Shakespeare & Hathaway: Private Investigators (2018–…): Season 1, Episode 7 - The Fairest Show Means Most Deceit - full transcript

See what dirt you can find on her.

Joy.

You have a visitor.

A Mr Martin Mariner?

Just your type.

- Are you Frank Hathaway?
- Are you American?

Yes, sir, from Nashville, Tennessee.

So, are you Frank Hathaway?

Er... yes.

Oh! Oh, Frank,
it's so great to finally meet you!

Or should I call you Francis?
Oh, let me take a look at you.



- You have two seconds to let me go.
- Oh, no way.

I've been dreaming about
this moment for years.

One...

two! MARTIN GROANS.

- Frank... - Easy, tiger!
- I did warn him. - Too much.

Frank, please. That hurts!

- A lot.
- Who the hell are you?

I'm your uncle.

What?!

We're family, Frank.

Ain't it wonderful?

- What, you're my dad's brother?
- That's right.

My mother is your grandmother.

But don't you think my dad
might have mentioned you?



He might not even know I exist.

I was adopted at birth, and I was raised

by a wonderful British couple
who moved out to Tennessee.

But now they've both passed, well,
I'm tracing my blood relations.

And you, Frank, you are my first discovery.

- Cobblers.
- Well, I'll show you.

Now...

birth certificate, and that's my mother.

- Elizabeth Hathaway.
- Is that your grandmother?

Well, it's a common name.

Maiden name, Foster.

I haven't got a clue about maiden names.

She died years before I was born.

How come the father's not listed?

Well, young man, it's very
possible that I am a love child.

Oh, great!

So now you're calling my nana
a tramp as well as a liar?

Here's our family tree, Frank.

I only managed to go
back to the 17th century.

- Incredible.
- So, 1953.

- Is that when your nan died?
- Well, around that time, yes.

I can't find Elizabeth's
death certificate to confirm

the actual day,
but since I know that my mother

died in childbirth,
it's got to be my birthday -

4th of July, Independence Day.

- That's great detective work, Martin, yeah.
- Thank you, ma'am!

Ah!

- She died in childbirth, did you say?
- That's right.

Because my nana died in a car crash.

Are you absently certain about that, Frank?

Because my adoptive parents
were told that my mother died

giving birth to me.

It's the only thing that about
my nana that I am sure of.

- Ow! Frank!
- Wrong Elizabeth Hathaway. Oh, what a shame.

There we are. Let me help you with these.
There we go.

Frank!

- Come on. - We're related, Frank. I can feel it!
- Er... apparently not.

- At least let me buy you a coffee!
- Come on. - Whoa!

Thanks for stopping by!

What?

He was obviously a conman.

What's he after, then? Your fortune?

So, when did this Lola start work here?

- Three months ago.
- I gave her the job.

I honestly thought I could trust
her, that's what hurts the most.

- When was this accident?
- A month ago.

I found Lola out the back, screaming.

She claimed a box of Shakespeare
busts had fallen off a trolley

and landed on her foot.

Next thing we know, she's on crutches

and suing us for compensation.

- No witnesses, I take it?
- Of course not.

Twisted ankle ligaments.

The only thing that's twisted
is that girl's morality.

So you want us to prove
she was faking the injury?

- Photos, videos, you do whatever it takes.
- Surveillance isn't cheap.

- Neither are compensation pay-outs.
- Fair enough.

The awful thing is, the
hearing's been brought forward.

- It's now next week.
- Well, we will get on this, right away.

Don't worry.

I... I think you put a few too many
noughts on there by mistake. HE CHUCKLES.

- Frank.
- Yeah. Just...

Mmm. He seemed credible.

My nan died in a car crash.

What if they lied to you? That
happens a lot in families.

I'm not related to that nutter.

Oh, here we go.

So far, so convincing.

Now?

- This seat taken?
- Go ahead. - Oh, thanks.

Do you mind if I...

A right pain, those things, aren't they?

- Yeah, I'm sick of them.
- Yeah, I know, I broke my toe last year.

Fell down the stairs. I was off my head!
Was totally my fault.

- Twisted ligaments. - Oh. Right. How?
- Oh, this box fell on my foot.

- Oh, ouch! Was that... was that at home...?
- Work.

Oh, well, I hope you get
plenty of sympathy for it.

- Not exactly.
- No? What do you mean?

Well, my bosses thought I
was lying, which was nice.

Didn't even get an apology.

Oh, honestly, the things
employers get away with now, eh?

Hello, darling!

Small world. Oh...

I love the new look.

- Erm, I'm Gloria, Lu's friend.
- Lola.

- We've only just met.
- Really?

- OK if I join you?
- No. I'm not staying.

What am I doing? I've got...

Carlos coming... oh, in ten minutes!

My masseur.

Beautiful man, and... surprisingly
punctual for a Brazilian.

Nice to meet you. See you soon, Lu.

- Bye.
- Bye.

- I should go, too.
- Oh, right, OK.

Yeah, as soon as we catch her out,

Mr Tarsich, I will call you right away, OK?

I will. OK, yeah, bye. Bye.

That is the third time
he's called already today.

It's from Sebastian.

According to our contact at
the credit check company,

Lola Gower owes over
20,000 in payday loans.

Then she needs this compensation.

If she's faking it,
she's doing a decent job.

Oh, hello.

He looks pleased with himself.

- I don't believe it!
- What?

That Yank.

Stalking me.

Weirdo.

All you need to do is find
out the date your nan died,

then if it's not July 4th, 1953,
you're in the clear, aren't you?

How am I going to do that
with Mum and Dad gone?

Sounds like its a job for Frank Hathaway!

Frank Hathaway already has a job.

Watching somebody watch telly.

HE SIGHS It's going to be a long night.

- Oh! It's him, again!
- Again? - Again.

Hello, Mr Tarsich.

Anything?

Er, no, she's still in her
flat, I'm afraid.

She hasn't left since lunchtime.

This is pointless.

Yeah, well, as I said before, Mr
Tarsich, patience is the key.

You don't understand.

We're not insured.

Well, not with the right policy, anyway.

Oh.

I haven't told Diana, but if this
girl wins, it could cripple us.

- I see.
- It was my fault.

I was halfway through
filling in the form,

- and I had to go away for work.
- Right.

Oh!

Double bacon, double egg. Double
ketchup for the vitamins.

Thank you.

- No sign of life?
- Mmm.

I think we need to step up our coverage.

Let's see if the clients will
stump up for a hidden camera.

- Mmm. For me? - Yeah.
- Mmm!

Is...? Oh.

Cheers, AJ.

Oh, look, it's the marshmallow twins!

- Hi, Frank.
- Hello. - Frank.

- Ah, Christina.
- Frank.

Didn't take you as the gift shop type.

Yeah, I... ran out of waterlily soap.

Fraud claim involving
an ex-member of staff.

I came to see my client.

Going to have to talk to the husband now.

You can scratch her off the list,
the girl we've been trailing.

- Thanks. And given it's a robbery gone wrong...
- Is it?

Back door forced, signs of a struggle,

blow to the head with Arden's finest,

till open, and money gone.

What does that look like to you?

Yeah.

- You see those pieces of glass?
- Mmm-hmm.

How did they get there?

Embedded themselves during the struggle.

Yeah, but they're not embedded, are they?

They've just been placed there.

When the glass fell on the
victim, she was lying still,

almost certainly dead.

Now, why would the killer add
smashed glass after the murder?

Answer?

To make it look like a robbery.

- You might want to talk to someone called P.
- P?

Yeah, that's the person she texted
at 3:07 yesterday afternoon.

You tampered with the victim's phone?

I took a brief look,
and I'm wearing a glove.

"We need to talk.
Come and find me after closing."

"The cat's away. Kiss, kiss."

The cat being the husband, Leon.
He's not back yet.

I'll call him if you like,
save you the trouble.

Thanks.

I've got it from here, Frank.

- Well, just keep an open mind.
- Don't patronise me! - I wasn't!

Good!

You can get on with your fraud claim, then.

OK, over here, guys.

It's like Luke Skywalker
telling Yoda to sod off.

Yoda? Really?

So it looks like the profits from
the business all went to Diana,

and Leon just got a monthly
wage, not much of one, either.

So she's skinning him for his
cash, and cuckolding him

with this P character.

Leon Tarsich must be in the frame, right?

Come through, Mr Tarsich.

We're very sorry for your loss.

I, erm...

I don't think I'll need...

The Lola thing doesn't seem like such a...

We understand entirely.

- Don't we, Frank?
- Of course. Yeah.

Thank you.

The... The local police are
really stretched at the moment,

so they've asked us to help
track down Diana's killer.

Erm...

I'm really sorry to have to ask
this, but, er...

where were you yesterday?

I was in Manchester,

at a gift shop conference.

I came back this morning,
as soon as I heard the...

And everything was all right at
home, was it?

- Yeah, it was good.
- Yeah?

- Diana was happy?
- Perfectly.

- No suggestion of another man?
- No!

- Is there anything else?
- No. Thank you. - Thank you.

We'll do everything we can to help.

Sebastian, find out if there
was a gift shop conference

in Manchester yesterday.

Fine. By the way, did you notice his nails?

They were perfect.

- Frank.
- Ugh...

Now, you're a businessman,
first and foremost. I respect that.

Goodbye.

You find out the date your
grandma died, I'll double it.

Frank?

Giving Marlowe a free Jedi lesson
isn't going to pay the bills.

- Anything?
- Mm-mm.

What? There's nothing anywhere
about my nanna's death online?

- Nope.
- Was she buried? - Yes.

Well, then, the date will
be on the gravestone.

I'll have to find the cemetery first.

Yeah, but you're Mr Family
History, aren't you?

All I know is it's in a village
somewhere in the Cotswolds.

The Cotswolds?

Yeah, my grandad travelled south with work.

I mean, I went there
once, but I was about 11.

We'll have to resort to using
a Ouija board at this rate.

I need another drink.

What's that?

Looks like blood.

Hey, if we could get Forrest
Gump Senior done for something,

we could be off the hook.

I'm going to send one of these
to my mate Freddie at forensics.

Ooh!

What is it?

E-mail from The Golden Horizons
Gift Shop Conference in Manchester.

Apparently, Leon Tarsich registered
yesterday morning, and guess what?

Afternoon and evening? Never showed up.

Well, I was there.

Did... you talk to anyone?

Well, not really. Look, I've
already been through all this

- with the police.
- No, we appreciate that Mr, erm...

- Tarshah...
- Sich. - ..Sich.

Erm... I notice from your bank
statements that you've been

making regular payments to "Bar MM"
on the second Friday of every month.

The police let you see my bank statements?

You wouldn't believe
how much they trust us.

Well, that's the Mucky Mallard.

I go there with a couple of mates.

Hey, I go there every Friday.

Yeah, I thought I recognised you.

Can I use your bathroom?

Er, yeah, it's just on the
right past the bedroom.

So, then, Diana's money?
Must be quite a whack of it.

- Does that all come to you, does it?
- I haven't even thought about it.

Of course. Sorry, I didn't mean to, erm...

He's never been in the Mucky
Mallard on a Friday night,

- I can tell you that much.
- And they had separate bedrooms.

So, problems in the
sack, wife playing away,

a clear financial motive,
and an alibi that stinks.

Yeah, I'm with them now, Mr Tarsich.
I'll call you back.

- Misrepresentation is a criminal offence, Frank.
- So's murder.

- Stop harassing him.
- Only if you promise to start.

I don't know why you're wasting your time.

- He couldn't have killed his wife, anyway.
- Why not?

Because he was on the phone to you!

Based on smashed clocks at the scene,

an aborted 999 call on the victim's
phone, and the pathology report,

we're sure that the attack
took place at exactly 7:11.

Well?

Yeah, Leon was in the middle of one
of his five minute rants with me.

Making a business call while
committing a violent murder.

That's some serious multi-tasking.

I got a phone call from forensics.

You know the blood you
found on those banknotes?

- Yeah?
- It belongs to Diana.

What?

So, the question is, where
did you get the cash from?

Mr Mariner.

- Frank! - Are you two really related?
- Yes. - No.

- You've got five minutes.
- Thank you.

Frank, you gotta help me.

They're saying I murdered some woman.

- I take it you didn't kill her.
- No!

Where did you get the money?

From a guy.
I met him outside a pawnbroker's.

What pawnbroker's?

It was called Cash Changers,
something like that.

- What? Quid Converters?
- That's it!

What were you doing there?

I was selling my parents' jewellery.

- Why?
- So I could hire you.

This guy said that he would pay double

whatever I was offered inside, and he did.

- And that's the money you gave us?
- Mmm.

Right, listen, Martin.

I need you to describe this man to me.

A lizard tattoo on the side of his neck.

It's a start.

You seem pretty keen to
get Martin off the charge.

Well, I just... I don't think he's guilty.

Is that it?

Yes, that's it.

It's got nothing to do with the
fact he's my long-lost uncle.

Methinks he doth protest too much.

Mr Tarsich.

He's brought your money.

You can count it.

Ah, don't worry.

Er... my solicitor called.

Lola's dropping the compensation claim.

- On compassionate grounds.
- That must be a relief. - Yeah.

Oh, and I'm sorry for
dropping you in it earlier.

Ah, no hard feelings.

You want to help, and I appreciate that.

Are you getting anywhere?

You don't know of any of
your customers or suppliers

who might have, like, a lizard
tattoo on the neck, do you?

Lizard?

No, I don't.

Sorry.

Er... Phil has got a tattoo.

I'm not sure what it's of, though.

- Phil?
- Phil Layman.

- Lola's boyfriend.
- Thanks.

I'm on my tea break, mate.

Turning down work, Phil? You
must be doing all right.

Hey, nice tattoo!

Unusual.

You what? Do I know you?

- No, but you know my uncle.
- Oh, yeah?

Yeah, you bought some jewellery
off him outside Quid Converters.

Big American fella. Cheesy sod.

Nah, don't know nothing about it.

It's all right, Phil, don't worry about it.

I'm here to buy it back.
Family heirloom, you see.

Yeah, my uncle. He's a few
hot dogs short of a stand,

if you know what I mean.

Come on! How much do you want for it?

- Eh!
- As I said, I don't know nothing about it.

I hear Lola's dropped the claim.
Do you work out?

You...! Who are you?

Who am I? That's a fundamental question.
Who is anyone?

Who are you?!

Tell me who sent you, or
I'll break your arm in two.

Ooh, you've got a temper on you!

Ow! Ah, ah...

Agh, you brute!

- I'm a....
- Come on! - ..Copper.

- Course you are.
- Try me.

Cheers, Phil.

Don't point at me.

Oh!

So, now you know how Martin felt.

Thanks for the sympathy. Agh!

Well?

SHE SIGHS Found this in
the glove compartment.

Yeah. Classic burner.

We've found our P.

Yeah.

We located a couple of banknotes
with blood on them in his flat,

and we also found him

on CCTV in the vicinity of the gift
shop at the time of the murder.

- And he's got previous for robbery.
- How do you know that?

Because some people in here still rate me.

Never knew you were so sensitive.

So, Diana gets Phil over to tell
him she's ending the affair.

He takes it badly, whacks her
on the head with a big fossil.

And then he staged a robbery.

Go on, then, say it.

I'm not sure it was Phil who killed her.

- What?
- Well, according to the phone,

Diana wasn't his only bit on the side.

OK. So?

So, why would her ending
it make him so angry?

Frank, I'm out!

He's a big fan of yours.

He can't wait to get back to your search!

Well, every silver lining has a cloud.

Ah-ah! Come on, walk.

It was when Lu gave me that look.

That was the moment I realised
I'd walked into a secret

undercover operation, and I
nearly had a heart attack.

Well, Lu says you covered
it like Dame Judi herself.

I wasn't that good.

One of my regulars, that is.

What, the murderer?

No. The husband.

I didn't know his real name. Poor bloke.

Well, what name did he use with you?

- Linda.
- Linda?

How many more parishes to check?

Er...

103.

Oh.

I've got to take this.

I'll meet you outside.

- Yes?
- Having fun? - No.

Family, eh? Well, I've worked
out where Leon Tarsich

really spent those Friday nights.

Well, go on.

The Moody Mule.

You're joking.

Which rather begs the
question, did the wife know?

Hang on. It's Friday today.

Exactly. Second of the month.

Hi.

I'm Adele.

Linda.

- Can I get another one, Gina, please?
- OK.

You celebrating?

Or drowning your sorrows?

Bit of a week.

- Death in the family.
- No!

Oh, that's awful. I'm so sorry.

I lost my...

dog recently.

Were you very close?

Yeah.

And no.

It was my wife.

Oh, my gosh!

Had she been ill?

Yeah.

Even so...

..poor you.

Part of me feels relieved.

- Well, if she'd been ill for a long time...
- It's... It's not that.

- She couldn't accept this.
- No?

Found out a few months back.

Two weeks later,

- she started sleeping with an employee's boyfriend.
- Unbelievable!

That's not the worst of it, though.

Oh! From cigarettes?

She burned you?

So, Diana was physically abusing Leon

because he wasn't the man
she thought she married.

And he knew about her affair.

I'd have been out of there like a shot.

He had no money, though.

Yeah, he's got plenty now, hasn't he?

So, that's a double motive for murder -

revenge and cash - plus a lack of alibi.

Except we know he didn't do it,
because when Diana was killed,

he was on the phone to me.

We've missed something.

- What?
- I don't know, but we've got to find it.

I'll speak to you later.

So, was he impressed with my handiwork?

Yes. Very. He's... Yeah.

He didn't say anything, did he?

It's all right.

I only do this job for the lavish salary.

PHONE RINGS Oh!

Lola's curtains.

Er... sorry, what?

Who has a night in by the telly
with the curtains wide open?

- Maybe she's claustrophobic.
- Maybe she wanted to be seen.

By who?

I haven't got that far. I'll see you later.

- Perhaps she's an exhibitionist.
- Well, it wasn't much of a show.

All she did was get up a couple
of times to get the remote.

What if we were the audience?

It's all right. I trust you.

Oh, thanks, Frank.

What do they call this place?

Oh, er...

..Risley Cross.

I've been here before.

- Gloria!
- Oh! - Oh, sorry.

Leon Tarsich - he hired women's
clothes from you, is that right?

Mmm. All the time. Dresses, hats, shoes.

- Wigs?
- Course. He borrowed one last week.

Which one?

Oh...

Did he ask specifically for
long, blonde hair?

Oh, he insisted.

But, to be honest, I was quite surprised

when he choose this old thing. Ugh.

Miss Whetton?

Yes.

Erm... we were told that
you were the churchwarden.

Yes, that's right. Morning, Vicar.

Morning, Miss Whetton.

Er... I wonder if you could help.

We're trying to find out
if a relation of mine

is buried here in the village.

- Ah.
- Might we have a look at the parish burial records?

Ah, well, the register,
actually, is held at Hardleton.

- It's the next village.
- Ah.

But there's only one graveyard
here in this village.

It's behind the church there.

Great. Well, we'll take a look. Thank you.

Right. Well, I might remember them.

I've lived all my life in this village,

and my father was vicar of that church.

Great. Well,
we're looking for my grandmother.

She was called Elizabeth Hathaway.
Died in 1953.

Yeah, we think she might be my mother.

Ah.

Er... the name's...

It's not ringing any bells.

Sorry. Good luck, though.

She knew her.

- Feel familiar, Frank?
- I'd be lying if I said yes.

I've found her.

Really?

Ooh.

Does it say when she died?

It does, yeah.

February 11th... 1952.

The year before you were born.

It's not her.

Did you find what you're looking for?

We did, unfortunately.

Well, here...

Here's a little something for your journey.

Oh, gosh, thank you, ma'am!

You, erm...

You knew my grandmother, didn't you?

She was a friend of mine.

Why didn't you tell us?

It's better...

I've left something on the... On the stove.

What a kind lady.

All right, Bab?
Here to read your gas meter.

Er, yeah. Sure, come in.

- The meter's in there.
- Oh, ta. Won't be a minute.

- What the hell are you doing?
- I'm so sorry!

I was just seeing who made your armchair.

I really like it, see.

- It's exactly what I've been looking for.
- Get out!

Definitely.

You're lucky I don't report you.

It really is a lovely chair.

- Ta-da!
- Ah!

They're definitely fake.

So he WAS in there! You're a genius, Lu!

- See, Phil Layman may be a thief, but he's not our murderer.
- Lola!

Oh, well, there's a miraculous recovery.

She knows we're on to her.

Right.

Let's see who she runs to.

There you go. A cup of builder's
works wonders in these situations.

- Thanks, Frank.
- So, what now?

I'm going to get the first
flight back to the States.

What, you're giving up?

Well, like you say, there's a
lot of Elizabeth Hathaways,

and I'm out of cash.

So I can't exactly afford to
hire you to help me, now, can I?

Well, never mind.
You gave it your best shot.

I have got the strongest of feelings
that I know that woman, Theresa.

Yeah, but to be fair, you swore
blind I was your nephew.

- That's true.
- You're a nice fella, but your hunches are rubbish.

It's a fair cop, governor.

Oh!

Did Sebastian get in the flat?

He did, and found hairs from
Leon's wig under Lola's armchair.

You're kidding! Nice one.
Does she suspect anything?

She's on her bike. Literally. Just
pulled into Ridgemead car park.

I'm on my way.

Any chance of a lift?

Sure.

For services rendered.

Well, that's her debts paid.

Glad to see you back on your feet, Lola.

Can you move your car, please?

I don't think DI Marlowe would thank her.

And she is on her way.

What's all is this about?

This is about you two murdering Diana.

And framing Phil.

- What?
- I know you both hated Diana, maybe with good reason.

You definitely needed the cash.

So the two of you came up
with the perfect murder.

Well, nearly.

Have you seen my phone? I had
it here, I'm sure of it.

It'll turn up, darling. Always does.

First, you cooked up Lola's
fake compensation claim.

Made the two of you look like enemies.

Next, you convinced Diana to hire us.

You'd worked out that private investigators

would give you the perfect alibi.

Then, on the day of the murder,
you got hold of Diana's phone.

You set the trap.

Yeah, well, as
I said before, Mr Tarsich,

patience is the key.

You don't understand.

We're not insured. Well, not
with the right policy, anyway.

A few minutes later,
you returned to your flat,

and swapped places again.

Meanwhile, Phil arrived at Arden Dreams,

straight into the trap that you'd set him.

Instead of reporting the
crime, he took the money.

Just as you'd hoped.

Which meant that when you led us to Phil,

all the evidence was laid out to
make it look like he was the killer.

Your partners certainly chose
the wrong people to cheat on.

- I should leave you on your own more often.
- If you insist.

- Go on, then Frank. Rub it in.
- Yoda, you are!

Ah, you're a great copper, Christina.

I'm hardly in the position to gloat, am I?

- I didn't spot it.
- Thanks, Frank. See you later.

Ah. Hanging out with Martin's
made you go all soft.

Ah, don't be daft!

I don't condone murder, obviously, but...

I do feel a teeny bit sorry for Leon.

I mean, just hiding his
cross-dressing from his wife

for all that time - it
must have been agony.

Yeah. It's amazing what people will
put up with just to keep a secret.

We're looking for my grandmother.
She was called Elizabeth Hathaway.

- She died in 1953.
- Yeah, we think she may be my mother.

Here's a little something for your journey.

Oh, gosh, thank you, ma'am!

- The vicar's daughter!
- What?

We need to get to the airport!

- Got to stop Martin. Go on, get in.
- After you.

- No after you.
- After you. - Just get in!

What is it?

I understand why you tried to hide it.

Your father had a reputation to protect.

I...

I don't know what...

What you're talking about.

Oh, Theresa.

It's been 65 years.

Don't you think it's time
you admitted the truth?

Mama?

Yes!

It was the 1950s.

If people found out Theresa
got pregnant out of wedlock,

there'd have been a massive scandal.

Especially with her dad
being the local rev.

She was sent away to have Martin.

Her dad bribed a registrar
to put another woman's name

on the birth certificate.

Theresa suggested her recently
departed best friend, my nana.

Do you know what's great about all
this is that you can find out

- from Theresa everything you didn't know about your gran.
- Huh.

I've already found out
everything I need to know.

Apparently, my nana was a superb dancer.

Which, of course, is where I
get my innate sense of...

..rhythm.

Cheers!