Wycliffe (1994–…): Season 2, Episode 4 - Lost Contact - full transcript

[theme music]

What you got in that catch?

The usual. Why?

Don't you smell it?

It's not me.

Washed me socks last week.

Smells like we dredged up a dead dog.

Something's going on over there.

Go over there and find out what it is.

Quick!

Need to get rid of these crabs as quickly as possible.



What are you waiting for then?

From the clothes and what's left of him,

I'd say we've got a middle aged man.

Won't be able to tell you anymore

till I get him up on the slab.

Well, even then, it's--

Been in the water some days.

Yes.

Ten at least.

Anyone been looking for him?

Not that I'm aware of.

Then you're going to have some fun putting a name to him.

Half the jaw is missing.

Well, it's probably crushed against the rocks by the tied.



There's so little facial tissue

left it's difficult to tell.

Looks like there's been a slight blackening to the skin.

Blackening?

Hm.

Though I'd like to take a closer look.

He may never be identified.

He's in such a state.

Imagine.

The water's a cruel place.

[music playing]

Morning, sir.

Morning.

I've just come by the local [inaudible]..

There's no reported boating accidents or men

overboard from passing tankers.

Well, that body's been in the water a fair while.

Someone would have shouted about it by now.

Well, then we're looking at missing persons.

Yes.

This is just Devon and Cornwall.

Right.

Let's start with men aged between 30 and 60.

That loses a lot of them, none of them recent.

A few holidaymakers, but they often choose to be a runner.

Rather than go home.

Yeah.

Oh, here we go.

Lewis Jay reported missing by his wife 18 months ago.

Possible sightings of him about the county.

Wife concerned over his mental state.

That's it, unless you want to go national.

No, no.

Might as well start with him as anybody else.

Give it.

Excuse me.

Yes?

You're in charge of this investigation?

Detective Superintendent Wycliffe.

Can I have your name?

Edwina Coryn.

The man you found this morning, it must be my husband, Peter.

Why do you think that?

I reported him missing three weeks ago.

Up in London, not locally.

Is that where you last saw him?

No.

Here at home.

Then why report it in London?

He said he was going to town.

I thought he had.

I see.

I see.

He went regularly?

Sometimes.

Tell me, is there any possibility

your husband might have deliberately

misled you about his plan?

Oh no.

I never thought anything was wrong until he didn't phone.

We never let a day pass without speaking with one another.

But I haven't heard anything from him for over a month.

So what do you think happened?

I went out before he was due to leave.

He-- maybe he went for a walk.

We live just a little way down the coast.

He could have had a coronary.

Did he have heart problems?

Well, it's what one always dreads at his age, isn't it?

When can I see the body?

Um.

I'm afraid visual identification may prove to be impossible.

Oh.

So-- what-- what happens then?

Can you give details of any identification marks?

Scars, moles, tattoos.

Oh yes.

I know by heart the constellation of moles

on Peter's back.

Yes.

Also previous injuries, operation scars.

And we'll need his dental records too.

Of course.

Peter and I have belonged to each other since I was 17.

Well, I hope we can identify the body

as quickly as possible.

Thank you, Superintendent.

My officer will take a note of your details.

You can imagine how desperate I've been.

Hello? No.

We'll be out in open fields.

Wind in your hair.

FIONA JAY: Rubbish.

MAN: I think these so-called hippies have got it right.

FIONA JAY: Stupid man.

MAN: Living under the stars.

FIONA JAY: You know absolutely nothing.

MAN: Suspect we'd all be happier if we

weren't tied to the material.

Hello?

Hello?

Uh, Mrs. Fiona Jay?

Yeah. Who are you?

I'm Detective Inspector Kersey.

I'd like a word with you about your husband Lewis.

Can I come in? - Yeah.

Thank you.

(VOICE ON RADIO) I'm just saying that I appreciate

where they're coming from.

That's all.

Hush.

Hush now, [inaudible].

Shh. Shh.

There's a good boy.

Good boy.

Good boy. Lie down.

Lie down.

There's a good boy.

Look, you don't mind if I carry on with this, do you?

No, no. Please, no.

My son shoots them for the dog, you see.

- Ah. - It saves a bit of money.

So how old's your son?

I've got two, 10 and 12.

Haven't you got it on file?

Yes, probably.

I just want to go over a few things

again if that's all right.

Go ahead.

I'm getting used to repeating myself.

Your husband went missing 18 months ago, yes?

But you've seen him since he's left?

Uh, once, in Falmouth about six weeks

after he first walked out.

Did you speak to him?

He didn't recognize me.

Sorry?

I tried to get him into the car to see a doctor.

It's awful.

So what sort of state was he in mentally then?

Was he a drinker?

Have you got children?

No, no I haven't.

I'm still single.

Well then you won't really understand what it's like.

No.

He wasn't a drinker.

I mean how could he not recognize his own children?

What, your sons were with you in Falmouth?

But how do you explain to a child

face to face with their own father

and he won't even speak to them.

Was he coherent, deluded, or?

Oh, he was managing all right.

I mean he was even quite polite about it.

But he wouldn't let on he knew us.

He wouldn't come home.

Why did he leave in the first place?

Oh, the usual, you know.

Redundancy, debt, failure, guilt. I just didn't think

he could cope anymore.

Did he work around here?

No.

In London.

He was-- well, he worked for a chartered surveyor,

but he was a Cornishmen.

And this house was so that his children

could share the same idyllic holidays as he had.

Lucky them, eh?

No.

They hate it.

Have you, uh, seen him again more recently?

Look, why are you here?

Nobody's bothered us for months.

Well, the body of a man has been found

at Mullion Cove washed up.

Oh.

Identification's being hampered

by the condition of the body.

But we need some details from you to establish

if it might be your husband.

You know, did he have any distinguishing marks?

I, um, I think I'm going to need a bit of time

to, uh, think about this.

Operation scars maybe?

Well, yes, he had a vasectomy. well,

that's something, isn't it?

He should never have been allowed to carry on like that.

He needed help.

But you lot wouldn't accept that he was

ill, that he was vulnerable.

Well, I'm afraid, you know, we can't

force someone to return home if they don't want to, I'm afraid.

That's what some young policewoman said.

They said that there was nothing much you could

do if he just lost contact.

Well, as you said yourself, if he was managing--

Well, he'd lost contact with reality, not us.

Wait till you have children then.

We also need dental and any hospital records, please.

They'll be in London.

I'll-- I'll dig them out for you.

OK.

Thank you.

I don't want Lewis to be dead.

There's-- see there something I've learned since he's gone.

Do you know what people want more than anything else?

I mean-- I mean really want?

No.

Just their plain, ordinary lives.

[music playing]

[bell jingling]

Hi Mom.

What's happened?

Why are you back so soon?

We cut the sailing short.

Rob's dad managed to wanker him a job and he had to go.

I'm starving.

Anything to eat?

What's the matter, Ma?

Has there been some news of Pa?

Yes.

Well?

It's probably nothing.

Tell me.

Where is he?

I was down at Mullion Cove this morning.

The police have found a man's body,

but they don't yet know who he is.

I told them Pa was missing.

Did you see it?

No, no.

Oh d-- darling, I'm sure there's no need to worry.

So what happened?

It was washed up down by the harbor.

I'm sure Pa is all right.

Pa is always all right.

Of course.

So how about some food then?

Bacon and eggs coming up.

[humming]

I was right about that slight blackening on the face.

He was shot?

Shotgun.

The x-rays show fractures and distortions

of the skull that could be consistent with a contact

wound.

Suicide then?

Uh, not necessarily.

The spread of the shot is inconclusive.

Any evidence from the entrance wound

has been lost to decomposition.

But the gun was fired at close range?

Little more than a couple of feet away.

It wasn't just an irate farmer taking a pot shot.

Ah.

Ah.

There we are.

So it's down to you to find out whether it was suicide,

an accident, or a homicide.

Thanks.

Time of death?

Oh, it's impossible to say.

How's your mother, by the way?

She's staying with you, isn't she?

Mm.

Though I won't be seeing much of her the way things are going.

She and Helen get on well though, don't they?

Clash of the Titans.

Are we any closer to finding out who our friend actually is?

Well, we got some teeth.

Not really enough to rely solely on matching

with dental records, is it?

That's it?

I'm afraid so.

I better ring my mom.

Tell her I'll be late home for tea.

Are you here about my father?

Detective Superintendent Wycliffe

and Detective Inspector Lane.

You are?

James Coryn.

Shall I fetch my mother?

The police are here.

You wait here, darling.

Why?

Trust me.

It will be all right.

Ma, do you really think it's him?

Just hang on in there.

You know us.

We always find a way, don't we?

Sorry to keep you waiting.

Detective Inspector Lane.

I was in the greenhouse.

Funny how plants offer solace.

Do come in.

I've got all the details you asked for.

Peter's doctor, and dentist, and so forth.

Thank you.

Mrs. Coryn, we still don't know whether the body we found

this morning is that of your husband, but the cause of death

is suspicious.

Well, he drowned surely?

CHARLES WYCLIFFE: No.

There was an injury to the head.

LUCY LANE: Mrs. Coryn, did your husband own a shotgun?

Yes. We have several.

I checked the gun cupboard the other day.

None are missing.

Was he depressed in any way before he disappeared?

No.

No.

Any business worries?

Oh, no more than anyone else.

Ma?

Pa would never kill himself.

James you know he would never leave you like that.

He did have debts.

What does it matter if people know?

You've got to tell them.

Mrs. Coryn.

All right.

We don't have as much money as you might think.

But he wasn't as worried about it as all that.

He just always looked after us.

Suicide is the coward's way out.

It's possible it may not have been suicide.

Are you saying someone may have killed my father?

We can't rule out any possibility at this stage,

but the body has not yet been identified.

Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to kill him?

Of course not.

How ridiculous.

Maybe it was an accident, somebody out shooting.

What about in London?

I don't know what might go on in London.

Well, was there any reason why he

might have wanted to disappear?

No.

I know what you're getting at.

The police in London said as much.

You think he's left me, but he hasn't.

He wouldn't do that.

It doesn't mention is here, Mrs. Coryn, but I have to ask,

did your husband have a vasectomy?

No.

Right.

Well, thank you anyway.

Mr. Coryn, perhaps your father confided in you.

No.

No, I mean, I'm not usually here.

Where were you the day he went missing?

At university in Exeter.

Well, then perhaps if you think of something that might

help us, you'll let us know.

This is all so distressing.

You all right?

What?

Yeah.

Yeah.

Well, until the body is identified, I'd lay odds

Peter Coryn's tucked up somewhere with a female friend.

And Mrs. Coryn doesn't want to believe he's walked out on her.

Or knows he hasn't and is saving face.

Yeah.

Ties in with the gossip in the village.

Oh yeah?

Mm.

They say his hours never were exactly regular.

Peter Coryn was a bit of a chancer

and had trouble with debt.

Well, there you are then.

He's done a runner and Mrs. Coryn's too proud to admit it.

Can't be much fun for the boy though.

What's the problem?

Fine.

Fine.

So where are we, doctor?

Well, Franks has confirmed that the body had a vasectomy,

which ties in with Lewis Jay.

Common enough procedure these days.

Rules out Peter Coryn then.

Not necessarily.

If he chose not to tell his wife, she'd never know.

Surely a woman would be able to tell if a man--

An unfaithful man might choose not to tell

his wife he'd had it done.

And Dr. Franks' got his toxicology report, sir.

There's nothing found.

Good.

Potter.

Uh yeah.

I made a start getting a hold of dental and medical details

and on tracing activity by other men

through banks, building societies,

and social security since the day they went missing.

Nothing useful so far.

See if you can find out what life insurance policies

they had, especially Peter Coryn.

I can't find the underwear sir.

Oh, Potter's taking it back to Marks

and Sparks for the refund. - Yep.

Without a receipt, they don't exchange it.

Wouldn't give me the money back.

Where's the list from the mortuary assistant?

Oh, right.

Um.

He didn't have any.

No socks or underwear.

Well, the footwear could have come off in the water.

No personal items either, nothing in the pockets.

Yeah, but why no underwear?

Doesn't sound much like the elegant Peter Coryn.

That's true.

Sounds like someone who has been living rough.

Wait and see.

Right.

Rems of a shirt, jumper, trousers, and jacket,

all tattered and filthy.

But the jacket's quite good tweed.

It's got the label of a Savile Row tailor on it.

And inked on the label on the inside of the jacket

is a date, 1979.

No name.

Usually there's a name as well.

I know, but it was too faint to read, sir.

So I rang the tailor in London.

He never heard of Lewis Jay.

But Peter Coryn's a longstanding client.

And he made a jacket for him in 1979.

[music playing]

All right.

You've all been briefed.

A man is dead of a shotgun wound,

probably in the last month, possibly

somewhere on this shore.

I want any evidence of such an incidence or anything

else that could be significant.

Yes.

Peter Coryn had a vasectomy long time ago.

But he never told his wife about it?

No.

Why is that?

Well, Edwina had a hard time when James was born.

Frightened the life out Peter.

Didn't like deceiving her, mind you,

but, well, he knew she'd want another child

and he just didn't fancy the odds.

Was that the only reason?

What do you mean?

Well, we need to know if Mr. Coryn deceived

his wife in any other way.

Was he unfaithful to her?

Not to my knowledge.

No history of sexually transmitted diseases?

No.

Absolutely not.

Do you think Mr. Coryn the type to commit suicide?

Oh, no.

Not Peter.

He was a great sport.

Never wanted to let things get him down.

And how were things recently between him and Mrs. Coryn?

Well, he wouldn't just walk out on her.

Devoted to each other they are.

Were.

Right.

Thank you, Dr. Bonner.

What's this?

Oh, typical Peter.

We'd had a bit to drink at a yacht club dinner

and had some ludicrous bet over whether the scallops we had

were fresh or frozen.

I won.

20,000 pounds?

Oh, I've never cashed it.

Though no doubt Peter would have if it had gone the other way.

Bit of a gambler was he?

Oh, incorrigible.

He'd bet on anything.

Money was like water to him.

Just quenched a thirst.

So he had serious debts?

Yes.

That ancient thing.

He always wore it for gardening.

Was he ever in the habit of going without underwear?

I-- I don't know what you mean.

It may be relevant.

But if that's Peter's jacket--

Dr. Bonner told us your husband was a gambler.

Yes.

The doctor telephoned me by the way.

I didn't mean to mislead you about Peter having a vasectomy.

He never told me.

Why didn't you tell us about the gambling?

It was Peter's weakness, an illness really,

something private we deal with between ourselves.

Did he have debts?

Oh yes, always.

Even when he won, there were debts.

Was he depressed because of them?

No.

Compulsive gamblers are eternal optimists.

Always dreaming of breaking the bank at Monte Carlo.

They're able simply to forget even

the most terrifying losses.

What about you though?

Did the losses worry you?

No.

We always came around somehow.

I loved his innocent excitement about life, a world

with no consequences.

Peter's a great romantic.

You never thought of leaving him?

Never.

He didn't steal or cheat.

He would never let it harm us.

Did

Mr. Coryn take out any new life insurance policies

recently?

He had a policy, obviously, but nothing recent.

Look, can't we get all this tied up now?

You don't have to show that jacket to James do you?

He's so upset.

I'd like to keep him out of this.

Keep him out of what?

His father's disappeared.

I remember him having one like this,

but I'm sure he's not worn it in years.

Would he have worn it for gardening?

No, no.

He hated gardening.

Pa needed more instant gratifications.

You're sure?

Look, what's going on?

Is it my father you found?

I'm sorry, James.

We still don't know.

Do you think someone's killed him?

Do you know anyone who would want to?

Pa belonged to two or three pretty

serious gaming clubs in London.

I had the impression he owed them a fortune.

Why do you think he owed them a fortune?

Last time I was home, there were rows.

I couldn't help overhearing.

And you think these gaming clubs might somehow be involved

in your father's disappearance?

I don't know.

I mean they're in London not Macau or someplace.

I think they'd want to get their hands on as much of this

as they could before thinking about murder.

CHARLES WYCLIFFE: Why is Mrs. Coryn behaving as she is?

Lunch.

Ah.

DIXON: Here, boss. - Thank you.

Oh, crab. My favorite.

What I mean is why is our Mrs. Coryn being less

than straightforward with us?

Yeah.

Oh, I spoke to Peter Coryn's accountant.

Good luck, Potter?

Yeah.

His finances were a nightmare.

Just before he went missing, he wanted to raise some cash

by taking out a huge mortgage on the house,

but the accountant advised against it.

Any life insurance?

Plenty.

Nothing new.

No cash to pay the premiums.

If he had shot himself, she might be trying to cover it up

so she can still claim the insurance.

And face a police investigation?

Oh, yeah, but look at it from her point of view.

Without the insurance money, she stands

to lose the house for sure.

If it's suicide, no payout.

I get the feeling she--

she absolutely adored him.

Yet she's hardly the grieving widow.

Maybe it's all lies.

She shot him and made the story up about his disappearance.

CHARLES WYCLIFFE: Why?

Driven to desperation over his gambling.

Only way to pay off the debt was to cash in

on his life insurance.

No, no, no.

Why the old jacket and no underwear?

And how did he end up in the sea?

The son said there were rows.

Maybe he she just couldn't cope any longer, however charming

he might be.

Oh.

I thought you women liked all that, the daredevil,

a hint of uncertainty.

Well, as a bit on the side, Doug, yeah, maybe.

Not much fun if you're financially dependent on it.

I wouldn't get myself in that situation.

Things getting that serious with Simon, is it?

Doug, the chances of me becoming

a financially dependent housewife

are as likely as you getting a girlfriend.

Yeah, well, I mean what about Fiona Jay?

Her husband's just gone and left her to sort out his mess.

It's asking a lot of a man to shoulder all

the responsibility of a family.

I must be getting old.

In my day, a man was expected to take care of his family.

Well, being taken care of isn't always a healthy option,

sir.

If their finances were in his name, how long before Mrs. Jay

could get herself sorted out?

Well, he'd have to be missing seven years before they

could have him declared dead.

Definitely separate bank accounts for you and Simon

then, isn't it?

[chatter]

Salt and vinegar.

I don't want that muck on it.

Stupid cow.

Fiona Jay?

Yes.

Detective Superintendent Wycliffe.

Oh, um.

[inaudible]

I think you better come around the back.

Is it him?

Have they identified the body?

Uh, no, not yet, I'm afraid.

I'm hoping to know by tomorrow once the pathologist

has got all the dental records.

Not the easiest of jobs, eh?

I'm lucky to have anything.

God knows what I'll do when the car packs up.

You can't move from here?

I'd love to.

My family and friends are in London.

You're not from around here are you?

No.

But I like it though.

You're lucky.

Why don't you move near your family?

I can't sell.

The cottage is in our joint names, the house in London too.

We had a buyer for that, but I couldn't

sell so it was repossessed.

No insurance or anything you can draw on?

Have you got insurance against having your life

kicked out from under you?

But there must be times surely when

you're furious about what it is your husband put you through?

Well, sometimes I just think how wonderful

it must be to do what he did.

You know, just walk out, let go.

But something in me clings on.

Sometimes I wonder just what it is I cling on to.

Do you own a shotgun, Mrs. Jay?

I believe your son shoots rabbits.

Yes.

Well, I mean the dog really ought to be put down,

but I can't afford a bottler.

And well, I haven't got the bottle, as my son

says, to do it myself.

Mm-hmm.

Not an easy thing destroying a family pet.

No.

Mrs. Jay, the man whose body we found yesterday

died from a shotgun wound to the head.

Oh.

Lewis was ill.

Do you think he, uh--

do you think he could have shot himself?

My-- my sons blame me.

They think-- they think that I should have stopped him

from going, that I should have talked him round,

that I should have helped him.

Do you think that's true?

You're a family.

You share things out, you see.

And-- that's what a marriage is about, isn't it?

I did my bit.

But he wouldn't share the bad times?

Couldn't or wouldn't.

Either way, there's not much anymore to say.

It's over now.

Would you mind keeping back, please?

Oh, our house is just over there.

We used to come as a picnic when I was a kid.

If you'd just like to stay here, please.

Sir. - Can I-- Can I have a look?

Sir, if you'd just like to stay here please.

What have you found?

[inaudible]

What have they found?

So, uh, you know Lewis Jay, yeah?

Yes, I knew Lewis Jay.

When was he last here?

Six weeks or more.

He turns up every couple of months.

But his wife's been here since asking about him

and with a photograph.

When was that?

About a month ago.

How would you describe his mental state?

Oh, he's fairly placid.

No bother.

Seemed happy enough to be left in a world of his own.

Did you know who he was?

It's not always an easy question

for some of our regulars.

And they know who they think they are.

So long as they don't kick up a fuss,

we tend to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Excuse me.

Where do these clothes actually come from?

There's a couple local charity shops hand things on that

don't sell.

Do you know if Lewis Jay go a change of jacket here?

Yes, I do, actually.

He was given a complete change of clothes.

Why?

His own were filthy.

He'd obviously been sleeping out in the woods.

Underwear?

Doubt it.

We occasionally get given some by the local shops

but there's never enough to go around.

So he might not have had any.

Probably not.

I think I love you.

Yes.

[music playing]

Thanks.

Um, I know you probably don't--

My father died here, didn't he?

Well, someone did.

But there's no evidence yet to say that it was your father.

It's not easy, is it, knowing that your father

can just go away and leave you?

I really loved my father.

Of course.

But I can't buy into his fantasies like Ma does.

I think his gambling's pathetic.

Your mother encourages him?

She's worse than he is.

Pretends life's some kind of game.

What makes you say that?

I heard them when they were rowing.

She was telling him to go for the last big throw.

What did she mean?

I don't know.

But something terrible has happened, hasn't it?

I'm not stupid.

If he had shot himself, you would have found the gun here.

And how comes he ended up in the sea

when there's blood all over the hut?

We'll find out what went on here.

Don't-- don't-- don't worry about that.

My father died when I was 9.

Shot himself with a 12 bore.

I know exactly what happened to my father.

Sometimes I wish I didn't.

But not knowing must be very hard to live with.

Sir.

Edwina Coryn gave it to her local charity shop

some months ago.

They pass it on to a hospital in Truro where, guess what,

six weeks ago Lewis Jay received a change of clothes.

All right.

Let's go and talk to Mrs. Jay then.

I don't think she killed him, do you?

Well, someone took the gun away.

Hey.

Good morning.

Keep them out here, though.

OK?

Come on then.

Come on.

Hey, hey.

We'll let them go on with it, shall we, eh?

Come on.

You get on goal.

Come on.

Go on down there.

Do you recognize the jacket at all?

Your husband was wearing it, wasn't he,

the last time you saw him?

See, I was going to kill his dog, you see.

Can hardly walk and he's in terrible pain.

And-- and I just couldn't do it.

And, um.

Well, anyway, it's Lewis' dog and I

shouldn't have had to do it.

How did you know where to find him?

One of the men in the hospital told me.

They said he had a hut.

So you went there.

Yep.

Why?

I wanted to persuade him to come home

and to go into hospital.

But he was filthy, neglected.

He wouldn't go with you?

No.

Did he know who you were?

It was weird.

He knew who he was.

He knew he had a family and that he'd walked out on them.

But he didn't know who I was.

When was this?

Um, about 12 days ago after I dropped

the children of in the morning.

Were you angry that he hadn't recognized you,

that he wouldn't go with you?

He showed me where he slept, how he'd made a fire, where

he got water from the well.

Happy as [inaudible] he was.

And so you just snapped.

He left me with the responsibility

for his boys, the dog, his property, his debts.

Our bank accounts-- it's frozen.

I don't know whether I'm married or whether I'm widowed.

I've been to hell and back and he's

showing me his Boy Scout camp.

And where was the shotgun at this point?

It was in the boot of the car.

That poor dog was there too.

Mrs. Jay, I must caution you that you

do not have to say anything, that it may harm your defense.

So do you get to go really fast with the blues

and twos and everything?

No, not often.

No.

Been in a couple of dodgy car chases though.

It is Dad they found, isn't it?

Well, we still don't know for sure.

Why not?

So you left your husband at the hut

and then went to fetch the weapon.

I couldn't go on anymore.

I mean, there had to be some end to it.

If he didn't want his life anymore,

why not just finish it properly?

So then you went back to the hut carrying the weapon.

Did you intend to shoot him with it?

No.

But I as good as murdered him, didn't I?

You handed him the loaded weapon?

I put it down by the door.

I told him that if he cared anything about us,

he'd use it and put us out of our misery.

He knew what I was talking about.

And then?

I drove away.

Why should I be the only one that

has to cope with everything?

I mean he could just wander off and not care about us,

but I had to go on day after day.

But I couldn't do it anymore.

So when did you decide to go back?

Well, I stopped the car and I calmed myself down.

I started to think more clearly.

I rushed back, but, um--

He'd done what you asked him to do.

Yes.

Why didn't you report the death?

Alex and Richie.

I couldn't see them turn against me for what I had done.

And if I lose them, then there's nothing.

They're going to have to be told, you know?

I know.

I hope they'll forgive me.

So you dragged the body into the water?

I got him down to the shore.

And I managed to get him to float.

The tide was going out.

I took the gun home, cleaned it, put it back in the cupboard.

Got the blood from my clothes.

Then I did what I always do.

Don't think, don't feel just, get on with it.

And when we found the body?

I knew it was him straight away.

At that time, I thought, if you couldn't identify the body,

then I'd succeeded.

But now-- now I feel that there's a chance,

I mean just a chance, that I can get on with my life.

Dr. Franks just phoned.

He's got a positive match on a dental X-ray

of a row of four upper teeth that I got from a teaching

hospital in London.

Anyway, together with the vasectomy and the blood group,

Dr. Frank says he's happy to go with it being Lewis Jay.

OK, thanks.

Well, are we finished here then, boss?

Oh, no, no.

Not entirely.

Sergeant Dixon can take Mrs. Jay to HQ.

Do the WPC.

Doug.

Sir?

You've better get the boys taken care of.

And you better stay here, Potter.

Start cleaning up a bit.

Oh, Doug.

Yes, sir.

Just remember whatever you tell them about their father's

death, they're going to remember it word for word

for the rest of their lives.

So.

I really don't understand what all this is about.

The body you found is not that of my husband?

No.

Thank God.

But your husband is still missing.

Well, obviously.

Why did you claim the body at the cove

when you knew very well that it wasn't your husband?

That's ridiculous. How could I know?

Because you know where he is.

I haven't seen or heard from him

since the day he disappeared.

He's not with another woman?

No.

He's been missing for over a month.

You've done nothing to find him.

Nor have you.

I've been out combing every path he may have taken.

I've checked the shotguns to see if they've been used.

You couldn't care less.

Why did you lie about your husband's jacket

when you'd taken it to the charity shop some time before?

I forgot that I'd given it away.

That's all.

What is this?

Are you trying to set James against me?

I think that may have happened already.

Ma, if you know where he is, tell me.

I told you not to worry about him, didn't I?

Mrs. Coryn, your son is terrified that you may have had

a hand in his father's death.

Oh, James, no.

We only did it for you.

I never thought--

Where's Peter Coryn?

How could you think I would ever harm Peter?

Surely you know I would never do that.

Mrs. Coryn, where is your husband now?

Durban, South Africa.

Alive and well?

Oh yes, of course.

My darling Peter.

Why?

The debts were going to wipe out the house.

Pa couldn't bear to think that you wouldn't

inherit it because of his--

his illness.

But you know I don't care about the house.

Your father went missing deliberately

helped by your mother.

It was the only way out, one last gamble.

Why didn't you tell me?

I was going to, darling, as soon as he was safe.

So you said it was Peter's body so you

could claim the life insurance.

Yes.

Oh.

Suddenly we were in trumps.

The body that no one was looking for that

couldn't be identified.

I didn't expect you home.

I thought there'd be time.

If Pa was declared dead, then you and I

could go straight to Durban without arousing any suspicion.

But you let me think that was him washed up like that.

Yes, but, darling, it was only for a day or so.

I never thought I'd miss him so much.

Just what sort of a game do you think you're playing?

Surely you can see that it was worth a try.

Will I be charged with anything?

Well, we could bring charges of wasting police time.

Oh well.

You can phone Pa and talk to him now.

No real harm done then.

I'm not so sure about that.

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