Midsomer Murders (1997–…): Season 9, Episode 8 - Last Year's Model - full transcript
Barnaby begins to think the damning evidence he helped provide to convict a murderess wasn't exactly as watertight as it first looked.
[Bell tolling]
Man:
I need a drink, Pa.
Doc.
Forgiven now.
Forgive and forgot.
What's all this?
Friday kids' club.
No, I agreed to one day
a week only.
Popular demand, Rector.
Is there no end?
I asked you to take
this down, Hewlett.
I will not have Skimmington
propaganda here.
It's community information.
Woman: Ah, there you are.
How's the new job, Anthony?
Quite a change for you,
having a woman for a deacon.
And a Skimmington at that.
Sound and fury.
And a nauseating proliferation
of salad lunches.
Broughton certainly hasn't
settled down much
in my 40 years' absence.
Oxford is dull
by comparison...
as is, quite frankly,
this issue of my final
resting place...
There's a diseased tree
due to come down soon
in the east corner.
Oh, that'll do.
So long as it succumbs without
too protracted an illness.
You look to be
in rude health, Mildred.
Bad habits catch up with
one in the end, Anthony,
as you know.
How did...
Archdeacon Able wrote.
And, anyway, who said anything
about a natural death?
Mr. Marwood.
Thank you, sir.
[Telephone rings]
Sir, I'll leave the Farlow file
on your desk for Monday.
No, hand that over now.
I'll work on it now.
I thought you were
keen to get off.
Not particularly.
Mrs. Barnaby's mother is
staying for a couple of days.
Ah.
Cully's starting up, too.
It'll be two days of lurid
medical discussions.
And the footy,
if permitted at all,
will be on the portable
in the bedroom.
Nightmare.
And to complete
my weekend's enjoyment,
I have community liaison
duties to perform
in Broughton.
The Skimmington village?
Nothing good can
come of it, Jones.
Nothing good.
Tonight's the night, Pa.
What, you're going
to pay your bar bill?
On this night,
history will record
the Riders of Broughton
sealed the fate of
the Skimmington's forever.
So, what are your plans
for tomorrow, ladies?
Ah, well, grandma thinks
we ought to
come with you to Broughton.
[Sighs]
To the Skimmington Fayre.
What about some
shopping in Oxford?
Broughton's very grim.
Grim? Humph.
Tragic more like.
What?
Oh, it was a mistake
I suppose you'd call it.
Episode in 1916.
Montague Marwood.
Big local landowner.
He raised an entire company
from the village.
Whole generation of men.
And then, one night, he led
them all to a terrible death.
Leaving their wives
and children to starve.
The women formed
a self-help group,
the Skimmington Society.
They worked together,
they raised money,
educated each other,
and took control
of the village.
Yeah, but how do
you know all this?
Oh, it was
a story I heard
when I worked
in the Land Army
during the War.
The Second World War.
[Laughs]
The Society's still
going strong, I believe.
And the centerpiece is
the Skimmington Ride.
As I understand it, that Ride
is a barbaric, medieval ritual
revived by
the Skimmington ladies
to humiliate their menfolk.
Yes.
I'd really rather
like to see it.
Cully: Unmissable.
There. That's settled.
[Toy squeaks]
[Kicks rattle]
We're having
a party next week.
We'd be honored
if you'd join us.
Oh, delighted.
And we'll see you at 0930
tomorrow at the committee rooms
for the pre-Fayre briefing.
I'll be there.
Great to meet you,
Mrs. D.
You're too kind.
Hard to believe
you're related to our
public enemy number one.
See you tomorrow.
I assume you'll be staying for
the Fayre tomorrow, cousin.
Actually,
I'm making a speech.
The Skimmingtons are making me
honorary president.
One wonders why
you chose to stay
here at the Knox
and not down
at Aynscombe Farm.
Oh, but, Anthony, sleeping
with the enemy is so much
more interesting.
Polly, man needs serving
in the club room.
I'm not stopping you.
Evening, Mrs. D!
Evening, Polly.
Bob.
Mildred, could I come up
for a moment?
You'll be late
for your meeting.
Yes, but, uh...
About
the archdeacon's letter,
perhaps I might
call on you later?
If you like.
[Door opens]
[Dialing]
Woman: Welcome
to B T call minder.
The person you are calling
is not available.
Please leave a message
after the tone.
[Beep]
This is Mildred Danvers
at the Knox.
I think you'll know
why I'm calling.
Apologies, Chairman,
a medical emergency.
Opened the off-license late,
did they, Doctor O?
Oh, the cruel
perspicacity of youth.
[Knock on table]
Attention, members.
If we could all
settle down, please.
I call this meeting
of the Riders Club to order.
Before we begin,
Roland and I
would like to thank you all
for your prayers
and kind support since
Vivienne passed on.
Hear, hear.
Much appreciated.
[Knock on door]
Door, Alan.
Man: Don't want anybody
hearing our Riders business.
Oh, yes. Polly?
Polly?
Do you mind?
Blessing, Anthony.
Make it a good one.
We beseech thee, Lord,
that it may please thee to
strengthen such as do stand,
to comfort the weakhearted,
and give us courage
to beat down the Skimmingtons
under our feet, amen.
Amen.
Historic news, members.
The tyranny of the Skimmingtons
is finally over.
I can safely say that tomorrow
will be the last time
that we bow our necks
to the yoke
and submit to the awful
humiliation of the Ride.
[Scoffs] You're not
married to a Skimmington.
O'Dowd:
Well, the Ride's a symbol
of some old conflicts in
the village right enough,
but it's just that,
Anthony, a symbol.
Two-pronged strategy.
One, Anthony's new blood.
He's bound to be
nominated tonight.
So we've been training
with Bluebell,
and we're confident.
Number two,
the legal offensive.
Anthony.
Make no mistake, gentlemen,
the monstrous regiment
of women marches ever on.
The battle for Broughton must
be joined once more and won.
Men: Hear, hear!
Henry:
Attention, members.
Oh, great.
[Chuckles]
Well done, Polly.
Well, Skimmingtons,
it looks like
Gant and Roland have guessed
that the reverend
might just be nominated
as our rider this year.
Polly:
They've been secretly
working on his technique.
I saw them in
the paddock last night.
He was hopeless.
What about
the legal issue though?
Can Gant really get us
outlawed for discrimination?
The legislation's
been around for ages.
But it's for
the protection of women.
It cuts both ways, Fi.
Our constitution
explicitly forbids
male members.
Which, strictly speaking,
has been illegal for some time.
Are we making a mistake
nominating Gant at all?
We can't let him dictate to us.
He's got to be stopped.
Have a quiet word
with him tomorrow
before the Ride.
He won't listen.
And we can't let him close
us down or stop the Ride.
Gant's a throwback, Mum.
He really believes that women
are the root of all evil.
If Lorna's talks fail,
we'll decide
on a new action plan
as soon as the Fayre's over.
For now, we have to cast our
votes and nominate our rider.
[Knock on door]
Come in.
Mrs. Danvers.
I'm just returning
your flask.
Dr. O'Dowd found it at
the hermitage this afternoon.
Mr. Marwood.
Very kind of you.
You, um... You didn't know
my wife personally?
Regrettably, no.
Her late mother, and yours,
were friends of mine
many years ago
before I went abroad.
Cocoa, Mrs. D.
Well, thank you,
and good night,
Mrs. Danvers.
[Door closes]
You're not serious
about pursuing
this legal nonsense against
the Skimmingtons, are you?
Deadly.
You'll have a fight
on your hands
and need come looking
to me to heal your wounds.
Good night, gents.
Good night.
Come for brandy, Anthony?
Not tonight, Rollie.
We must have clear
heads for tomorrow.
And I have some business
to attend to.
[Car door closes]
[Laughter as engine starts]
[Distant rattling]
[Footsteps approach]
[Knock on door]
Come in.
You worried about Gant?
Well, he's certainly
stirred things up.
You coming home?
[Sighs] In a bit.
I'll see you later.
[Straining]
I have erred, Lord,
and strayed from my path
like a lost sheep.
I have followed too much
the devices and desires
of my sinful heart.
Help me to beat down
my enemies underfoot.
[Bell tolling]
Hmm.
You know,
you'll frighten someone
to his grave
one of these days.
Trouble sleeping,
old friend?
Quiet in the van.
Chatty here.
Spirits help.
Huh.
I'll not disagree
with you there.
Woman:
Can you give me a hand?
Cully:
Who's John Knox?
Oh, an infamous
Scots misogynist.
Long dead.
Probably where
the men hide
from the Skimmingtons.
Rather appropriate,
if that's the case.
Look, I do think a modicum of
respect is due to the men
who sacrificed their lives
in two world wars.
Mind you,
if they hadn't died,
this would be a much
happier village.
It seems
perfectly happy.
Dad! Dad!
Call the police!
Gant: For all of us,
there is a time
ordained by God
the father, Almighty,
a time to plant
and a time to pluck up,
and inasmuch as
that time has now come
for our dear cousin...
[Knock on door]
Um, I just happened
to be arriving outside.
This is Det. Chief Inspector
Barnaby of Causton police.
He's doing the honors with
the starting pistol this year.
Anthony Gant...
cousin of the deceased.
Mrs. Mildred Danvers.
I came up just now to visit,
couldn't get a reply.
Polly brought the passkey.
Dr. O'Dowd
at your service.
Doctor.
What's the cause of death?
Heart attack.
She had a history, I understand.
Nothing for you to ruin
your weekend over, Mr. Barnaby.
No, I'm sure
you're right.
[Crying] Mrs. D was going
to be made honorary president!
Of the Skimmington Society.
Would you excuse me?
I've got rather a busy day,
a shooting competition
to host before
the Fayre begins.
Yes.
I should, um, go and make
some arrangements.
History
of heart attacks, eh?
Doctor?
Yes?
Did she have something
in her hand
when you came up here?
Oh, yes. A flask.
I moved it to examine her.
Now where is it?
Strange. I...
Oh.
There now.
Here it is.
Nothing untoward, I hope.
Better safe than sorry.
[Dialing mobile]
Jones, are you busy?
[Footsteps on gravel]
[Door opens, closes]
[Door opens]
[Bell ringing]
Mrs. Hastings.
Condolences, Anthony.
I just heard about Mildred.
Still, not a mercy call,
I imagine.
I come to parlay.
Did Mrs. Danvers have any
visitors last night, Polly?
Um...
I heard Mr. Gant
asking if he could see her
after the meeting.
Something about a letter.
What meeting was that?
Riders Club.
They were all here.
The Marwoods, Reverend Gant,
the doctor.
Poor old Alan,
the gravedigger.
He talks to dead people.
Oh.
And I saw Mr. Marwood
in Mrs. Danvers' room
when I took up her cocoa...
half 9:00ish.
They knew each other,
did they?
Mrs. D knew his mother
from years ago,
apparently.
She attended his wife's
funeral yesterday.
Who made Mrs. Danvers'
cocoa last night?
Dad did.
Are you the copper?
I'm Detective Chief
Inspector Barnaby, yes.
Cathy Hewlett,
church deacon.
I've just heard about
Mildred Danvers.
Do you know how she died?
That is yet to be
precisely established.
Why do you ask?
I heard her talking
to Anthony Gant
yesterday about
her burial plot.
She told him she doubted if her
death would be a natural one.
Joyce!
Everything all right?
Possibly not.
I've called out a team.
Ugh!
Never a dull moment in
Broughton, it seems.
Wouldn't you rather drive over
to Oxford, Mum?
Oh, don't be a sissy, Joyce.
This is much more fun
than shopping.
[Horn honks]
Jones.
Jones:
What have we got, sir?
We've got Mildred Danvers.
Age 78, deceased.
And you don't think
she died of old age.
Let's say I've got
reasonable doubt.
Gets you out
from under anyway.
I'm not in the habit of using
murder as an excuse.
No, of course,
but there are upsides.
Look, it's a bit late.
Secure the scene
as best you can.
Hold on to that
for Bullard.
I've got to make a call.
[Gunshot]
[Gunshot]
[Gunshot]
Woman: Good shot!
Very well done!
Oh, marvellous, Peggy.
Skimmingtons now
two shots ahead.
Hurrah for Skimmingtons!
Roland?
You're up.
You're next to shoot.
The Skimmingtons are having
the best of the luck, are they?
Not luck.
No, they're just better
than us, I'm afraid.
Have been for a long time.
Hasn't there ever been
an outbreak of peace?
[Chuckles] There's
acceptance in the main.
The Riders aren't much of
a match for the Skimmingtons
these days.
[Gunshot]
[Gunshot]
Woman: I say, well done!
Woman: Well done!
Nice shot, girl!
Henry:
So, what can I do for you?
Mildred Danvers.
Her death might have
been due to foul play.
[Gunshot]
Whatever makes you say that?
We believe her hip flask
might have been spiked.
[Gunshot]
Oh, well,
I-I never met
her until yesterday.
There was coffee for the guests
after the funeral
and I was
introduced briefly.
And I believe that you
went to see Mildred
after that meeting
last night.
That's right.
Yes, of course I did.
Um, yeah.
She'd left her gloves behind.
I returned them to her.
[Gunshot]
Woman: Jolly good shot!
Henry, final shot to you.
A bull's -eye
would tie
the competition.
[Gunshot]
Man: Oh, tough luck, Henry.
Congratulations,
Mrs. Aynscombe.
Thanks.
Lorna Hastings, our chair.
This is my daughter, Fiona.
And you've met Cathy,
I understand.
Our invigilator for
the Skimmington Ride, ladies,
Detective Chief
Inspector Barnaby.
How do you do?
Um, I understand that you
all knew Mrs. Danvers.
Can you tell me when
you last saw her?
Well, Fiona and I
saw her briefly
last night
before our meeting.
And does anyone here know
of anyone in the village
with a reason to harm her?
No. Why?
Well, Cathy could tell you.
She overheard
Mrs. Danvers suggesting
her death might be
an unnatural one.
Let's hope she was mistaken.
[Bell ringing]
Oh, um, I'm afraid that's
our cue, Mr. Barnaby.
Retribution time.
Well done.
Take your ladles.
Right, fellas, this is it.
Show them what we're made of.
Come on, mate.
Riders.
Women, chanting:
Skimmington! Skimmington!
Skimmington! Skimmington!
[Bell ringing]
[Window opens]
[Car tires on gravel]
Skimmington! Skimmington!
Skimmington!
Good afternoon,
ladies and gentlemen!
[Cheers and applause]
I'm Tom Barnaby,
and I'm standing in
for the chief constable, who,
sadly, cannot be with us today.
Anything in the flask?
10-year-old brandy
and lashings of barbiturates.
[Cheers and applause]
Maybe I should stop
the proceedings.
Boss would be happy.
[Scoffs]
Like to see you try.
...to welcome you all to this
year's Skimmington Fayre.
[Cheers and applause]
Um...
As you all probably know,
it traditionally starts with,
uh, [chuckles] a unique event.
So, without further ado,
I'll hand you over
to the chairperson,
Ms. Lorna Hastings,
for this year's Skimmington Ride
nomination.
[Women cheer, men boo]
The charge is for
flagrant misogyny.
And the nominee is
the Reverend Anthony Gant.
[Men cheer, women boo]
Yeah!
The Skimmingtons have laid down
their challenge.
Now is for the rider
to show his mettle.
[Mixed boos and cheers]
The women may beat
the rider freely
with their skimming ladles
but not impede
the donkey's progress.
If the rider can last the course
without falling off his mount,
he wins the right to suspend
the Ride indefinitely.
If not, the Riders must return
next year to try again.
[Applause]
Is the rider ready?
Are the Skimmingtons ready?
[Cheers]
[Gunshot]
[Women chanting "Skimmington"]
[Men chanting "Rider"]
[Crowd gasps]
He's been shot.
Well, don't look at me.
[Siren wails]
Guys.
I think it best if you go home.
Or what do you want to do?
Well, if I can get mum away
from all the excitement.
Excuse me.
Looks like shopping
in Oxford.
Yes. See you later.
Jones. Jones!
I'm sorry.
Leave that.
It's pointless.
I've got uniform collecting
all the cameras.
Someone somewhere must
have some useful footage.
Ah, good thinking, sir.
Oh, thank you.
So glad you approve.
Alan.
You are Alan, aren't you?
I'm Tom Barnaby,
Causton CID.
You worked for
the Reverend Gant, didn't you?
Mr. Henry, he pay me.
Our people here.
I mind them.
Polly told me that you talk
to the... uh, to your people.
They talks to me.
Chatterer, chatterer.
Alan, did you see
the Reverend Gant
this morning
before the Ride?
"Morning, Reverend."
"Morning, Alan."
And did the Reverend Gant
seem his usual self?
No problems?
Miss Lorna.
She never come.
Lorna.
Yes.
Lorna Hastings?
There was a barney.
Lorna Hastings
and the Reverend Gant,
they argued this morning?
She never come.
You all right,
old friend?
Anything I can do to help,
Mr. Barnaby?
Alan here is quite special,
if you know what I mean.
Yes, doctor,
if you could give me a list
of all those people
you prescribed barbiturates
for during the last year,
that will be very helpful.
[Door opens, closes]
What you got?
Quite a bit.
First off, Valium.
Found them in a desk.
Gant's name, recent date,
only two pills left.
Thing is though,
if Gant did spike Mildred's
flask last night,
and he was the first person
in her room this morning,
why leave the murder weapon
for us to find?
Why indeed?
Have a look at this, sir.
Window's been jemmied.
Now, I sent a PC
straight over here
to watch the place
after the shooting.
So if the Reverend Gant left
here just before the Ride,
the intruder must
have gotten in here
then or during the Ride,
yeah?
Yeah.
Anything taken?
It's hard to say
with all this stuff.
It looks as if
the Reverend Gant
was trying to mount some
sort of legal challenge
against
the Skimmington Society.
These are Mildred Danvers'
effects, aren't they?
Yeah, looks like it.
Maybe she gave them to him.
Sir.
Or maybe not.
Barnaby:
Archdeacon?
Oh, Mr. Barnaby.
It's devastating news.
Mildred was a great mate.
We, um...
We met in Africa in '75.
Anthony was a one-off.
I was wondering, you know,
if you had any ideas
about motivation.
For murder?
Yes.
I can't imagine.
Anthony was a troubled soul,
pretty obsessive.
Obsessive? About what?
Trying to prevent
the incursion of women
into all aspects of life.
On a loser there,
obviously.
Was your appointment of
Miss Hewlett as his deacon,
was that intended
to underline that point?
Cruel, I know,
but educational.
Compromise was never
Anthony's strongest suit.
I understand that you had,
for some reason,
been writing
to Mrs. Danvers.
Was that something concerning
Reverend Gant?
Yes. Very sad.
I mean, I used
all influence I had,
but he had to leave Oxford.
Wound up back in Broughton
for his sins, poor man.
What sins?
Oh, nothing illegal.
I mean,
it was some embarrassing...
Said it was a young man on
a posh christening party.
Oh, Tony was gay, you know,
and, well, he'd had a few,
and he and this young chap
were discovered
groping behind
the champagne fountain.
I wrote to Mildred about it,
when she first got back,
to avoid awkward questions
for Anthony.
You don't think the letter
could have caused
some kind of problem?
I don't think anything at
the moment, Archdeacon.
O'Dowd: All patients prescribed
barbiturates during
the past year,
as requested.
Thank you.
Cathy Hewlett.
Roland Marwood.
Reverend Gant.
Yes, he lived on his nerves
did Anthony.
Cathy sprained her ankle
last month,
couldn't sleep.
And Roland Marwood.
His mother's illness
took a toll.
Seems you were a bit quick
to assume natural causes,
doctor.
Clearly I was, yes.
Did Mrs. Danvers have
any enemies you know of
in the village, I mean,
someone settling old scores?
Well, she was a Skimmington
before she went away,
but her fighting days were
long over, Mr. Barnaby.
The early evidence suggests
that Mrs. Danvers was murdered
by the Reverend Gant
to stop her exposing
a secret in his past.
Except everybody knew
his secret.
Everybody knew?
That Anthony and Henry Marwood
were half brothers, yes.
Henry's father was
a bit of a... roamer.
Anthony was his love child.
His parents died
in a big fire in 1960.
Henry's parents were killed in
that fire, too, weren't they?
Yes, Henry was an infant.
He has no memory of them.
There were others, too.
Family, friends.
It was
a devastating tragedy.
That's who Alan talks to,
you know,
all those poor souls
lost that night.
He was 6.
Still is, to all intents
and purposes.
But I often think
he remembers so that
the rest of us can forget.
Yeah.
Thanks, mate.
The barbiturate found
in Mildred's flask doesn't
match any of these.
[Scoffs] Not surprised.
It's the sort used by vets.
Vets?
Yeah.
We're going to need
an incident room.
Hey, Jones.
[Telephone ringing]
Sir.
[Donkey braying]
[Cheers]
Very photogenic, sir.
Oh, thank you.
Anything from the lab?
Yeah, there's traces
of old limewater
on the trigger of
Fiona Aynscombe's gun
and an eyelash
that isn't Mildred's
in the bottom
of her flask.
We managed to get some prints
off the flask, as well...
Mildred Danvers, Dr. O'Dowd,
and Henry Marwood.
Henry Marwood?
[Squawking]
I hope
I'm not interrupting.
No.
Is that Marwood Hall?
Ah, the ruins of.
Luck has not been with us
for quite a while.
So, what can I do for you?
Mildred Danvers' hip flask.
Your fingerprints
were on it.
[Sighs]
I've been such a fool.
I really don't know why.
It's...
[Sighs]
I suppose I haven't been
thinking very clearly.
I lied about the gloves.
It was the flask I was
returning to her.
And why didn't you tell me
that straightaway?
It was cowardly.
Well... You just said that
you suspected foul play,
and I...
Oh, I just didn't want any
more fuss after Vivienne.
I...
I know how it looks.
I'm assuming that you knew
about the Reverend Gant's,
uh, troubles in Oxford.
Yes.
Were you aware
that Mildred Danvers
knew about them, too?
No.
So you weren't trying
to save your half brother
from exposure then?
No. No!
I have no idea
why anyone would want
to do away with Mrs. Danvers.
Or Anthony.
[Sheep bleating]
It's Mrs. Hastings,
by the way.
I lost my husband.
Oh, an assumption.
I do beg your pardon.
Rumors that we're all raging
dykes at Aynscombe Farm
are erroneous.
But no less popular
for that.
How can we help?
Um, we've had confirmation
about Mildred Danvers' death.
It wasn't natural causes.
It wasn't suicide.
It was, indeed, murder.
And I believe that
one or both of you
have information that's
relevant to our inquiries.
I'm not sure what you mean.
Mrs. Hastings...
two people have died here
in the last 24 hours.
Can I recommend
that you cooperate
without prevarication.
It's my fault... I asked Lorna
not to say anything.
The day after Mildred
arrived in the village,
she shared a confidence
with Lorna and I.
We already know about
the scandal that brought
the Reverend Gant
to Broughton.
What was Mildred's reason
for telling you about that?
Oh, she was aware of her
cousin's attitude
towards women.
She thought the information
might prove useful.
So when you said Mildred
might have been murdered...
I saw Gant last night,
you see,
coming out of the pub.
What time was that?
About quarter to 10:00.
I was locking up
the committee rooms.
And you've withheld that
information, haven't you?
Murder's not
an accusation you make
without firm evidence,
Mr. Barnaby.
[Laughs]
Is that why you went
to see the Reverend Gant
at the rectory this morning,
Mrs. Hastings?
No, no.
We had other things
to discuss.
Like blackmail?
Yes.
Peggy and I agreed the legal
thing was a serious threat,
so I went to talk to him.
And suggested that
if he drop it,
the legal action, that is,
you'd keep
his little secret.
Those were the broad strokes.
Did it work?
He was understandably upset.
But he agreed to reconsider.
Which is why none
of us would have
any reason to shoot him,
Mr. Barnaby,
if that was
your next question.
Gant's got to be
our man, hasn't he?
Something to hide,
plenty of opportunity,
and he was spotted...
No, no. George Bullard said
that the cocktail that
Mildred Danvers drank
would have killed her
within half an hour.
Now, Gant left the pub
at quarter to 10:00.
Mildred Danvers didn't die
till after midnight.
See? Still plenty of time
for someone else to visit her.
True.
What about Gant's killer?
Well, I suppose shooting down
the Skimmington Society
might have
provided a motive.
What are you doing here?
Uh... my job,
Ms. Aynscombe, my job.
I understand
the Reverend Gant and you
didn't always see eye to eye,
is that true?
You could say that.
When the bell rang for
the start of the Ride,
you said something like, um,
"It's retribution time."
I didn't shoot him.
Well, someone
with a very good eye
and a rifle
very like yours
certainly did.
Me and Fi were on
the green all the time.
Our guns were locked in Fi's car
outside the committee rooms.
Don't leave
the village, ladies.
May want to talk
to you again.
[Car door opens]
[Closes]
Who poisoned Mildred?
I have no idea.
Do you know
who shot Anthony?
No, of course not.
Then what's going on?
I don't know what to think.
Don't you trust me, Peggy,
even now?
Jones.
Sir.
Good news only, please.
Mum-in-law's not leaving.
Only two more days.
I've released Mrs. Danvers'
body for burial.
You and I are going
to attend the funeral.
Any notable absentees,
crocodile tears,
that sort of thing.
Well, the good news
is forensics found
another eyelash on
Fiona Aynscombe's gunsight.
Yeah.
They did a DNA check,
and it matches
the one in the flask,
so odds on,
we're talking one killer.
Now all we have to do is
put a name to the DNA
and we're out of here.
Yeah. You know what
that means, don't you?
Means getting
a voluntary mouth swab
from every single person
in this village,
including
the Skimmingtons.
Yeah, well, that was
the bad news part of
the good news, sir.
Only for you, Jones.
We'll get uniform
to sort it, yeah?
It's not a uniform job, that,
Jones, not on my shift.
Got the kit in my car.
You can get started
as soon as we establish
the position of our sniper.
Clock tower, sir?
It's got to be, hasn't it?
George.
Bullard: Tom.
Now, from video footage taken by
spectators, we've established
pretty accurately
where the victim was
when the bullet struck.
We've calculated the angle
at which the bullet
entered the skull.
And...
Hey, presto!
Well, that's amazing,
George, thank you.
So helpful.
It's marvellous,
isn't it?
Hello there, Alan.
Alan, I wonder if you could
tell me what did you do
after you rang the bell
to start the Ride?
Did you see anyone go into
the church during the Ride?
Chatter, chatter.
Too busy.
They don't like that.
Sir.
Ah, Jones, you ready?
As I'll ever be.
Thank you, Alan.
Good morning, Cathy.
I'm sorry to disturb you.
I need to take a quick look
in the bell tower if I may.
I suppose so.
Thank you.
Oh, and DC Jones here
has something to ask you.
What?
Open wide, Ms. Hewlett.
[Bell rings]
Forensic evidence
places your gun
firmly in the bell tower,
Ms. Aynscombe.
I told you,
I didn't shoot Gant,
from the bell tower
or anywhere else.
And you did say, did you not,
in your statement, that you
and only you had the keys to
your vehicle and the gun rack?
And there's no evidence to
suggest the car was broken into.
No, but...
I lost my keys, actually.
What?
Or thought I did.
Well, you didn't mention
this before, did you?
Me and Cath were in
the middle of the crowd.
Everyone
was jostling to see.
I put my hand in my pocket.
I assumed the keys
had fallen out.
And when did you
rediscover them?
Not until after
Gant was dead
and we were asked
to give in our rifles.
I wasn't even
thinking about it.
Went back to the car,
put my hand in my pocket,
there they were.
I thought
I'd made a mistake.
So, can I get on now?
Morning, girls.
Who's that then?
Ladies.
Who are you?
[Clears throat]
I'm DC Jones,
and I work
with DCI Barnaby.
He's asked me
to ask you all
for voluntary mouth swabs
for DNA testing.
Voluntary?
Yeah.
Answer's "no" then.
Refusing to cooperate implies
you've got something to hide.
All right,
you can do me first.
Don't worry, DC Jones,
I'll be gentle.
[Laughter]
Pa.
Roland.
I wanted to...
DC Jones is here.
He wants to test our DNA.
Right.
Cup of tea, sir.
Thank you.
Mr. Barnaby.
Mrs. Hastings.
Mind if I disturb you
for five minutes?
Some files I need.
No, no, please.
Help yourself.
Thank you.
[Telephone ringing]
Are you getting anywhere?
Information gathering.
Anything I can
help you with?
Uh, yes.
Did you know Henry Marwood's
wife... Vivienne?
Not well.
She'd been ill for years.
Why do you ask?
Information gathering.
[Door opens]
Successful afternoon?
Like blood out
of a stone, sir.
And that was
the easy bit.
Well, thanks anyway.
Oh, Mrs. Hastings,
before you go,
would you mind letting DC Jones
here take a DNA sample?
[Car doors unlock]
Bonny as ever, Lorn.
I'm busy as ever.
You have time
for an old friend.
Not right now, Kieron.
It's always cruel postponements
with you females.
When you know what I've felt
about you all these years.
What's brought this on?
Murder.
Makes you think.
Mildred's funeral is
in less than an hour.
Come over to the house
for five minutes.
It's important.
It concerns
Henry and Peggy.
[Car alarm beeps]
So how did you find out?
Same way as you did,
I should imagine.
Poor Vivienne was ill
and getting worse.
Peggy and Henry, lonely
and tired of fighting
their families' empty battles.
I won't be talking.
You can count on me.
I thought we should meet
on neutral territory.
What do you want?
A truce.
And an exchange
of information.
Very funny.
Things have changed, Fiona.
You could say now we have
interests in common.
[Bell tolling]
Before we begin,
Peggy has asked
to say a few words.
Peggy: We're here
to mourn the first
of two untimely
and violent deaths.
But, surely,
we're also here
to ask ourselves,
"How on earth has it
come to this?"
I don't know why Mildred or
Anthony were killed or by whom,
but if it had anything to do
with our past conflicts here,
I want to say that the time
to forgive is now.
Right now.
Because...
Because Henry Marwood
and I are in love.
[Scattered gasps, murmuring]
In fact, he's asked me
to be his wife.
And I've accepted.
In going public now,
I hope we will persuade
others that it's time...
to bring peace to Broughton.
Come on now, everybody.
Let's say bravo
to Peggy and Henry
for having the courage
to forgive the past
and look to the future.
Come on.
Right.
Well, if you've
finished, Peggy,
we'll return to
the business at hand.
[Clears throat]
In the midst of life,
we are in death.
Of whom may we seek for succor,
but of thee, O Lord,
who for our sins
art justly displeased?
Now do you trust me?
No.
But you were right
after all.
I will not have everything
my family has worked for
given up to a Marwood.
Hewlett:
So what will happen?
Will she bring him here,
let him just take over
everything?
The Marwoods' debts alone
will probably bankrupt us.
Don't be an idiot, Fi.
Peggy's fallen in love.
She hasn't taken leave
of her senses.
I can't believe you're even
thinking that, Lorna.
We have to stop this
marriage happening.
Find just cause
or impediment.
So, what is just cause?
It's possible Henry
killed Mildred or Gant.
What reason could he have?
The DNA never lies.
That's what DC Jones said.
If Henry's the killer,
they'll find out eventually.
It might be
too late by then.
You knew them, Lorna,
the Marwoods.
You worked for them.
There must be some skeleton
in their closet.
There's Vivienne Marwood's
death.
I mean, she was demented,
poor woman,
but she was still young.
What, suddenly she gets
pneumonia and dies?
Very convenient in light of
the thing with my mother.
No point in meeting here
anymore, eh?
Oh, come here.
You really shouldn't have
told anyone, Peggy.
Not Barnaby.
Why not?
We've got nothing
to hide anymore.
What's this?
You really shouldn't
have told them.
I never thought I'd be this glad
to be in a pub with no women.
Really?
We're collecting DNA swabs,
Doctor, and Detective Jones here
is having a little problem
persuading the ladies.
Well, if you need my help,
I've got some leverage.
Even Skimmingtons need
a doctor sometimes.
Are you serious?
A large Irish
and I'm at your service.
And for me.
Sir.
You never married then, Doc?
Not for the want of trying,
Mr. Barnaby.
No Skimmington
would have you?
Not the one I wanted.
No.
I'll catch up, Fi.
Talking of skeletons
in closets,
I'd forgotten about this.
I, um, found it...
when I broke into the rectory.
It was Fi's idea.
I was looking for
what he had on us.
Look, this man's got
to be Henry's father.
And that's Mildred.
So was she Henry's father's
secret lover?
Do you want to leave
the case with me?
I'll lock it up in
my pharmacy cupboard.
Get my girl
to arrange the appointments
in the morning.
Sir?
No, that'll be fine.
You go back with him.
Make sure they're
locked up safely.
Doc, you're a star.
Where are you going?
Home.
To souse myself
in cheap whiskey,
as is my preferred habit.
You're a Rider.
You've got a duty
to fight this marriage.
Oh, grow up, Roland.
Maybe a kick up
the arse...
I don't think so,
Mr. Marwood.
Grateful to you, Ben.
Is this where they met?
Fiona:
She completely fooled me.
She lied to everyone.
Dad was the same.
Tried to get him to talk about
what was going on once.
So you knew what
they were doing?
Even before
your mother died?
No.
But I had my suspicions.
Her death
was very sudden.
I even wondered
whether he'd...
you know.
Seriously?
You must have hated
my mother.
[Glass shatters]
[Knock on door]
Come in.
[Door opens]
Sir.
On the right.
Oh.
Sorry to make you miss your
breakfast, Mr. Barnaby.
It's no problem.
What happened?
I was in the surgery
finishing something off
about 11:00.
I felt something land
on my head.
The next thing I know,
I'm on the floor,
it's 4:00 in the morning.
Anything taken?
My wallet,
some prescription sheets.
I mean, kids, I'd imagine.
Oh, they didn't get into
the pharmacy cupboard.
Jones:
Cupboard was locked tight.
Everything's here.
Not sure I buy this
as a robbery.
Maybe the attacker
wanted it to look this way.
Roland Marwood could
have had a pop.
He was looking for a fight
in the pub last night.
I'll have a word
if you like, sir.
No, no, no.
You've got the DNA samples
to collect.
[Squawking]
[Door opens]
[Door closes]
Kieron's been attacked,
Rollie.
The police want
to talk to you.
Why me?
Well, you weren't
exactly friendly
towards the doctor
last night, were you?
I was drunk.
Mr. Marwood, you tell me
where you were between 10:30
and 12:00 last night.
Upstairs. In my room.
Don't lie, Rollie.
But I was.
Look, I saw you
leave the house.
All right.
I was with Fiona Aynscombe.
To half 2:00
if you must know.
We were discussing
our common dilemma.
Apologies for the choice
of rendezvous.
Don't mind.
And thanks for coming.
Not at all.
This is hard, Henry.
[Sighs]
I realize it must
have been a shock.
No, I didn't mean...
No, I'm delighted
about you and Peggy.
I really
couldn't be happier.
I...
Kieron told me
about Vivienne.
Oh.
I see.
He says you're talking
about going to the police.
Talking.
I can't tell you
what to do, Henry.
But just remember what
you've got to lose.
I can hardly forget, Lorna.
But in the end,
it's a question of conscience.
I suppose you're right.
Goodbye, Henry.
Look,
I'm really not sure...
You wouldn't want to get done
for ignoring evidence.
Ms. Aynscombe...
Ms. Aynscombe,
what can we do for you?
I'm here to demand
an exhumation.
It's not a joke, sir.
Roland says no post-mortem was
carried out on Vivienne's body.
Even he suspects Henry.
He's got motive...
his affair with my mother...
and now there's new evidence
to suggest he might have
murdered Mildred.
You've got
to dig up Vivienne.
She's serious.
Yes, I get the idea.
What new evidence?
Thank you.
Did you get this when you
broke into the rectory?
That was Cath, actually.
But the point is,
that must be Henry's father
with Mildred.
Maybe Mildred had
something on the family,
and he killed her
to keep her quiet.
Maybe he poisoned
Vivienne, too.
Ben says that some poisons
can stay in people's bodies
for years after
they've been buried.
Any proper police
investigation...
Well, what a well-informed
constable Ben is.
Thank you, Ms. Aynscombe.
Thank you for coming in.
I'll hold onto this for
the minute, if you don't mind.
In the meantime,
might I suggest that you leave
the proper investigation
to the police?
If I come clean...
They'll arrest you,
Henry, and Kieron.
Sorry to intrude.
I'd like a word with you,
Mr. Marwood, if I may.
You're here to ask me
if I murdered my wife.
Yes.
You better see this.
Thank you.
Vivienne loved life.
She was terrified of losing
her independence.
And even more
of losing her senses.
She was haunted by that.
She wrote that to me when
she was first diagnosed.
She insisted that if I...
I truly cared for her,
I'd be prepared to...
see her off before she lost
her... dignity.
And did you?
One night,
Vivienne and I both
had flu.
It had gone to her lungs,
and she had a terrible
temperature,
but she was more rational
than she'd been in months.
But I had some
very strong
sleeping pills.
I fetched them
and brought them back
to Vivienne's room,
but she'd fallen asleep,
so I... I just sat there,
and I watched her.
I suppose I must have
fallen asleep, too,
because...
I woke up some time later,
and the bottle of pills was on
the bedside table half empty.
Vivienne was...
dead.
I'm not trying to escape any
of the consequences of this.
I'm just trying
to tell you the truth
of what actually happened.
I had intended
to help her die that night.
But in the end,
she helped herself.
[Bell tolling]
That's Anthony's funeral.
What are you going to do?
[Knock on door]
Can I have a word, sir?
Yes.
I think Cathy Hewlett's
our murderer.
Her eyelashes are on the rifle
and in the flask.
You don't look happy.
[Thunder crashes]
Everything all right?
It's Cathy.
She doesn't appear to be here.
And the church is locked.
I've just been to her cottage.
She's not answering.
What are you going on about?
Alan?
Do you know where
our deacon is...
Cathy?
Do you have any idea
where she is?
Chatter, chatter now.
They don't like that.
Too busy.
Jones!
What's she saying, Alan?
Chatting, chatter.
Not a happy chap.
Don't suppose she is.
[Siren wailing]
Blunt force trauma
to back of skull.
Sometime before midnight.
I found these
in Cathy's cottage
under her bed.
Back to two killers then.
Don't jump to
conclusions, Jones.
We're never going to get
out of here, are we, sir?
It's Groundhog Day.
Well, at least we've got some
new leads to follow.
We have?
Yeah.
Need a file
from the archive.
The Marwood Hall fire.
August 1960.
Sir.
And, George. George?
Need a DNA sample
from that body.
ASAP.
Right.
We do have her DNA though,
sir, many times over.
Yes, I know we have.
Just indulge me.
Sir.
There's something
I'd like you to look at,
if you'd be so kind.
I want some
clarification...
well, identification... of
the people in these photos.
This is my family
and some friends.
That's my grandfather.
There's my mother.
That's Mildred, isn't it?
Yeah, I suppose it is.
It looks like it.
And this man?
Why, that's Fred Hastings,
I think.
Lorna's husband.
Oh, and there's Lorna.
Look.
Don't see
my father anywhere.
Um...
That's him, isn't it?
Next to Mildred.
No.
No, that...
that's not my father.
Well, that's
my father there.
We look very alike, but I've
never seen this man before.
Peace and quiet.
"Ps" and "Qs."
Better mind them.
Hello, Alan.
Alan.
Can you show me where
little Benjamin Hastings
is buried, please?
Lorna Hastings' child.
Alan, when we met before,
you said that Mrs. Hastings
"never come."
Lorna never came.
Did you mean here,
to the graveyard?
No one ever come for him.
Poor baby.
Hello, Jones!
Sir.
They finished
in the churchyard?
Yes, sir.
You've got a theory,
haven't you?
I know that look.
Well, I may have
half an idea.
Clue?
I'll do better than that.
Get yourself back
to George Bullard.
As soon as he gets the DNA
from Cathy Hewlett's body,
ask him to retest it
against all the samples
we've already got, okay?
Why?
And then, and only then,
you may read the name
that I have written here.
Try and work out
how I got there.
Oh, Mr. Barnaby.
May I come in?
Tell me, Doctor, did you mean
to take the flask
that morning
we met in the Knox?
No, I... No.
But you can tell me who attacked
you last night.
I've no idea
who attacked me.
Oh, but I think
you do have, doctor.
You can tell me who attacked you
and who the murderer is because
they are one
and the same person.
Well, well, well.
We've got you a new match.
And I think you'll find
that's who it is.
[Chuckles] Clever chap,
that boss of yours.
You went to the police.
You used me.
I had to try and stop them.
By accusing my father
of murder?
You said it, not me.
Well, it hasn't worked.
No.
I'm sorry, Roland.
I was wrong.
Truce?
There.
You see, Ms. Aynscombe,
cooperation with the other
half of the human race,
much easier than you think.
Can you tell me where
Mrs. Hastings is, please?
She had an appointment
in Oxford.
Mum and Henry have taken
her to the station.
Mrs. Lorna Hastings,
I am arresting you
for questioning
on suspicion of murder.
What?
No, wait,
this is ridiculous.
It's all right, Peggy.
I love you both.
Please.
Can you tell me
the name of the man
in this photograph,
please?
His name was
Jack Braintree.
And he is the real father
of Henry Marwood, isn't he?
Yes, he is.
But the man Peggy Aynscombe
is due to marry
isn't really Henry Marwood,
is he?
He's actually
your illegitimate son
by this man.
I was due to be
married that month.
Jack was an acquaintance
of the Marwood family,
a teak farmer from Burma.
He'd caught Mildred's eye,
I knew.
And one night,
he caught me.
By the time I discovered
I was pregnant,
Jack was long gone.
So a year after
the babies were born,
Benjamin and Henry,
a fire broke out
at Marwood Hall.
You're trapped with
the babies in the nursery.
Your husband dies
trying to get to you.
I could hear little Henry
screaming.
The smoke was so thick.
I thought
if I die saving him,
Ben will be all alone.
So you took your own son
and left little Henry to die.
I knew what would
become of Ben and me
without Fred
to support us.
And I was right.
I was let go weeks
after the fire.
It was Peggy's mother
who gave me work
at Aynscombe Farm.
But things didn't go so well
for Henry Marwood, did they?
I mean, later on, you had to
watch him being dragged down
by the debts
he'd inherited.
Well, there was no way
to go back by then.
But then, years later,
fairy tale comes true.
The two people you care most
about in the whole world
are in love,
they plan to marry.
But you hadn't counted
on the return
of Mildred Danvers,
had you?
No.
She recognized
Henry's paternity
the moment she met him
at Vivienne Marwood's
funeral.
So, that night, she invited
you to go back to her room.
I guessed what she
was going to say.
I'm really
very sorry, Lorna,
but you've committed
a terrible crime.
I feel bound to inform
the relevant people
as soon as possible.
I asked Mildred
for a glass of water,
and while
she was getting it...
You put the poison
in her flask.
But you didn't know then...
did you?...
that Mildred had kept
the photograph
of herself
and Jack Braintree.
See, this photograph
was one of the things
that Gant had taken
from Mildred Danvers,
and you saw this photograph
when you went
to the rectory.
Gant's a clever fellow.
Put two and two together,
and now he has something
to fight your attempted
blackmail.
Think of it as a mutual
conciliation, Anthony.
I may have other bargaining
tools at my disposal.
Such as?
Such as the question
of what you were doing
at the Knox last night.
So you stole
Fiona Aynscombe's car keys,
you took her rifle from
the back of her Land Rover,
you went to the church tower,
and you waited.
Till I fired the pistol
to end the Ride.
It wasn't difficult
in all the excitement.
[Cheers]
I thought that was enough.
You didn't count
of Dr. O'Dowd's
offer to assist with
the DNA samples, did you?
[Groans]
What the...
No!
So you couldn't
kill Dr. O'Dowd,
but you did kill
Cathy Hewlett.
Cathy brought me
the photograph.
I knew then
I was losing control.
[Knock on door]
Come in.
Hi, Lorna.
What can I do for you?
Cathy Hewlett had to
disappear entirely to make her
a plausible suspect,
make her
a plausible killer.
You put her body
in Anthony's grave.
Then you went back to her
cottage,
you collected a few
of her things,
planted a bit of evidence
to make me believe
that she'd run away.
Did you seriously believe
that you'd get away
with any of that?
There's no getting
away with it,
is there, Mr. Barnaby?
At least it's all over now.
[Siren wails]
Thank you.
Do you want to see her?
Yes, please.
Okay.
Barnaby.
Able: We commend,
unto the hands of mercy,
most merciful Father, the soul
of this, thy sister departed,
Catherine Elizabeth Hewlett,
and we commit her body
to the ground,
earth to earth,
ashes to ashes,
dust to dust,
in the sure and certain hope
for life everlasting...
[Upbeat music plays]
Friends, we're gathered here
on this special day
to celebrate the marriage
of Benjamin Thomas Hastings
and Margaret Gillian Aynscombe.
Joining together of two people
in holy matrimony.
But in a greater sense,
the joining
of our own community.
Dearly beloved,
we are gathered together here
in the sight of God and the face
of this congregation
to join together
in holy matrimony...
Time to go.
This man and this woman.
Thank you.
The bond and covenant
of marriage
was established by God
in creation,
and our Lord Jesus Christ
adorned this manner of life...
Subtitling made possible
by Acorn Media
Man:
I need a drink, Pa.
Doc.
Forgiven now.
Forgive and forgot.
What's all this?
Friday kids' club.
No, I agreed to one day
a week only.
Popular demand, Rector.
Is there no end?
I asked you to take
this down, Hewlett.
I will not have Skimmington
propaganda here.
It's community information.
Woman: Ah, there you are.
How's the new job, Anthony?
Quite a change for you,
having a woman for a deacon.
And a Skimmington at that.
Sound and fury.
And a nauseating proliferation
of salad lunches.
Broughton certainly hasn't
settled down much
in my 40 years' absence.
Oxford is dull
by comparison...
as is, quite frankly,
this issue of my final
resting place...
There's a diseased tree
due to come down soon
in the east corner.
Oh, that'll do.
So long as it succumbs without
too protracted an illness.
You look to be
in rude health, Mildred.
Bad habits catch up with
one in the end, Anthony,
as you know.
How did...
Archdeacon Able wrote.
And, anyway, who said anything
about a natural death?
Mr. Marwood.
Thank you, sir.
[Telephone rings]
Sir, I'll leave the Farlow file
on your desk for Monday.
No, hand that over now.
I'll work on it now.
I thought you were
keen to get off.
Not particularly.
Mrs. Barnaby's mother is
staying for a couple of days.
Ah.
Cully's starting up, too.
It'll be two days of lurid
medical discussions.
And the footy,
if permitted at all,
will be on the portable
in the bedroom.
Nightmare.
And to complete
my weekend's enjoyment,
I have community liaison
duties to perform
in Broughton.
The Skimmington village?
Nothing good can
come of it, Jones.
Nothing good.
Tonight's the night, Pa.
What, you're going
to pay your bar bill?
On this night,
history will record
the Riders of Broughton
sealed the fate of
the Skimmington's forever.
So, what are your plans
for tomorrow, ladies?
Ah, well, grandma thinks
we ought to
come with you to Broughton.
[Sighs]
To the Skimmington Fayre.
What about some
shopping in Oxford?
Broughton's very grim.
Grim? Humph.
Tragic more like.
What?
Oh, it was a mistake
I suppose you'd call it.
Episode in 1916.
Montague Marwood.
Big local landowner.
He raised an entire company
from the village.
Whole generation of men.
And then, one night, he led
them all to a terrible death.
Leaving their wives
and children to starve.
The women formed
a self-help group,
the Skimmington Society.
They worked together,
they raised money,
educated each other,
and took control
of the village.
Yeah, but how do
you know all this?
Oh, it was
a story I heard
when I worked
in the Land Army
during the War.
The Second World War.
[Laughs]
The Society's still
going strong, I believe.
And the centerpiece is
the Skimmington Ride.
As I understand it, that Ride
is a barbaric, medieval ritual
revived by
the Skimmington ladies
to humiliate their menfolk.
Yes.
I'd really rather
like to see it.
Cully: Unmissable.
There. That's settled.
[Toy squeaks]
[Kicks rattle]
We're having
a party next week.
We'd be honored
if you'd join us.
Oh, delighted.
And we'll see you at 0930
tomorrow at the committee rooms
for the pre-Fayre briefing.
I'll be there.
Great to meet you,
Mrs. D.
You're too kind.
Hard to believe
you're related to our
public enemy number one.
See you tomorrow.
I assume you'll be staying for
the Fayre tomorrow, cousin.
Actually,
I'm making a speech.
The Skimmingtons are making me
honorary president.
One wonders why
you chose to stay
here at the Knox
and not down
at Aynscombe Farm.
Oh, but, Anthony, sleeping
with the enemy is so much
more interesting.
Polly, man needs serving
in the club room.
I'm not stopping you.
Evening, Mrs. D!
Evening, Polly.
Bob.
Mildred, could I come up
for a moment?
You'll be late
for your meeting.
Yes, but, uh...
About
the archdeacon's letter,
perhaps I might
call on you later?
If you like.
[Door opens]
[Dialing]
Woman: Welcome
to B T call minder.
The person you are calling
is not available.
Please leave a message
after the tone.
[Beep]
This is Mildred Danvers
at the Knox.
I think you'll know
why I'm calling.
Apologies, Chairman,
a medical emergency.
Opened the off-license late,
did they, Doctor O?
Oh, the cruel
perspicacity of youth.
[Knock on table]
Attention, members.
If we could all
settle down, please.
I call this meeting
of the Riders Club to order.
Before we begin,
Roland and I
would like to thank you all
for your prayers
and kind support since
Vivienne passed on.
Hear, hear.
Much appreciated.
[Knock on door]
Door, Alan.
Man: Don't want anybody
hearing our Riders business.
Oh, yes. Polly?
Polly?
Do you mind?
Blessing, Anthony.
Make it a good one.
We beseech thee, Lord,
that it may please thee to
strengthen such as do stand,
to comfort the weakhearted,
and give us courage
to beat down the Skimmingtons
under our feet, amen.
Amen.
Historic news, members.
The tyranny of the Skimmingtons
is finally over.
I can safely say that tomorrow
will be the last time
that we bow our necks
to the yoke
and submit to the awful
humiliation of the Ride.
[Scoffs] You're not
married to a Skimmington.
O'Dowd:
Well, the Ride's a symbol
of some old conflicts in
the village right enough,
but it's just that,
Anthony, a symbol.
Two-pronged strategy.
One, Anthony's new blood.
He's bound to be
nominated tonight.
So we've been training
with Bluebell,
and we're confident.
Number two,
the legal offensive.
Anthony.
Make no mistake, gentlemen,
the monstrous regiment
of women marches ever on.
The battle for Broughton must
be joined once more and won.
Men: Hear, hear!
Henry:
Attention, members.
Oh, great.
[Chuckles]
Well done, Polly.
Well, Skimmingtons,
it looks like
Gant and Roland have guessed
that the reverend
might just be nominated
as our rider this year.
Polly:
They've been secretly
working on his technique.
I saw them in
the paddock last night.
He was hopeless.
What about
the legal issue though?
Can Gant really get us
outlawed for discrimination?
The legislation's
been around for ages.
But it's for
the protection of women.
It cuts both ways, Fi.
Our constitution
explicitly forbids
male members.
Which, strictly speaking,
has been illegal for some time.
Are we making a mistake
nominating Gant at all?
We can't let him dictate to us.
He's got to be stopped.
Have a quiet word
with him tomorrow
before the Ride.
He won't listen.
And we can't let him close
us down or stop the Ride.
Gant's a throwback, Mum.
He really believes that women
are the root of all evil.
If Lorna's talks fail,
we'll decide
on a new action plan
as soon as the Fayre's over.
For now, we have to cast our
votes and nominate our rider.
[Knock on door]
Come in.
Mrs. Danvers.
I'm just returning
your flask.
Dr. O'Dowd found it at
the hermitage this afternoon.
Mr. Marwood.
Very kind of you.
You, um... You didn't know
my wife personally?
Regrettably, no.
Her late mother, and yours,
were friends of mine
many years ago
before I went abroad.
Cocoa, Mrs. D.
Well, thank you,
and good night,
Mrs. Danvers.
[Door closes]
You're not serious
about pursuing
this legal nonsense against
the Skimmingtons, are you?
Deadly.
You'll have a fight
on your hands
and need come looking
to me to heal your wounds.
Good night, gents.
Good night.
Come for brandy, Anthony?
Not tonight, Rollie.
We must have clear
heads for tomorrow.
And I have some business
to attend to.
[Car door closes]
[Laughter as engine starts]
[Distant rattling]
[Footsteps approach]
[Knock on door]
Come in.
You worried about Gant?
Well, he's certainly
stirred things up.
You coming home?
[Sighs] In a bit.
I'll see you later.
[Straining]
I have erred, Lord,
and strayed from my path
like a lost sheep.
I have followed too much
the devices and desires
of my sinful heart.
Help me to beat down
my enemies underfoot.
[Bell tolling]
Hmm.
You know,
you'll frighten someone
to his grave
one of these days.
Trouble sleeping,
old friend?
Quiet in the van.
Chatty here.
Spirits help.
Huh.
I'll not disagree
with you there.
Woman:
Can you give me a hand?
Cully:
Who's John Knox?
Oh, an infamous
Scots misogynist.
Long dead.
Probably where
the men hide
from the Skimmingtons.
Rather appropriate,
if that's the case.
Look, I do think a modicum of
respect is due to the men
who sacrificed their lives
in two world wars.
Mind you,
if they hadn't died,
this would be a much
happier village.
It seems
perfectly happy.
Dad! Dad!
Call the police!
Gant: For all of us,
there is a time
ordained by God
the father, Almighty,
a time to plant
and a time to pluck up,
and inasmuch as
that time has now come
for our dear cousin...
[Knock on door]
Um, I just happened
to be arriving outside.
This is Det. Chief Inspector
Barnaby of Causton police.
He's doing the honors with
the starting pistol this year.
Anthony Gant...
cousin of the deceased.
Mrs. Mildred Danvers.
I came up just now to visit,
couldn't get a reply.
Polly brought the passkey.
Dr. O'Dowd
at your service.
Doctor.
What's the cause of death?
Heart attack.
She had a history, I understand.
Nothing for you to ruin
your weekend over, Mr. Barnaby.
No, I'm sure
you're right.
[Crying] Mrs. D was going
to be made honorary president!
Of the Skimmington Society.
Would you excuse me?
I've got rather a busy day,
a shooting competition
to host before
the Fayre begins.
Yes.
I should, um, go and make
some arrangements.
History
of heart attacks, eh?
Doctor?
Yes?
Did she have something
in her hand
when you came up here?
Oh, yes. A flask.
I moved it to examine her.
Now where is it?
Strange. I...
Oh.
There now.
Here it is.
Nothing untoward, I hope.
Better safe than sorry.
[Dialing mobile]
Jones, are you busy?
[Footsteps on gravel]
[Door opens, closes]
[Door opens]
[Bell ringing]
Mrs. Hastings.
Condolences, Anthony.
I just heard about Mildred.
Still, not a mercy call,
I imagine.
I come to parlay.
Did Mrs. Danvers have any
visitors last night, Polly?
Um...
I heard Mr. Gant
asking if he could see her
after the meeting.
Something about a letter.
What meeting was that?
Riders Club.
They were all here.
The Marwoods, Reverend Gant,
the doctor.
Poor old Alan,
the gravedigger.
He talks to dead people.
Oh.
And I saw Mr. Marwood
in Mrs. Danvers' room
when I took up her cocoa...
half 9:00ish.
They knew each other,
did they?
Mrs. D knew his mother
from years ago,
apparently.
She attended his wife's
funeral yesterday.
Who made Mrs. Danvers'
cocoa last night?
Dad did.
Are you the copper?
I'm Detective Chief
Inspector Barnaby, yes.
Cathy Hewlett,
church deacon.
I've just heard about
Mildred Danvers.
Do you know how she died?
That is yet to be
precisely established.
Why do you ask?
I heard her talking
to Anthony Gant
yesterday about
her burial plot.
She told him she doubted if her
death would be a natural one.
Joyce!
Everything all right?
Possibly not.
I've called out a team.
Ugh!
Never a dull moment in
Broughton, it seems.
Wouldn't you rather drive over
to Oxford, Mum?
Oh, don't be a sissy, Joyce.
This is much more fun
than shopping.
[Horn honks]
Jones.
Jones:
What have we got, sir?
We've got Mildred Danvers.
Age 78, deceased.
And you don't think
she died of old age.
Let's say I've got
reasonable doubt.
Gets you out
from under anyway.
I'm not in the habit of using
murder as an excuse.
No, of course,
but there are upsides.
Look, it's a bit late.
Secure the scene
as best you can.
Hold on to that
for Bullard.
I've got to make a call.
[Gunshot]
[Gunshot]
[Gunshot]
Woman: Good shot!
Very well done!
Oh, marvellous, Peggy.
Skimmingtons now
two shots ahead.
Hurrah for Skimmingtons!
Roland?
You're up.
You're next to shoot.
The Skimmingtons are having
the best of the luck, are they?
Not luck.
No, they're just better
than us, I'm afraid.
Have been for a long time.
Hasn't there ever been
an outbreak of peace?
[Chuckles] There's
acceptance in the main.
The Riders aren't much of
a match for the Skimmingtons
these days.
[Gunshot]
[Gunshot]
Woman: I say, well done!
Woman: Well done!
Nice shot, girl!
Henry:
So, what can I do for you?
Mildred Danvers.
Her death might have
been due to foul play.
[Gunshot]
Whatever makes you say that?
We believe her hip flask
might have been spiked.
[Gunshot]
Oh, well,
I-I never met
her until yesterday.
There was coffee for the guests
after the funeral
and I was
introduced briefly.
And I believe that you
went to see Mildred
after that meeting
last night.
That's right.
Yes, of course I did.
Um, yeah.
She'd left her gloves behind.
I returned them to her.
[Gunshot]
Woman: Jolly good shot!
Henry, final shot to you.
A bull's -eye
would tie
the competition.
[Gunshot]
Man: Oh, tough luck, Henry.
Congratulations,
Mrs. Aynscombe.
Thanks.
Lorna Hastings, our chair.
This is my daughter, Fiona.
And you've met Cathy,
I understand.
Our invigilator for
the Skimmington Ride, ladies,
Detective Chief
Inspector Barnaby.
How do you do?
Um, I understand that you
all knew Mrs. Danvers.
Can you tell me when
you last saw her?
Well, Fiona and I
saw her briefly
last night
before our meeting.
And does anyone here know
of anyone in the village
with a reason to harm her?
No. Why?
Well, Cathy could tell you.
She overheard
Mrs. Danvers suggesting
her death might be
an unnatural one.
Let's hope she was mistaken.
[Bell ringing]
Oh, um, I'm afraid that's
our cue, Mr. Barnaby.
Retribution time.
Well done.
Take your ladles.
Right, fellas, this is it.
Show them what we're made of.
Come on, mate.
Riders.
Women, chanting:
Skimmington! Skimmington!
Skimmington! Skimmington!
[Bell ringing]
[Window opens]
[Car tires on gravel]
Skimmington! Skimmington!
Skimmington!
Good afternoon,
ladies and gentlemen!
[Cheers and applause]
I'm Tom Barnaby,
and I'm standing in
for the chief constable, who,
sadly, cannot be with us today.
Anything in the flask?
10-year-old brandy
and lashings of barbiturates.
[Cheers and applause]
Maybe I should stop
the proceedings.
Boss would be happy.
[Scoffs]
Like to see you try.
...to welcome you all to this
year's Skimmington Fayre.
[Cheers and applause]
Um...
As you all probably know,
it traditionally starts with,
uh, [chuckles] a unique event.
So, without further ado,
I'll hand you over
to the chairperson,
Ms. Lorna Hastings,
for this year's Skimmington Ride
nomination.
[Women cheer, men boo]
The charge is for
flagrant misogyny.
And the nominee is
the Reverend Anthony Gant.
[Men cheer, women boo]
Yeah!
The Skimmingtons have laid down
their challenge.
Now is for the rider
to show his mettle.
[Mixed boos and cheers]
The women may beat
the rider freely
with their skimming ladles
but not impede
the donkey's progress.
If the rider can last the course
without falling off his mount,
he wins the right to suspend
the Ride indefinitely.
If not, the Riders must return
next year to try again.
[Applause]
Is the rider ready?
Are the Skimmingtons ready?
[Cheers]
[Gunshot]
[Women chanting "Skimmington"]
[Men chanting "Rider"]
[Crowd gasps]
He's been shot.
Well, don't look at me.
[Siren wails]
Guys.
I think it best if you go home.
Or what do you want to do?
Well, if I can get mum away
from all the excitement.
Excuse me.
Looks like shopping
in Oxford.
Yes. See you later.
Jones. Jones!
I'm sorry.
Leave that.
It's pointless.
I've got uniform collecting
all the cameras.
Someone somewhere must
have some useful footage.
Ah, good thinking, sir.
Oh, thank you.
So glad you approve.
Alan.
You are Alan, aren't you?
I'm Tom Barnaby,
Causton CID.
You worked for
the Reverend Gant, didn't you?
Mr. Henry, he pay me.
Our people here.
I mind them.
Polly told me that you talk
to the... uh, to your people.
They talks to me.
Chatterer, chatterer.
Alan, did you see
the Reverend Gant
this morning
before the Ride?
"Morning, Reverend."
"Morning, Alan."
And did the Reverend Gant
seem his usual self?
No problems?
Miss Lorna.
She never come.
Lorna.
Yes.
Lorna Hastings?
There was a barney.
Lorna Hastings
and the Reverend Gant,
they argued this morning?
She never come.
You all right,
old friend?
Anything I can do to help,
Mr. Barnaby?
Alan here is quite special,
if you know what I mean.
Yes, doctor,
if you could give me a list
of all those people
you prescribed barbiturates
for during the last year,
that will be very helpful.
[Door opens, closes]
What you got?
Quite a bit.
First off, Valium.
Found them in a desk.
Gant's name, recent date,
only two pills left.
Thing is though,
if Gant did spike Mildred's
flask last night,
and he was the first person
in her room this morning,
why leave the murder weapon
for us to find?
Why indeed?
Have a look at this, sir.
Window's been jemmied.
Now, I sent a PC
straight over here
to watch the place
after the shooting.
So if the Reverend Gant left
here just before the Ride,
the intruder must
have gotten in here
then or during the Ride,
yeah?
Yeah.
Anything taken?
It's hard to say
with all this stuff.
It looks as if
the Reverend Gant
was trying to mount some
sort of legal challenge
against
the Skimmington Society.
These are Mildred Danvers'
effects, aren't they?
Yeah, looks like it.
Maybe she gave them to him.
Sir.
Or maybe not.
Barnaby:
Archdeacon?
Oh, Mr. Barnaby.
It's devastating news.
Mildred was a great mate.
We, um...
We met in Africa in '75.
Anthony was a one-off.
I was wondering, you know,
if you had any ideas
about motivation.
For murder?
Yes.
I can't imagine.
Anthony was a troubled soul,
pretty obsessive.
Obsessive? About what?
Trying to prevent
the incursion of women
into all aspects of life.
On a loser there,
obviously.
Was your appointment of
Miss Hewlett as his deacon,
was that intended
to underline that point?
Cruel, I know,
but educational.
Compromise was never
Anthony's strongest suit.
I understand that you had,
for some reason,
been writing
to Mrs. Danvers.
Was that something concerning
Reverend Gant?
Yes. Very sad.
I mean, I used
all influence I had,
but he had to leave Oxford.
Wound up back in Broughton
for his sins, poor man.
What sins?
Oh, nothing illegal.
I mean,
it was some embarrassing...
Said it was a young man on
a posh christening party.
Oh, Tony was gay, you know,
and, well, he'd had a few,
and he and this young chap
were discovered
groping behind
the champagne fountain.
I wrote to Mildred about it,
when she first got back,
to avoid awkward questions
for Anthony.
You don't think the letter
could have caused
some kind of problem?
I don't think anything at
the moment, Archdeacon.
O'Dowd: All patients prescribed
barbiturates during
the past year,
as requested.
Thank you.
Cathy Hewlett.
Roland Marwood.
Reverend Gant.
Yes, he lived on his nerves
did Anthony.
Cathy sprained her ankle
last month,
couldn't sleep.
And Roland Marwood.
His mother's illness
took a toll.
Seems you were a bit quick
to assume natural causes,
doctor.
Clearly I was, yes.
Did Mrs. Danvers have
any enemies you know of
in the village, I mean,
someone settling old scores?
Well, she was a Skimmington
before she went away,
but her fighting days were
long over, Mr. Barnaby.
The early evidence suggests
that Mrs. Danvers was murdered
by the Reverend Gant
to stop her exposing
a secret in his past.
Except everybody knew
his secret.
Everybody knew?
That Anthony and Henry Marwood
were half brothers, yes.
Henry's father was
a bit of a... roamer.
Anthony was his love child.
His parents died
in a big fire in 1960.
Henry's parents were killed in
that fire, too, weren't they?
Yes, Henry was an infant.
He has no memory of them.
There were others, too.
Family, friends.
It was
a devastating tragedy.
That's who Alan talks to,
you know,
all those poor souls
lost that night.
He was 6.
Still is, to all intents
and purposes.
But I often think
he remembers so that
the rest of us can forget.
Yeah.
Thanks, mate.
The barbiturate found
in Mildred's flask doesn't
match any of these.
[Scoffs] Not surprised.
It's the sort used by vets.
Vets?
Yeah.
We're going to need
an incident room.
Hey, Jones.
[Telephone ringing]
Sir.
[Donkey braying]
[Cheers]
Very photogenic, sir.
Oh, thank you.
Anything from the lab?
Yeah, there's traces
of old limewater
on the trigger of
Fiona Aynscombe's gun
and an eyelash
that isn't Mildred's
in the bottom
of her flask.
We managed to get some prints
off the flask, as well...
Mildred Danvers, Dr. O'Dowd,
and Henry Marwood.
Henry Marwood?
[Squawking]
I hope
I'm not interrupting.
No.
Is that Marwood Hall?
Ah, the ruins of.
Luck has not been with us
for quite a while.
So, what can I do for you?
Mildred Danvers' hip flask.
Your fingerprints
were on it.
[Sighs]
I've been such a fool.
I really don't know why.
It's...
[Sighs]
I suppose I haven't been
thinking very clearly.
I lied about the gloves.
It was the flask I was
returning to her.
And why didn't you tell me
that straightaway?
It was cowardly.
Well... You just said that
you suspected foul play,
and I...
Oh, I just didn't want any
more fuss after Vivienne.
I...
I know how it looks.
I'm assuming that you knew
about the Reverend Gant's,
uh, troubles in Oxford.
Yes.
Were you aware
that Mildred Danvers
knew about them, too?
No.
So you weren't trying
to save your half brother
from exposure then?
No. No!
I have no idea
why anyone would want
to do away with Mrs. Danvers.
Or Anthony.
[Sheep bleating]
It's Mrs. Hastings,
by the way.
I lost my husband.
Oh, an assumption.
I do beg your pardon.
Rumors that we're all raging
dykes at Aynscombe Farm
are erroneous.
But no less popular
for that.
How can we help?
Um, we've had confirmation
about Mildred Danvers' death.
It wasn't natural causes.
It wasn't suicide.
It was, indeed, murder.
And I believe that
one or both of you
have information that's
relevant to our inquiries.
I'm not sure what you mean.
Mrs. Hastings...
two people have died here
in the last 24 hours.
Can I recommend
that you cooperate
without prevarication.
It's my fault... I asked Lorna
not to say anything.
The day after Mildred
arrived in the village,
she shared a confidence
with Lorna and I.
We already know about
the scandal that brought
the Reverend Gant
to Broughton.
What was Mildred's reason
for telling you about that?
Oh, she was aware of her
cousin's attitude
towards women.
She thought the information
might prove useful.
So when you said Mildred
might have been murdered...
I saw Gant last night,
you see,
coming out of the pub.
What time was that?
About quarter to 10:00.
I was locking up
the committee rooms.
And you've withheld that
information, haven't you?
Murder's not
an accusation you make
without firm evidence,
Mr. Barnaby.
[Laughs]
Is that why you went
to see the Reverend Gant
at the rectory this morning,
Mrs. Hastings?
No, no.
We had other things
to discuss.
Like blackmail?
Yes.
Peggy and I agreed the legal
thing was a serious threat,
so I went to talk to him.
And suggested that
if he drop it,
the legal action, that is,
you'd keep
his little secret.
Those were the broad strokes.
Did it work?
He was understandably upset.
But he agreed to reconsider.
Which is why none
of us would have
any reason to shoot him,
Mr. Barnaby,
if that was
your next question.
Gant's got to be
our man, hasn't he?
Something to hide,
plenty of opportunity,
and he was spotted...
No, no. George Bullard said
that the cocktail that
Mildred Danvers drank
would have killed her
within half an hour.
Now, Gant left the pub
at quarter to 10:00.
Mildred Danvers didn't die
till after midnight.
See? Still plenty of time
for someone else to visit her.
True.
What about Gant's killer?
Well, I suppose shooting down
the Skimmington Society
might have
provided a motive.
What are you doing here?
Uh... my job,
Ms. Aynscombe, my job.
I understand
the Reverend Gant and you
didn't always see eye to eye,
is that true?
You could say that.
When the bell rang for
the start of the Ride,
you said something like, um,
"It's retribution time."
I didn't shoot him.
Well, someone
with a very good eye
and a rifle
very like yours
certainly did.
Me and Fi were on
the green all the time.
Our guns were locked in Fi's car
outside the committee rooms.
Don't leave
the village, ladies.
May want to talk
to you again.
[Car door opens]
[Closes]
Who poisoned Mildred?
I have no idea.
Do you know
who shot Anthony?
No, of course not.
Then what's going on?
I don't know what to think.
Don't you trust me, Peggy,
even now?
Jones.
Sir.
Good news only, please.
Mum-in-law's not leaving.
Only two more days.
I've released Mrs. Danvers'
body for burial.
You and I are going
to attend the funeral.
Any notable absentees,
crocodile tears,
that sort of thing.
Well, the good news
is forensics found
another eyelash on
Fiona Aynscombe's gunsight.
Yeah.
They did a DNA check,
and it matches
the one in the flask,
so odds on,
we're talking one killer.
Now all we have to do is
put a name to the DNA
and we're out of here.
Yeah. You know what
that means, don't you?
Means getting
a voluntary mouth swab
from every single person
in this village,
including
the Skimmingtons.
Yeah, well, that was
the bad news part of
the good news, sir.
Only for you, Jones.
We'll get uniform
to sort it, yeah?
It's not a uniform job, that,
Jones, not on my shift.
Got the kit in my car.
You can get started
as soon as we establish
the position of our sniper.
Clock tower, sir?
It's got to be, hasn't it?
George.
Bullard: Tom.
Now, from video footage taken by
spectators, we've established
pretty accurately
where the victim was
when the bullet struck.
We've calculated the angle
at which the bullet
entered the skull.
And...
Hey, presto!
Well, that's amazing,
George, thank you.
So helpful.
It's marvellous,
isn't it?
Hello there, Alan.
Alan, I wonder if you could
tell me what did you do
after you rang the bell
to start the Ride?
Did you see anyone go into
the church during the Ride?
Chatter, chatter.
Too busy.
They don't like that.
Sir.
Ah, Jones, you ready?
As I'll ever be.
Thank you, Alan.
Good morning, Cathy.
I'm sorry to disturb you.
I need to take a quick look
in the bell tower if I may.
I suppose so.
Thank you.
Oh, and DC Jones here
has something to ask you.
What?
Open wide, Ms. Hewlett.
[Bell rings]
Forensic evidence
places your gun
firmly in the bell tower,
Ms. Aynscombe.
I told you,
I didn't shoot Gant,
from the bell tower
or anywhere else.
And you did say, did you not,
in your statement, that you
and only you had the keys to
your vehicle and the gun rack?
And there's no evidence to
suggest the car was broken into.
No, but...
I lost my keys, actually.
What?
Or thought I did.
Well, you didn't mention
this before, did you?
Me and Cath were in
the middle of the crowd.
Everyone
was jostling to see.
I put my hand in my pocket.
I assumed the keys
had fallen out.
And when did you
rediscover them?
Not until after
Gant was dead
and we were asked
to give in our rifles.
I wasn't even
thinking about it.
Went back to the car,
put my hand in my pocket,
there they were.
I thought
I'd made a mistake.
So, can I get on now?
Morning, girls.
Who's that then?
Ladies.
Who are you?
[Clears throat]
I'm DC Jones,
and I work
with DCI Barnaby.
He's asked me
to ask you all
for voluntary mouth swabs
for DNA testing.
Voluntary?
Yeah.
Answer's "no" then.
Refusing to cooperate implies
you've got something to hide.
All right,
you can do me first.
Don't worry, DC Jones,
I'll be gentle.
[Laughter]
Pa.
Roland.
I wanted to...
DC Jones is here.
He wants to test our DNA.
Right.
Cup of tea, sir.
Thank you.
Mr. Barnaby.
Mrs. Hastings.
Mind if I disturb you
for five minutes?
Some files I need.
No, no, please.
Help yourself.
Thank you.
[Telephone ringing]
Are you getting anywhere?
Information gathering.
Anything I can
help you with?
Uh, yes.
Did you know Henry Marwood's
wife... Vivienne?
Not well.
She'd been ill for years.
Why do you ask?
Information gathering.
[Door opens]
Successful afternoon?
Like blood out
of a stone, sir.
And that was
the easy bit.
Well, thanks anyway.
Oh, Mrs. Hastings,
before you go,
would you mind letting DC Jones
here take a DNA sample?
[Car doors unlock]
Bonny as ever, Lorn.
I'm busy as ever.
You have time
for an old friend.
Not right now, Kieron.
It's always cruel postponements
with you females.
When you know what I've felt
about you all these years.
What's brought this on?
Murder.
Makes you think.
Mildred's funeral is
in less than an hour.
Come over to the house
for five minutes.
It's important.
It concerns
Henry and Peggy.
[Car alarm beeps]
So how did you find out?
Same way as you did,
I should imagine.
Poor Vivienne was ill
and getting worse.
Peggy and Henry, lonely
and tired of fighting
their families' empty battles.
I won't be talking.
You can count on me.
I thought we should meet
on neutral territory.
What do you want?
A truce.
And an exchange
of information.
Very funny.
Things have changed, Fiona.
You could say now we have
interests in common.
[Bell tolling]
Before we begin,
Peggy has asked
to say a few words.
Peggy: We're here
to mourn the first
of two untimely
and violent deaths.
But, surely,
we're also here
to ask ourselves,
"How on earth has it
come to this?"
I don't know why Mildred or
Anthony were killed or by whom,
but if it had anything to do
with our past conflicts here,
I want to say that the time
to forgive is now.
Right now.
Because...
Because Henry Marwood
and I are in love.
[Scattered gasps, murmuring]
In fact, he's asked me
to be his wife.
And I've accepted.
In going public now,
I hope we will persuade
others that it's time...
to bring peace to Broughton.
Come on now, everybody.
Let's say bravo
to Peggy and Henry
for having the courage
to forgive the past
and look to the future.
Come on.
Right.
Well, if you've
finished, Peggy,
we'll return to
the business at hand.
[Clears throat]
In the midst of life,
we are in death.
Of whom may we seek for succor,
but of thee, O Lord,
who for our sins
art justly displeased?
Now do you trust me?
No.
But you were right
after all.
I will not have everything
my family has worked for
given up to a Marwood.
Hewlett:
So what will happen?
Will she bring him here,
let him just take over
everything?
The Marwoods' debts alone
will probably bankrupt us.
Don't be an idiot, Fi.
Peggy's fallen in love.
She hasn't taken leave
of her senses.
I can't believe you're even
thinking that, Lorna.
We have to stop this
marriage happening.
Find just cause
or impediment.
So, what is just cause?
It's possible Henry
killed Mildred or Gant.
What reason could he have?
The DNA never lies.
That's what DC Jones said.
If Henry's the killer,
they'll find out eventually.
It might be
too late by then.
You knew them, Lorna,
the Marwoods.
You worked for them.
There must be some skeleton
in their closet.
There's Vivienne Marwood's
death.
I mean, she was demented,
poor woman,
but she was still young.
What, suddenly she gets
pneumonia and dies?
Very convenient in light of
the thing with my mother.
No point in meeting here
anymore, eh?
Oh, come here.
You really shouldn't have
told anyone, Peggy.
Not Barnaby.
Why not?
We've got nothing
to hide anymore.
What's this?
You really shouldn't
have told them.
I never thought I'd be this glad
to be in a pub with no women.
Really?
We're collecting DNA swabs,
Doctor, and Detective Jones here
is having a little problem
persuading the ladies.
Well, if you need my help,
I've got some leverage.
Even Skimmingtons need
a doctor sometimes.
Are you serious?
A large Irish
and I'm at your service.
And for me.
Sir.
You never married then, Doc?
Not for the want of trying,
Mr. Barnaby.
No Skimmington
would have you?
Not the one I wanted.
No.
I'll catch up, Fi.
Talking of skeletons
in closets,
I'd forgotten about this.
I, um, found it...
when I broke into the rectory.
It was Fi's idea.
I was looking for
what he had on us.
Look, this man's got
to be Henry's father.
And that's Mildred.
So was she Henry's father's
secret lover?
Do you want to leave
the case with me?
I'll lock it up in
my pharmacy cupboard.
Get my girl
to arrange the appointments
in the morning.
Sir?
No, that'll be fine.
You go back with him.
Make sure they're
locked up safely.
Doc, you're a star.
Where are you going?
Home.
To souse myself
in cheap whiskey,
as is my preferred habit.
You're a Rider.
You've got a duty
to fight this marriage.
Oh, grow up, Roland.
Maybe a kick up
the arse...
I don't think so,
Mr. Marwood.
Grateful to you, Ben.
Is this where they met?
Fiona:
She completely fooled me.
She lied to everyone.
Dad was the same.
Tried to get him to talk about
what was going on once.
So you knew what
they were doing?
Even before
your mother died?
No.
But I had my suspicions.
Her death
was very sudden.
I even wondered
whether he'd...
you know.
Seriously?
You must have hated
my mother.
[Glass shatters]
[Knock on door]
Come in.
[Door opens]
Sir.
On the right.
Oh.
Sorry to make you miss your
breakfast, Mr. Barnaby.
It's no problem.
What happened?
I was in the surgery
finishing something off
about 11:00.
I felt something land
on my head.
The next thing I know,
I'm on the floor,
it's 4:00 in the morning.
Anything taken?
My wallet,
some prescription sheets.
I mean, kids, I'd imagine.
Oh, they didn't get into
the pharmacy cupboard.
Jones:
Cupboard was locked tight.
Everything's here.
Not sure I buy this
as a robbery.
Maybe the attacker
wanted it to look this way.
Roland Marwood could
have had a pop.
He was looking for a fight
in the pub last night.
I'll have a word
if you like, sir.
No, no, no.
You've got the DNA samples
to collect.
[Squawking]
[Door opens]
[Door closes]
Kieron's been attacked,
Rollie.
The police want
to talk to you.
Why me?
Well, you weren't
exactly friendly
towards the doctor
last night, were you?
I was drunk.
Mr. Marwood, you tell me
where you were between 10:30
and 12:00 last night.
Upstairs. In my room.
Don't lie, Rollie.
But I was.
Look, I saw you
leave the house.
All right.
I was with Fiona Aynscombe.
To half 2:00
if you must know.
We were discussing
our common dilemma.
Apologies for the choice
of rendezvous.
Don't mind.
And thanks for coming.
Not at all.
This is hard, Henry.
[Sighs]
I realize it must
have been a shock.
No, I didn't mean...
No, I'm delighted
about you and Peggy.
I really
couldn't be happier.
I...
Kieron told me
about Vivienne.
Oh.
I see.
He says you're talking
about going to the police.
Talking.
I can't tell you
what to do, Henry.
But just remember what
you've got to lose.
I can hardly forget, Lorna.
But in the end,
it's a question of conscience.
I suppose you're right.
Goodbye, Henry.
Look,
I'm really not sure...
You wouldn't want to get done
for ignoring evidence.
Ms. Aynscombe...
Ms. Aynscombe,
what can we do for you?
I'm here to demand
an exhumation.
It's not a joke, sir.
Roland says no post-mortem was
carried out on Vivienne's body.
Even he suspects Henry.
He's got motive...
his affair with my mother...
and now there's new evidence
to suggest he might have
murdered Mildred.
You've got
to dig up Vivienne.
She's serious.
Yes, I get the idea.
What new evidence?
Thank you.
Did you get this when you
broke into the rectory?
That was Cath, actually.
But the point is,
that must be Henry's father
with Mildred.
Maybe Mildred had
something on the family,
and he killed her
to keep her quiet.
Maybe he poisoned
Vivienne, too.
Ben says that some poisons
can stay in people's bodies
for years after
they've been buried.
Any proper police
investigation...
Well, what a well-informed
constable Ben is.
Thank you, Ms. Aynscombe.
Thank you for coming in.
I'll hold onto this for
the minute, if you don't mind.
In the meantime,
might I suggest that you leave
the proper investigation
to the police?
If I come clean...
They'll arrest you,
Henry, and Kieron.
Sorry to intrude.
I'd like a word with you,
Mr. Marwood, if I may.
You're here to ask me
if I murdered my wife.
Yes.
You better see this.
Thank you.
Vivienne loved life.
She was terrified of losing
her independence.
And even more
of losing her senses.
She was haunted by that.
She wrote that to me when
she was first diagnosed.
She insisted that if I...
I truly cared for her,
I'd be prepared to...
see her off before she lost
her... dignity.
And did you?
One night,
Vivienne and I both
had flu.
It had gone to her lungs,
and she had a terrible
temperature,
but she was more rational
than she'd been in months.
But I had some
very strong
sleeping pills.
I fetched them
and brought them back
to Vivienne's room,
but she'd fallen asleep,
so I... I just sat there,
and I watched her.
I suppose I must have
fallen asleep, too,
because...
I woke up some time later,
and the bottle of pills was on
the bedside table half empty.
Vivienne was...
dead.
I'm not trying to escape any
of the consequences of this.
I'm just trying
to tell you the truth
of what actually happened.
I had intended
to help her die that night.
But in the end,
she helped herself.
[Bell tolling]
That's Anthony's funeral.
What are you going to do?
[Knock on door]
Can I have a word, sir?
Yes.
I think Cathy Hewlett's
our murderer.
Her eyelashes are on the rifle
and in the flask.
You don't look happy.
[Thunder crashes]
Everything all right?
It's Cathy.
She doesn't appear to be here.
And the church is locked.
I've just been to her cottage.
She's not answering.
What are you going on about?
Alan?
Do you know where
our deacon is...
Cathy?
Do you have any idea
where she is?
Chatter, chatter now.
They don't like that.
Too busy.
Jones!
What's she saying, Alan?
Chatting, chatter.
Not a happy chap.
Don't suppose she is.
[Siren wailing]
Blunt force trauma
to back of skull.
Sometime before midnight.
I found these
in Cathy's cottage
under her bed.
Back to two killers then.
Don't jump to
conclusions, Jones.
We're never going to get
out of here, are we, sir?
It's Groundhog Day.
Well, at least we've got some
new leads to follow.
We have?
Yeah.
Need a file
from the archive.
The Marwood Hall fire.
August 1960.
Sir.
And, George. George?
Need a DNA sample
from that body.
ASAP.
Right.
We do have her DNA though,
sir, many times over.
Yes, I know we have.
Just indulge me.
Sir.
There's something
I'd like you to look at,
if you'd be so kind.
I want some
clarification...
well, identification... of
the people in these photos.
This is my family
and some friends.
That's my grandfather.
There's my mother.
That's Mildred, isn't it?
Yeah, I suppose it is.
It looks like it.
And this man?
Why, that's Fred Hastings,
I think.
Lorna's husband.
Oh, and there's Lorna.
Look.
Don't see
my father anywhere.
Um...
That's him, isn't it?
Next to Mildred.
No.
No, that...
that's not my father.
Well, that's
my father there.
We look very alike, but I've
never seen this man before.
Peace and quiet.
"Ps" and "Qs."
Better mind them.
Hello, Alan.
Alan.
Can you show me where
little Benjamin Hastings
is buried, please?
Lorna Hastings' child.
Alan, when we met before,
you said that Mrs. Hastings
"never come."
Lorna never came.
Did you mean here,
to the graveyard?
No one ever come for him.
Poor baby.
Hello, Jones!
Sir.
They finished
in the churchyard?
Yes, sir.
You've got a theory,
haven't you?
I know that look.
Well, I may have
half an idea.
Clue?
I'll do better than that.
Get yourself back
to George Bullard.
As soon as he gets the DNA
from Cathy Hewlett's body,
ask him to retest it
against all the samples
we've already got, okay?
Why?
And then, and only then,
you may read the name
that I have written here.
Try and work out
how I got there.
Oh, Mr. Barnaby.
May I come in?
Tell me, Doctor, did you mean
to take the flask
that morning
we met in the Knox?
No, I... No.
But you can tell me who attacked
you last night.
I've no idea
who attacked me.
Oh, but I think
you do have, doctor.
You can tell me who attacked you
and who the murderer is because
they are one
and the same person.
Well, well, well.
We've got you a new match.
And I think you'll find
that's who it is.
[Chuckles] Clever chap,
that boss of yours.
You went to the police.
You used me.
I had to try and stop them.
By accusing my father
of murder?
You said it, not me.
Well, it hasn't worked.
No.
I'm sorry, Roland.
I was wrong.
Truce?
There.
You see, Ms. Aynscombe,
cooperation with the other
half of the human race,
much easier than you think.
Can you tell me where
Mrs. Hastings is, please?
She had an appointment
in Oxford.
Mum and Henry have taken
her to the station.
Mrs. Lorna Hastings,
I am arresting you
for questioning
on suspicion of murder.
What?
No, wait,
this is ridiculous.
It's all right, Peggy.
I love you both.
Please.
Can you tell me
the name of the man
in this photograph,
please?
His name was
Jack Braintree.
And he is the real father
of Henry Marwood, isn't he?
Yes, he is.
But the man Peggy Aynscombe
is due to marry
isn't really Henry Marwood,
is he?
He's actually
your illegitimate son
by this man.
I was due to be
married that month.
Jack was an acquaintance
of the Marwood family,
a teak farmer from Burma.
He'd caught Mildred's eye,
I knew.
And one night,
he caught me.
By the time I discovered
I was pregnant,
Jack was long gone.
So a year after
the babies were born,
Benjamin and Henry,
a fire broke out
at Marwood Hall.
You're trapped with
the babies in the nursery.
Your husband dies
trying to get to you.
I could hear little Henry
screaming.
The smoke was so thick.
I thought
if I die saving him,
Ben will be all alone.
So you took your own son
and left little Henry to die.
I knew what would
become of Ben and me
without Fred
to support us.
And I was right.
I was let go weeks
after the fire.
It was Peggy's mother
who gave me work
at Aynscombe Farm.
But things didn't go so well
for Henry Marwood, did they?
I mean, later on, you had to
watch him being dragged down
by the debts
he'd inherited.
Well, there was no way
to go back by then.
But then, years later,
fairy tale comes true.
The two people you care most
about in the whole world
are in love,
they plan to marry.
But you hadn't counted
on the return
of Mildred Danvers,
had you?
No.
She recognized
Henry's paternity
the moment she met him
at Vivienne Marwood's
funeral.
So, that night, she invited
you to go back to her room.
I guessed what she
was going to say.
I'm really
very sorry, Lorna,
but you've committed
a terrible crime.
I feel bound to inform
the relevant people
as soon as possible.
I asked Mildred
for a glass of water,
and while
she was getting it...
You put the poison
in her flask.
But you didn't know then...
did you?...
that Mildred had kept
the photograph
of herself
and Jack Braintree.
See, this photograph
was one of the things
that Gant had taken
from Mildred Danvers,
and you saw this photograph
when you went
to the rectory.
Gant's a clever fellow.
Put two and two together,
and now he has something
to fight your attempted
blackmail.
Think of it as a mutual
conciliation, Anthony.
I may have other bargaining
tools at my disposal.
Such as?
Such as the question
of what you were doing
at the Knox last night.
So you stole
Fiona Aynscombe's car keys,
you took her rifle from
the back of her Land Rover,
you went to the church tower,
and you waited.
Till I fired the pistol
to end the Ride.
It wasn't difficult
in all the excitement.
[Cheers]
I thought that was enough.
You didn't count
of Dr. O'Dowd's
offer to assist with
the DNA samples, did you?
[Groans]
What the...
No!
So you couldn't
kill Dr. O'Dowd,
but you did kill
Cathy Hewlett.
Cathy brought me
the photograph.
I knew then
I was losing control.
[Knock on door]
Come in.
Hi, Lorna.
What can I do for you?
Cathy Hewlett had to
disappear entirely to make her
a plausible suspect,
make her
a plausible killer.
You put her body
in Anthony's grave.
Then you went back to her
cottage,
you collected a few
of her things,
planted a bit of evidence
to make me believe
that she'd run away.
Did you seriously believe
that you'd get away
with any of that?
There's no getting
away with it,
is there, Mr. Barnaby?
At least it's all over now.
[Siren wails]
Thank you.
Do you want to see her?
Yes, please.
Okay.
Barnaby.
Able: We commend,
unto the hands of mercy,
most merciful Father, the soul
of this, thy sister departed,
Catherine Elizabeth Hewlett,
and we commit her body
to the ground,
earth to earth,
ashes to ashes,
dust to dust,
in the sure and certain hope
for life everlasting...
[Upbeat music plays]
Friends, we're gathered here
on this special day
to celebrate the marriage
of Benjamin Thomas Hastings
and Margaret Gillian Aynscombe.
Joining together of two people
in holy matrimony.
But in a greater sense,
the joining
of our own community.
Dearly beloved,
we are gathered together here
in the sight of God and the face
of this congregation
to join together
in holy matrimony...
Time to go.
This man and this woman.
Thank you.
The bond and covenant
of marriage
was established by God
in creation,
and our Lord Jesus Christ
adorned this manner of life...
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by Acorn Media