Midsomer Murders (1997–…): Season 15, Episode 6 - Schooled in Murder - full transcript

After threatening to expose secrets of other parents at Midsomer Pastures school, single mum Debbie Moffett is lured by a phone call to her death in the dairy where she worked. She had been having an affair with Oliver Ordish, whose wife Beatrix was chair of the school's PTA, and when he too is killed, Beatrix is the prime suspect. Greg Brantner, whose wife Hayley inherited the dairy from her late father, had worked with Debbie to streamline it, antagonizing local farmer Helen Caxton and her brother-in-law, dairyman Jim Caxton. Further deaths suggest dairy politics are the motive until Barnaby discovers that several of the suspects and victims had been contemporaries as pupils at Midsomer Pastures. He must find out which one was schooled in murder.


Can you take notes?

Ladies, shall we commence?

First item on the agenda:
new admissions.

It won't come as a surprise to any
of you that we are oversubscribed.

Those whose children make the
shortlist will still be subject to an
interview.

I'm sure you remember yours. I do
mine.

Standards must be maintained,
Beatrix. Oh, of course. I was just -

You snotty little bitch.

Debbie, what the hell do you think
you're doing?

That's what I was going to ask you.

Firing off your little letters.

What I do with my life is none of
your business or the rest of your
coven.

If only that were true, Deborah.

And yet here you are, washing your
dirty linen in public.

Maybe I should air everyone else's.

Sunlight is the best bleach.

Don't you think, Bea? I don't know
what you're trying to suggest.

What do you think, Miss Mountford?

Maybe we should have a chat about
what's really going on here.

Is that some kind of threat?
You're damn right it is.

Ladies!

Ladies!

Meeting adjourned.

Deborah Moffett was always a problem
child. Now she's just a problem.

She said her piece. It's finished.

I hope I can trust you to handle
this.

Who's this?

What do you want?

Fine. I'll see you there.

Working too hard.

Well, I'm here.

Hello.

So, come on, then. You wanted to have
it out.

I should have known you wouldn't have
had the guts.

What are you playing at?

Because I'm not in the mood for
games.

Not today.

No!

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Mr Brantner.

Mr Brantner?

Mr Brantner?

We need to service your room.

Can you come back later, please?

Very well, sir.

I just don't understand it.

He's never been an aggressive dog.

Why would he pick a fight?
I don't know.

How big was the other dog?

Well, you know, bigger than him.

So, have you had any further thoughts
on what you want to do for our
anniversary?

I'm not sure I want a fuss.

15 years. I think that's worth
fussing about.

OK. Let's do something nice.

I'll see if I can think of something.

Let's have Kate and Ben over for
dinner.

I was going to think of something
nicer than that.

Oh, come on. It'll be lovely.

You can show off in the kitchen.
I'll get some nice wine and you can
cook.

I'll take care of it.

And he can come to work with me.

Are you sure that's appropriate?

I wouldn't be able to concentrate
anyway. I'd be too worried about him.

John?

You are going to be late for work.

I'll see you later.
Bye.

Don't look at me like that. It was an
accident.

Thanks.

Sir?
He's been in the wars.

Poor little -
Who have we got?

Debbie Moffett, sir.

Found this morning by one of her
colleagues - Jim Caxton.

So, what is this place?
Um, cold.

That's a lot of cheese.

Not just cheese. Midsomer Blue.

One of the world's finest.

It's up there with Stilton,
Roquefort, Gorgonzola.

Bit of a connoisseur, are we, Ben?

I know what to put on a cracker.

What's your favourite cheese?

You know that stuff in little foil
triangles?

Midsomer Blue is made at the local
dairy and that's where Debbie
worked.

Mm. That's quite an aroma.

Initial thoughts, Kate?

Probably pinned down by the shelves
then finished off with a blow to the
head.

Have we got a murder weapon?
You're standing in it.

Ah.

No chance of fingerprints, then?

No, sir.
DNA?

Not unless the killer stopped for a
tasty snack.

Be nice to know what the victim was
doing up here, for a start.

Any sign of her phone? We're just
about to search the car.

We'll need her next of kin.

Er, hello.
Find out where she lives.

Hello. Hi.

Can I go in now?

Mr Caxton, I'm afraid not. It's
still a crime scene.

When are you going to get her out of
there?

Debbie's in good hands. We'll make
sure she's looked after.

No, you don't understand. It's the
cheese.

These caves are a natural
phenomenon, with a unique balance of
bacteria

that you won't find anywhere else in
the world.

Can you imagine the effect a dead,
putrefying body is having on that?

I don't think I want to.

My cheese is aged over 12 months.

Some of it's on the verge of perfect
maturity right now.

This balance of lactic acids and
naturally-forming mould, it's at a
critical point.

Are you aware that Debbie Moffett is
a murder victim, not just a hazard to
food hygiene?

I'm sorry. I don't understand the
question.

I'll take a guess that you and Miss
Moffett weren't that close.

We worked together.

What would Debbie be doing up here at
the caves?

She wouldn't... This is my... She's
no reason to be here.

Sir.

Just out of interest, where were you
last night?

Home.
With your wife?

No, I'm... I... I'm not married.

What about Debbie? Was she married?
Did she have a boyfriend?

No. No, just her and Holly.

Holly!
Hi, Poppy.

Poppy, what did I tell you about
that girl?

She's my friend.

Girls your age don't always make the
best choices when it comes to
friends.

She won't be at the school much
longer.

Why?
What about Isobel?

Invite her round for tea.

Oh, dear.

Go on.

Hi.
Oh, hello, Poppy.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Remember, you're little girls.
You're not dodgem cars.

Sorry, Miss Mountford.

Mrs Moffett?
Yeah.

I'm DCI Barnaby. This is Sergeant
Jones.

40 years in this school, I thought
I'd seen it all.

40 years? You must have taught most
of the village.

That has been my pleasure and my
honour.

Did you teach Debbie?
Yes.

Deborah was quite a bright spark.

It's a young age to lose a parent.

Small comfort but I believe Holly
already spends a great deal of time
with her grandmother.

Maybe she'll know where Debbie was
going last night.

She was here.
And why was that?

She was attending a meeting of the
Parents' Council.

The Parents' Council is involved
with all the school decisions,

the financial dealings, admissions
policy, curriculum.

We'll need to speak with anyone who
was at the meeting.

I'm sure they'll want to speak with
you.

Thank God you're back.

I was going to call but I didn't want
you driving home if you were upset.

I can barely function, myself.
Why? What's happened?

It's Debbie.

She's been killed.

Oh, my God.

Jim found her at the caves.

So awful.

Yeah. Awful.

There'll be grief counselling for
anyone who feels they need it

but our priority has to be the
children.

They will have lots of questions to
ask.

Beatrix?

I'm so sorry to interrupt.

Poor Debbie.

You OK?

No, Helen, I'm not.
Why not?

The police are crawling all over the
caves.

It won't be for ever.

I can't stand them poking around up
there.

Try not to think about it. It's not
as if you haven't got anything else
to be getting on with.

What?

We can't carry on. I told you. It's
too risky.

Jim, I need you to do this for me.

I know. I... I can't.

Then I'll lose it all. The farm,
everything. If they find out, you'll
lose it anyway.

I have to try. So do you. You have to
do what your brother couldn't.

Phil did his best.
It wasn't good enough.

That's why I need you, Jim.

Helen -
Just leave the worrying to me.

You just do what you do best.

Debbie wouldn't want you to dwell on
the sadness of her death.

She'd want you to think about the
joys of her life.

It's so hard losing a member of our
community this way.

How long had you known Debbie?

We were at school together. This
school.

So you were close?

The thing about Debbie was that she
never changed.

And why was she here last night?

Oh, she was contributing to the
meeting.

Debbie was a member of the Parents'
Council?

Our meetings are open to all
parents.

So why was she here last night in
particular?

Like I said, we're a community.

She was just being part of it.

Thank you, Mrs Ordish.

I wonder if we're looking at a
terrible accident, not an actual
murder.

I can't imagine why anybody wanted to
kill Debbie Moffett.

Yeah. Absolute saint, apparently.

Sir.

Happier times.

Hey, Wes.

All right, boys, that's enough. Off
you go.

I hear you found Debbie. Are you OK
to work?

Fine.

Still, you know. Tough day all round.

I was thinking we should give
everyone the day off.

What would that achieve? She'd still
be dead.

Right.
Right.

Greg? I've just spoken with the
estate agents.

I wanted to know why this place
didn't have a for sale sign on it
yet,

why it wasn't listed in the property
sale pages.

What's the point of having a dairy
to sell if no-one knows about it?

He said you told them to take it off
the market.

I was going to discuss this with you.

I just want you to think about it
some more.

You promised me!

Six months and we'd be back in
London. It's been six months.

That's not long enough to do what I
know I can do with this place.

And what am I supposed to do?

I haven't written one word since I
came here.

Not one word! Why not? This place is
perfect for you.

It's peaceful, there are no
distractions.

Of course. How could you possibly
understand?

Put simply, the victim was killed by
a blow to the head from a large
wheel of cheese.

Hard cheese.

Any chance it was an accident, if the
shelving collapsed?

The brain showed injuries to suggest
her moving head hitting the floor.

But there's a separate injury
suggesting a further blow

when she was stationary on the
ground.

She was trapped by the shelves and
her attacker made sure she stayed
down.

Have we got a time of death?

It's difficult to be precise, as
always,

but the constant temperature in the
caves helps us.

It gives us a window between 8:30
and 9:30 last night.

Shame you can't tell us why she was
there.

I've checked her phone records.

She received a call around 8:30 from
a blocked number.

Maybe someone asking her to come up
to the caves.

It'd have to be someone she knew and
trusted.

I certainly wouldn't go there to
meet a stranger.

This was found in Debbie's pocket.

Oh.

'Dear Miss Moffett, we regret to
inform you that as of next term,

Holly will no longer be a pupil at
Midsomer Pastures Preparatory
School'.

The ladies didn't mention that in
their heartfelt tributes.

No, they didn't.

'This is as a result of a serious
contravention of the school's
constitution.

This decision is final. We wish Holly
every success and happiness for the
future.'

Signed: Sylvia Mountford,
headmistress, and Beatrix Ordish,

chairwoman of the Parents' Council.

Let's find out what young Holly is
supposed to have done.

Yes, sir.

Oh, and I'm sure you already have
plans for Saturday night

but Sarah wanted to invite you both
for dinner.

But if you're busy -
No. I'm free.

Sounds lovely. What's the occasion?

15 years of married bliss.
Ah.

So, just bring yourselves and a
bottle.

15 years. Wow.

That's pretty -
Terrifying.

I was going to say inspiring.
Aw.

He looks a little perkier.
Do you think so?

He's almost back to his old self.

I'm not so sure. I'd like to keep an
eye on him for a little while
longer.

OK, if you think that's necessary.

I went to a PTA meeting today.

And you came out in one piece?

Well, it was a little -
Unnerving?

Infuriating? Mind-numbing?

All of the above?
Don't hold back, dear.

I have had nightmares where I've
been trapped in a roomful of plastic
chairs, cheap biscuits

and parents whining about the lack
of adequate parking outside the
school.

I found the ladies of Midsomer
Pastures Prep School Parents' Council
to be restrained and intriguing.

Sylvia Mountford's yummy mummy
squad. I've heard all about them.

These were more Stepford Wives than
yummy mummies.

A roomful of perfect women and not
another man for miles, except for
Jones,

and he doesn't count.

John, you should have said.

I'd be more than happy to spend my
days baking the perfect sponge

and choosing perfect wallpaper
patterns, and generally just being
perfect.

No, you wouldn't.

Anyway, what do I want with
perfection when I already have you?

Hang on, that didn't come out right.

You're right there.

Oh!

Oh, no.

♪ Summer is a-coming in

♪ Loudly sing cuckoo...

Obviously we won't be pursuing
Holly's expulsion now, not in the
circumstances.

That doesn't answer my question. Why
was she being expelled in the first
place?

What had she done?
Nothing.

Miss Mountford, I'm at a loss here.

It wasn't Holly's behaviour we were
concerned about. It was Debbie's.

Lady Elizabeth Rodney.

She's the wife of Sir Henry, the
original owner of the dairy.

She devoted herself to improving the
social conditions of Midsomer
Pastures

by building this school.

Very generous of her.

She also introduced the dairy
scholarship,

entitling dairy workers' children to
a place at the school, all fees
waived.

That continues today.

As do the behavioural requirements
for parents of children at the
school.

Parents of those receiving the dairy
scholarship must refrain from all
intoxicating liquor,

bawdy language...

Brawling, games of chance, dice and
playing cards, blasphemy

and congress outside of wedlock.

With respect, this is from a time
when they still covered up piano
legs.

Obviously we won't expel a child
whose parents enjoy a G&T and a hand
of bridge.

So, how exactly had Deborah Moffett
transgressed?

She was involved in an inappropriate
relationship.

A married man.

Who?
I don't know.

The Parents' Council received a
communication from a concerned
member of the community.

Not concerned enough to put their
name to the accusation.

Deborah was invited to a meeting to
discuss the situation.

She chose not to come.

It was out of my hands.

Debbie Moffett was having an affair.

I found these on her phone.

She took them to send to someone,
obviously.

Presumably not her mother.

There were two numbers she dialled
regularly.

Greg Brantner - he runs the dairy -
and Oliver Ordish.

Ordish. Any relation to -
Beatrix's husband, yeah.

But it was Greg she was calling on
the night she died.

Four calls between 5:32 and 7:55.

He was her boss.

You're my boss but I don't feel the
need to call you all hours of the
day and night.

Let's keep it like that.

Who are the photos for? Greg or
Oliver?

Very pretty.

They're for Debbie's mother.

Do you think that's necessary?

I think it's the very least I can
do.

Never ceases to amaze me, you know.

What does?

How you find pointless little things
to do to fill your day.

I wish I had time for such
distractions.

I thought you did. All sorts of
distractions.

Once again, I won't be accused in my
own house.

Is that why you spend so little time
here?

Yet I still manage to pay the
mortgage.

Perhaps you should have the place
all to yourself.

Where would you go? Back to the
state I found you in?

I don't think you could manage.

Get that, would you?

It's one of the few downsides of
living in such a close community.

Every loss is felt so very keenly.
Don't you think, darling?

Mrs Ordish, I wonder if I might
trouble you for a cup of tea?

Oh, yes, of course.

Oh, sweetheart?

I'm fine, love.

Mr Ordish, I need to ask you about
the nature of your relationship with
Debbie Moffett.

She's a friend of my wife's.

We encountered one another on a
professional basis. I work for the
Cheese Board.

I'm sorry?

The British Board of Cheese and
Dairy Products.

Government quango promoting UK
cheeses.

Midsomer Blue plays a big part in
that.

So you've been meeting Debbie on a
regular basis recently?

That's right. My job is to put
cheesemakers in the right room with
the right people

so they can build rewarding
relationships.

And just how rewarding was your
relationship with Debbie?

Not sure I understand the question.

We found some interesting photographs
on Debbie's mobile phone.

Would I, by any chance, find those
same images on yours?

It's another of the downsides of
living in such a close community.

It's very difficult to keep a secret.

Were you aware that Debbie's romantic
life was under discussion at the
Parents' Council?

My name was never mentioned?

No, just Debbie's name dragged
through the mud. It's funny how often
that happens.

She had a lot less to lose than I
did.

What I mean is -
I think your meaning is very clear.

Where were you at nine o'clock on the
evening that Debbie died?

Driving back from Causton station. I
leave my car there when I go up to
Westminster.

Which train were you on?

The 6:30 out of Paddington. Listen
to me.

I may have been... spending time
with Debbie.

That's one way of putting it.

I didn't kill her.

It was just a fling. No strings, no
consequences.

It was just sex.

We spoke all the time. At all hours.

Only about work?

Debbie was my right hand.

I wouldn't have lasted six weeks here
without her, let alone six months.

Bit of a rock, was she?

I had no idea what we'd taken on.
When we got hold of the books -

But Midsomer Blue is famous. It wins
awards.

Awards for small amounts of cheese
made in a labour-intensive way.

There had to be sacrifices on all
sides.

Hayley and I had to sell the main
house and move into here, for a
start.

All this was new territory for me.

What did you do before?

You're not a rugby fan, then?

I've chased a few eggs, a few England
caps.

Really?

Why did you stop playing?
Glass shoulder.

Hadn't thought of anything but tries
and tackles since leaving Oxford

then Hayley's father died and here we
are.

But there was Debbie. A friendly
face.

Debbie was the only one that got that
I was trying to save this place.

Hang on. What about Jim Caxton?

Ah, the cheese wizard.

You've met him. How do you think he'd
be talking to customers?

Debbie had all that - the chat.

That's why I promoted her over him.

So, your relationship with Debbie
remained purely professional
throughout?

No.

Helen, we've talked about this. We
tried to negotiate.

You mean when Debbie offered me less
money per pint it cost me to produce
the milk?

That's a bloody insult, not
negotiation.

Market forces.
Oh, I understand that.

Your lovely contract with
Conglomerate Uni-Dairy.

Such a romantic name.

Puts me in mind of rosy-cheeked
milkmaids. Helen.

Problem is, my cows don't seem to
have got the message.

They still need milking and feeding.
What am I supposed to do with all
this milk?

So I decided to do this.

Hey!

Helen!

Mrs Caxton, DS Jones. I suggest you
stop that.

Immediately!

Poppy, will you please eat something?
I don't like it.

You're being silly. You have it every
week.

I don't want it any more.

And why not?
I don't think we should eat animals.

Now you really are being silly.
I'm not. They have feelings too.

And how they're killed, it's cruel
and...

bar... bar...
Barbaric?

That's right, Daddy.

Where do you think she's
getting this from? It can't be.

Who have you been talking to, Poppy?
Nobody.

You remember that conversation we
were having, about lying?

It just gets you into more trouble.

OK. I'll be in the pub if you need
me. I can't imagine we will.

How about some beans on toast,
instead?

There we are, sir.

Ssh-ssh-ssh.

Everything's gonna be fine.

Mummy's gonna make sure of that.

Just about sums you up, you cold
bitch.

Fine. I'm going back to the bloody
pub.

Who's there?

What are you doing?
Feeding the dog.

Is he on a diet? I wanna make sure
we're keeping him healthy.

Oh, well, I don't think he
appreciates your concern.

John, what happened when you took
him to the vets?

What do you mean? Well, you've been
so worried about him.

Should I be worried too? No, no,
absolutely not. He's... He's fine.

Oh, so I... I spoke to Ben and Kate
and they're on for Saturday night,

so I'd better think about the menu.

Any special requests? I'll do all
your favourites. That'll be lovely.

And lobster's so expensive, this
time of year. Lobster? I didn't even
know you liked it.

15 years and I'm still surprising
you.

See you later.
Bye.

Jones?

A bit of a nasty one, sir.
Aren't they always?

Kate, what have we got?

Something very odd indeed.

They aren't from decomposition, are
they? I wouldn't expect that for
another 12 hours.

I think time of death was somewhere
around 10 o'clock last night.

According to the landlord of the
Spotted Cow, he was there till about
9:30.

So the maggots...? I don't think
they're even blowfly maggots.

I need to get them back to the lab.

Could they be related to the cause of
death? Not as far as I can tell.

So they were put there deliberately.

Why?

Maybe they're... maggots with a
message.

Mrs Ordish, I'm very sorry, but I'm
afraid we have to ask you some
questions.

What time did your husband go to the
pub, last night?

It was around seven o'clock.

And you didn't wait up for him?

No.

Were you and your husband on good
terms when he left for the pub?

Were you aware that the allegations
about Debbie Moffett's private life

also involved your husband?

I'm not stupid.
No, I didn't think you were.

Credit me with enough intelligence
not to kill my husband where my
daughter might find him.

Yes, you're cleverer than that.

Clever enough to anonymously tip off
your own committee about your
husband's mistress.

And, in the circumstances, did you
really expect Debbie to show up at
that meeting?

Nothing that woman did came as a
surprise to me.

Does that include her turning up
dead, Mrs Ordish?

It's a simple case of a woman
scorned.

First, she kills the mistress,

then her husband meets a sticky end
to finish the job.

And the maggots?

Like you said, they're a message,
that Oliver Ordish was a cheating
maggot.

The way the killer lay in wait, bided
his or her time,

that's not a crime of passion or
outrage.

So what's your theory, then?

Everything in this village centres
around one thing: the dairy.

It's muddled along for over a century
and then in comes Greg Brantner.

And Jim Caxton is pushed aside.

Yesterday's man.

Greg's ambitious and driven. Perhaps
Debbie and Oliver's affair got in
the way of his plans.

But Greg's got an alibi for the night
Debbie died.

What if I make sure it stands up?

Any news?

PC Milton, are you receiving, over?

Milton receiving. Please stand by.

Standing by.

Greg Brantner was supposed to be
speaking at the rugby club dinner
the night Debbie died.

We knew that. We didn't know it was
cancelled last-minute.

He checked himself into the hotel
for the night.

He ordered champagne - that's not
something you drink on your own.

I've arranged to meet him again.

I want to speak to someone who
doesn't rely on the dairy for their
livelihood.

How about someone with an axe to
grind?

Always useful.

This is it. It has to stop.
It-It's too much. It's too much.

Jim, calm down. No, that won't work
on me, not this time.

I knew this was wrong in the first
place. I should've stopped it then.

Yeah, but we didn't, now we've gone
too far. No, you've gone too far.

What's that supposed to mean?
The way they found Oliver.

Jim, I didn't have anything to do
with - I don't want to know!

Jim, how can you even think that?

It's over, Helen.

What are you gonna do? Jim?

Mrs Caxton?
Yeah?

Could I have a word?

Hello, Poppy.

You know it was cancelled?
Yes, I knew.

They called me the night before,
something about a flooded function
room.

But you still went to the hotel. Why?

I had a business meeting.
With who?

It was Debbie.

You told me your relationship with
her was purely professional.

It was.

Look, I know how this sounds - It
sounds like you're not telling me
the truth.

OK, if I tell you something, it can't
go any further.

I can't make any promises.

Debbie and I were supposed to be
celebrating.

We pulled off a very big deal with a
national supermarket.

The sort of deal that secures the
future of Midsomer Blue for years to
come.

That's why I ordered the champagne.

So Midsomer Blue won't be made in
the old-fashioned way?

But it still has to be made in
Midsomer Pastures so that we can use
the name,

it's just that we'll be using more
up-to-date food technology.

And less employees.

You understand why Debbie and I had
to keep things on the down-low.

Didn't want to give the Luddites a
heads-up.

Did Oliver Ordish know anything
about your plans?

Of course. He made the introductions.

He helped broker the deal.

So, you see, all above board.
Clearly.

Why did you keep it a secret from
your wife? She's the one who
inherited her family's dairy.

Won't she have something to say
about these changes?

Hayley's one of those creative types,
doesn't have a head for business.

And?

I just didn't wanna bother her with
it when she's trying to write, OK?

Uh-huh.

Oh, by the way, can I see your last
set of accounts, please?

Mrs Ordish, can I get you anything?

Where's Poppy?

Poppy?

Poppy, are you in there?

Poppy!

Where's my daughter?

Years of doing business with the
dairy and it meant nothing.

You know, the day I buried Phil, I
still made the milk delivery.

I wonder why I bothered now.

Phil?
My late husband.

I'm sorry. Do you mind me asking
how...?

Suicide. Apparently, he'd rather
take a handful of sleeping pills
than face our problems,

so he left me to face 'em on my own.

Still, what can't be cured must be
endured.

Can't all take the easy way out. I
don't think suicide is ever the
'easy' option.

It's not exactly a picnic for those
of us left behind.

Did you consider selling up?
Oh, yeah.

Might have even been able to pay off
the debts,

but only if I could've sold it as a
going concern.

But Greg and Debbie put paid to that.

Greg doesn't owe me a thing, but...
Hayley's from Midsomer Pastures.

She should know better, but she just
let me go to the wall.

Give it 12 months, there won't be a
dairy farm in these pastures.

They'll all be in tins of dog food.

That must be very distressing.
Oh, don't worry about me.

I'm not about to reach for the
sleeping pills... yet.

Excuse me.

Barnaby.

Hard not to think the worst.

She can't have got far in this amount
of time. If she's been taken -

Then this is a different case and
we're looking for a different kind of
killer.

I was holding her. I don't
understand how this can happen.

Could she have gone to see a friend?
No.

She knows better than that and all
her friends live too far away.

What about family? Is there anyone
nearby? No, there's no-one.

She just has me now and I just have
her.

Mrs Ordish, I'm sorry to have to ask
you this,

but can you think of anyone who might
wish to harm Poppy?

She's just a little girl.

Perhaps in connection with your
husband, or yourself?

No, and you're talking like she...
She's not, OK. She can't be.

Beatrix.
Hayley.

Poppy's gone missing.

Beatrix, I was coming to say how
sorry I was about Oliver. I had no
idea.

I think I'll join the search, sir.
Now, tell me, when did you last see
her?

Jim? Jim?

Please!

No, I have to make sure. I should
never have got involved in this in
the first place.

I just can't help wondering what
I've done to deserve all this.

First Oliver and now...
You mustn't think like that.

I mean, what could you possibly have
done that was so bad?

Absolutely nothing. Hayley, I do
hope you're not encouraging Beatrix
to think negatively.

Especially at this time.
Of course not.

That would be rather insensitive.

I was just... Perhaps you could do
something useful.

Do you still know how to make tea?

Of course. I'll just...

I talked you into it. I shouldn't
have taken advantage of you.

No, it's not that, it's just I...

I can't think when I'm around you,
Helen.

You confuse me, you always have.

I'm sorry.

I'll keep going.
You don't have to, not for me.

Poppy?

Poppy!

Poppy!

Poppy, are you in there?

No, I'm here.

Where have you been?
I went for a walk.

A walk? Come on.

Come up here. You go first.
OK.

Do you know how worried your mummy's
been?

Sorry.

Who were you with?

Nobody. I was on my own.

For all this time? Are you sure?

Are we going home now?

I think we better had, don't you?

Mrs Ordish...

Poppy.

There you are, you see. No need for
all the histrionics.

She thought her daughter was dead.

I wasn't talking about Beatrix.

I don't think you'll be needed now.

Perhaps you should go.

Cause of death is strangulation.

The small haemorrhages around the
eyes are consistent with this.

The killer used a garrotte made of
something very strong and very fine.

A cheese wire?

Well, that would do the job.
Quick and nasty. And the maggots?

I found traces of organic matter on
them and around the victim's mouth.

Organic matter? I think the maggots
are cheese fly larvae.

I'm waiting for that to be confirmed
by an entomologist.

Cheese?

We are sure they didn't occur
naturally?

There's a lot of cheese in Midsomer
Pastures. It could be something he
ate.

No, stomach contents were meat and
vegetables.

There was no cheese or larvae in his
oesophagus,

suggesting they were placed
postmortem. Why?

Well, he would have swallowed by
reflex, had he still been alive.

Thank you, Kate.

Oh, erm...

Are you very busy this afternoon?

Mm.

This way, guys. This is it.

Greg?

Go ahead and do whatever you need to
do. Greg?

Ah, Jim, I really didn't expect you
to be here.

Look, this is nothing for you to
worry about. What do you mean?

I've already had the police
traipsing through here. This is a
delicate environment.

You just get them out of here.
Hey.

Ow! You're hurting me.
Good.

Then you might actually listen for
once in your damn life. It's over,
Jim.

What are you saying? That things are
about to change around here

and you are surplus to my
requirements. Oh, really?

You don't have a clue...

It's true, that's why I've got these
people to help me do it

and they'll do it faster, cleaner,
bigger and with a lot less whining.

So time to move on, eh?

These are the accounts for the
dairy.

Greg Brantner was telling the truth.

The place had a couple of months, at
best.

Supermarket deal saved the day.
Good for Greg.

But, while he was struggling to pay
the dairy farmers,

he was making large, regular
payments to a company called Papaver
Holdings.

And what do Papaver Holdings do?
Nothing, as far as I can see.

There are no invoices, no delivery
notes.

But guess whose address the company
is registered to?

Papaver. Latin name for 'poppy'.

Nice of Oliver to be so sentimental
about his corruption.

I paid Oliver a consultancy fee.
Nothing illegal in that.

Turns out he was being paid quite a
few consultancy fees.

He was working for Conglomerate
Uni-Dairy too.

How much pressure did he put you
under to order all your milk from
them?

That's the thing when you start
paying bribes.

There's a point where they become
hush money.

And there is a way of ending a
business relationship like that.

This is all pure conjecture.

You have nothing on me.

Not yet.

What's this?

I thought we should talk.

Yeah, if you e-mail me anything you
find. Yeah, that's great. Thanks.

I wasn't expecting that.

When was the last time you had your
dressings changed?

Let's try and make you a bit more
comfortable, shall we?

Mm.

How is he?

See for yourself.

That can't be right, can it?

What's the boss up to?

You do understand why I was angry?

Sure.

You've lied to me, hidden things.

I didn't think you were interested.
You never gave me a chance.

You kept telling me how much you
hated this place, how you couldn't
write here.

Actually, I managed a couple of
chapters, this morning.

See? It can't be that bad.
I suppose.

I think we could have a real future
here. It's not what I imagined for
us.

I know that. But if it's what you
really want...

then I'll give it my best.
You won't regret it.

I won't let you.

That's very nice.
Sweetheart!

Mummy needs to go out, but Emily's
here.

Where are you going?
Nowhere that need worry you.

I'll say you later, all right?
Hi.

Hi.

That's going to ruin my day.

Hi.
Hi.

What?

Jake.

Jake!

I was very sorry to hear about
Oliver. When's the funeral? I'd love
to pay my respects.

Stay away and I don't want you
anywhere near Poppy, do you
understand?

Why, what do you think I'll do to
her? Nothing.

I just don't want you confusing her.
About what?

She's just a little girl, I don't
want her head filled with your vegan
nonsense.

It's not nonsense.
For God's sake!

We live in a village famous for its
bloody cheese!

Do you know why I became a vegan?
So you could make life harder?

Yeah? That's your job.

Yeah, on dairy farms, they're only
happy when a baby cow is born if
it's a female.

Those cows are kept with their
mothers, nurtured and looked after.

But the male calves, nobody
wants them.

So when a bullock is born, he's
taken away and shot.

Murdered, because he's worthless.

Absolutely worthless.

Hello?

Who's there?

Who's there?

Am I supposed to be scared?

Did you get the spatter patterns?
Yeah. Oh, great. Thank you.

Morning, sir.

Looks like he disturbed an intruder
and it all turned nasty.

Is there anything missing?
Not even a petty cash box.

Single stab wound.

What is that?

A cheese needle, apparently.

Usually used for making holes in
cheese, not cheesemakers. Very
effective, though.

A small, sharp point requiring
relatively little force to push it
through the flesh.

Any sign of a struggle?
The scene doesn't suggest that.

Minimal spatter and staining. The
track of the weapon took it straight
through the heart.

It would have stopped the heart.

Who discovered the body?
His wife.

She's being looked after at the
house.

I came down and the kitchen door was
wide open.

I went out to see what was going on
and there he was...

So the security alarm didn't wake
you?

I'd had a bottle of wine.

We lived in London for years. I can
sleep through all sorts of alarms.

That's one of the reasons why Greg
wanted to come here -

he thought the countryside would be
safe and quiet.

I mean, look at what's happened.

Debbie, Oliver and now Greg.

It must be very distressing.

Only a couple of days ago, I had
someone creeping around, looking
through the window.

When was this?
The day after Debbie died.

Can you describe them?
It was a young man.

I didn't really get a good look.
And you didn't think to report it?

No, I'm sorry.

Do you think, if I had, would Greg
still be alive?

Oh, God.

If Greg Brantner had died, protecting
his property,

I would have expected signs of a
struggle.

A fatal wound sustained from the
front, not the back.

I would have expected something to
be missing.

The alarm went off because the killer
wanted to get Greg outside.

Another murder connected to the
dairy, actually at the dairy?

I think we should be talking to Jim
Caxton.

Look at this.

Debbie Moffett, dead. Beatrix Ordish,
widowed.

Hayley Brantner, widowed.

It's like they're being picked off
and punished.

And then there's Helen Caxton.

Also widowed.

And pretty bitter about it.

This started with Debbie's death,
after a row at the school.

I want to know more about Sylvia
Mountford's establishment, Jones.

OK.

And dig deep.

Ah, John, I've had some information
back from my entomologist friend.

The maggots? He's sure they're not
indigenous to the area.

In fact, they're usually found in
Sardinia.

Italian maggots?
Yes.

It's all a little bit Mafioso, don't
you think? Oliver Ordish sleeps with
the fishes.

Well, I suppose they're easier to
clean up than a horse's head. Thank
you, Kate.

Oh, and... how is Sykes, this
morning?

Er, on the mend.

That's good. I've seen quite a few
dog attacks, they can be pretty
nasty.

I do hope you've reported the other
dog.

See you later.

Sorry to do this in your lunch hour.
It's OK, if I can be of any help...

I'm supposed to be looking into a
local school, then I realised I
already knew an expert.

I'm not sure I'd call myself an
expert, but fire away.

I've looked at all the official
information about Midsomer Pastures
Prep,

but what I really need...

Is the gossip?
Yeah.

Going somewhere?
Away from here.

I thought this was your domain, your
precious cheeses.

Not any more. Greg's seen to that.

And now someone's seen to Greg.
Sorry?

I assume you know what this is.

Yeah, of course. I work with them
every day.

They're pretty vicious-looking.

You know they're only designed to go
through cheese.

Not hearts?

Greg Brantner was found dead this
morning.

Oh, my God.

Well, I haven't been back to the
dairy, I didn't know, I...

I just wanna make cheese.

We've had a lot of their kids

bounced over to us at Causton Comp,
after being excluded.

You get Sylvia Mountford's rejects?
Except I wouldn't call them that.

No, no, of course not. It's not out
of political correctness, Ben.

I expected problem kids, but they
all have fairly easy-to-solve
problems.

A little bit of extra help in maths
or science,

maybe a little extra literacy work
to help them catch up,

but certainly not the behavioural
issues that would usually lead to an
expulsion.

And I would imagine expelling a kid
has a pretty negative effect.

Usually, but a lot of these kids
seem glad to get away from the
place.

Why?

I don't know. I mean, I suppose it's
a high-pressure environment.

It would have to be to maintain
those grades.

I wondered if we should talk.

I didn't think you'd be doing dairy
business today, of all days.

I'm not, I just...

I think it's time, Helen.

I brought you this.

Sorry, I shouldn't have.

Beggars can't be choosers.

All donations gratefully received.

Go on, then.

I just... wanted to say sorry.
For what?

For not getting in touch...
when I heard about Phil.

My dad called me as soon as he
heard.

Yeah, well, your dad was a decent
bloke.

I can't say the same about your late
husband.

I'm sorry about the farm...

and the contract.

When I get everything sorted, I'll
see what I can do...

but, at the moment, it's all so
hard.

But, then, I don't have to tell you
that.

What, you want the 'welcome to the
widows' club' talk?

Maybe.

Or maybe I just think there are
other things we should get off our
chests.

I don't know what you're talking
about. Oh, come on, Helen.

You know what went on.

Debbie's gone, there is no need to
be scared any more.

That's what this is about?

Ancient bloody history?

It's something I need to do.

Well, guess what? If I've learned
one thing since we were at school
together,

it's that you don't always get what
you need.

Instead, you get a husband who
doesn't give a damn about you,

so much so, he kills himself and
leaves you up to your eyes in debt.

That's when you need your friends,
but they don't come anywhere near
you,

because being around you reminds
them of sad things, like overdoses
and suicide.

So you need a distraction,

something to keep you so tired you
don't have the energy to even think.

Something like a crappy dairy farm.
Helen, I told you, I'm -

Shut up, Hayley!

Then someone will come round and
take that away from you as well,

and then they have the brass neck
to come round to your crappy little
farm

and tell you what they need.

Maybe it was a mistake, me coming
here.

You think?

This is a pleasant surprise.

Thank you for seeing me.

However, I do believe I gave a full
account of myself to your superior
officer.

Actually, I wanted to talk about
your school.

You must be very proud of your
educational achievements.

Proud, but not complacent.
There's always room for improvement.

Well, you could look at your high
expulsion rate, for a start.

17 children in the last three years
alone.

Obviously, that's not something
we're happy about.

I'm sure it's just a coincidence,
but they were all children with a
free place at your school.

I'm not sure what you're suggesting.
Highest school fees in the area,

yet you have to give away that
expensive education for free to
those damn dairy brats.

Well, it's a long time since I've
heard that expression.

I have no issue with these children.

Really?

I'll have you know that the
chairwoman of my council came to the
school on a free place.

Beatrix Ordish?

She had a very challenging life.

And I'm extremely proud of what
she's achieved.

Challenging, how?

There were obstacles.

I really don't think it's up to me
to say.

I'd admire your discretion if I
wasn't investigating multiple
murders, Miss Mountford.

Well, it...

It was after she'd left my school.

Yes?

She got involved with a boy and I'm
led to believe that nature took its
course.

Go on, then.

Beatrix Ordish has an illegitimate
son.

Jake Yapley.

When Poppy went missing, Beatrix told
us there was no other family.

He was brought up in Midsomer
Pastures,

but he's been living with his father
in Scotland since September 2002.

In a minute.

He also has some convictions.

Criminal damage and threatening
behaviour. What for?

Animal rights protest at the
headquarters of Conglomerate
Uni-Dairy.

Do you think he's a suspect?

I didn't, until I saw this.

It's based on a description Hayley
Brantner gave of her mystery
stalker.

Speak to his father. See if you can
get an idea of his recent
whereabouts.

Yes, sir.

This better not be another false
alarm.

Come on.

Jake Yapley's father hasn't seen him
for weeks.

Sir?

Helen?

Helen?

Helen! Oh! Wake up!

Phil?
No, it's Jim.

Ah, that's good. I'm glad it's you.

Are you? What's the matter?

It should've been you from the
start.

You can't lie here. We've got to get
you up.

You can't stay here.
I love you, Jim.

I love you too.

No, no, get back. Go on!

Get... Get back!

A nasty accident?

I don't think so.

Helen Caxton sustained head injuries
that are not consistent with her
ultimate death by cow

but are, however, consistent with
this shovel.

I found traces of blood on it.

I'll get it tested, but I'll be
happy for you to assume it's Helen
Caxton's blood.

Come and have a look at this.

One of the boys smelled something
odd coming from the back of Jim
Caxton's van.

Oh, what is that?

I believe that is casu marzu,

a Sardinian delicacy.
Even in that state?

They use the maggots as part of the
maturing process.

They liquefy the cheese to intensify
the flavour. It doesn't explain why
he's got a vanload of it.

Casu marzu is illegal to import and
export, which makes this a highly
sought-after product.

Is that why he's been so evasive?
He's dealing in illegal cheese?

Jim had the expertise, Helen had the
milk and the money problems.

So are we caught up in some sort of
cheese turf war?

Nothing to do with cheese.

The maggots on Oliver Ordish's corpse
were put there deliberately

to throw suspicion onto Helen Caxton.

Another girl from that photograph was
being punished.

There's only Beatrix and Hayley
left.

Well, let's talk to them, then, and
to the woman who knows how to push
their buttons.

Thank you for coming, Beatrix.

You heard about Helen?
Of course, it's terrible.

I agree, the whole thing is
terrible.

I think it's high time it was
stopped. Won't you come in?

Beatrix.

Hayley.

Well, I think we can all agree that
things have got a little out of hand
over the past few days.

I'm not sure what that has to do
with me.

Or me.
Oh, girls.

You forget I know you better than
you know yourselves.

This whole chaos has your names
stamped all over it.

Need I remind you that I've just
lost my husband?

So have I.
Oh, a corrupt philanderer

and a domineering dolt who cares
more for sour milk than he did his
wife.

Am I wrong?

Perhaps whoever killed them was
doing us a good turn.

Perhaps you did. I don't know why
you're looking at me.

Well, I think we all know what
you're capable of, Beatrix.

After all, you sent your own son
away.

Don't you dare start with -
That's enough!

I became tired of you two trading
accusation and counter-accusation in
this office

a long time ago.

I have no desire to revisit the
past.

It's not going to be a problem, Miss
Mountford.

I'm leaving Midsomer Pastures.

And, this time, it's for good.

I can't help feeling that that's for
the best.

I really don't give a damn what you
think, either of you.

Oh.

That's one thing sorted out.

Is there anything else that needs
tackling? I don't think so.

No other historical issues?

No, Miss Mountford.

I'm pleased to hear it.

Hi, Poppy.
Hello.

Is your mummy home?
No.

You're not on your own, are you?
Emily's baby-sitting,

even though I'm not a baby.

Do you know when she'll be back? She
was supposed to be back ages ago.

Is she late? Really late. Emily's
really annoyed.

She was supposed to be going to the
pictures with her boyfriend,

now she's taking it out on me.

She made me eat my yogurt, even
though I told her I was a vegan now,

because of the baby cows.
Ah.

Could you arrest her for that?
I don't think so.

My brother says meat is murder.

Your brother? Jake?

Poppy, when was the last time you
saw him?

Ooh!

No, there's no sign of Hayley
Brantner either.

Did Poppy say what Jake's been doing
here?

She wasn't very clear, but I think
he's been living rough.

I think he's been back in the
village for a while.

I wouldn't know where to start
looking for him. Help! Help!

Jake!
Help! She needs an ambulance.

I'll call you back. Jake's here with
Beatrix. Jones?

What's going on? Jones?

The ambulance is on its way.

What happened?

We were at the school.

Hayley and Miss Mountford.

She should never have come back.

Who? Hayley?

We got rid of her.

Miss Mountford didn't want her
here... like the others.

The things we did...

I need to make a call.

Stay with her.

You're gonna be all right. I should
go.

No, please stay.

You let Oliver send me away.

I'm so sorry.

Jake, please.

You don't look very well, Miss
Mountford.

Was there something unpleasant in
your tea?

Here, let me help you.

She was at the school with Hayley
and Miss Mountford.

I think she's been drugged, or
poisoned. Hayley's nowhere to be
seen.

Beatrix said Miss Mountford didn't
want Hayley around.

They forced her out and I think they
did that to a lot of children.

I think Sylvia Mountford is about to
become a victim of her own success.
I'll meet you there.

OK.

It's a long time since I've been in
here. I hated science.

That was the only class we were all
in together. All four of us.

It's a long time ago.
That's what everyone keeps saying,

as if I don't have to live with it
every day.

Like it doesn't affect everything I
do, everything I think.

Well, I didn't know.

Liar!

You knew, you just didn't care.

They were useful to you, your little
troop of bullies.

Just like your damn Parents'
Council. Standards must be
maintained.

I never lived up to your standards,
did I?

That's why you let them make my life
a bloody misery, every day,

until I couldn't bear it any longer

and then you calmly suggested to my
father that I'd be happier
elsewhere.

Made it sound all my fault, like I
asked for it.

Always the victim. Nothing changes.

Well, things are going to change,
Miss Mountford, especially for you.

You were the one who found me in
here, remember?

I begged them, anything but that.

I couldn't stand small spaces, they
made me feel like I couldn't
breathe,

like the air was running out and
choking me. Can you imagine that?

Oh, it's OK. You don't
have to imagine.

Where's Sylvia Mountford?
You'll never find her.

Even if you do, it'll be too late.
Tell me where she is.

Miss Mountford.

Miss Mountford?

Miss Mountford!

So... you think you've won. Everybody
got what they deserved.

You don't know what they did.
I've met your type before.

Excuses for everything. Every little
failure in your -

Oh, shut up!
And all because it's so much easier

to blame someone else for your own
weaknesses, isn't it?

No.

It was their fault. Their choice and
so they had to pay.

You'd all grown up.
Debbie, lording it over me?

Keeping secrets from me with my
husband? No!

Beatrix still thinking she was so
much better than me?

And Helen?

If she'd just found it in herself to
say sorry...

Nothing had changed...

except me.

I don't let people push me around
any more, like Greg.

Six months and no more.

I didn't want to be here.

You were never wanted here,
especially not by Miss Mountford.

She told me she'd given everything
to this school.

Now she really has.

Really? And do you think that you can
win this time?

You weren't quite bright enough back
then to keep her school at the top of
the league tables

and I don't think anything's changed.
I've changed.

I'm the one in charge now.

Yes.

You've got your own back, you've put
her in her place.

Yes, where she belongs.

Not me.

I don't let people put me in places
I don't want to be.

Not any more.

Is that what the girls did, Hayley?

They put you in some place you didn't
want to be?

I begged them not to put me in
there. They did it anyway.

They knew I didn't like the dark.

And that smell...
What smell? What was it?

Like rotten egg.

Sulphur. Science.

Was it in a science lab?

It's too late now.

Get her outside!
Yes, sir.

Miss Mountford!

Miss Mountford?

Miss Mount...

I'll take her back.

Well done, sir.

Thank you, Inspector. I thought it
was all over for me.

It is. I hope it was all worth it,
Miss Mountford.

Has she been read her rights?
Yes, sir.

Anyone for cheese? Guaranteed free of
foreign bodies.

I think I'll give it a miss.
It looks good to me.

This has been the perfect evening.

And it's not quite over yet.

We said we weren't doing presents.
I can always take it back.

Oh, John.

Oh, it's beautiful.

Thank you.

Mm.

He's a remarkably fast healer, isn't
he?

Um...

Sykes. There isn't a mark on him.

What happened?

So how did you find out?

Kate changed his bandages.

I think it was a ploy to keep Sykes
close to him.

In a way, you know, this was all your
fault. How?

I picked up the ring during my lunch
hour.

Yeah?

So, I was admiring the ring in one
hand,

and I had my sandwich in the other
hand,

and Sykes at my feet.
How was that my fault?

Because that was the moment when you
phoned me up

and, somehow, in the confusion, I fed
the rest of my sandwich and the ring
to the dog.

We're not that off-duty, Jones.

Sorry. Look, nature took its course,
there's no harm done.

And no-one need ever be any the
wiser. OK.

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