All language subtitles for Dalziel and Pascoe - 03x03 - Death in the Saddle.DVD-Rip .English.orig

How am I supposed to get
through the evenings alone?

Judge Brack could look in while I'm away.

I'd be delighted, Hedda.
I'll be round every evening.

We'll have a lot of
fun together, you and I.

Sure. You'd like that, wouldn't you?
Being the only buck on the block.

I wish she'd stop mucking
about with those pistols!

She shot herself!

Shot herself in the face.

I don't believe it.

She's actually shot herself!

But people don't do such things.

"Dear Mr Dalziel, you don't
know me, but I know you.

"Everybody in the town knows you.

"That being so, I want
you to be the first to know

"that my New Year's
resolution is to kill myself.

"I don't want you to do anything about it,

"but I do want you to know.

"The need to confess runs
deep in the human soul. '"

I still don't see why she killed herself.

Because she was trapped.

The man's right. People
don't do such things.

Give me time, sweetheart.

Honestly, it was one of the
best ones you've done, really.

No.

- Goodnight.
- Goodnight.

The swish family Pascoe.

- Ellie. And the gorgeous Peter.
- Hi.

Did you enjoy the play?

Peter thinks Hedda was murdered.
He wants to reopen inquiries.

Of course she was murdered.

Now, let me look at you, Peter, my love.

Is there something my best
friends aren't telling me?

Eileen's casting.

I'm looking for God.

Aren't we all?

Oh, I don't play God. Most of
the time I sit at his right hand.

Now, there's an idea.

- The fat man playing God?
- Oh, you're crazy.

And you, my darling, are brilliant.

I take it all back.

There is a God.

Oh, God. God!

Oh, God!

Oh, God!

Good evening, gentlemen.

Mr Waterson here will confirm
that I'm a police officer.

Detective Superintendent Dalziel.

I don't recognise you, sir.

Swain.

Philip Swain.

And the lady on the bed?

Is my wife.

That's evidence you've
got in your hand, Mr Swain.

It's your fault. You murdered her!

You saw what happened.

- She tried to kill herself.
- Oh, God!

What happens now, Superintendent?

I do not like people breaking
the Commandments on my patch.

Ask Mr Waterson.

It lowers the value of the property.

Therefore, gentlemen,
you are both under arrest.

Peter, you're an educated man.
You know about female psychology.

Do women commit suicide?

People don't do such things.

- Who says?
- Henrik Ibsen.

- You know Ibsen?
- Oh, aye. Saw him play once.

Scored a hat trick against Leeds.

Anonymous letters from a woman
threatening to kill herself.

In your own time. Don't make a meal of it.

My wife was trying to kill herself.

It's all the rage.

She had a gun.

She was waving it about with
her finger on the trigger.

Anything could have
happened, I tried to stop her,

but she turned the gun on herself
and she pulled the trigger.

Where'd you get the gun?

It was her gun.

Where did she get the gun?

She was American. She always had a gun.

Probably a present from
Daddy. I don't know.

And how did your wife come to
be in Mr Waterson's boudoir?

They were having an affair.

Of which you were aware?

No. I came round for a discussion
with Waterson and I found them.

Put it down. No!

Put it down.

- Keep away from me! Keep away!
- Put it down.

No! No!

So you arrived and found your
wife trying to kill herself?

I didn't know what to
do. I pleaded with her.

I almost managed to...

But what does it say about me?

I mean, as her husband?

Sodding builders.

I wish they'd hurry up and finish.

Swain & Stringer?

That's why I knew the name.

It's your firm, innit?
Building our new car park.

Quite so. I hope you approve of
the quality of our workmanship.

I bet Cheops didn't make this much row

when he was building
the Parthenon. Sign it.

Sorry, sir. Cheops built the
Great Pyramid, not the Parthenon.

He was doing a bit of moonlighting.
All builders are alike.

There. Happy now?

Personally...

Pack of lies.

We'll give you a room with a view.

Make sure your lads don't
cheat on their overtime.

He thought his wife had
gone to America 10 days ago?

And he expects us to believe that?

What was Swain doing at the
house in the first place?

Waterson's an architect.

Swain said he went round on the off chance

to discuss plans for a housing
estate Waterson was designing for him.

- Business meeting.
- At midnight?

Aye.

Business meeting where

he knocks in his wife's
pretty blonde head.

Got it splattered all
over the bedroom walls.

What does Waterson have to say?

He got a sudden attack of
the post-traumatic abdabs.

Doc filled him full of snake
oil and sent him to the hospital.

Ah. You caught us in the
middle of our therapy.

Sergeant Wield. CID.

Excuse me. I'll look in again later.

Friend of yours?

Pamela? No. A wife.

Well, the wife. The only one I've got.

We're living apart, of course, but...

You're still good friends.

Now, that would be pushing it a bit.

I've written it all out,
what happened last night.

I've signed it.

Or does it have to be
typed to make it legal?

No.

Has to be typed to make it legible.

Oh, sorry.

It's my architectural handwriting.
Very stylish, but nobody can read it.

Tell me what happened, Mr Waterson.

Gail was threatening to kill herself.

She was going crazy, waving the gun about.

Philip tried to grab it, there was a bang.

I got a bit hysterical,
or so they tell me.

We'll call in again later.

See if you remember anything else,

now you're no longer hysterical.

Pascoe!

Waterson confirmed Swain's statement.

I'll leave it to you to tell Mr Dalziel.

Yeah, thanks, Wieldy. I'll tell him.

Okay, yeah. I'll call back later.

- Dr Marwood?
- Yeah?

- Mr Waterson's your patient?
- Yes.

Sergeant Wield, CID. How is he?

He's a terrible waste of
a very good hospital bed.

Why do you say that?

Pamela used to bring him to staff parties.

He's an opinionated little man and
a faithless husband into the bargain.

- And medically?
- Nothing wrong with him physically.

And psychologically?

Subject to violent mood swings.

Off the record, I'd put him out
to pasture at the funny farm.

Not my department, thank God. But this is.

Waterson's made a statement.

He confirms Swain's
version of what happened.

They're saying that
two fit, able-bodied men

were too feeble to prevent one
hysterical female from shooting herself?

They're also making out I'm a liar.

I know what I saw, Peter.

Well, when you've made your
witness statement, we can...

What?

You're a key witness.

Basic procedure, you have
to make a formal statement.

Here's my statement.

Philip Swain is an evil
sod who killed his wife.

And I'm going to have
him. End of statement.

Sign here.

"First when I wrought this world so wide,

"Wood and wind, and waters wan,

"Heaven and Hell was not to hide,

"With herbs and grass, thus I began.

"But of the tree of good and ill,

"I said, 'What time thou eats of this?

"'Man, thou speeds thyself to spill,

"'Thou art brought out
of all thy bliss. "'

- That all right for sound?
- Direct line from heaven.

"Yet think they not that they shall die,

"All that ever I said should be,

"Is now fulfilled through prophecy.

"And therefore now is it time to me,

"To make ending of man's folly. "

That was great, Eileen.

Are you the lady from the theatre?

Oh, hi, Canon. I'll be right down.

You say you like this woman?

Yes, she did a wonderful modern
dress version of The Gondoliers

set on the Grand Union Canal.

One can only imagine what she
might do with the King James Bible.

Canon Horncastle. Mrs Horncastle.

I'm Eileen. This is Ellie.

She's handling press and
publicity for the show.

- Unpaid. Of course.

You cannot serve God and mammon,
dearest. It's in the Book.

Did I hear you refer to
this production as a show?

Certainly I did. We're both
in the same business, Canon.

Really?

The ritual of a church
service is pure theatre.

The ritual of a theatre is pure religion.

We're celebrating our common humanity.

And our impending mortality.

Well, of course, you realise I
personally can't give permission

for the use of the
cathedral, nor can my wife.

Okay, so tell me, who gives
the permissions round here?

The Chapter, acting on
the advice of the Bishop.

The Chapter? The Central Committee,
the Supreme Soviet, right?

Not the words I would choose.

And you advise them?

- Yes.
- Excellent!

Now, let me take a
good, close look at you.

What are you doing?

She's looking for someone
to play the part of God.

- Are you all right?
- Is anybody?

Well, I suppose I'm not bad.

Forgive me, I just like
to come here to the chapel.

It's a way of escaping.

Escaping from?

All the things that are not all right.

It's open.

Oh, I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs
Waterson. You're obviously tired.

I worked a 12-hour shift, came to bed,
half an hour later, the phone rang.

Said me relief had had a
car crash. Could I go back?

Just another day in
the caring professions.

You must be good?

I mean, to be a Ward Sister at your age.

What is my age?

Late 20s?

Twenty-four.

I've never been very good at ages.

I'm 24 years old and I'm in charge
of the valley of the shadow of death.

Try to lead a healthy life, Sergeant.

Noted.

And when did you leave your husband?

Three weeks ago.

Because of Mrs Swain?

I didn't know her name.

I knew she were blonde with
long legs. They always are.

But when I walked in,
the two of you were...

Holy Mother of God!

Yes?

Right. Okay.

Another crisis?

Yours, not mine. My husband
seems to have done a runner.

You lost him?

My instructions were to take
his statement, not to arrest him.

Well, what did you make of
him before you mislaid him?

He seemed relaxed.

But his doctor says he's
subject to violent mood swings.

Violent? That's a nice
word we can use in evidence.

Postmortem on Mrs Swain.

"Cause of death, massive
brain damage caused by... "

Blowing her head off with a big gun.

They're brilliant, these
people, aren't they?

"Blood alcohol level, 155
milligrams per 100 millilitres. "

She'd had intercourse a couple
of hours before her death.

- What a way to go.
- And she was a heroin user.

Swain never mentioned that.

Seymour!

- Sir?
- Come here.

You searched Swain's house this morning?

Yes, sir.

Find any drugs?

Drugs? No one said anything about drugs.

No one said anything about Barbary apes,

but if you'd seen a couple
fornicating on the kitchen table,

likely you would have mentioned it.

Likely I would, sir.

Why didn't you tell us your
wife was a heroin addict?

She was from a rich family in California.

They use these drugs as casually
as you might use alcohol.

I don't deny she had her problems.

But she'd been in therapy and I
honestly thought she'd come through it.

Not according to the medics.

More perforations than a tea bag.

And what about your mate Waterson?

He's an architect who
happened to be working with me

on a housing development.

And now he's vanished into thin
air. Just when you needed him.

That's what friends are for.

I've heard stories about you. They
don't get anywhere near the truth.

Well, like they say,

only God can make a tree.

Right, lads.

Outside.

Mr Dalziel, I have nothing to add
to the statement I signed earlier.

I'll sign it again, if you like.

You can sign a cheque twice.
It won't stop it bouncing.

If you're trying to make him sweat,
I'm not sure you're succeeding.

- And you're overlooking one possibility.
- What am I overlooking?

He might be telling the truth.

Philip Swain wouldn't know the truth

if it was sprouting
out of his belly button.

Well, while you've got him here,

I could go to his place and sniff
around dark and dusty corners.

Yeah, good idea. Eh, take
young what's-his-name with you.

Give him a lesson in how
to be shifty and underhand.

Right.

- Listen, Wieldy, don't...
- Andy.

- I'm looking for my client.
- Eh, which one?

- Bluebeard or Crippen?
- Philip Swain.

Mind this well, Wieldy, if ever
you're in bother, I mean, real bother,

get this man here to represent you.

Eden Thackeray, the last
refuge of the scoundrel.

Well, get it over with smartish,
eh? Then we can crack a bottle.

Come on.

We're in business, Ellie.

A dollar to a doughnut we'll
get Canon Horncastle's blessing.

- You told him he could play God.
- He thinks I did, but I didn't.

- You're going to
double-cross him? - For sure.

The man's a lousy hypocrite.

Oh, I think he's an excellent hypocrite.

We'll compromise.

I'll cast him as John the Baptist,
then cut the part in rehearsals.

- Ooh!
- And don't forget,

you promised to have a word
with Andy about playing God.

Welcome to Moscow Farm. Moscow Farm?

She reckons it's on
account of the temperature.

Well, I can understand
that. Who's "she", anyway?

Shirley Appleyard, she
looks after the office.

- Miss Appleyard?
- Mrs.

Sorry, you don't look
old enough to be married.

I'm 19. How old do you have to be?

- Do you enjoy working here?
- It's a job.

Well, jobs aren't easy to come by.

They are if your dad's
a partner in t'firm.

- Oh, Mr Stringer.
- Well, he's me dad.

- Did you see much of Mrs Swain?
- Not much, no.

Do you remember the last time you saw her?

Week past Friday. Saw her
in t'yard. She said ta-ra.

Well, not ta-ra, being American.

But it were like she didn't
expect to see me again.

- She was off to States, weren't she?
- Apparently.

Well, she didn't expect me
to be here when she got back.

- Why not?
- Firm's on its knees.

Once we've done that job for your lot,
we'll all be off to t'knackers yard.

- You read a lot of books?
- I like books.

- Have you read Jane Eyre?
- Yeah.

Has it got an happy ending?

Yeah.

Never mind.

You prefer unhappy endings?

They're more lifelike, aren't they?

You think so?

Ask Mrs Swain.

Does one of those open the big barn?

Yeah. But there's a knack.
It needs a woman's touch.

Did you know Mrs Swain was into drugs?

With her sort of money, she
could be into whatever she wanted.

- So why should she kill herself?
- She was married, wasn't she?

It's all yours.

It's not used for anything?

Mrs Swain had ideas of
turning it into a squash court.

Or a gym. One of them
healthy American ideas.

Mr Waterson did some plans.

But Mr Swain weren't so keen.

So it's always been full
of old farm machinery.

I don't see any farm machinery.

Mr Swain sold it for
scrap a couple of days ago.

- Made me laugh, that did.
- Why?

Sold it to a dealer called Swindles.

Joe Swindles.

- Do you know him?
- Alas, poor Joe, we know him well.

What's that?

It's only bats.
Pipistrelles, they're called.

You're all right. They're hibernating.

And rats have gone since
me dad swept place out.

Bet you've seen enough, haven't you?

Aye.

- Anything else?
- Yeah, where's Mr Appleyard?

Working away. Down in London.

So, you live on your own, then?

No, I live with me
parents down in t'village.

Do you get along with them?

They're all right,
considering they're married.

And considering they're God-fearing.

- And you're not?
- God?

He don't bother me and I don't bother him.

I'm off.

- Did you find anything?
- No, nothing.

- You found Waterson yet?
- Not a sign.

Found him on the computer, though.

Got a conviction for possession
of cannabis when he was a student.

Better tell the FBI and Interpol.

- What's that?
- Andy's been getting anonymous letters

from somebody threatening
to commit suicide.

Flavour of the month, suicide.

"Time is not the great healer,
time is the great enemy.

"You look back and you can just
glimpse the last time you were happy.

"You look ahead and you can't
even imagine the next time.

"All you can see are
thousands of pointless moments,

"a world of pain without end. "

Does that sound like a man or a woman?

Andy says a woman. I can't decide.

She's got access to a typewriter.

So that narrows it down to a few thousand.

I might ask Forensics to have a look.

Better idea. Ask Ellie to have a look.

- Oh, is it here?
- Yes.

I should have known it
was a theatrical party.

We made a solemn promise
to a beautiful woman.

You see, it'll be white wine
and wall-to-wall fairies.

Just make sure your hat doesn't fall off.

What?

'Cause you'll have to kick
it all the way to Bradford

before you dare bend down to pick it up.

Speak to your husband, Ellie,
he's turning into a homophiliac.

So, we'll leave you two to
get to know each other better.

So, you're the one?

According to local legend,
you're the one, Andy.

Yeah.

Well, it takes one to
know one, doesn't it?

What's that bugger doing here?

Mr Dalziel.

What's this? Part of the grieving process?

No, my wife loved the theatre.

And Eileen is lining my firm
up as a prospective sponsor.

Why don't you line him
up as a prospective Satan?

Perhaps I already have.

Excuse me, it's show time.

I'll catch you later, Andy, my love.

So, is it true, about Satan?

No comment.

I'll catch you later.

No long speeches.

I'm just here to give you my solemn
promise that in a few weeks' time,

your beautiful cathedral will bear
witness to the most dramatic event

seen in this city for nigh on 400 years.

It will be a community production

in the true tradition of
the ancient mystery plays

with ordinary folk playing out
the eternal drama of good and evil.

I'm especially grateful to
the man who's been my link

with the cathedral authorities.

So how about you all put your
hands together, so to speak,

for the gentle and patient

Canon Eustace Horncastle!

Anti-Christ! Sabbath breakers!

This is a shameful display!

Should you intervene,
in your police capacity?

Senior officer makes the
decision. Chain of command.

Just like the C of E.

These people have got
no right to be involved!

Mr Stringer, is there something we can...

Hi, my name's Eileen, this is
my party and you're very welcome.

Remember the Sabbath Day and keep it holy.

Exodus 20, verse 8.

Wasn't the Sabbath made for
man, not man for the Sabbath?

Mark 2, verse 27.

You'll not flummox me with
clever quotations, missus.

What's more, I know
hypocrites when I see them.

You reckon to be doing a religious
play with common working folk?

But I don't see any common
working folk in here.

City Council, Rotary
Club, university teachers?

Them's not common folk.
And not religious, neither.

Not a Christian among the whole boiling.

I couldn't agree more.

But we need time to
talk it through properly.

And not on a Sunday. Right?

For one thing, I need to know
who made this brilliant banner.

I did.

The lettering's terrific.

- She were always good at art.
- Hey, just wait...

We've got lots we need to talk about.
Let's look at diaries, shall we?

She's brilliant. Give her 10 minutes,

she'll have young
Shirley doing the posters,

her mother sewing costumes and
old man Stringer playing Moses.

I envy a woman like that.

- Envy? Isn't that a sin?
- Probably. My husband would know.

But promise you won't
cast the first stone.

I'd probably miss.

So, do we have a deal, Andy?

God-wise?

Have you really cast
Philip Swain as Lucifer?

Yes, I have.

Casting. It's the secret of all drama.

When you look at the world
and what a bloody mess it is,

Satan's got to be someone
like Philip Swain, hasn't it?

And God's got to be someone like me.

Yeah, I'll drink to that.

I'll drink to the whole boiling.

Mr Pascoe!

- Mrs Appleyard, what are you doing here?
- Just brought wages down for t'lads.

Hey, she's a right goer, that
Eileen Anstiss, isn't she?

Yeah, I think she probably is.

I'm helping to design sets and costumes.

And is your dad playing Noah?

No!

But he is letting her have a
bit of our wood from t'yard.

And I finished Jane Eyre.
Right let-down, isn't it?

Is it?

She settles for being a
housewife, doesn't she?

Domestic bliss. Sod that for a lark.

See ya.

Is the controller in residence?

No, but another one of
those letters has arrived.

- He's left it on your desk.
- Ah, that was thoughtful of him.

So, where is he?

He had an urgent summons
from Desperate Dan.

Two points. First, I'm coming
under a lot of pressure about Swain.

Don't tell me. He's got
friends in high places.

Not him, his late wife.
Formerly Gail Delgado.

Their lawyers want the body released
so it can be taken back to the States

for interment in the family vault.

They've got their own vault?

Well, that merely
confirms my whole theory.

Which is?

That Swain married her for her money

then found she wouldn't give
him any, so he kills her.

Two witnesses say suicide.

Both of them are liars and
one of them has run away.

And how close are you to finding Waterson?

24 hours maximum.

Sergeant Wield.

What?

What?

My man at the hospital. Telling
me where to find Waterson.

Take that, you queer!

We don't want you or your poof mates

spreading your diseases round here, right?

Next time, we'll kill ya.

"Of all the mights I have made

"The most, next after me

"I make thee, as master,
and mirror of my mind

"I... "

Bield.

"I bield thee here banely

"In bliss for to be

"I name thee, for Lucifer,
as bearer of light. "

"All the mirth that
is made is marked in me

"The beams of my brighthood
are burning so bright

"And I so seemly in sight myself now I see

"For like a Lord am I left,
to lend in this light. "

I wouldn't bank on it.

- Stick to the book, Andy. Please.
- Oh, aye.

I'll do it by the book.

Let's try again. From the top.

I did warn her.

Hey up.

So, you lost him again?

Yeah.

He came out of the pub with two other men.

They got into a car.

I got the number.

Make a good T-shirt, wouldn't it?

Bunch of toe rags beat the hell out of me

and all I got was a lousy car number.

Ah! Dr Livingstone.

Marwood.

And Mr Wield shouldn't be having visitors.

I'm not visitors. I'm family.

It was Dr Marwood telephoned me yesterday.

The informant with the tipoff?

Well, let me tell you something, Doctor.

I don't like telephone tipoffs that
end up with one of my best sergeants

getting beaten senseless.

Hard facts. Face-to-face.
That's what I like best.

Now, come on. The lad
shouldn't be having visitors.

I overheard Pamela on the phone.

- Pamela Waterson?
- Yeah.

Arranging to meet Greg in the pub.

She said something
about bringing the money.

Well, it could be a perfectly
innocent arrangement.

Why did you phone Sergeant Wield?

Because I think Pamela
is a very vulnerable woman

and Greg mixes with some
very dangerous people.

Do you fancy Mrs Waterson?

We're friends and
colleagues. No more, no less.

No need to be defensive. We're
both grown men with active loins.

And the owner of the winning car
is Harold Park of 27 A, String Lane.

Was that a monk?

The wee brownie? Aye.

We sometimes do a bit of business with
the devout, you know, candles mostly.

You wouldnae believe how many candles
these guys go through. God only knows.

Well, I suppose God would know, what
with him being God and stuff like that.

Although I'm no religious freak myself,

which you probably think's a bit
strange, what with the cross and the...

Oh, the police. You never
had your uniform on, you know.

I would have recognised you right
away had you had your uniform on.

But a policeman? You know, you never said.

I was waiting for a
short period of silence.

I'm looking for Harold Park.

Harold, yeah. Harold lives at
27 A. This is 27 without an A.

You'll find his front door
at the back, in the yard.

It's green. Well, I mean, it's green now.

I mean, it used to be yellow.
Terrible shade of yellow.

But it's green now. Hey,
unfortunately, he's not in, though.

Harold's a commercial traveller.

Although, I wouldnae say that to his face.

Some of them are a bit touchy,
you know. Very sensitive.

What does he sell?

Veterinary products, mostly.

Wee pills for poodles. Things like that.

He gave me some cow ointment once.
Did wonders for my haemorrhoids.

If you ever get haemorrhoids... I'm not
saying that you have got haemorrhoids...

- But if you ever get...
- When he gets back,

- ask him to phone me.
- Yeah? Okay.

My client accepts that his initial
statement about the death of his wife

was made voluntarily, without coercion,
and strictly according to the book.

Why are you telling
me what I already know?

Because he'd now like
to modify that statement.

- Would you like me to read it?
- No, I don't think so.

Why doesn't Mr Lucifer...

Beg your pardon, Mr Swain, give
me the gist, in his own words?

Whatever they happen to be today?

The gist.

I was holding the gun when it went off.

They were both high on whatever
drugs they'd been taking,

I'm not an expert. Greg was
hysterical, as you know, so was Gail.

She pointed the gun at me, I grabbed it.

I pointed it at her
because I was frightened.

There was a tug of war

and she squeezed the finger that was
on the trigger and the gun went off.

There's only one thing being tugged here,

and I'm too much of a
gentleman to say what it is.

Technically, I killed her.

And I suppose morally.

I have nightmares about that moment
and I expect to for the rest of my life.

Well, that's dealt with
technically and morally.

What about legally?
What are you up to, Eden?

Put on a good show at the inquest?

To see if money will get misadventure
or accidental death, is that it?

My client believes that Mr Waterson
will confirm this version of events

when his statement becomes available.

When Mr Waterson becomes available?

What's your client done with him?
Bought him off or bumped him off?

The central issue remains of an early
settlement for this tragic affair.

So that Mrs Swain's remains could be

released to next of kin
for a Christian burial.

Off the record, I will add that the
Chief Constable shares my concern

about the way that this
matter has dragged on.

Yeah, I know he does.

Right. Sling your hook, gentlemen.

I've got a murder inquiry to get on with.

An inspector? I must be
going up in the world.

- Thank you.
- Thank you.

My self-esteem needs
all the help it can get.

Why is that?

If a man keeps running
around with other women,

what does say about the wife?

If I run around with other women,

my wife would reach for the
shears and a divorce lawyer.

Probably in that order.

But I respect the sanctity of life.

I'm a good Catholic girl.

- Tea?
- No, thanks.

Why did you meet him in the pub?

I took him some money.

- How much?
- �40.

And what happened?

I gave him the money.

He said it wasn't enough.

I said it was more than I could afford.

You know I haven't got any money!

He started to lose his temper, so I left.

You say he had other women?

Do you know any of their
names? Apart from Mrs Swain?

Beverly King. I put her top of the league.

And why is that?

She was the first one,

so far, the only one,

where I walked in the house
and actually caught them at it.

Any idea where she lives?

She lives on one of the
canals, in a houseboat.

I think it's called the Bluebell.

A Bluebell Girl.

More like a blonde
floozy with a drug habit.

But then I suppose I'm prejudiced.

May I ask you a more personal question?

Go on. I'll pretend you're a priest.

Are there any men in your life?

Not in the way you mean.

If I ever have a child,
it'll be a miracle.

I was born, like the comedians
say, at a very early age.

Whereabouts?

In one of those outposts
of the old British Empire,

where the army was left to clear
up the post-imperialist shit.

Your father was a soldier?

An army padre.

The squaddies used to
call him a God-botherer.

Now it's my turn to bother God.

And when was this?

When was what?

When were you born?

Ellie, dearest heart,

this is an in-depth
profile for the local paper

about my life, my depths,

some of which are so deep,
we could easily drown.

Next question.

Uh... When did you first become
interested in the theatre?

At boarding school.

Where, and you might like
to underline this bit,

I was otherwise as miserable as sin.

Don't mind me.

"Of all the mights I have made

"Most, next after me

"I make thee as master,
and mirror of my might

"I bield thee here, banely

"In bliss for to be

"I name thee as Lucifer...

"I name thee as Lucifer

"And bearer of light. "

The inquest verdict was
accidental death. Ho ho.

Mr Swain, who's known to his
theatrical friends as Lucifer,

is this very day taking what
remains of his wife's remains

to the United States, en
route for the family vaults.

- Which means...
- Case closed?

He thinks he's won and he hasn't.

Now, Wieldy here's still got a bit
of a bad leg from his walloping,

but his brain's intact,
so he's going to, um...

Well, you tell him
yourself, Hop-a-long.

Well, I'm trolling through all
the paperwork and timetables

to see what we might have missed.

Especially the gap in Mrs Swain's life.

She was supposed to go to America
10 days before she was killed.

Where was she in that period?
What was she doing? And who with?

In among all this mess,

people have been getting away with
at least half of the deadly sins.

And I don't like it.

"I, the Lord, thy God, am a jealous God. "

I, the Lord, thy God

am no lover of smartarses, which
includes you, Inspector Pascoe.

Have you sorted out
those anonymous letters?

- The straight answer, no, I haven't.
- It's my own fault.

Should have burnt the lot
as soon as they arrived.

Cast them all into the fiery furnace.

Right.

Oh, and, er...

don't forget.

Philip Swain, he's for
the furnace and all.

Mr Park?

Yes.

- Back from your travels?
- Yes, I just got back this morning.

This is Mr Pascoe. Remember
I told you about Mr Pascoe?

He was going to phone ya.

Yeah, I was going to phone you.

You just got back this morning
and now you're off again?

I'm a traveller, got to keep
moving, nature of the job.

What's in the boxes?

Flea powder.

Flea powder?

For fleas.

It isn't flea powder, Harold. It's heroin.

I believe it works.

And they die happy.

Miss King?

Hello?

- No sign of life.
- Nothing.

There should be a half
eaten meal at the very least.

You what?

Historical reference.

Mary Celeste.

Permission to send divers down?

The boat's been wrecked
and the smart money says

Greg Waterson and Beverly King
might have ended up in the water.

- I mean, I know we're over budget...
- We're only over budget

because Desperate Dan decided
to extend the bloody car park.

It's not a problem, Peter.

I'll tell him you did
it off your own back,

without proper consultation.

Sorry to disturb you
when you're busy, love.

- Mr Dalziel, isn't it?
- That's right.

- Good book?
- Mr Pascoe says it is.

That's not a proper answer.

So, what can we do for you?

What?

I'm not like Mr Pascoe, you know.

Ask you a few leading questions

and give you a reading list
with a written paper to follow.

No, I'm your friendly
bobby. I'm here to help you.

And then what?

Give me all the dirt on Philip Swain.

You could find Tony for me.

Who's Tony when he's at home?

He's me husband and he hasn't
been at home for three years.

Do you... Do you know where he is?

Went to London, looking for work.

Serves him right. Do
you ever hear from him?

Sent money till about a year ago

and he always sends a
card on t'bairn's birthday.

- Do you want him back?
- Not particularly.

Just want to know what's happening,
so I can draw a line across the page.

End of a chapter, like.

Mr Stringer.

Been digging sand castles?

Clearing the site over yon side
of the estate at Crimpers Knoll.

Oh, aye? I used to steal
apples there when I was a lad.

- Are you building there?
- Dozen spec houses. Top of the market.

- Executive homes?
- Summat like that.

- What are you doing for money?
- Not my department.

- Mr Swain's department?
- Aye. Why not?

Aren't you supping with the devil, Arnie?

He's always been a good
mate to me, has Philip.

- We were at school together.
- Get off.

Used to go to a posh school with
Latin teachers and striped blazers.

- No, before that. Village school.
- Your loyalty does you credit.

And what about
your son-in-law?

What about Tony?

What about him?

I promised your daughter
I'd try and find him.

Full force of the law, just
to set her mind at rest.

I haven't seen him since he left.

God's truth, Arnie? He's always listening.

Just after Christmas,
I went down to London.

He'd moved, but he'd
left a forwarding address.

Found him living with some woman.

Now then, you're not so
bloody clever now, are you?

Oh, shut it!

Told him what I thought about him.

Told him to stay away from our
Shirley and the bairn or I'd...

Or you wouldn't be
responsible for your actions.

Aye.

And?

That's it, Mr Dalziel, there's no more.

Well, if you think of any
more, I'll be in my office.

Or else in the cathedral.

Tell them another hour.

- Where are they?
- Down there, sir.

One more time.

What are you doing out of
the house? You found anything?

- One dog, one cat, two hamsters.
- Guinea pigs.

You're looking for the wrong
thing in the wrong place.

Try telling him that.
He'll be thrilled to bits.

That's where you should be looking.

Special quality Peruvian flea powder,

as sold to Greg Waterson by Mr
Park, the commercial traveller.

In the library, with
the bloody lead piping.

Why was it in the canal?

That's why he did his
runner from the hospital.

He assumed we'd track him
back to Beverly's houseboat

and find that, so he dumped it.

And the night I saw him at the pub,

he was supposed to have a
thousand in cash for Harold Park.

Yeah, he offered them 40
quid. They were not amused.

This half-arsed drug
ring, they're 10 a penny.

Are you giving me owt that's going
to help me to nick Phil Swain?

Not at the moment.

Well, in that case, I'm
off home, to learn me lines.

Is it possible you're getting
just a bit obsessed about Swain?

Of course I'm obsessed. The man's evil.

We're not entitled to
say that without proof.

It's a free country,
I can say what I like.

And what I'm saying is Philip Swain

is not one of your tupenny ha'penny
villains like Harold Park. No!

Philip Swain comes
around once in a lifetime.

He's evil from choice, not necessity.

- You still have to prove it.
- No, you lads have to prove it.

My guts, your brains.
That's how the system works.

Yeah, don't I bloody know it.

Oi! Where are you going?

Home, before I say
something I might regret.

That's your problem, Peter. You
always think before you speak.

And you speak before you think.

Aye. Eileen says it's my tragic flaw.

Oh! By the way...

Got another one of them letters.

Well, it is your case.

The first one was early in the new year.

"My New Year's resolution
is to kill myself. "

And after that, it's every
three weeks, on average.

Changes her mind on Valentine's Day
and changes it again a week later.

But she doesn't want him to stop her.

She just wants him to
know about her feelings.

It's like a confession.

A nice Catholic girl?

Pamela Waterson's a nice Catholic girl.

I respect the sanctity of life.

But isn't it a mortal sin,
suicide, if you're a Catholic?

Yeah, I think so.

You sure it's a woman?

Trust me, Peter, a woman wrote these.

And the most recent says,

"Relax, Mr Dalziel, I
haven't yet fixed the date. "

She seems to know him somehow.

But not quite.

Everybody knows Andy, but not quite.

That's why he's dumped this on you.

Why?

These letters are controlled and literate

and deeply emotional.

Andy keeps his deep emotions to himself.

He puts his emotions into his work.

"My guts, your brains, Peter. "

Well, can't speak for you, spouse,

but my brains are knackered.

You didn't write these, did you?

I'd have signed my name,
I'm not ashamed of being me.

What, is that a clue?

This woman's ashamed of
being... whoever she is?

Most women are, but I'm on the case.

"Time for bed," said Ellie.

This better be good, Eden.

Dragging me out here when
I've got better things to do.

On a Saturday?

I'm due at rehearsals in 20 minutes.

And don't even mention the word
"luvvy". Or I'll kick your teeth in.

Well, let me take them out first.

I no longer represent Philip Swain.

Oh, aye? Did the cheque bounce?

Well, that's the only reason
lawyers resign, isn't it?

Well, it was rather more than that.

You see, the cheque was
drawn on his wife's account

and signed by her in
the middle of February,

but the bank refused to honour it,

because in their opinion,
the signature wasn't genuine.

Your client, your ex-client,

tried to pay off his
lawyers with a forged cheque?

Seemingly.

You brought the evidence?

And this was for services
rendered in connection with what?

Land conveyance.

Planning permission, Crimpers Knoll.

That could cost a fortune
in little brown envelopes.

You'll be discreet, won't
you, when you see Philip?

You're like all the rest, aren't
you? You're shit scared of the man.

Our field of dreams, Arnie.

Don't talk to me about dreams.

They'll go away, I promise you.

They know.

- Sorry, who knows what?
- Dalziel.

Dalziel knows nothing.
He can prove even less.

He frightens me.

- He thinks he's got me over a barrel.
- Arnie, trust me.

I know the man who makes the barrels.

You can always get
justice in this country,

if you can afford to pay for it.

And thanks to Gail's estate, we can
afford it. We can afford anything.

You've always been a
good mate to me, Phil,

I won't deny that, but that Dalziel...

Forget about him, forget about yourself.

This is for Shirley
and your granddaughter.

Generation unto generation, that's
what your good book says, isn't it?

It says a lot of things.

It says too much.

It don't leave you alone.

Now, I fully expect this
to be a total shambles.

Don't worry, the first
time in the proper setting

without scripts is bound to be a shambles.

Canon Horncastle has agreed
to read in for Lucifer,

until Mr Swain gets here.

And if you forget your words,

Ellie is on the book.

- Any questions?
- Yeah. What time is the tea break?

My wife's seeing to that.

Refreshments will be available
in the north transept.

Tea, sandwiches, biscuits, homemade cakes.

Dorothy, you are a jewel
of the highest magnitude.

Indeed she is.

And ever more shall be so.

Excellent. Now, opening positions, please.

From the top, in your own time.

"First when I wrought this world so wide,

"Wood and wind, and waters wan,

"Heaven and Hell were not to hide... "

And then you begin to go up.

- You what?
- You go up.

You'll be on a scissor lift.

And we whack in the dry ice
so you emerge from the clouds.

I'm not getting on any
scissor lift. I mean...

I'm strictly a ground-level actor, me.

I'm going to be 10 times
as high as you are, Andy,

I'll be in the gallery.

Listen, flower, I may be
a senior police officer,

but I'm bloody terrified of heights.

Excuse me.

Dalziel. What?

Ten minutes.

Where are you going?

You're Lucifer's in the shit again.

But you can't go!

Didn't you know? God's transcendent.

Ask the Canon. It's his department.

God's everywhere. So I'll still
be here, even after I've gone.

Sir, I've spoken to Swain.
He seems in a state of shock.

He deserves to be.

Right.

You go and give some official
comfort to the wife and daughter.

I'll give some to Swain.

Mr Swain.

A man falls in front of a large
piece of earth-moving equipment.

There has to be a rational explanation.

- He insisted.
- Insisted?

On what? Standing in front?

No, he insisted I should drive.

"Your field of dreams," he
said, "you should do it. "

So it was ceremonial.

Well, yes, he believed
in ritual and ceremony,

God and the Queen and he insisted.

"Go on, Phil," he said,
"you do it. " So I did it

and I was halfway down the slope
and he just leapt out in front of me.

There was simply no time to stop.

For what it's worth, the other day,

Arnie told me you'd always
been a good friend to him.

- Thank you for telling me that.
- Wait to speak so.

Why should your good
friend want to kill himself?

Mr Dalziel,

I want to confess.

- A little strong for my taste.
- Oh, I'm so sorry, dear.

Excuse me, you can't
leave those boxes there.

Have you ever said to your
husband, "Go screw yourself!"

"Go screw yourself. "

- Do you say it to your husband?
- Frequently.

Going down, going down, going down.

Dirty queer.

We don't want you

and your poof mates spreading
diseases round here, right?

Next time, we'll kill ya.

- Can we sort this out later?
- Sure.

Who's doing the interviews for that lot?

One of the many who forgot to
send me a Christmas card last year.

The ringleader, what's his name?

Short, goatee beard, earring.

Medwin.

- I'll see to him.
- Right.

I'm deeply sorry, Mrs
Stringer, Mrs Appleyard.

There was nothing we could do.

He were a good man.

A good husband, a good father.

He deserved a better life.

I hope he's gone to
heaven. He deserves heaven.

Of course he does.

Just let me know when you want to go home.

Now, please.

In the name of the Father, the
Son and the Holy Ghost, amen.

There's never anything we
can do to help, is there?

Do you want legal representation or
do you want to make it man to man,

without fear of bouncing cheques?

I don't want legal representation.

Coffee and doughnuts.

I always think doughnuts
are better than sex.

You know that?

Surprise in every bite and
they don't talk back at you.

Hello, canteen?

Yeah, can I have coffee
and doughnuts for...

- No, thanks. ... one, please.

In Interview Room A. Ta, love.

Shall we go?

What's your problem, son?
Don't you like football?

Course I like football.
I go all over with t'lads.

It's London teams I don't like.

Can I have a word with him in private?

Got a track record, haven't you?

You what?

You ever hang round near the canal?

Bloody hell, was that you?

I didn't know you were a copper.

I thought you were a poof.

And that would make
it all right, would it?

Well, it makes it different.

So what are you going to do? Round
up a few mates and kick me about?

No. I'm going to round up a
few books and throw them at you.

Mmm.

Nice.

Oh. Forgot to ask.

How did the funeral go?

It was peaceful, dignified.

Neatly buried in the family vault.

My wife's ashes are in
an urn, to be precise.

Oh. Much more hygienic, cremation.

Not too keen on that meself.

Destroys all the evidence.

Right.

Shall we start?

Middle of February, a bunch
of you lads smashed up a train

and beat up a steward in a buffet car.

Yeah, that was a Chelsea match.

- You were there?
- Yeah.

We didn't go by train. We went by car.

Who was driving?

One of my mates. You got him
in a cell along the corridor.

And he's probably a bigger
liar than you are, try harder.

All right, we gave some bloke a lift.

He comes from round here but he works
in London, in the building trade.

And he was sat next to us at the match

and he wanted to come home
to see his missus and his kid.

I need a name and address.

Well, Tony his name was.

Took him to Moscow Farm.

I remember 'cause I thought,
"I've never been to Moscow before.

"I ain't never been to a farm, neither. "

Interview suspended. 15:47.

What's happening now?

- Tony Appleyard came home that weekend?
- Yes.

Good lad, Wieldy. Where's Peter?

He's taken his daughter to the pictures.

He hasn't got time for a family life.

Yes, Tony came home.

But Arnie wouldn't have him in the house.

They went to the barn,

they had a fight.

Place was full of old
farming machinery and...

Tony fell back onto a harrow.

And one of the spikes
went through his chest.

Arnie called me up and I...

helped him to dispose of the body.

"Always been a good mate
to me, has Phil Swain. "

It's all true.

Where are the bodies buried, Phil?

Well, there's only one.

Sorry.

Slip of the tongue.

Where's Tony Appleyard buried?

- Crimpers Knoll?
- No.

In your new car park.

Hey?

What's going on?

This whole thing's going
to be a catastrophe.

I love the poster. She's
terribly gifted, that girl.

They have permission to stick posters
all over the cathedral precinct?

- I have no idea.
- Perhaps you'd be good enough to check.

Go screw yourself, dear.

- That your Tony?
- Yes.

Right.

Peter?

Take care of this young
lass. She's had a rough day.

Come on, Shirley.

- You sure you're all right?
- At least it's all over.

But we'll be in touch very soon. Now,
make sure she gets home all right.

- Shall I send these lads home now?
- No.

Give it 10 minutes, then start again.

Over there.

Well, we found Tony Appleyard
exactly where you said.

Well, I promised you a confession,
Andy, and I always tell the truth.

So according to your truth-telling,

Tony came home that weekend and
Arnie killed him on the prongs

of an old bit of farm machinery.

Well, it was a spike
harrow, to be precise.

Good. We like to be precise.

And the two of you buried the body in
the car park after dark, on the Sunday.

Yes.

You're a builder.

When you're laying concrete for a
car park, how thick do you lay it?

- What, six inches?
- Yes, about six inches.

But according to what
we just found out there,

you'd need about two feet to bury a body.

Assuming it's not a fat bastard like me.

Yes, about two feet.

It's always nice to be
proved right, isn't it?

There's a lot more confession
where that came from.

What the hell's going on, Inspector?

We're digging up the car park, sir.

I can see that, but why?

Well, as far as the press
and public are concerned,

there's a gas leak. But basically,
we're looking for bodies.

Bingo! If you'll pardon
the expression, sir.

What?

All right, we're on our way.

This one's a woman, Phil.

Shall we go?

This girl, Swain.

Your wife?

Yes.

She wasn't missing for 10
days, was she? She was dead.

Take him to my office. Stay with him.

Sir. Sir!

Do we carry on digging?

Certainly we do. We don't
quit when we're winning!

- Sir.
- What?

The next one we dig up, if we dig him up,

is it Greg Waterson
you're expecting to find?

Obviously.

Well, there's no point. He's over there.

Bring him in out of the cold.

I rang my wife at the hospital.

- I needed money. For drugs?

- For food.
- Ah, that old thing.

Well, you miss it when
you're sleeping rough.

And she told me about what
had happened to Arnie Stringer

and Phil Swain being back in custody,
and said why didn't I give myself up?

Worth it for the cup of tea.

All right.

In reverse order, how
did you kill your wife?

It was an accident.

We had a row, might have been about
money, it might have been about Greg,

and yes, I probably hit her, technically,

though it was more of a push.

She fell against the radiator,
she banged her head and...

She ended up dead, technically.

The postmortem will confirm
everything I'm telling you, Andy.

- And this happened on...
- Saturday, February the 14th.

The same weekend that Arnie Stringer

accidentally killed his
son-in-law with a spike harrow?

Yes.

And you buried the two
bodies on the Sunday.

Yes.

And then you put the story around
that she'd gone back to the States.

Well, she was planning
to go, she just, um...

didn't.

I understand. Bit tricky
in the circumstances.

- Where did you keep the body?
- Sorry?

It's a practical question, Phil.
Where did you keep your wife's body

after the unfortunate
collision with the radiator?

In the wine cellar.

Nice and cool, I daresay?

Yes, well, that's the
point of a wine cellar.

And Beverly King?

The woman formerly known as Mrs Swain?

Well, that was Greg Waterson's idea.

- That was Phil's idea.
- What a surprise.

I mean, Beverly was a pain in the arse.

It's expensive having any sort of
relationship with a heroin addict.

But Phil had worked it all out.

We'll get caught. I'm not sure about this.

Set it up to look like suicide,
then identify the body as his wife's.

They're going to be seriously embarrassed

in the Delgado family vaults.

Why should we believe it was Phil's idea?

Why not your idea?

I'm not clever enough to be that evil.

I'm basically second rate.

And Phil Swain's better
at being evil than you are?

He's the main man.

He's the king.

Swain is remanded in custody,

but continues to deny he
actually murdered anyone.

Yeah, but whatever happens,

he's going down for
57 kinds of conspiracy.

But I want him to go down for murder.

Just one. I'm not fussed which one it is.

- Call it personal.
- Vanity of vanities.

All is vanity. Got it in one, Peter.

Hello, Joe.

In February, you bought a load of
scrap from Philip Swain at Moscow Farm?

Yeah, over there in t'corner.

Is that what they call a spike harrow?

Seemingly. You could brush your
hair with it, it's up to you.

Is it worth much, all this?

Hang on to it long enough,
it becomes heritage.

There's a lot of money
in heritage these days.

Was the pitchfork part of the deal?

Oh, aye. He were dead
keen to get rid of that.

Joe, I'm going to make you
an offer you can't refuse.

Mr Pascoe, I wouldn't dream
of refusing one of your offers.

Philip.

I bring you tidings of great joy.

Go on, Andy. Bring me sunshine.

We found the pitchfork.

Pitchfork?

The one you stuck through
Tony Appleyard's chest.

Medical evidence confirms
that as the cause of death.

We've got bloodstains,
fingerprints, I shouldn't wonder.

DNA confirmation, whatever
the hell that means.

But why would I want
to kill Tony Appleyard?

Because he and Arnie Stringer

went into the barn to
settle their differences

and they found your wife's body.

Oh, but you see, my
wife wasn't in the barn.

No, I said so in my statement.
My wife was in the wine cellar.

You lied in your statement
and we can prove it.

You'll love this.

We found bat shit on her clothing.

- Bat shit?
- Bat shit.

Bat shit.

Pipistrelle droppings, if you prefer.

Well.

I suppose we all leave droppings.

Aye. But I've got a bloody big shovel,

Lucifer.

"Dear Mr Dalziel,

"in the words of the great man,
April is the cruellest month. "

TS Eliot.

"And in the words of the
walrus, the time has... "

"... come to put an end
to this silly charade. "

I've got a 5:OO deadline.

And this woman's threatening
to kill herself today.

That's a photocopy?

- Yeah.
- Then leave it there, I'll get to it.

I assume our gallant policemen
have a few ideas of their own.

Three, to be precise.

Mrs Horncastle?

Oh! Mr Pascoe!

- How are you?
- More to the point, how are you?

Never better, since I took the
advice of an emancipated woman.

- I saw you on the floor and I...
- The devil lost an earring.

Found it. Getting ready
for the dress rehearsal.

Well, that's show business.

She seems to know him somehow,

but not quite.

We just wanted to check you're all right.

Been a bad time.

It's good of you.

I miss me dad.

But life goes on, doesn't it?

Don't know what I'd have done without her.

A nice Catholic girl?

Pamela Waterson's a nice Catholic girl.

Sorry to disturb you, Mrs Waterson.

Ah. We, uh, just wanted to
be sure you were all right.

Thank you, Mr Pascoe, yes, I
think I'm probably all right.

These letters are controlled and literate

and deeply emotional.

We open in April and like the man says,

April is the cruellest month.
And like the walrus says,

the time has come to put an
end to this silly charade.

No.

Bear witness to the most dramatic event...

...and I'm looking for God.

...bear witness to the most dramatic event

seen in this city for nigh on 400 years.

A angels on stage left!

Don't say a word, Peter.

- Not a single word.
- Where's Eileen?

She's up there with the gods.

When I say "Let there
be light", she does it.

- Hi, Pete.
- Hi.

It's taken you a long time to work it out.

We've been a bit preoccupied.

People dying, stuff like that.

- That's all there is.
- Nonsense.

Comedy is tragedy in long shot.

Chaplin said that.

Well, isn't that why we carry on?

People like Chaplin, Shakespeare and Eliot

and God, if you like?

What can they offer?

Resignation.

And all the mysteries
can offer is mystery.

What about love? Ellie and I, we love you.

We need you.

Love? Need?

Nice try, Pete.

Don't worry. No need to be heroic.

You don't have to prove anything.

Ellie is the proof of
your goodness and mercy.

Relax, stay cool.

I've got to get my show
onto the Damascus Road.

Cue the music.

Cue the clouds.

Cue God.

No!

"First when I wrought this world so wide,

"Wood and wind and waters wan... "

It's Eileen!