Midsomer Murders (1997–…): Season 9, Episode 4 - Down Among the Dead Men - full transcript

Mrs Redfern?
Yes.

How nice to meet you.

You mean you're Martin Barrett.
Yes.

I think we both expected someone
a little different.

The only thing that puzzles me is,
out of the nine girls who were
there,

why choose me?

Well, research.

The key to any successful
enterprise.

You've been poking your nose into my
business.

Well, I suppose that's one way of
putting it.

And what did your research tell you?



That for the most part, those girls
were pretty insipid.

Then your name came up.

A bit of an unknown quantity.

Independent ways.

Wayward, you mean.

♪ BIZET: The Pearl Fishers

OPERA CONTINUES

♪ PEARL FISHER'S DUET

Who is that?

DUET CLIMAXES

HIGH-FREQUENCY HUM

BEEPING

Morning, sir.
Morning.

One blast through the window



and good night Martin William
Barrett, aged 43.

Who reported it?
Anonymous male, sir.

He rang the station at six this
morning from the box on the corner.

Hello, George. I thought you were
supposed to be in France.

But for his nibs here, we would have
been.

People are funny, aren't they?

He shot the poor devil to kingdom
come from outside,

and then put the window back on the
catch. Funny, George?

Cool, calm and bloody terrifying.

Ready to sign him off,
Doctor Bullard?

What else?
Oh...

Er...

He was a widower, worked for the
council.

Had very few friends and didn't go
out much.

All according to the milkman.

He would know, would he?
Not as much as he thinks.

Barrett had a houseguest last night.

He left in a hurry.
SHE left in a hurry.

There's makeup on these tissues
in the bin.

Tony... Couldn't have been
the girlfriend, though,

or she wouldn't be in the spare room.

Mother? Daughter?

Sister?

Why does this place make me feel
uncomfortable, sir?

Oh, a sensitive lad like you, it
must be the body in the kitchen.

I can handle that, sir.

Maybe it's his taste in music.

Mario Lanza's very good.

I think it's the pathological
neatness of this place.

There's no clutter, there's no
unanswered letters.

No silly ornaments. Nothing out of
place.

Not even a mark on his blotter.

Yeah, well, who writes letters these
days, sir?

Who knows how to?

George, what time do you think he
was shot?

Say midnight for now.
More when I've pulled him apart.

Is it all right to take him back to
the office? Yes.

Right. OK.

Right, off you go, Peter. Mind your
back, Tom.

Our board at home is absolutely
covered with stuff.

Messages, telephone numbers, lists.

Hundreds of years old, some of them.

But Martin Barrett has but one
solitary item.

Does that make it significant?

Or just lonely?

What is it? It is a page
from an auction catalogue.

And, since we have to start
somewhere...

Then there's lot 387,

Love Beneath The Lilacs, oil on
canvas, William Graveney, 1879.

Oh, well, it's a young chap getting
to know a young lady rather well.

Oh, you did?

You don't happen to have the name and
address of the vendor, do you?

Oh, you're an absolute star.
Thank you.

It's the painting. It was sold by the
man who runs The Plough

down at Cadstone Ridge.

That's a five-minute walk from here.

Er, Jones,

five-minute walk?

CAR-LOCKING BEEPS

Good morning, gentlemen.
Good morning.

Mr Fothergill?
Yeah.

I'm Detective Chief Inspector -

Cough up, Ted!

Ha-ha!

I said to him, how long before the
police descend on me? This being
Gossip Central.

Less than a day, I said.
And what did Ted say?

A month, at least.

Cos you can never find one of your
fellas when you want one!

(CHUCKLES)

Well, poor old Martin, eh?
Reg the milkman told us.

He's a mine of information,
that man, isn't he?

However, why do you suppose,

that this was pinned up on Martin
Barrett's kitchen wall?

Did he intend to buy it, do you
think?

He might have done, I suppose. Yes,
perhaps he did.

But we're right in thinking it was
yours to sell?

My father's. He passed away last
November.

Yeah, the young lady in the picture
was too skinny for my taste so I got
rid of it.

Can you tell us about Martin Barrett,
please?

Did people like him? Loathe him?
Not give a damn?

He was generally well liked.

Sophisticated man.
Good conversationalist.

That's the young lady to speak to.
She used to clean for him.

Ruby, could you spare a moment?

Ruby Wilmott, this is Detec-
Coppers? About Martin?

You ready?

Martin Barrett was a mean, vicious,
ugly sod,

and I'm glad he karked it.

Come on, Ruby, a spot of Christian
charity, surely! Why, is it Sunday?

I'm sensing a difference of opinion
here.

"Intelligent and sophisticated"?

"Mean", and spiteful?

Villages, Inspector. One man's
friend is another man's enemy.

Or in Martin Barrett's case,
his murderer.

When did you last see him,
Mrs Wilmott? Yesterday morning.

Did he ask you to make up a bed in
the spare room?

I was his cleaner, not his wife.

Excuse me, I've got work to do.

Coffee, gentlemen?
Something stronger?

Thank you, but no, thank you. We also
have work to do. Thank you.

So, was Martin Barrett good, bad or
just plain ugly?

All three, according to them.

This girl in the spare room.
Why didn't she report the murder?

The simple answer would be
that she played a part in it.

Track her down, would you? Garages,
railway stations, taxi firms.

And get onto my new friend at the
auction house, would you?

Ask her if Martin Barrett actually
made a bid

for this Love Beneath The Lilacs.

Hm?
Mm.

Ruby, dear!

When the police start asking
questions,

the trick is to close doors on them,

not to give them reasons to go
digging deeper.

I told them the truth. I hated
Martin Barrett.

So did you, come to that.

Thank you, Mr Jocelyn, thanks very
much.

No, no, don't do that, I'll call in
for it.

Family all well?

Good. Bye.

You wanted to know about Barrett's
job, sir.

He was a wages clerk at the council.
It doesn't come any greyer.

Grey? The man was invisible.

I can't find anything about him
pre-1991 and precious little since.

Lived abroad? Changed his name,
perhaps.

I've also spoken to your lady friend
at the auction house.

Her name's Clara, by the way.
Yes, she said.

Barrett didn't try to buy
Love Beneath The Lilacs.

Ah, Jack Fothergill's father,
God rest his soul,

I've asked his solicitor for a copy
of the probate. Come with me.

Oh, if I may, sir...
What?

This is an ESDA print-out of the
impressions on Barrett's blotter.

Yes, and...?

There's a couple of letters,

and just down here in the corner
is a local phone number.

It's very recent,
the girl at the lab said.

Have you called it?
No.

Well, do.

Wendy, could you get onto
Bull Lane Garage?

Ask them if they'll strip down
Barrett's car for us.

RINGING TONE
Ask for Andy.

'Hi, you're through to Rick and
Maggie Florian.

We can't take your call at the
moment

but leave your name and number and
we'll buzz you back. Ciao!'

Ciao (!)

Ciao, Jones.

Get an address for that number,
will you?

If it's on our way, we'll call in,
have a word.

Good morning, sir.
Are you Mr Florian?

I am, indeed.

We are from Causton CID.
I'm Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby

and this is DC Jones.

I'm sorry to tell you this, but
there's been a murder in the village.

Oh, Martin Barrett, yeah, yeah.
We heard about it earlier.

From Reg the milkman, do doubt.

Yeah.

How did you...?
This is uncanny, isn't it, though?

Martin Barrett - why would he make
a note of your telephone number?

Has he been in touch lately?

Well, not that I recall.

Ahm... I'd better dig up the phone
records, sir.

Jog Mr Florian's memory.
Hang on, you're right, he did phone.

On... On...Tuesday morning, yeah,
my wife took the call.

Perhaps we could speak to her.
Ah, no.

I'm afraid she's still in bed.
Bit of a heavy weekend.

No, all he...all he wanted to know,
apparently,

was the name of our builder.
I'm not surprised.

He's made a lovely job of that,
hasn't he?

Tell us about the heavy weekend,
sir.

Well, we keep a boat down at
Fennacombe Bay.

That's not the problem. It's the
clubhouse after a day's sailing.

Where were you last night around
midnight?

Ahm... Well, just got back from
Fennacombe.

So, cup of tea, hit the sack.

What's your line of business,
Mr Florian?

I work in oil.

What, do you paint in it
or drill for it?

The latter.

Do you want to see?
Well, erm, yes.

Thank you.

Well, thank you, Mr Florian,
thank you very much.

Give my regards to your wife.

Thanks, I will.

Ciao (!)

You do enjoy flirting with danger,
don't you, Ricky? What?

The tarpaulin.

Maybe we should give next weekend
a miss. No, on the contrary,

the sooner we finish there,
the better.

SHOP BELL RINGS

BELL TOLLING

Old man Fothergill's probate.

Now, tell me what you see.

Or rather, do not see.

Not much to it.
(SPLUTTERS)

Aha!
Aha-ha.

I don't believe it!

Oh, hello again, Inspector.

Sorry, I didn't catch your name
this morning.

No, you didn't, did you?

Too busy collecting your winnings
from Ted.

Fancy us turning up twice in one
day, eh, Ted?

Just so long as we get the
protection that we pay for.

This is DC Jones, by the way. My name
is Barnaby, Tom Barnaby,

and we'd like a little chat with you
in private, please, if we may.

Ooh, don't worry, I have no secrets
from Ruby.

Do you mind, Ted?

Can't even have a quiet drink
without somebody interrupting.

Should we take a seat?

Thank you.

Sit yourselves down, gentlemen.

I'd offer you something to drink but
I'm sure you're on duty.

Mr Fothergill,

Love Beneath The Lilacs.

How much did you sell it for?
Well, I'm not altogether -

ã97,000.

ã97,000.

Too much for Martin Barrett,
I'd imagine.

Which means that he didn't want to
buy it, as you allowed us to believe.

He just wanted to know its value.

But why on earth would I -
I do like a man who won't be beaten!

Don't you, Jones?
Hm!

Here's the probate of your father's
will.

No mention of a painting.

Is that because it would have taken
you over the zero threshold in terms
of death duty?

Yes, I suppose it would, yeah.

Mr Fothergill, you have deprived the
Chancellor Of The Exchequer of his
40%.

Oh, don't worry, I'm not interested
in that. That's between you and him.

Then why are you here?

Did Barrett ask you for money
to keep quiet about it?

Well, I wouldn't put it quite as -
Yes!

Yes.

ã5,000 seemed a better deal than 40%
to the taxman.

Only it didn't stop at five.
The other day he asked for more,

in that way of his, where you're not
actually sure that he's asked you

but once he's gone you're left in
absolutely no doubt that he has.

I need a bit of top-up, Jack.

Well, go and ask Ruby,
she's minding the bar.

I wasn't talking about the drink.

That's the trouble with paying
Danegeld, isn't it?

You never get rid of the Dane.
Unless, of course, you murder him.

Well, I didn't do that, I promise
you.

Tell me where you were last night,

round about midnight.

I was on my way to bed.

We had a quiet night here.

When did your last customer leave?
About half-eleven.

It was Ted, as usual.

Can you think of anyone else
he might have been leaning on,
Mr Fothergill?

What, you mean Jack wasn't the only
one?

Oh, I doubt it, Mrs Wilmott.
People like that

usually have several victims,
and in Martin Barrett's case,

I imagine one of them killed him.

Afternoon, Tom.

George.

The report's done, being typed up as
we speak,

and I can tell you something about
his murderer.

Oh, make it his name and address,
will you?

I dug three different sizes of shot
from the body, and that means...?

That means that whoever killed him,
made up their own cartridges.

Yes, and I think the pellets were
homemade, too.

You can get shot made for next to
nothing on the internet.

But who would go to those great
lengths, George?

Poachers, gamekeepers, farmers...
MOBILE PHONE RINGS

Barnaby. Jones.

Oh, good. I'll be with you in five
minutes.

Thank you, George, and good work.

Eh, shouldn't you be in France?

Next week now.

Jones?

Ah, sir.

You're going to like this.
Am I?

Barrett's car. This had fallen down
between the windscreen and the
dashboard.

Receipt from Squids In.

"To Mrs Florian. Fish, two kilos."

The address is on the bottom.

Oh, yeah.

The Harbour, Fennacombe Bay.

Where the Florians keep their boat,

and here's proof that Barrett went
after them, I'd say.

The route to Fennacombe is
highlighted. You're right, Jones.

I do like it. Going to get
cleaned up, are you?

Yeah.

And pick the bones out of this.

Whatever Barrett had on his victims,

only he and they knew about it,
right? Right.

If it had been common knowledge,

Barrett wouldn't have been able to
use it.

And the only people who can tell us
what he knew about them

are the victims themselves.
No point in asking them.

They won't say anything.
Precisely.

So, whatever it was they were up to,

goes to the grave with Barrett.

Do we need to know what they were up
to? I think we do, Jones,

because whoever stood to lose the
most, probably killed him.

And since we can't confront the
Florians head on,

I think one of us should go down to
Fennacombe Bay

and find out what they were doing
down there. Sounds good, sir.

A trip to the seaside.

Shall we toss for it?

Oh, I already did. I won.

Right, sir.

There's still plenty to do, Jones.

I mean, not just finding the girl but
also whoever reported the crime.

Why were they hanging around
Barrett's house at six in
the morning?

Plenty to do, plenty to do.

Whoa!

I thought you liked honey balsamic
dressing. I do, very much,

but not to swim in.

Talking of which, early rise
tomorrow.

We're off to the seaside.
Ooh!

MOBILE PHONE RINGS

Hi, Jones. Sir, I think I may
have found us another victim,

and we're going up in the world.
Sir John Waverley.

Waverley?! He's on the Police
Committee.

'That's why I'm phoning you.
Reg the milkman saw Barrett

driving away from his farm, crack of
dawn last Friday.'

Oh, Reg again, eh?

Maybe I should have gone to the
coast while you stayed here.

'Oh, no, Jones, I've absolute
confidence in you.'

You go and talk to him.

But go gently, he lost his wife
a couple of months ago.

Right, sir.

(GASPS)

You can't beat it, can you, eh?

The first glimpse of the sea.

Where?

Well, I'm glad I brought
my cardigan.

Did you know the Bullards bought
a house in France?

Did I know?! Kath talks of nothing
else these days.

So, what is this rush towards
foreign climes, eh?

Cos I don't understand it.

What is wrong with England, eh?

(SIGHS)

What did Jones want?

Thank you.

Jones thinks he's found another of
Barrett's victims.

John Waverley.

Sir John?!

He's not the sort to have a skeleton
in the cupboard.

If it's about anything, it will be
about

that refuge he used to run for
disaffected teenagers.

They were all girls, weren't they?

And one or two of them
were rather difficult.

Cully had a friend there.

What was her name?

GRID RATTLES

PC Jones?
Yes, sir.

Morning.
Good morning, sir.

Mr Barnaby sends his apologies, sir.
Life-and-death call to the coast.

Come on through, Jones.
Coffee's on the go.

It's at times like these that I
realise what a good officer my DCI
is.

He puts people at their ease
straightaway.

And you don't?
Ah, well, I try to, certainly,

but when it's a matter of tricky
questions...

You follow his example, Jones,
you won't go far wrong.

Fire away.
Right, sir, I will.

What was Martin Barrett blackmailing
you about?

We think he had a sideline in
extortion, you see,

and I'd like to know if he had
anything on you.

You're upsetting me, DC Jones.

Is it by accident or design,
I wonder?

I don't suppose Martin Barrett and I

have exchanged ten words
since he came to the village.

But he came here on Friday morning,
sir, at six o'clock.

Well, it could have been for any
number of reasons.

To see one of my staff, buy some
eggs.

All the way here to buy eggs at six
in the morning?!

We operate an on-trust system for
locals.

They take what they want
and leave the money.

You haven't answered my question,
sir. Which was?

Was Martin Barrett blackmailing you?
Certainly not!

KNOCKING
Guv'nor, time's pressing.

OK, Billy. It's my farm manager.
We have a FABL inspection today.

I must go.
No problem, sir, I can call back.

No. If you have any further
questions, I suggest

you ask DCI Barnaby to ring and make
an appointment.

MOOING

Good morning, Mrs Wilmott.

Yeah?
Nothing, just good morning.

Oh.

Ah, Joyce, the chap I want to see is
down there, I think.

So, can we meet back here in about
half an hour? Sounds good.

See you next week.

How can I help, sir?
Good morning.

I'm Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby
from Causton CID.

I wonder, when you've finished here,
could we have a word?

You can have it now. Peter Hatchard.

How do you do?

Carol, can you take over, love?

Yeah, sure.

Won't be long.
OK.

I wouldn't say I'm a friend of
Richard and Maggie's

but I see them at the sailing club.

Seems like a nice enough bloke.

Life and soul of the party.
What about her?

Oh, well, she takes things a bit
easier, I think.

I understand they've got a property
down here.

Oh, yes, yes, on the other side of
the headland.

Oh, how nice.

Er, this is a photograph of Martin
Barrett.

He's the victim in a murder
investigation I'm leading.

Have you ever seen that man around
Fennacombe?

No, can't help you, I'm afraid.
Ah.

Mind you, I wouldn't say Richard
Florian's your man.

Oh, you wouldn't (?)

I should declare an interest.

I was in the Hong Kong Police
for seven years.

'80-'87.
Were you?

Well, good, I can get your
professional opinion on this,
can't I?

Why do you think the Florians
come down here, then?

I don't think it's just for the
fishing, is it?

But whatever it is, I think that
Martin Barrett found out about it.

You know, just before Christmas,
in the middle of the night,

we were called out to the Florians.

"We" being the Fennacombe lifeboat.

Their engine had caught fire.

I thought it a bit odd at the time
that they hadn't called us
themselves.

Left it up to some trawler.
Up to something, were they?

It didn't seem so at the time,
but now you've got me thinking.

Ah, is that your good lady?

Yes, it is.

Look, we're just about to go home.

Join us for lunch and then I'll drop
you over to the Florians.

That's kind. Can you spare the time?

Time is one thing we've got plenty
of round here.

Never fails, does it, eh?

Drive round the corner, see the sea
and - hoo! -

ten years old again.

Come October, November, you'll wish
you were somewhere else.
South of France, maybe.

Come on, Tom, come with me.

Joyce, let's send these two off
wherever it is they are going,

and we'll fix lunch.

Here we are. This is where the
Florians stay when they're down.

How much would a place like this
would go for, Peter?

200, maybe.
Phew!

Not that they own it.
I know that. I'm just curious.

Anything?
Come and look for yourself.

Just basics.

A place to bed down in, nothing much
else.

Is that their boat?

Yes.

Maybe that will have more to say for
itself.

How do we get out to it?

FOTHERGILL: Had a good walk,
did you? Yes, thanks.

Oh!

Who's left all this stuff in here?

Argh!

Jack! Jack!

Tell him someone!

Tell him I want him!

We'll have a little look round.
Come on. Yeah.

All aboard!

Is this what I think it is?

Well, it rather depends on -
Jack, no jokes!

Did you kill him?
How could you possibly -

You shouldn't wave guns around,
even if they're not loaded.

You said you hated him!
Enough to murder him?

Listen, if we're comparing notes on
Martin Barrett, what was it you
said?

He was "Mean, spiteful and ugly"
and you wish he'd "Karked it".

Shouldn't I worry that you did it?
Why should I?

Well, if you don't know -
No, come on, why?

SIREN WAILING

Anything?
Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Whatever it is they are up to,

they're very careful to tidy up after
themselves, aren't they?

Unless you're on the wrong track,
of course. Who, me?

It does happen, you know.

Never (!)

Mind your backs, please.

It went off.

A Purdy, no less.

Yours, Mr Fothergill?
Yes, yes. Family heirloom.

I don't remember seeing it on the
probate.

Got a licence for it?

Do I need one?

Yes or no, Mr Fothergill?

No, he hasn't.

My, my, the charges are mounting up,
aren't they?

Well, why don't I take this with me,

see if I can add murder to the list?

SOLO PIANO MUSIC ON STEREO

DOORBELL RINGS

DOGS BARKING

DOGS BARKING

Come on, come on in.

READS: Martin Barrett is dead but
nothing else has changed.

Wait for instructions.

Morning, Mrs Barnaby.
Morning.

Good day at the coast?
Blustery!

We've all gone soft in this country.

All central heating and too many
package holidays.

That shooting at The Plough,
what was all that about?

Jack Fothergill's Purdy went off.

Ruby found it in a cupboard,
they argued about why he had it.

She slammed it down on the floor,
bang!

They argued?

The truth is, and I'm using the word
experimentally in their case,

each thinks the other may have
killed Martin Barrett.

Has the gun gone to the lab? Yeah,
along with a box of cartridges.

So, any progress with the Florians?

Ah... It's marginal.

Joyce, love.

In the bin on your way out, please.

Chief Inspector!

How did you get on
with John Waverley?

How well do you know him, sir?
He's one of us, Jones, one of us.

I know he's chairman of the Police
Committee - No, I didn't mean that.

I mean, if you tap him, he rings
true.

So, whatever Barrett thought he'd dug
up against him,

don't waste any time on it.

Well, no, but I think I should
follow it up.

Not at the expense of other things.

With respect, sir, the man was
stonewalling me.

He came up with a dodgy reason why
Barrett went there at six in the
morning.

CAR UNLOCKING
And?

You do know the farm was a refuge
for teenage girls at one stage?

Yes, of course I do, and I also have
very good reason to believe

that the girls who found themselves
in the care of John and Jean Waverley

were very fortunate to have done so.
OK, sir, I'll take your advice,

I'll back off.

No, no, don't do that.

I might be right on most things,
but...

..you can never tell.

PHONE RINGING

Barnaby.
'Tom, it's Peter Hatchard.'

Peter.
I hope you don't mind me phoning,

but I thought you should know -

the Florians are here and it's
midweek,

so they're breaking a
long-established pattern.

What are they doing? They're sailing
towards Fuller's Sweep.

It's a reef that emerges at low
tide.

I could follow them on some pretext,
I suppose, but -

No, don't do that. But thanks for the
call, I do appreciate it.

OK. Let me know if there's anything
else I can do. 'Thanks, Pete.'

Try and find out when that is.
Jones.

What are you doing?

Did you know Sir John Waverley is in
line to be High Sheriff of Midsomer?

Yes, I did know. I'd say that makes
him a bit vulnerable, wouldn't you?

Vulnerable, yes, but not necessarily
guilty.

Grab your coat, come with me.

The Florians are out of town. Hurry!

(OK.)

QUACKING

That's Ruby Wilmott's, sir.

Save you breaking in.

VACUUM CLEANER FROM WITHIN

By God, you're a hard worker, Ruby.

How many people do you clean for?

Well, I do my fair...

Just a sec, where's he going?
VACUUM CLEANER OFF

I've got some very important news
about Jack's gun.

What? The news is,
there is no news.

But as soon as I hear anything,
I'll be over to share it with you.

Meantime, if coffee was offered,
we'd both love a cup.

VACUUM CLEANER ON

What are we actually looking for,
sir?

The reason why the Florians went down
to Fennacombe Bay so often.

And why Martin Barrett followed them
there.

Depth charts,

maps of Fennacombe Bay.

All property of Greenbase Oil.

Well, they were both on the firm's
exploration team.

He's a geologist, she's a marine
biologist.

Oil, sir?
Hm.

Given that oil is big money, does it
figure in this?

I mean, is there oil under
Fennacombe Bay, possibly?

Oh, I don't think so, do you, Jones?

I mean, you need heavy equipment for
oil prospecting.

Not the kind of stuff of you can get
on board a 38-foot catamaran.

So, we're back to illegal entry,
smuggling or drugs.

Hm.

Did you check up on Richard
Florian's credentials?

Well, that's what I was going to do
before you...

What were you doing all day
yesterday?

You'd better do it now.

Mm.

KEYBOARD TAPPING

BEEP

Ah, your friend Hatchard, sir.

He's not my friend,
he's an acquaintance

and a highly-commended police
officer.

Queen's Police Medal, no less!

Greenbase Oil. It's a Japanese-owned
company,

but Florian doesn't work for them
any more.

They fired him three months ago.

The word is, he engineered his own
sacking.

Picked a fight in the boardroom,

and I mean bare-knuckle.

He's a man with a temper, then.

Got a golden handshake. Used it to
set up on his own, they reckon.

Doing what, though?

LAUGHTER

Dad, just in time to buy another
round.

I knew I'd come in useful one day.

Ah, young lady! What would you all
like to drink?

A white wine spritzer...
Er, whatever, whatever.

Cully, could I...?

Are you doing anything this evening?
I wasn't, but I bet I am now.

It's just that I have a little
problem I need your help with.

That old school friend of yours who
was staying up at Waverley Farm.

Hayley something?
Hayley Simpson.

I saw her a couple of months ago.

Good, that means you can still get
hold of her, yeah? Yeah.

It's just I need her to vouch for
John Waverley.

I mean, we all believe he's a decent
man, but... But you're not sure.

Yes, I am, but I want to hear it from
someone who knows.

OK.

Do you think you could invite her
round for supper this evening?

I'm doing the cooking.

Come on in, Ben. It's really nice
that you could come.

Damn it. Left my camera at home.

Honestly, Tom. I'd have done it
willingly. You only had to ask.

We'll have a glass of that now.
Cully, open up.

What is it, sir?

This, Jones, is lapin a la sauvage.

It's rabbit done French-style.

Pete Hatchard's wife gave Joyce two
t'other day.

Well, I only hope that Hayley
Simpson isn't a fussy eater.

DOORBELL

I'll go.

Dad, put those vegetables on, will
you?

Yes, yes, yes.

We've never had rabbit in our house,
sir.

Never had rabbit?

Prepare yourself for a treat.

HAYLEY: You look marvellous, Mrs
Barnaby.

Glasses?
On the board.

I shall have to call you Ms Simpson.

Dad, say hello to Hayley.

Hayley, welcome.

Welcome.

(ECHOES) Better call me Tom.

And this is Ben Jones, my DC.

It's so lovely to see you all and to
meet you again.

You know, you lot really haven't
changed.

What? Even Dad?
Oi!

I think it's rather dry.

Oh!

But if you're all happy with it...

It's delicious, Tom.

Thank you.

We often used to have this at the
farm.

Sir John was always taking pot shots
at rabbits.

Actually, it was John Waverley

that we wanted to...

Yes, that you wanted to ask me
about. Cully said.

Well, for one reason and another,
which I don't want to go into,

we need to find out what sort of man
he was.

I've known him for years, and I think
a straighter man you could not wish
to meet.

Ben here is of a different
persuasion.

Not that he knows him at all.

What do you think, Ben?

Well, er, house full of teenage
girls -

was there anything dodgy going on?

You really don't know him, do you?

I mean, the idea of John Waverley
laying a finger on anyone,

especially the girls at the farm, is
ludicrous.

Well, you're right, sir.

This rabbit's a real treat.

Lucy, Snuffer, come on.

(WHISTLES)

Yes, yes.

Must have been left during the
night.

But you didn't hear anything?

The dogs didn't bark?
No.

It's the work of an amateur, this.

It should say simply "ã10,000, Hallow
Bridge, midnight. Leave the area
immediately."

Instead, he goes on for a full page.

Um, it isn't the first note I've
received.

Where are the others?

Just one.

I owe you an apology, DC Jones.

Barrett did come here on Friday
and...

it certainly wasn't to buy eggs.

He never seemed a very warm person

but he was positively glacial that
morning.

..would prove most embarrassing.

And just when is this liaison
supposed to have taken place?

Clearly when you were using this
house as a teenage refuge.

And with whom?
Don't let's be so picky, John.

There were nine girls here, none of
whom could be called saints.

What about my wife? Didn't she have
anything to say about the matter?

She would have done, I'm sure.

If she hadn't been so...

unwell.

He had me boxed in right from the
start.

BARRETT: I think we should talk
about...

how we are going to get you out of
this mess, John.

High Sheriffs are appointed by the
Crown,

on the recommendation of local
worthies.

A lot of good and important people
have put their faith in me.

They're the ones I'd let down...
Only if it were true, John.

It doesn't have to be true to be
believed, Tom.

DC Jones, I wonder if you'd mind
giving us a couple of minutes?

Sir...

Yes, I know. Go on.

What would Jean have told you to do?

Inform you lot straightaway, I
suppose.

Then why didn't you?

Someone reported Barrett's murder

from the phone box near his house.

Now, was that someone...you?

What were you doing there?

I'd gone there to reason with him.

At six in the morning?
I'm a farmer, for God's sake.

We rise early.

I'm sorry, John, that is not a good
enough answer.

My constable out there will think
that you went to pay him.

I went there...

I went there at his request to meet
the girl.

But why, if you had no intention of
paying him?

I had every intention.

I was thinking of those good
friends...

So, in order to maintain their faith
in you,

you were prepared to enter into a
lifetime of obligation

to Martin Barrett?

I was trying to buy some time.

While the press had a field day.

Hallow Bridge.

This is it.

So, you still buy it, then, sir?

Despite the notes? Despite him being
ready to cough up?

People do get blackmailed for things
they haven't done, Jones.

What about the saying, "There's no
smoke without fire"?

Innocent people are accused all the
time, detective.

You think this is the old pals' act
at work, don't you?

Not if you tell me otherwise.

You mustn't listen to canteen gossip,
Jones.

Ten years ago, a vital piece of
evidence went missing in a case.

I took the can because it was my
inquiry.

But John Waverley, he spoke up for
me.

And he did that, not because we were
old pals or went to the same school,

though we did.

He did it because he thought it was
the right thing to do.

I'm sure it was, sir.

What do you know about this refuge
that he and his wife ran?

Er, not a lot.

Not a lot.

Instead of whingeing and whining,

as most of us do,

about kids that go off the rails,

the Waverleys actually threw open
their house to nine of them.

Including Hayley Simpson, who you met
last night, yeah?

John gave them stability,

gave them a home.

And he got them back on track.

Now, most of us are lucky to do that
with our own kids,

let alone someone else's rejects.

When I see a man like that in
trouble...

Sir, you've made your point.

Good.

Now, what we've got to do, Jones,

is catch Barrett's apprentice.

I'm damn sure he knows more about
Barrett than we do.

Trouble is, there are no common
factors.

Ruby Wilmott's a common factor.

Oh, yes, she cleans for some of them.
She cleans for them all, sir.

Does she?

And John Waverley?

Oh, yeah.

I saw her the other morning on her
way in.

Do you know something, Jones? You're
beginning to earn your keep.

Ruby Wilmott.

So, all of Martin Barrett's victims,

at least all the ones we know about,

have clean and tidy houses because of
you.

I clean for other folk, too. I'm not
exclusive.

Did Martin Barrett use you as some
kind of resource?

Eh?

Did he ask you questions about Sir
John Waverley?

Jack? The Florians?

Asked you to find things out, maybe?

Look, I didn't always realise what
he was up to.

He asked so cleverly

and all spread over weeks, months.

So, sometimes you did realise?

Why, then, did you tell him what he
wanted to know?

Was it because
he had something on you?

Ruby, did he have something on you?
No.

Yes.

Well, I would very much like to know
what that something was.

I want him to come.

Where are we going?

To my house.

Good Lord!

And you pinched all this stuff from
people you were cleaning for?

It's psychological.

This was my father's.

And this.

This was in the pub!
I'm sorry.

Let me guess...

You made the mistake of stealing from
Martin Barrett, didn't you?

A man who knew every speck of dust in
his house.

Oh...

I think we should talk about my opal
cufflinks,

the ones you've just taken from my
bedroom.

No!

Oh, don't worry, Ruby.

I won't be sacking you.

Far from it.

'He came up here, saw everything.'

And we struck a deal.

I was to find out things and answer
his questions about other people.

Who was he most interested in?

The Florians, by far and away.

Where did they go? Who came to their
house? Who phoned them? Then...

one day, he asked me to get some
petrol receipts

from their car.
To see where they went at weekends.

But you found a receipt for fish?

And the next weekend he followed
them to wherever it was.

Brought me back a couple of
lobsters.

Right, Ruby Wilmott.

You're going to take us right through
the list of your employers...

For the record, you are a real
contender for his murder.

Oh, you must be desperate...
No, I didn't kill him! Honestly.

Where were you at midnight,

the day he was killed?

I was getting ready for bed.

Well, that's not a very good alibi,
is it?

I mean, that's the same one you gave
me...Jack.

Are you saying that if slap came to
tickle,

you could vouch for each other?

Yes.

But I don't suppose that's much of
an alibi either, is it?

TRAIN HORN

'The note said, "The bag will be
left on the parapet.

You drive up, put the money in the
bag, close the bag up,

and drive away again."

It's a clear night. We shouldn't have
any problems.

But don't linger to see if anyone
might be around, OK?'

'There'll be police officers nearby,
but you won't see them.'

'Yeah. And afterwards, John, come
straight back here and wait for us.

We'll join you as soon as we can.

And, er, good luck.'

OWL SCREECHES

I do have a problem with this case,
sir.

Nothing major, more sort of...
Minor?

Yeah.
Ta.

I mean...

here we are, busting a gut to find
whoever killed Martin Barrett,

when everyone's glad he's dead.

On the way, we have to harass old
boys like Jack Fothergill.

Whereas you think he should be given
a medal

for cheating the Chancellor of the
Exchequer?

He should certainly be mentioned in
Dispatches.

Wake me up if I doze off, will you?

Yes, sir.

SHOUTING

Guv'nor, target is a motorcyclist
all in red. He's heading your way.

Right, thanks.

I thought there was more to you than
this nasty little caper.

Did you, Tom?

Inspector Barnaby to you.

Then you'd better call me Mrs
Redfern.

Interview recorded on 20th August,
2005, at 06:30 hours.

Those present...
DCI Barnaby.

For the tape, please, Mrs Redfern.

Mrs Hayley Redfern.

And DC Jones.

The caution has already been given.

So you were a friend of Martin
Barrett, were you?

Business associate.

You were there the night he was
murdered. Was I?

We've got tissues from the bin. We
can put them and you together.

Then that's what you'd better do.

When I first met you,

all those years ago,

I put your problems

down to a rough start.

You know, broken home, abusive
father.

But I thought, "You're the girl
who'll make it through."

With the help of John Waverley.

His care for you, his belief...

in you.

He gave you a lot.

And is this the way you repay him?

Don't talk to me about what I owe
John Waverley or his lady wife.

Whatever they did, it was for
themselves.

He was a self-righteous Victorian
who thought he could change me.

Well, I didn't wanna be changed.

But changed you'll be, Mrs Redfern,

if you go to prison for Martin
Barrett's murder...

Murder? I didn't murder that
pathetic...

..Martin Barrett's murder.

I told you, I didn't kill him.

Did you see who did?

Did you?

(JONES KNOCKS ON DOOR)

Hey, Billy!

Where's the guv'nor?

Still in bed, shouldn't wonder.

DOGS BARK

(JONES RATTLES DOOR)

Jones! Come here!

Break it.

DOGS BARK

Sir John! Sir John!

Come on, dogs. Come here.

There's good dogs, there's good
dogs. Come on.

Come on, come on!
What the hell have you done?

Come on! John!

Come on. In you go. There you go.

John!

John! John!

Anything?
Only just.

Get him on his feet. Walk him about,
slap his face. Just keep him moving.

Come on, this is not gonna happen.
Come on, Sir John!

Wake up! Come on, Sir John!

Come on, Sir John! Come on, stay
with me, Sir John.

Come on, wake up! Wake up! Sir John!

That's it, stay awake. Stay with us,
Sir John. Stay with us.

How's he doing?
He's not good, sir.

Hey, police!

We've got an emergency in the car.
It's an overdose.

And together!

Why did he do it, sir?

"But he who filches from me my good
name..."

It's allegations, detective, false
allegations.

You can deny them as much as you
like.

People will never look at you in the
same way again.

Even if you didn't do anything?

You think some smart-alec lawyer
defending Hayley

would be too bothered about the
truth?

"There's no smoke without fire."

Nice bit of driving by the way, sir.

Invigorating.
Thank you very much.

Can you get me a cup of coffee?

DOCTOR: That's fine, Mr Florian.
Nurse Lynn will show you the way.

Where is she?
She's actually in Rosemary Ward.

Which is what - down here?
No, down here, second on the left.

OK, thanks very much.
You're welcome.

Sir.

Bit of luck.

Excuse me, sister.

Can I help?
I hope so.

I'm Detective Chief Inspector
Barnaby. This is DC Jones from
Causton CID.

We understand that you have a patient
in your care,

a Mrs Florian?

Um, yes, Margaret Florian. She came
in earlier for a check-up.

A check-up? What for?

Her husband suspected she'd had a
mild attack of decompression
sickness.

They've been diving.

How long will she be in for?

She'll be going home later tonight,
I should think.

Fortunately, her husband's an
experienced diver

and he gave her oxygen at the scene
of the dive.

Thank you, thank you very much.
You've been a great help.

OK.

But don't, please don't tell her we
were here.

OK.

SHIP'S HORN

There we go, sir. That's ã8.

You've got ã10 there. Lovely.

MOBILE RINGS

Bye.

Peter Hatchard.
"Peter, the very man. Tom Barnaby."

Morning.

"How goes it?"

There have been developments,
of sorts.

"And I wouldn't mind your help, since
you offered it."

We believe that the Florians have
been diving.

And you want to know what for?

"I'll need to search the house at
some point."

Yeah, well, why don't you come and
stay at our place?

In the meantime, I'll...

"I'll ask round, see what they've
been diving for."

Thank you.

Wendy worked on Barrett's
background, put him through the
immigration mangle.

Turns out he's Australian by birth.

That explains why there's no trace of
him here before '91.

Before coming here, he was a sales
rep for a timber firm in Taiwan.

Do they have trees in Taiwan?

Well, that depends on how good he was
at his job.

Of course they have trees in Taiwan.

PHONE RINGS

Yes?

Does she?

Well, we'll be right down. Thank you.

Hayley Redfern wants to talk to us.

How's Sir John?
He's off the danger list.

But we don't need to tell her that,
do we?

Ask the custody sergeant to take her
down to the canteen.

The canteen?

The canteen. I didn't get breakfast.

Thank you, Sergeant.

Is this coffee or soup?

I never meant it to turn out like
this.

John Waverley doing what he's done.
I mean...

Aren't you gonna say something?

It was you who wanted to see me, Mrs
Redfern.

I'd be very happy never to see you
again.

Is he going to die?

We didn't get to him soon enough.

Why did he do it, though?

Disappointment at you letting him
down?

People don't kill themselves over
things like that.

People like John Waverley do.

I think that what you did...

..destroyed his faith in human
nature,

destroyed his belief in himself.

What can I do, though?

Well, you could tell us what else
Martin Barrett said

apart from,
"Let's ruin the reputation
of a thoroughly decent man."

He got chatty.

After dinner. Too much wine.

'He boasted that he had a golden
goose lined up.'

Well, geese, actually.

A couple of overfed geese,

who think they're about to get away
with a fortune.

'Did he mention a name?'
But I know different.

'No.'

He'd been drinking.

But not enough to lower his guard.

Did you see a car?

Make? Number? Anything?

I'm sorry.

Not even a glimpse
of who killed him?

The first thing I heard was a...

a shot.

GUNSHOT

And then I just took off.

You didn't even stop to see if he
was dead? No.

(EXHALES)

Sergeant, could you get an
extension?

I'd like to hold her
for another 48 hours. Why?

Why?

Because you had a very good reason
to kill Martin Barrett.

You were going to take over his
business.

You've been looking at houses.
Are we moving?

No, no. We could buy a place down
there. It could be an investment.

We could let it out. We could also
freeze to death on an average day.

No harm in making in enquiries, is
there?

CAR HORN
Oh, that's Jones.

I'll give you a ring
when we get there. Bye, love.

Take care.
I will.

Ruby, you're a wee bit late.

I wasn't sure about coming in at
all. Why ever not?

Ted, go and mind the bar for me,
will you? There's a good chap.

"If you please" wouldn't come amiss.

Mind you, the shock would probably
kill me but I could -

Just do it, Ted, will you?

Didn't even tell me to pour myself a
pint while I'm in there either.

Look, I'm hardly a spring chicken,
Ruby,

and life isn't exactly brimming over
with exciting prospects.

Or, rather,
it wasn't until I met you.

A free spirit and all that.

Free for the moment. Do you think
they'll take us to court, Jack?

What if they did? Would they send us
to prison? I doubt it.

So, where does it leave you and me,
then?

Carrying on much as before, I'd say.

With the added frisson that...

although we missed our true vocation
as criminals,

we each had our moments.

Let's crack on before Ted drinks the
day's profits.

Mrs Hatchard...

Your husband has, I hope, checked up
with you about us?

Staying here? Yes.

Talk of the devil.
Tom.

Peter.
Good to see you again.

This is Ben Jones.
Hello.

Now, look, unless you're fixed up
for supper tonight,

I thought we'd go down to our little
place on the beach

and barbecue a couple of sea trout.
That sounds absolutely perfect.

Come on. I'll show you your rooms.

And mine.

I went over to the Florians' house
this morning, by the way.

The boat was there. They weren't.

It all looked the same as the last
time, frankly. Empty.

Watch your feet.

Any thoughts on the diving angle?
What do you think they were diving
for?

Yeah, I've been talking to a couple
of the old boys over in Shale.

They reckon that a ship called the
Harlequin ran onto Fuller's Sweep
and broke up.

When was this?

1846, but it loses nothing in the
telling.

They reckon she was carrying gold
artefacts from France.

That would make it treasure-trove,
wouldn't it?

Isn't there supposed to be a
register of wrecks somewhere?

Yeah, at the Admiralty but there's
no record of the Harlequin.

How do we confirm or deny, then?

Well, I've got my diving
certificate.

My diving gear's still in good
shape.

Why don't we go out there tomorrow
morning and give it the once over?

My usual fee. I'm dirt cheap.

ENGINE HUMS

ENGINE OFF

Can I help with that?

Here we go. Switch me on.

Richard!

Oh!
What do we do?

I can't dive now, that's for sure.

I think we should call his bluff.

And let's see just how smart our Mr
Barnaby really is.

Good day to you, Inspector.

What on earth are you doing?

You go first. What are you doing?

We're off to France. Booze and fags.

Can we get you anything?

No, thank you.

JONES: So now they know we're onto
them.

That won't worry Richard Florian.

He sails very close to the wind.
Not just today.

Every day.

I've got it!

How will that do you, then?
That will do me very nicely.

Is there any more down there?

Well, I reckon they've had the bulk
of the stash but...

there's still enough down there to
bring them back again.

So, what's next?

We make friends with the local
police.

He's becoming rather predictable,
our Mr Barnaby.

All the same, what do we do?
There's nothing we need to do.

If they're searching the place, they
won't find anything.

Mr Florian, you've arrived just in
time, sir.

We won't have to break your door down
now.

Inspector, I'm trying very hard to
see a funny side to this but it's
eluding me.

That's because there isn't one.

This is a search warrant. May I have
the keys to your house, please, sir?

I find all this rather stressful,
Inspector. What are you hoping to
find?

Oh, yes, I'm sorry. You've been
poorly.

Decompression sickness.

I assure you everything inside will
be left exactly as we found it.

Unless, of course, we find what we're
really looking for.

Well, you didn't find it in our
house in Midsomer Worthy.

Oh, yes, Mrs Wilmott told us you'd
broken in.

Helped yourself.
On the contrary, sir.

Mrs Wilmott invited us in.

Even offered us coffee.

The trailer's full of cigarettes and
alcohol, sir. French.

Well, I did ask you if you wanted us
to get you something.

I have to tell you, Barnaby, you're
gonna be very disappointed.

Sir, I think you better come and
have a look at this.

You were saying?

In the living room, sir, stuffed
into the sofa under the webbing.

I've never seen that gun before.
If I had a pound for every time...

Did you hear what I said? I have
never seen that gun in my life.

What exactly do we have here?

These cartridges are home-made,
Mr Florian.

I'll have them sent to Causton
immediately

to have them compared with the
pellets which killed Martin Barrett.

And the marks on the cartridge case

found at the crime scene

tested against the hammer of that gun
there.

And if they match up,

as I believe they will,

you'll both be charged with murder.

In the meantime...

I'm arresting you on suspicion of it.

No question about it.
The same mix of shot.

The same hammer marks on the
cartridge cases.

The guy might just as well have
signed his name.

Thank you, George. Erm, France?
'Tomorrow.'

Apparently the weather there is
fabulous today.

What's it like where you are?
Er...too hot, really.

We got 'em.
Congratulations.

What happens next?

Er, local police take 'em down to
Causton.

They'll both be charged with murder.

Well, thank you very much for what
you've done, both of you. Thank you.

Oh, glad we could help.

Just gonna take a short detour on the
way home, Jones.

Where to, sir?

SEA GULLS CRY

It looks bigger in the photo.
Always does, sir.

What's it for, anyway?

Well, you know, Jones, one day...

What? Retirement, sir?
It has to happen sometime.

And I was just getting to know you.

Look, I meant at some indeterminate
point in the future. Ah.

So, we've got 'em, Jones, the
Florians.

So why am I not a happy man, eh?

The weather, sir?

What is it with your generation and a
stiff breeze, eh?

And you're actually going to paddle,
sir?

You know that lot's come straight
down from the Arctic Ocean?

Yes...

I am.

And I still haven't got a camera
with me.

Seriously, why don't I feel, you
know, right about this?

Well, we haven't found the gold

so how can we prove that the
Florians were after it,

let alone Barrett being onto them?

Ah, but we've got a murder weapon

and the cartridges. They all match
up.

Fingerprints?
No.

But... No, no, you're right.

I can't even prove that Barrett was
ever down here in Fennacombe.

That's no problem, sir. You can get
a statement off Hatchard for that.

How come? He never met Barrett.

Who says?

Well, HE says - Peter Hatchard.
I showed him the photo of Barrett.

But, sir, they must have met.

Why?

Barrett had the receipt Ruby Wilmott
nicked for him.

The lock-up would have been his
starting point,
just like it was yours.

I mean, you didn't come down here

and yell out, "Has anyone seen
Richard Florian?"

You went straight to Hatchard's fish
stall.

And Barrett would have done that too,
yeah?

So why did he lie? Why did Peter
Hatchard lie about meeting the man,
eh?

Oh, my...God.
We arrested the wrong man.

I see what you mean.
I see what you mean too.

This water's bloody freezing.

My jacket. My phone.

Phone my home, eh?

Get the home number.

Hi, Cully, it's Ben Jones.

Hang on a sec.

Cully? Have the binmen been?

Well, I don't know.
"It's very important, I want -"

Mum. Binmen, have they been?
Tomorrow morning.

"Oh, good, look..."

I want you and your mother to sift
through the rubbish.

See if you can find the rabbit, OK?

Dad! I need the lead shot that you
all picked out of the meat

and placed so delicately round the
edges of your plate.

Take it down to George Bullard

and ask him if it matches up with all
the stuff we've got. OK?

"I'll phone ahead and warn him. Bye."

Right. You and I are going to the
local police station.

I want to know if Martin Barrett

and Peter Hatchard ever met in
another life.

One was in Hong Kong.
The other in Taiwan.

It's not beyond the bounds.

This is it.

Tom, did you forget something?

Yes, I did.

Ah, got one.

We're just about to have a drink.
Why don't you come and join us?

Not a social call, Peter. It's
business, so...no drinks, thank you.

But we'd still like to come in.

We had to go all the way to
Australia to get what we needed,
Peter.

Long trip.
Yes, indeed.

But even the steam-powered computer
at Fennacombe police station got
there in the end.

Martin Barrett was firmly lodged in
the Australian legal system

because when he was in Taiwan,

he went to the Australian embassy
there for help.

He was in trouble?
What kind of trouble?

He was trafficking people into Hong
Kong.

When the Hong Kong police caught up
with him,

they wanted to know who his contact
was on shore.

And they found it was one of their
own.

An ex-colonial police officer by the
name of Peter Hatchard,

QPM.
No. Peter wouldn't do -

Sure you won't have that drink?
Very sure.

You don't mind if I do?
The reason they caught up with you,

Peter, is because Martin Barrett told
them exactly where you were,

in your rather splendid house in
up-market Kowloon.

And in return for that information,
he only got one year for what he did,

whereas you, being an ex-policeman,

and in spite of your exemplary
record, got 25.

Which is interesting because,
presumably, you didn't serve it all.

I did five. I knew the set-up.

Who to talk to.

Who to pay. And you still had money
from the enterprise.

Not by the time they finished with
me.

Carol, did you know anything about
this? She knew nothing.

Carol and I met here.

I was brought up just down the road

and like all good criminals, I
returned to the scene of the crime.

All right, Carol, I'll tell you

why I'm going to have to arrest your
husband on a charge of murder.

We received this an hour ago from the
forensic lab.

It says, as you see, that the mix of
lead shot in those two rabbits

you so kindly gave to my wife,
unbeknown to your husband,

is exactly the same as the stuff
which killed Martin Barrett.

See, Peter, if it hadn't been for
those rabbits, you'd be home and dry.

And it wasn't smart to say you'd
never seen Barrett before.

Yes.

What a godforsaken day it was

when he just...

turned up out of nowhere.

Ten years I'd been back in England.

Time enough, I thought, for the past
not to jump up and...

bite me in the face.

I thought he'd gone back to Oz.

And there I was...

Bright, sunny day,
mopping out the lock-up.

And I heard the voice.

I'll have a couple of those lovely
lobsters, please,

and 30 seconds of your time.
Yes.

Do you know where my friends,
Richard and Margaret Florian, live,
by any chance?

Only I'm sure they have a place
here.

Yes, they're down by the estuary.

And where is that?

I knew by his manner...

That ingratiating...smarmy voice...

the Florians weren't friends of his.

Didn't know why he wanted to get in
touch with them.

Didn't know until you turned up.

So you went down there and, in your
own good time, you shot him.

But when we got close, you planted
the gun at the Florians' cottage.

Why, Peter?

Why...

when we've got all this...

..do you have to go and spoil it?

That's the most intelligent question
yet, Peter. Why?

I spent five years in Shek Pik
Prison because of him.

And as an ex-policeman...
that was no picnic.

It cost me a small fortune to
escape.

And when I did...

..my wife had divorced me

and my children were...

..God knows where.

Revenge. Pure and simple.

Sir John Waverley.
Tom.

The nurse told me you saved my life.

Oh, well, let's say we assisted in
preventing it from ending
prematurely.

There's copper speak for you.
How are you doing?

Things are better.
Good.

What's in the bag?

Ah! In the bag, John, are some things
belonging to you and Jean, like this.

Good Lord!

Ruby Wilmott.
Yep.

Do you want to press charges?
No.

What about Hayley Simpson?

I say: give her another chance.

Well, I'll see what I can do.

John, good to see you.

Good to see you, Tom.

Wait for the word, gentlemen.

Mr Barnaby.
Mr Florian.

You've come to apologise...again.

No, I thought once was enough.

Then why are you here? To tie up a
few loose ends, Mrs Florian.

You've brought an awful lot of
people with you for a few loose
ends.

That's because we're going to rip
your house apart...

sir. Ooh, this is really over the
top, Barnaby.

You've been through the place once.
I don't think we have.

We poked around a bit, sir, and, as
you know, we came up with nothing.

Hm.
Better luck this time, though, eh?

Thank you.

I wish he'd take that smug look
off his face.

Is that smug, sir? It looks more
like a fingers-crossed look to me.

That's wishful thinking, lad.

Mind you, I have to say that your
instinct on this case has been much,
much better than mine.

I got Hatchard very wrong.

For all the right reasons, though.

Mind you, you got Waverley wrong.

We'll call it quits.
Mm.

So what does your finely-honed
instinct tell you about this
situation, then, eh?

Are we flogging a dead horse?

Have they sold on whatever they
dredged up from the wreck?

Or is this something else we have
entirely wrong?

No. Those two are as dodgy as they
come.

And you're right, sir,
it is a smug look.

Aw!

TRICKLING

Tool box!

Bring it over here.

Tool box, Constable, and sharpish.

Let's get the grille off.

Well, well, well!

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