The Inspector Lynley Mysteries (2001–2008): Season 4, Episode 2 - In the Guise of Death - full transcript

Leave me alone, Stephen!

Get off me!

After London, it's good to breathe Cornish air.

- How long are you staying for?
- I haven't decided yet.

- Is Helen joining you?
- Well, it's rather complicated.

- Tommy!
- Well, about Helen...

Please, not a word to Mother.

You know, the more you keep her in the dark,
the worse her suspicions are going to be.

Well, just until I'm ready to face the questions,
sister's honour - please?

- What?
- I just made that up. Promise me?

I promise.



You said on the phone
Mother's been struggling looking after the estate.

She seems perfectly fine to me.

Yeah, that's because she does
a very good impersonation of a swan.

She has beautiful feathers above the water
and madly paddling feet below.

Do you know,
Penellen hasn't been here for a month.

Yes, looking after his father. We spoke.

- But when he comes back...
- When? If.

Increasingly, if. His father has Alzheimer's.

Oh. Well, even so, you know...

- I wonder what that's about.
- Get up! Go on.

- Lord Asherton?
- Yes. Inspector Lynley.

DS Tremayne. Helston CID.

Bit galling - you got here quicker on horseback
than I managed in the motor.

Well, I was riding nearby with my sister
when I saw the squad cars.



The officer on the scene
asked me to take a look.

How long had he been hanging?

I tend to leave that kind of thing to the Path boys.

But if you had to put a tenner on it,
based on your experience in London...

Well, if I had to put a tenner on it,
I would say not more than 24 hours.

That's cheating.

My constable just told me
the groom last saw him 24 hours ago.

Not cheating, Tremayne. It's called prudence.

I knew he had money problems,
but... well, I just never thought...

Judith...

I'm just going over there. I'll be back in a minute.

- DS Tremayne. My sister Judith.
- She's in terrible shock.

Finding her boss like that. What is this? Suicide?

We don't know yet.
We haven't got anything to go on.

Erm... with all due respect, sir,
"we" haven't got anything.

I've got a corpse with a out forehead,
hanging by a beam in his stable.

Yes, of course. I'm sorry. Who was he?

Stephen Fenner. Small-time trainer.

Was on a winning streak years ago,
when he bought this place.

But, according to his groom, things haven't been
going too well here in recent months.

Sir... we've found something.

Flesh and blood and a bit of skin,
by the look of it.

It would appear
Mr Fenner was rather a fan of Japanese whisky.

Yeah. So, what?
He tanked himself up on Dutch courage,

stumbled and banged his head on the table?

Hence the gash in his forehead.

But if he succumbed to the booze in here,
he'd hardly make it to the stable,

rig up a noose and stool
and despatch himself so cleanly.

Unless the noose and stool
were already in place.

Then all you'd have to do
is get down there and climb up.

Well, I suppose his determination to do the deed
could have allowed him to manage that.

Well, some people only have to look
at a wine gum before feeling tipsy.

Others can manage the high wire
on a litre of vodka.

So... suicide?

Well, it certainly looks that way to me.

OK.

- What?
- Well, it just...

Sorry. If it was my investigation...

I think I'd still treat it as a crime scene, anyway.

For now. Until the pathologist says otherwise.

It's... it's always easier to scale down later
than it is to scale up.

Inspector...?

OK. So, I'm inebriated enough
to be very wobbly on my feet,

particularly after the fall in there.

But I'm still hell-bent on self-annihilation.

So, I stagger out of the house
and head straight towards...

the stable block...

...hopefully leaving some nice, muddy footprints.

Well, there's been a lot of traffic through here.

- What about these?
- Yeah.

Yeah, possibly.

So, I veer slightly, en route to the stable.

Not surprising, considering the condition I'm in.

And on I go...

What is it?

Looks like I had a second stumble.

That looks like a handprint.

Yeah. I stumble, put my hand out, break the fall.

I didn't notice either of Fenner's hands
being muddy.

Well... he could have wiped them
on something in the stable.

There's nothing in that stable,
apart from Fenner and a knocked-over stool.

- He could have used his clothes.
- Fenner's clothes were clean.

All right.
Well, then, we move onto the next possibility.

- Which is?
- It's not Fenner's hand.

Must be someone else's.

All right. I'll see you later.

- Hi, Judith. How is she?
- She's perked up, now that her boyfriend's here.

Listen. You couldn't do me a favour, could you?

- Take the horses home.
- Tommy!

I know. I know. I'm here to see Mother.

But it would be stupid to be on the scene
and not try and contribute something.

The police can do perfectly well without you.

I'd like to have a word with the groom.
Would you sit in? I'd value your opinion.

Yeah, of course. Thanks.

Just a couple of questions, Moira,
and then you can go.

Wouldn't it be better to do this some other time?

For Moira, probably, but not for us.

- Sorry.
- I'll be all right, Lachlan.

- Are you sure?
- Mm-hm.

Right. So, Moira...

as Stephen Fenner's head groom,
you probably saw more of him than anyone.

- I suppose.
- Can you think of business or personal matters

that would have led him to take his own life?

Not really.

I mean, he had money worries.

But then, he's had money worries
as long as I've worked for him.

- Which is how long?
- Two years?

- Mm-hm.
- Do you know if they've got worse recently?

- Well, I haven't been paid in a month.
- I've told Moira she's stupid to stay on.

But working with horses is her life.

Well, if there's anything else you can think of,
however trivial it may seem to you...

- He was pretty upset about Artemis.
- Artemis?

He was a National Hunt horse
he bought about two weeks ago.

Stephen thought he'd be the answer
to his prayers. Cheltenham, we hoped.

And much like the man himself,
it wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

How so?

- Turned out it had a navicular disease.
- Come again?

It's a severe inflammation of the navicular nerve
and the area surrounding the hoof.

Some horses never recover from the lameness.
It would be catastrophic in Fenner's game.

Well, that's brilliant, Moira.
Now, I want you to think one last time...

I know you're only doing your job,
but he already asked her one last time.

Ls there anything else you can
think of that might have been troubling him?

No. Look, I'm sorry. I just want to go home.

OK. Thanks, Moira. You've been a lot of help.

I'll go and wait in the car.

The image of him hanging there
is gonna be with her for the rest of her life.

Well, if she thinks of anything else,
can you ask her to give me a call?

You know, Fenner treated his staff like the muck
they spent most of their time shovelling.

- Not paying their wages, you mean?
- Not just that.

- What, then?
- Nothing.

- No, no, speak your mind.
- If you've got something to say, now's the time.

Well, what type of people
tend to like working with horses?

Young women? Young women like Moira?

- Are you suggesting...
- Fenner was an unpleasant, dirty old man.

Probably topped himself
in a moment of sudden self-awareness.

I've got a job to get to. Can I go now?

You were always free to leave, Lachlan.
We were interviewing Moira.

Thank you for your time.

- Inspector Lynley...
- Moira.

Look, erm... Lachlan said
he told you about Fenner being a bit of a Lech.

- Er... he mentioned it in passing.
- Yeah, well, I just wanted to let you know

that it's nothing to make a big deal about.

- No?
- No, he'd slap you on the bum occasionally,

or, you know,
you'd catch him looking or whatever,

but we never felt threatened.

Sexual harassment can build over time, though.

Yeah, I know,
but this was just more pathetic than anything.

I guess what I'm trying to say is erm...
we just got used to it.

OK, if you say so.

Lachlan just shouldn't have mentioned it.

Well, thank you for clearing that up.

OK.

- Very impressive.
- How much did you see?

Enough to treat you with more respect
next time.

Well, as long as no-one attacks me
faster than a tortoise... I'm bloody lethal.

Considering
you've only been training for two weeks,

you're remarkably accomplished.

Oh, mostly thanks to this place.
Money well spent.

- I'm glad it's been of use.
- Of use?

I'm thinking of getting someone
to shoot me again, so I can stay!

The retreat has been amazing, sir.
Thanks for recommending it.

No thanks required, Havers.

- How did you know about it?
- My mother's been there.

She read a book on holistic medicine
and can't stay away from the place.

I thought it would be right up your street.

- How is your mum?
- Erm... annoyed with me,

for working, when I should be on leave.

- Working?
- An incident at the neighbouring estate.

I'll tell you about it later.
I don't want you running yourself ragged.

Well, it sounds interesting. I could do with a
challenge, to get me back in the swing of things.

Well, it was very nice of your mum
to invite me back to the family pile for a few days.

Er... well, she thought it would be the perfect way
for you to end your time in Cornwall.

One thing: she doesn't call it a pile. It's a house.

So, we tend to call it a house.

Right.

- How have you been keeping?
- Me? Fine.

And Helen?

Fine.

So, everything's just basically... fine?

Everything's basically fine.

Word of advice, sir.

When your mum asks that question,
make up a better line than that.

- Sergeant Havers. Lovely to see you again.
- You too, Lady Asherton.

Judith, this is DS Havers.
Havers - my sister, Judith.

Hello. Have you got a first name?

He went to boarding school.
Doesn't hold much truck with them.

- Er... Barbara.
- Hello, Barbara.

Oh, thanks. ls Peter here?

Er... no, he's... still not well.

He's in rehab. Mother doesn't like to say that.

So, do you ride, Barbara?

- What?
- Horses.

No, there's not much call for it in Acton.

No, I don't suppose there would be.

Tommy's great-grandfather.
Fine-looking chap, isn't he?

Yeah.

Unfortunately, something of a pig, when alive.

- Really?
- Mmm.

Two people attended his funeral, including him.

The other was the officiating pastor.

I've always kept him there to remind the children
it's not who you are that counts, but what.

- How's your room?
- Oh, er... uncomfortable. Thank you.

I imagine that, working so closely together,

you and Tommy must share a few confidences.

Erm... well, we're pretty stretched, time-wise.

But you do know his wife lost the baby?

Yeah, of course.

- How is Helen? Do you know?
- Er...

It's just that whenever I ring the house,
all I get is that infernal answer machine.

It's as if she's completely disappeared.

- Well, as I say...
- Sorry. I'm putting you in an awkward position.

No, not at all.
You know, I don't know any more than you do.

And if you did, you wouldn't tell me.

Probably not.

Well, I appreciate your loyalty to my son.

Look, do you think you could amuse yourself,
while I get on with supper?

Yeah, of course. Oh, can I help with anything?

- No, no, it's fine.
- Are you sure?

My dear girl, in my heyday, I used to knock up
a banquet for 20 without breaking sweat,

so I think I ought to be able to manage
a little supper for five - don't you?

Ah. Erm... right. You know Judith.
And this is Lady Keach. Barbara Havers.

- Hello.
- Nice to meet you.

Unless you want me to call you Lord Asherton
all evening, my name is Sarah.

Oh, I'm sorry. There's nothing worse
than being called Lord Asherton all evening.

There's nothing worse than having to!

- Another drink, Sarah?
- Yes, a small one, please.

- Yeah.
- I'm still in shock over Stephen Fenner.

Do you know, even though his house
borders ours, Mother hardly ever knew him.

He kept his cards pretty close to his chest.

Did you know him well?

Our mutual interest in horses
brought us into contact at local events,

and our paths crossed socially from time to time.

Er... would you say that he was the suicidal type?

Ls there such a type?

Oh, he wasn't one of those people
who radiated joie de vivre,

but not everyone has to.

I got on with him perfectly well,
though I can't say the same for everyone else.

- Oh? How do you mean?
- He wasn't exactly endearing.

He was plain-spoken. Didn't suffer fools.

And he showed very little interest in joining in,

which, in a small community,
can be a bit of a problem.

Apparently, he had terrible money problems...

Your drink, Sarah.

Would you like to come through? As they say
in the best tennis clubs, dinner is served.

Mother... that was terrible!

Sarah found it mildly amusing, even if you didn't.

- I didn't, and nor did he.
- I'm up to date with my injections. I'm immune.

- Barbara's smiling.
- Oh, I thought it was hysterical, Lady Asherton.

Thank you, dear.

Come along.

You're too polite.

She'd never say it, but your mother's
extremely anxious about your visit.

I gathered that.

She thinks you and your sister have come down
to find fault with her running of the estate.

Well, we haven't. We're just concerned for her.

She's a very independent woman.

I do know that about Mother.

Well, your concern implies that her days
of independence might be numbered.

Well, that's ridiculous.
One can see she's a million miles from that.

Still, it's frightening when your children
no longer consider you to be immortal.

Hm. I realise that you're Mother's friend
and you are admirably protective towards her,

but neither Judith nor I
want to see her overreaching herself.

That's all.

Of course, if you were to come back here,
your fears would be eliminated in a stroke.

- Unfortunately, it's not as simple as that.
- Shame.

Come on, you two. No stragglers.

- Very interesting woman.
- And attractive.

- I hadn't noticed.
- Of course not.

Just bear in mind, Tommy, that the grass isn't
actually greener on the other side of the fence.

Just a trick of the light.

Isn't there somewhere else you'd rather be?

Mm-hm. Special Branch in five years,
which is why I don't want to miss a trick now.

Fine. Well... we don't often get naked ambition
in this pan of the world.

Rather refreshing.

Well, not too naked, I hope. I like to think of it
as ambition with at least its pants on.

Good for you.
Ever watched one of these before?

Well, I was present at the birth of my kids,
if that counts.

No. Suicide by hanging?

It certainly looked that way
when we cut him down.

I had my gutful of those
during the foot-and-mouth outbreak.

One a week, at least. Often more.

So...

Let's introduce ourselves to our new best friend.

How do you feel
about large hypodermic needles?

As a rule, not good.

Then I should look away... now.

- What is it?
- Fenner's Path report, it's just come through.

Leave it on my desk.

Brief change of plan.

If you want him revived,
you'll need Dr Frankenstein from next door.

Can we see if this cast is his?

Close... but no cigar. In fact, not even a cigarette.

- A development?
- Just a little.

I'm sure you can manage without me down here.

- I'll give it my best shot.
- No longer assume suicide.

I never assume anything.

I didn't say you can't cope. Judith,
did I say Mother couldn't cope with the estate?

No.

I didn't expect you to be so crude
as to put it into actual words, Tommy,

but the inference is plain for all to see.

No... I don't agree.

I'm simply asking you to allow that it
takes more to run it than you can manage alone.

But I'm not alone.
John does 90 per cent of the estate business.

And when he's not here, he does zero per cent,
leaving you to do it all.

Yes, well, most of the time, he is here.

But in the situation as it is now, John is away,

with no idea of when he might be returning.

So, you're running the place single-handedly,

and we're... suggesting

that that's too much.

Don't you think
you're underestimating your mother?

- I'm doing no such thing.
- Sounds exactly like that to me.

I'm simply looking at the bigger picture.

But from your side of the gallery.

From your mother's side,
the bigger picture might look different.

Ah, I see why you invited her now, Mother.
She's an advocate. That's very clever.

Not an advocate. A friend.

What on earth is that?

My mobile. Excuse me.

Tommy, I have told you before - I don't allow
mobile telephones at the dinner table.

- Mother, I'm just trying...
- I don't care.

- It's incredibly rude.
- Go on, Tremayne. Sorry.

Yes.

Yes. All right, I'll be there.

Oh, Tommy, you can't...

I shouldn't, I know, but I'm afraid I'm going to.

Mother, apologies...

Sarah, I have to go.

Alone.

If he didn't have this damned job,
he might have a marriage worth the name.

Come on through.

- Sorry to bother you at this hour.
- That's all right.

Your call came at just the right moment.

Ah. Glad to be of assistance.

You were right about the hand print.

If Fenner had stumbled
and put his hand down to steady himself,

his would have left a much bigger impression
in the mud.

Is that why you called?

No, not exactly.

I've also been speaking to my chief about you.

Ah.

Well, we don't get too much of this son of thing
here.

It's a murder investigation now,
and he agreed it would be very useful

to have the benefit of your experience,
if you were prepared to be involved.

He could always square it with your guv'nor.

Well, I'm really on short leave to visit the family.

Well, I'm a family man myself,
sol completely understand your position.

On the other hand,
if there's a murder in the next estate to mine,

I am delighted to help in anyway I can.

Thank you, Inspector. Much, much appreciated.

- Well, let's meet tomorrow and compare notes.
- Nine o'clock at the harbour?

Havers! Havers, wake up.

You said we were meeting Tremayne at nine.

- Yeah, we are.
- So, why have you got me out of bed at seven?

Because a thought occurred to me
at half-past six.

Well, couldn't you
have quietly mulled that over to yourself?

No. Now, come on, Havers. Follow me.

Oh, I see. Now you want my help,
it's, "Bye-bye, Barbara. Hello, Havers."

- Come on.
- Sir.

Don't tell me -
this is where you played with Julian, George,

Timmy and the rest of the Famous Five?

No. John Penellen
is aware of nocturnal activity on our land

over the past couple of months.

Teenage snogging?
Idiots making crop circ... No, alien visitations!

Look, Penellen said
he found boxes of foreign cigarettes,

and I was thinking this morning: well, Fenner,
our victim, was drinking Japanese whisky.

- So?
- Well, I looked in his drinks cabinet.

There were 20-odd bottles,
exactly the same, ready and waiting.

What are you getting at?

Think, Havers. What is Cornwall famous for?

- Pasties.
- Yeah, well, apart from that.

- Smoked fish.
- Forget the food.

Well, I wish I could,
but we came out without breakfast.

- Smuggling.
- Smuggling?

Yeah, whenever you've got a coastline
and a population

that are as happy on sea as on dry land,

you're gonna get a black-market industry
of things washed ashore.

Now, John Penellen suspects a bunch
of local lads are using a track on our estate

to go to their drop-off point.

- And you think Fenner was a customer?
- Maybe something more.

Well... it's a bit early in the day
to go all cryptic on me.

Keep UP-

This is all Stephen Fenner's land.

- It's beautiful.
- Forget about the scenery.

Well, that's easy for you to say.
You grew up here.

If the locals are using this place,
could they really do so without Fenner knowing?

The groom, Moira,
told me the business was in trouble.

Maybe he was letting this place out
to get some extra cash.

He got greedy. Upped the rent.

Or even blackmail.

Sir...

That's Moira's boyfriend, Lachlan.
Well, well, well.

How much of this
are we passing on to the local police?

Well, it's pure speculation at the moment.
I'll keep it to myself till we know anything more.

Come on. We should be getting out of here.

- Eager.
- He was up at six.

- How come?
- Well, he woke up with...

An overwhelming urge to go for a walk.

And an equally overwhelming one
for me to go with him.

This is my colleague, DS Havers.

- Nice to meet you.
- Likewise.

- Pathologist's report.
- He must have been up all night.

She.

In addition to a large quantity of whisky
in his blood,

he also had enough phenylbutazone in his
system to make him question which way was up.

- Phenylbutazone?
- Phenyl who?

Known as buts. It's a painkiller for horses.

No-one in their right mind
would put it in their drink... unless...

- Unless his whisky was spiked.
- Right. So, Fenner's drink is spiked,

he gets carried across to the stables,
strung up and made to look like a suicide.

Well, carrying Fenner across the yard
would account for the footprints and handprint.

I was role-playing the wrong person.

Instead of being Fenner,
stumbling and inebriated,

I should have been Fenner's murderer,
stumbling under his weight.

We also found this in his office.

- What is it?
- Horse passport

Why?
Was it planning a short break to the continent?

It's like a log book, a list of details.

Pedigree. Where it was born. Previous owners.
When and where it was sold.

This one
belonged to the lame horse he bought recently.

If Fenner was doped with a horse drug,
we should pursue every equine connection.

- I agree.
- Fenner bought Artemis from Lawrence Chilcott.

- You know him?
- By reputation. He's a successful horse trainer.

Well, we pulled Fenner's phone records -

a flurry of calls between them
in the two weeks prior to his death.

- Interesting.
- Chilcott's yard's ten miles west,

so I thought we could make it our first stop.

Excuse me.

Yes? Right.

OK.

- SOCO have found something of Fenner's.
- What?

Too early to say. I'd better get over.
Could you interview Chilcott?

- Of course.
- I mean, there may be nothing in it.

Well, there was bound to be some bad blood
over Artemis.

Nobody likes to buy a donkey,
particularly for 80 grand. Let us know.

- OK.
- I'll drop you at the house.

Oh, don't make me speak to your mum all day.

I'm looking for Lawrence Chilcott.

- Just there.
- Thank you.

Lawrence Chilcott? I'm Inspector Lynley.

Bit out of your way, aren't you, Inspector?

Pulled in for directions home, have we?

- Actually, I've come for some advice.
- Oh, yeah? What about?

Navicular disease.

A lot of people in racing
don't think there's any such thing.

A lot of people think it's just a catch-all
for any number of conditions.

A horse's foot is complicated.
Any pan of it can become inflamed,

for any number of reasons, from the anatomy
to the ground they're running on.

But you do know it exists, don't you?
You sold a horse with navicular disease.

- Prove it.
- You sold the horse Artemis to Stephen Fenner.

Artemis was lame with navicular disease,
but you disguised it with phenylbutazone.

- Is that what he's saying?
- He's not saying anything much, Mr Chilcott.

He was found hanging in his stable yesterday.

- What?
- And his phone records

show a lot of calls to you over the last few weeks.

What did he want to talk about? The cricket?

Look, I take care of my animals. All right?

I noticed Artemis was tender on her front hoof
and gave her a drop of bute for the pain.

I thought it was a twinge.
It would pass in a week or so.

- And you told Fenner that?
- He didn't ask.

That wouldn't wash in a Moroccan bazaar.

You hid the lameness to make the sale.

OK. OK. You want the truth?

- It's always refreshing to have the truth.
- The truth is...

there's one born every minute in this game.

Fenner was in a hurry to buy. I met his need.

He wasn't thorough in his purchase.

He didn't have the blood checked, and he didn't
bring a vet. What was I supposed to do?

Caveat emptor. Buyer beware.

Quite right, Inspector. If he wants restitution,
he can take me to court for it.

Oh, yeah, he can't. He's dead.

Are we done?
Cos this conversation's starting to bore me.

I think we should have told Tremayne
about seeing Lachlan at the cove.

"We"? You're on leave. There is no "we".

OK.

Well, you are supposed to be assisting
Tremayne on his inquiry, not running your own.

Is that what you think I'm doing?

Well, you're withholding information that could
be relevant, if not significant, to the case.

Listen to me.

When I first made Detective Sergeant, I wanted
more than anything to prove myself to my peers.

Tremayne is no different.
I'm not "withholding information".

I'm giving him a chance to prove himself,
without muscling in

and throwing up some wild-goose chases.

- Sir...
- For all we know,

Lachlan went for a walk this morning
at the same time we did.

He just happened to go to the cove
the same time we went.

He went into the cottage,
which suggests he's using it.

Alternatively,
he wandered into a derelict cottage,

to take a call on his mobile out of the wind.

You don't believe that.

- You're still on leave.
- So you keep saying.

Yeah, well, back off.

What do you want to do now, sir?

I say: open it.

Yeah, open it.

OK, ladies and gentlemen.
Place your bets. What do you reckon?

- Cannabis.
- Havers?

- The Holy Grail.
- Nice. Mike?

Cheese sandwich.

And you're all wrong,

because it is in fact an absolute bloody fortune,
in euros.

So, Fenner was actually loaded.
This makes no sense.

Well, Fenner being loaded is one theory.

Inspector Lynley might have another.
Mightn't you, sir?

Helen's left him, hasn't she?

- Erm... I don't know.
- Oh, don't give me that.

Sorry, Mother. We haven't talked about it.

Now, that I don't believe.

OK. Yes, I asked after Helen,
and I received the same response you did.

"Helen's fine. Everything's fine."
And you believed it?

No, but I believe Tommy doesn't want to be
pressed on this subject, so I decided not to.

It's just so hard watching him hold everything in.

I agree, but if we're going to respect his feelings,
what choice do we have?

- You're right.
- He'll tell us when he's ready.

Are you sure about this?

Well, we saw Lachlan at the cove.
We saw him at the cottage.

When you go in, have a look at his watch.
That's real, and expensive.

But expensive isn't the same as illegal.

Look, if we can make a connection between
the money, Fenner's murder and the smuggling,

then we can build a case against Lachlan.

- So, we lay a trap?
- Yeah.

There are several possibilities at the moment.
If we prime him, he'll lead us to the right one.

I know. I know. I'm still on leave.

How would you play this in London?
Good cop, bad cop?

High status? Low status? Softly, softly?

- We'd knock on the door first.
- And then?

- Play it by ear.
- My thoughts exactly.

Hello, Lachlan. ls Moira around?

If I could ask you to keep your voices down.
Moira's asleep in the bedroom.

- How is she?
- Took a couple of sleeping tablets last night.

- Poor kid.
- Well, in your line,

you're given time to compose yourself
before seeing something like that.

Moira just walked straight in.

We thought we'd drop by, Lachlan, in case
she thought of something else overnight.

Afraid not.

- Have we interrupted your work?
- No problem. I was on a break.

What is it you do?
Something mechanical, obviously.

I work the resorts along the coast.

Repairing boats, engines, patching up.
There's a lot of rich people,

driving boats they can't handle
along coastline they just cannot navigate.

Always something blowing up or falling off

And along you come
with a strong net and a big spanner.

I suppose.

So, you know the coast
like the back of your hand?

The backs of my hands are covered
in engine oil, so I wouldn't know.

Yeah, I grew up here, and I don't know half of it.
You know the cove on Fenner's land?

- Yeah.
- With a cottage.

I've seen it from a boat.

- Strange, though, isn't it?
- What?

Well, in his financial situation, he could have
done it up and rented it out. Made a fortune.

Perhaps he couldn't afford the repairs.

Perhaps.

The roof is in pretty poor condition.
Timbers have rotted, tiles have gone.

- Gosh, you saw all that from the boat?
- I must have.

So, have you found out
why Fenner killed himself?

Well, we've found out that he didn't kill himself.

But he was found hanging in the stable.

Moira saw him.
Saw the overturned stool on the floor.

What she saw was the final tableau.

Someone was with him.
He was drugged and then murdered.

- Forensics are tearing the place apart now.
- Hm. Good luck.

Lachlan? I heard voices.

Go back to bed, darling.

Oh, it's you.

She sounds just like my wife after a long shift.

Yesterday in Fenner's yard, Lachlan,

you alluded to Moira
suffering some sexual harassment at work.

And I told you yesterday it was nothing.

That must have made you quite angry.

- What are you getting at?
- Moira's boss leering at her all the time,

touching her up.

You must have felt his presence
quite a sexual threat.

He shouldn't have said anything. It was nothing
I couldn't handle. I told you yesterday.

- Moira...
- Shut up.

My apologies. I seem to have touched
a raw nerve. I didn't mean to start an argument.

There's no argument and there's no raw nerve.

I handled it. OK? Like I said.

- Talk about a cool customer!
- What happened?

Your boss looked him square in the face
and told him Fenner was murdered,

and his place is being taken apart,
to which Lachlan says, "Good luck."

- Did he give anything away?
- Not a sausage. Very cool.

- Too cool.
- So, we wait for him to come for the money.

If it's his, he'll come looking as soon as he thinks
the police have moved out.

- What makes you so sure he won't leave it?
- If he's involved in Fenner's murder,

he can't afford to have the police
come back for a second look.

He needs to retrieve the money immediately.

I'm gonna see when we can do the pull-out.

Visible enough to be noticed,
but not so as to attract attention.

- Lights, no bells.
- You look troubled.

Well, I was thinking, while you were in there -

whoever spiked Fenner's drink must have known
him well enough to be in a position to do it.

You're not telling me anything I don't know.

Yeah, and I know
that this black-market thread is strong, sir,

but, well, bute is of the horse world -
Lachlan isn't.

His girlfriend is, though.

Well...

- I'm not so sure, sir.
- What are you driving at?

- I don't think it's as simple as that.
- Look, Fenner had contraband whisky.

He had a quarter of a million pounds in euros,
stashed away.

Lachlan appears to have used the cove
for smuggling. Now, you make the connections.

But what about the connection with horses?
Fenner was immobilised by bute.

Only someone who knows horses
would be aware of its effect.

So, your question would be: who from the local
horse world would want Fenner dead?

Well, that's my second question. My first is:

who from the horse world knew Fenner
well enough to have a drink with him?

Maybe Sarah Keach can help us with that.

What?

No.

I think it's stunning.

It could do with a spot of varnish.
You know, against the rain.

It's driftwood, Havers.

It's the Wood's natural response to the elements
that brings out its sense of vitality.

Yeah, well,
it won't be very vital if it's rotten, will it?

My late husband
had it made for our wedding anniversary.

Connor, I'll leave your tea over here.

Thanks.

How long were you married?

He died in our tenth year together.

It's a beautiful house, Sarah.

Once the front garden's completed,
it will be my vision of perfection.

But I'm sure you haven't come here
to discuss aesthetics.

No.

Pity.

Er... we now know
that Stephen Fenner's death wasn't suicide.

And we also know, before he was killed,

he was drugged with horse painkiller.

Yes, you intimated the other evening at dinner

that Fenner put a lot of people's backs up
in the local equine society.

I wondered if anyone in that group that
you thought had a sufficient... You're laughing.

I'm sorry. The idea that the local horse brigade
might be lining up to bump off Stephen Fenner...

Well, he was drugged with bute.

He wasn't liked, but that's a million miles away
from saying someone hated him so much,

they wanted to kill him.

Yes, I appreciate that.

Er... you also said
that your paths crossed socially.

- On occasion.
- Well, did he ever have anyone back?

Entertain at his home?

I don't know. I expect so.

- Do you know if he had any enemies?
- Not really.

I'm sorry I can't be any more helpful.

No, you've been more than helpful,
and we should take up no more of your time.

- One more question...
- No, we've finished.

- But...
- We've finished.

- Inspector. Havers.
- Sarah.

- That looks beautiful. Excellent work.
- Er... one more question, Lady Keach.

Erm... sorry.
Lawrence Chilcott - do you know him?

He's a local personality. Why?

Well, two weeks before Fenner died,

Chilcott sold him a horse which Fenner believed
would dig him out of his financial hole.

I don't understand why this is relevant.

Well, he sold the horse, knowing it was lame.

I mean, one professional horseman
who knowingly sells a lame horse to another,

is acting on a different level - wouldn't you say?

On a level that ls, well, like...

"I can get away with anything.
Perhaps even murder."

In wild theory, perhaps.

Well, in your dealings with Chilcott,
was there anything of a similar nature?

You know, threatening in any way?

No.

He had a reputation
of being a slippery customer,

but I can honestly say I never found him to be
anything other than pleasant and businesslike.

OK, thank you.

Sarah.

I'm sorry.

That Fenner was doped with bute
isn't taking us anywhere at the moment,

except up a blind alley,
which is possibly where it was meant to lead us.

No, until further notice, let's set that aside
and focus our minds on Lachlan and the money.

If bute was, after all, the means,

then money, in nine cases out often,
is the motive. Yes?

Yes, sir.

My people will be ready to ostentatiously pull out
of Fenner's in a couple of hours.

Excellent.

Sir, there's Connor, Lady Keach's gardener.

Gardeners are allowed to have a pint
at their local, Havers.

Just making the observation.

Well, you don't get a pint like this in London.

You're telling me.

Your name, Tremayne...

Cornish.

Well, that much is apparent.
What is also apparent is...

- My accent?
- Yes. Manchester?

My parents moved up there when I was eight.

But you came back again?

Well, wherever we moved when I was a kid,
my roots were always here.

I wanted my kids to have their roots here, too.

- You're a traditionalist.
- I think it's important to know who you are.

Sir... it's Lachlan.

Sir?

Come on, then.

This morning he came round there
and then went into the cottage.

We didn't take a closer look, in case they saw us.

But perhaps they're using the cove to land
the contraband and the cottage to store it.

- And they'll rendezvous with the money here?
- Maybe.

But if we aim to catch them at Fenner's,
we'll catch both them and the money.

If, instead of grabbing them straightaway,

we followed them to the rendezvous,

we'd stand a chance of catching the lot of them,
from top to bottom.

I admire your ambition,
but I think it's a bit risky.

It would be almost impossible
to follow them unnoticed by day,

and as soon as they spot us,
they'll head anywhere but the rendezvous.

You haven't seen me in stealth mode.

I'm sure you're preternaturally discreet.
Nevertheless...

I think we could do it.

And I think it's worth the risk.

All right. Well, it's your call.
Nine-tenths of this job is knowing your own mind.

I think I do on this one, sir.

- He's a bit determined, isn't he?
- He's got the scent now.

The bute in Fenner's whisky
puts Chilcott near the frame, if not inside it.

But we know
Lachlan's involved in the smuggling.

Now, I just sense there's more to him
than meets the eye.

With due respect, you sensing that Lachlan's
behind this isn't evidence that he actually is.

Fair point.

But you know, his guise of boat mechanic

is perfect cover
for going up and down the coast all day.

And then at night he's a black-marketeer.
Word spreads. Pretty soon he's a major player.

Quiet as a grave here. Anything your end?

You'll be the first to know.
That's why we have walkie-talkies.

Just keeping you informed, Inspector.

- Sarge...
- You have guests, Lynley.

Repeat: you have guests.

OK. We've got a Land Rover.

- What car does Lachlan drive?
- A Land Rover.

He stops outside the stable. He's getting out.
He's moving directly to the target.

- Sir, it's not Lachlan.
- What?

It's Connor.

OK, he's going into the stable.

Let's go. What's that smoke?

- The cove!
- When that car comes, stop it.

- The order was to follow.
- The Order's changed! Stop the car.

- Yes, sir.
- There's smoke in the cove. I'm going there.

Wait for backup. Wait for backup, Tremayne.

- Tremayne?
- He's coming out of the stable with the box.

Tremayne, talk to me.

Tremayne?

Tremayne?

Wait for backup, Tremayne.

- The cottage is on fire.
- Tremayne, wait for backup.

- There's someone in there.
- Tremayne!

You go. Leave Connor to me.

Help me! Help!

Hold on!

Lachlan, hold on!

Right.

He's out. Come on!

Easy. Get the cuffs on him - quick.

- Are you all right?
- Yeah, fine.

Help!

Tremayne/

- Sir!
- Havers, get an ambulance.

- Request ambulance immediately. Man down.
- Tremayne, listen to me.

- Ambulance request received
- Come on, Tremayne. You'll be all right.

Hey.

Are you all right?

The pathologist thinks that Lachlan
received a blow to the head prior to the fire.

How humane of the killer - render his victim
unconscious before the execution.

Well, whether it was enough to knock him out,
we'll never know.

If he was conscious,
it would explain Tremayne's efforts to get in.

Hm.

So...

if Lachlan killed Fenner
in a dispute over smuggling, who killed Lachlan?

Connor, in an attempt to take over the racket?

I mean, money is usually the motive -
you said it yourself. Why settle for half?

Well, that's assuming, with Fenner dead,
it was just a two-way split.

- Someone else?
- Seems likely.

Come on. We should get to the hospital.

Yeah.

Has he... has he regained consciousness yet?

No.

I... I know this is no consolation, but...

...I think your husband's a very fine police officer.

Thank you.

But you're right - it's no consolation whatsoever.
Excuse me.

Why were you so keen
to play down the way Fenner treated you?

What were you trying to hide?

Lachlan did a bit of stuff, with his boat,
out of Fenner's cove. Called it importing.

Drink, fags, DVDs.

Didn't pay a great deal.

But it got him through
when the work weren't there.

I helped him with storage and flogging it.

I told him about the cottage in Fenner's cove.

Like I said, we didn't make much,
but we got by, and that was fine.

Fine for me.

But not for Lachlan?

"Money equals independence," he said.

So, once a month, he'd take a box out to a boat
offshore and exchange it for another box.

- A box?
- Mm-hm.

- He did this for who?
- I don't know.

And this box was stored
underneath Fenner's stables - yeah?

Most of the other stuff was kept in the cottage.

But Lachlan said the boxes from the boats
needed something more secure.

Did Fenner know?

He was being paid for the use of the cove.

He was desperate for cash.
He took the money and shut up.

So, Fenner was being paid for the use
of the cove and for storing the boxes?

Lachlan didn't want anyone
to know about the boxes.

Fenner didn't know about the hole.

I made it one night. With Lachlan.

Do you know what these boxes contained?

- No.
- Did Lachlan?

I don't know.

I don't think so. He just did the drop.

He knew the identity
of the person he did the drop for?

Yeah.

- Who was it?
- I said I don't know.

- Come on, Moira.
- I swear.

- Was it Lawrence Chilcott?
- Chilcott?

- Was it?
- Why do you say Chilcott?

Do you believe
she doesn't know who Lachlan was working for?

Well, with Lachlan dead,
she has no reason to conceal it.

Well, unless she's involved.

In which case, she's playing the pan
of the grieving girlfriend impeccably.

Well, someone ordered those boxes
to be shipped out.

Connor makes an unlikely ringleader.

Yeah, but he must know something.

- I've told you.
- You don't know anything. We heard.

Do you think you could get beyond that?
Because that is negative thinking.

Get to the stuff you do know,

like what was in the boxes
you exchanged with Lachlan once a month.

I don't know. I just helped him move them.

I think you're lying. I think you know full well
what was in the box you collected yesterday.

A quarter of a million pounds.

A quarter of a million?

- Where were you planning to go with that?
- Nowhere.

The person whose money it was
would have come after you.

I don't know whose money it was.
I didn't know it was money till you just told me.

Lying again. I think you knew about the money.

I think you killed both Fenner and Lachlan
to get hold of it.

I've told you - I didn't kill them.

- Did Lawrence Chilcott pay you to do it?
- Who?

We have a plaster cast of a handprint
found at Fenner's yard that matches your hands.

That doesn't prove anything.
I knew Fenner. I'd been to his yard.

But you'd be amazed how much forensic
evidence can be retrieved from the site of a fire.

Now, if we find anything, anything,
that suggests you've been to that cottage,

it's not gonna look good for you, is it?

We'll be able to place you
at the scene of both murders.

Of course, it's surprising how many years
come off a life sentence for a full confession.

Of course I've been to the cottage.

That's where we kept the stuff.

Who was in charge of the smuggling?

Who paid you to exchange those boxes?

I don't know.

I was bottom of the chain.
That's the way Lachlan worked.

Said it was best if I didn't know certain things.
Safer for us if everything went through him.

I trusted him.

I told you before - if you're looking for London,
go that way, till you're knee-deep in eejits.

Mr Chilcott, I'm arresting you
on suspicion of conspiracy to murder.

You do not have to say anything,
but it may harm your defence

if you do not mention when questioned
something you later rely on in court.

Anything you do say may be given in evidence.

- What?
- You heard.

- Let me know when his brief arrives.
- OK.

Do you want me to talk to her?

No, no. I'll do it.

I just want to say how desperately sorry we are.

- Thank you.
- Your husband was an extremely good officer.

Very brave.

I don't know for certain... I got there too late.

But I understand he was trying to get
into the cottage when he was hit by the blast.

I think he knew
there was someone trapped inside.

Did he get them out?

No.

In which case, he died in vain.

It's that we try that makes us heroes,
not that we necessarily succeed.

Your husband was a credit.

A real example to us all.

He really relished working with you.

- Transferring to London was his dream.
- He'd have done extremely well anywhere.

My ride home.

Tell me, Inspector Lynley...

How do I tell my children that the daddy they had
breakfast with yesterday is gone for ever?

I don't know.

No.

Neither do I.

- Give me an hour, Havers.
- What about Lawrence Chilcott?

Let him stew till I'm good and ready.

Lynley!

Lynley!

You've no right to hold me!

Lynley!

- Mother?
- In here.

- I'm just fixing some Pimm's for us all.
- Us all?

Sarah popped round
to say "thank you" for the other evening.

- Aren't those flowers lovely?
- Splendid.

Shall I make enough for you, too?

By which, I mean, are you actually
going to grace us with your company?

- I need to talk to you.
- Huh! Are you sure you've got the right word?

I mean, I was under the impression
that you'd given up talking.

Unless it was to that wretched mobile of yours.

OK, OK. Point very much taken.

Look, if you want to talk to me
about the estate again...

Mother...

I should have said something earlier...

...but I wasn't sure
how much I wanted people to know...

about Helen and me.

I'm not "people", Tommy. I'm your mother.

I know. I didn't mean to exclude you.

It's just, with Peter back in rehab...

...and you looking after the estate alone,

I didn't want to burden you.

I know how much you worry about us.

You must have realised
I'd worry much more not knowing.

I'm sorry.

Perhaps my reticence to talk...

...was also a question of damaged pride.

Or guilt.

In reality, I have...

a sense, a very real sense...

...that I failed Helen.

She's left you?

We're temporarily separated.

Oh, Tommy...

I think we both need time and... space...

...to get over the loss of the baby.

It... it was her decision.

To go.

And I'm prepared to wait as long as necessary
for her to come back.

Do you think she will come back?

I have to hope so.

Thank you for telling me, anyway.

Sorry it took so long.

These things take as long as they take.

Now, can you take this tray out for me?
There's a good boy.

I'm sorry. I'm...

Of course, Mother.

Ah, Judith and I were wondering
if you needed a hand,

but I see you have the long arm of the law
to assist you.

I thought I'd grab him while I could.

- Are you staying for a drink?
- I'm afraid not.

No-one ever went to their grave
wishing they'd spent more time at the office.

Yes, true. Unfortunately, the most important time
in a murder inquiry are the first couple of days.

Just when I thought we were finally
going to see Tommy, we get Inspector Lynley.

He was the same at Eton. He'd come
home, and we didn't know who we'd get.

Carefree Tommy or bookish Tommy.

- My husband was an old Etonian.
- Was he? Which house?

Don't ask questions like that.

He'd go on about the place for hours at a time.
I stopped listening after a while.

- Was he in college?
- That's right.

- I've always admired the scholars.
- You couldn't call Peter a scholar.

- Really?
- He could never sit still for more than an hour.

I don't think I ever saw him finish a book
in the entire time we were together.

Well, I'd better be off. Bye, Mum.

Bye, Tommy.

Sir...

Good to see you.
I thought I'd lost you for a minute.

- Are you all right?
- I'm fine.

How's Chilcott bearing up?

- Stewing nicely.
- And you? Are you bearing up?

Me? I'm fine.

I'm fine.

You will tell me if you're not, won't you?

Yeah.

Look, we should speak to Chilcott.

I think it's time to bring him to the boil.

- I don't know what you're talking about.
- I think you do.

DS Havers here is convinced of it.

You can think what you like.

You got hold of Stephen Fenner.

A small, struggling trainer, in comparison
with yourself, but competition, nonetheless.

On his land is a nice, hidden-away cove,
with an empty cottage.

Perfect for landing and storing
whatever it was you were bringing in.

But things get complicated when serious money
gets involved. Don't they, Mr Chilcott?

Whatever you say, Inspector.

You never really liked Fenner.

You sold him a lame horse.

Tried to mask the lameness with bute.

And when he realises this,
well, he wants reparation, doesn't he?

He asks for more money,
to keep quiet about your smuggling operation.

Then he gets greedy and asks for too much.

So, you drugged him, with bute, again.

And then you killed him. Made it look like suicide.

Rubbish.

But, by now,
you think the police might be onto you...

...so you arrange to meet the one man
who knows the whole truth.

Lachlan.
You arrange to meet him at Fenner's cottage...

...where you kill him.

You try and burn the cottage.

But it wasn't just him you killed.

Detective Sergeant Tremayne
also died in that fire.

That's three murders you're responsible for,
Chilcott. Three murders.

- He's very good.
- I advise you to say nothing...

No, no, I want to congratulate the Inspector
on his storytelling. It's marvellous.

And completely and utterly incorrect
in almost every detail.

Almost?

I mean,
I didn't even really sell Artemis to Fenner.

The horse's passport says you did.

Do you know how many Eastern European
horses sneak in on one of those passports?

- Lawrence...
- I didn't smuggle anything or murder anyone.

All I did was sell a horse as a favour to a friend.

A friend?

Lady Keach. She wanted to give someone
a horse, without it looking like a gift.

Lady Keach?

She gave me a little help to doctor the passport,

so that her name wouldn't appear on it -
for tax reasons, she said.

Well, how much help did she give you
to doctor the passport?

You tell me what you earn,
I'll tell you how much I do.

You're in no position to be cocky, Chilcott.

- How much?
- Nothing so vulgar as cash with Lady Keach.

If not cash...?

She has a rather fantastic statue
in her front garden.

- She promised it to me.
- I must insist...

No, I'm cooperating with the police.
I've nothing to hide.

I don't understand.

Why would she give you a treasured
anniversary present from Lord Keach?

- There is no Lord Keach.
- Yeah. Not any more. I know.

Not ever.

You really don't know anything, do you?

- Get me a copy of Debrett's Peerage.
- You said she was a friend of your mother's.

My mother took her under her wing
when she came here.

She took her at face value.
Just get me that book.

Yes, sir.

- There was something she said this afternoon.
- What?

She said her husband was in college at Eton.

Well, that's no crime -
except, of course, against the working classes.

No, she said her husband was in college,
and I said how I'd always admired the scholars.

OK.

But then she said her husband wasn't a scholar.
Barely read a book in his life.

OK. Now you're losing me.

At Eton, if you're an academic scholar,
you're "in college".

Only true scholars are "in college".

So, she made a mistake.

That's not a mistake
a wife of an old Etonian would make.

Unless she was winging it in the moment.

Exactly.

Here we go...
Lord Kahn, Lord Kaswood... Well, well.

No Lord Keach. So, no Lord Keach -
no Lady Keach. And if no Lady Keach...

Then who the hell was at dinner
the other evening?

I'll get her in and find out.

No, you stay and put pressure on Chilcott.

I'm going to find out where she bought her title
and then pay Her Ladyship a visit.

- Can I fix you a drink, Tommy?
- No, thank you.

I'm on duty.

So, it's not Tommy, or even Lord...

but Inspector?

Don't you find, Lady Keach,
that a title often just gets in the way?

And yet, occasionally,
it can help to keep things clear.

It certainly doesn't hurt when I want
to reserve a table in London. Do take a seat.

Thank you.

And if you call me Lady Keach once more,
I shall bop you over your head until you stop.

- I'm sorry.
- Apology accepted.

At the school I attended,
there were quite a few titled boys.

It wasn't anything anyone made a fuss about,
which was a blessing for me,

because it meant I grew up
not making much of a fuss about it, either.

- How about your school?
- School wasn't a problem.

And when you got into the big, wide world?
It must become an issue.

- In what way?
- Well, I always find that people think

that having a lord or a lady involved in...
whatever it might be, brings added value,

whereas, in reality,
if you're the person behind the title,

then the opposite would usually be true.

I take it
you don't have much time for London society.

Hmm.

Well, I decided in my early 20s
that it was rather like... a treadmill with canapés,

so consequently not for me.

It's not easy, is it, though, just being oneself?

People often expect the role,
rather than the person.

- Personally, I can take it or leave it.
- Being oneself?

I don't believe people have just one self...

Inspector Lynley.

Good point, Lady Keach.

- Sarah.
- OK.

Sarah it is.

But it's not Lady Keach, is it?

And if we're being brutally honest,
it's not really Lady... is it?

How long have you known her true identity?

So, you've done your homework, then?

- So, you do know it?
- I know who she is.

Because you ran the operation together?

I've told you before - I'm not and I never have
been involved in any kind of smuggling.

So, she ran it alone?

I've no idea.

OK, but from what you know of the real person
behind the façade, do you think she's capable?

That's for you to find out.

How did you find out?

When we came over,
you mentioned Lord Keach.

I've subsequently discovered
there was no such person.

And then this afternoon
you said your husband had gone to Eton.

I made a mistake, didn't I?

I'm afraid you did.

I panicked in the moment and gilded the lily.

Haven't done that for ages.

It must be you making me nervous.

Policemen often make people feel like that.

When I buried my husband,
I decided to buy myself a new life.

A new life meant a new identity.

I thought about it for a while
and decided it would be fun to be titled.

Is that so terrible?

If you have the means and the temperament,
why not?

I play the role of a baroness,
and to all intents and purposes, I am a baroness.

We are who we pretend to be, Lord Asherton.

You play the role of a police officer,
and voile - you are a police officer.

I don't play the role, Sarah.

I really am a police officer.

Given how much trouble I can bring to your door
for doctoring a horse's passport,

I suggest you help me find out sooner,
rather than later.

Her name is Sarah Marlowe.

Married to Duncan Marlowe, up to his death
on the Costa Dorada six years ago.

Stabbed outside a nightclub.

A consequence of his lifelong career
in serious fraud.

Why are you here? You haven't actually said.

I'd like to know more about your husband.
Your late husband.

- Anything in particular?
- Wh y don 't we start

with how much you learnt from him
about fraud and money-laundering?

And then we could move on
to how you took over from him where he left off,

after his rather gruesome demise.

Why did she give Artemis to Fenner?

When Sarah moved into the area,
she believed he was a friend

who could be trusted with her real identity.

Only, he wasn't.

He saw how important her new life was to her
and, scum that he was,

he tried to blackmail her to keep him quiet.

- So, he wasn't blackmailing you?
- No.

My husband was very good at what he did.

He told me he could take
the dirtiest ten-pound note in the world

and make it pristine in an hour.

That's all he did.
He serviced crime; he didn't do crime.

Not a semantic difference the law recognises.

He processed money.

He taught you how.

It wasn't difficult to absorb his technique,
and if you know the right people,

it's not exactly rocket science.

And you knew "the right people"?

Businessmen, bankers, lawyers.
They were our friends.

We holidayed together. Dined together.

After my husband was killed, they were
only too eager to help me re-establish myself.

Yourself and your late husband's operation,

here in Cornwall.

I made one mistake.

I trusted Stephen Fenner with my identity.

She told me what Fenner was trying to do.
I told her to ignore him.

But she couldn't. She paid him for a while,
then decided shed had enough.

She asked what could settle things
once and for all.

He said he needed a top-quality horse.

That's where I come in.

- But you gave him a lame horse.
- He was a lame human being.

Was Fenner trying to expose you?

Was he blackmailing you?

Did you have Fenner killed,
because he was trying to expose you?

Well, no-one was meant to die.

Lachlan was only to scare Stephen
into leaving me alone once and for all.

The bute was just to disorientate him.

And if Lachlan hadn't delegated to Connor,
that would have been the outcome.

But Connor messed up.

I had no choice.
I had to draw every stump on the pitch.

- Why waste a pearl on a swine?
- Well, if you had, he might still be alive.

As would the two other men who died.

As your boss said, "Let the buyer beware."

You're a real piece of work.

No.

I'm a businessman.

Is that how you see Lachlan? A drawn stump?

Is that how you see Sergeant Tremayne?

Tremayne was in the wrong place
at the wrong time.

I can't tell you how sick I felt when I heard.

But Lachlan wasn't, was he?

Lachlan was in the right place
at precisely the right time.

Exactly where you told him to meet you.

I wish it could have been any other way,
but Lachlan knew everything, and I have learned

that it is sometimes necessary...
to read a situation without compassion.

You know, we think Lachlan was still conscious,

when he was consumed by that fire.

Feelings obscure clarity, Inspector.

I did what I had to do.

Er...

Do you really think
that is gonna stand up in court?

I've no intention of finding out!

It's over, Sarah!

The minute you get on that boat,
I call the customs.

Then what?

Come on. Chilcott is talking to Havers
down the station right now.

Lawrence Chilcott's as crooked as a pint arm!

Judge a person by the company they keep, eh?

If only Stephen Fenner had let me be
who I wanted to be.

Put that gun down, Sarah.

If only people would leave other people alone!

You made a decision a long time ago.
"I'm the wife of a money-launderer."

Do you really think that entitled you
to great wealth and peace of mind?

My husband was a financier.

He took money soaked in human misery,
and rinsed it out for profit.

My husband was a wonderful man.

Death cancels out everything but the truth. Eh?

And strips a man of everything
but genius and virtue.

But of course...

your husband had no genius, did he?

Or virtue.

He was just a ruthless criminal. Like you.

You don't know me.

I know everything I need to know about you.

I could kill you.

This day's been a long time coming for you,
Sarah.

My advice: let it come.

Where's she going?

So, let it come, eh?

Thank you so much, Lady Asherton.
You couldn't have made me more welcome.

Well, you couldn't have been a better guest.
I just wish we'd seen more of you.

Well, perhaps next time I'm on leave.

Oh, Barbara, you're one of the family now.
You know that. Take care of yourself.

Thank you. I will. Bye.

- We're all packed.
- I hardly feel you've been here.

I'll come down again soon properly.

- With Helen?
- If I can.

- See you, Judith.
- Bye.

- How long are you staying on for?
- Just until John comes back.

- Look after the old girl, will you?
- Ah-ah-ah. I heard that.

- You were meant to.
- Oh.

Now, you remember-
you're a husband first and a policeman second.

Yes.

- Be happy.
- Bye, Mother.

Bye, Tommy.

If you want a few more days
at the retreat, I can drop you off.

No, sir.

- Seat belt.
- Yes, sir.