'm not putting a penny on him.

What's he on about?

At a guess, I'd say there's a scam afoot and
Lassy's reluctance to run is part of it.

What's all that shouting?
Anybody earwigging will think he's useless.

- But he will run, with the right encouragement.
- Eh?

And Trap 6, Mr. M Tandy's Lassy,
trained my Malcolm Tandy.

Get him, boy!

Lassy! Lassy! Lassy!

Eric...