All language subtitles for Dalziel.and.Pascoe.S03E02.Childs.Play.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-squalor1

(bell tolling)

(gentle music)

- This is rather embarrassing,
Norman.

- I'm sorry, Vicar.

Last night's rain must
have loosened the sides.

It were fine when we left it.

- Don't stop now.

We're only halfway through
the service.

- Oh, Mrs. Huby won't mind.

She'll be in here long enough.

- Get on with it.

- Bloody typical.

You wait 40 years for a batty
old witch to pop her clogs,

and she still won't
go under the sod.

- Dad, please.

- Yeah, you mind your
bloody language, Uncle John.

- Don't get clever
with me, Rodney.

You're not poncing about
on the bloody stage now.

- So loud, aren't
you, dear cousin?

They should put that
on your gravestone.

"John Huby, publican and
loud Yorkshireperson."

-[John] It were you put
her up to it, weren't it?

- Don't be ridiculous.

- All them years dancing
to her crackpot tunes,

drinking her watery tea and
listening to her barmy ideas

about blacks and the
bloody empire.

And for what?

800 quid, the same as you.

She didn't even have the
decency to make it a grand.

- Please, we're here to
say goodbye to a friend.

- Friend?

I thought you were...

What were it now?

Companion?

She had you dangling
at the end of a rope

just like the rest of us.

- Miss Keech is right.

This isn't the time to...

- What?

Complain about being taken for
a ride by a shyster lawyer?

- Now, careful, Mr. Huby.

I know you're overwrought...

- Don't get yourself
wound up, Dad.

It's bad for your heart.

- Come here.

Look at this.

"In loving memory of
Alexander Lomas Huby.

"The only son of Samuel
and Gwendoline Huby

"of Troy House.

"Missing in Action.

"Livorno, Italy.

"September, 1944."

Now, how can it be legal for
her to leave all that money

to someone who's been
dead for 50 year or more?

Now, come on, tell us that.

- Excuse me, the grave
is now ready.

Shall we proceed with
the interment?

- Oh, come on.

(dramatic music)

- In as much as it hath
pleased Almighty God

of His great mercy,

to take onto Himself the
soul of our dear sister.

We therefore commit
her body to the ground.

Earth to earth, ashes
to ashes...

- Oh, Gwendoline.

- Dust to dust.

In the sure and certain hope of

the resurrection to eternal life

through Our Lord, Jesus Christ.

- Hey!

- Mother.

- What's all this about?

- Dad.

- Get off!

-[Lexie] Dad!

(laughing)

- Amen.

I think.

- Spoilt your trousers?

- A suit is one thing that

can be made as good as new.

- Would you like a
cup of something?

There's a funeral
tea at Troy House.

- You'll forgive me please
if I decline, but thank you.

- Lexie.

- Short for Alexandra, perhaps?

- And you are?

- Alessandro Pontelli.

But once I was someone else.

-[Dalziel] Anybody at home?

- Sorry for keeping you
waiting, Superintendent.

- All right, sir.

Villains normally take a tea
break about this time, anyway.

- Sorry?

- Everything all right, sir?

- Just washing my hands.

- Yeah.

- Would you like to wash yours?

- No thanks.

- Take a seat.

Well, Superintendent Dalziel.

Your reputation goes before you.

- And yours, sir.

- Like a man running along,

waving a red flag, shouting,

"Get out of the road,
Dalziel's coming!"

(laughs)

I do hope we're going to get on.

- So do I.

Settling in all right, are you?

Looks like you're on top
of the admin, anyway.

- There are four things
I like to have

on my desk, Superintendent.

An empty in-tray,
a full out-tray,

a copy of Archbold's
Evidence and Practice.

- That's only three things.

- And...

The Book, of course,
for guidance

in times of confusion
and uncertainty.

Do you believe, Superintendent?

- In the fallibility of man?

Yes, sir.

- I won't keep you.

You have demons to confront.

- And a burglar who keeps
nicking plant hire equipment.

- I'll just say one thing.

We're at war, Superintendent,
with the forces of evil.

Under pressure, it's
easy even for good men

to be tempted into fall.

As your new Deputy
Chief Constable,

I want to assure
you that I shall

expect the highest standards,

not just of professionalism
and accountability,

but also of personal
morality, behavior.

- And hygiene.

- Clean hands, Andrew.

Clean hands.

After all, as someone once said,

"We are here to serve."

- Shakespeare?

Didn't think it was
your cup of hemlock.

- Tell me about it.

Robocop's on telly that night

and Ellie expects me
to sit through Othello

at the playhouse.

- I thought she'd taken Rosie
to her mam's for the week?

- Aye, but Ellie's on
the theater board

and expects a full report.

You can come if you like.

There's a spare ticket.

- Busy Tuesday.

My night for putting
out the rubbish.

- You sad man.

CID.

Mac?

Hang on.

For you.

Someone asking for Mac Wield?

-[Dalziel] I don't know
where they find them.

-[Man] Sir?

- Who is this?

- Perhaps it's something
to do with

care in the community.

-[Wield] Where are you?

- Release all the crazies
and make them

senior officers in
the police service.

- Okay, don't move,
I'm on my way.

Something's come up.

(dramatic music)

- Wrong time of the
month, is it?

(dramatic music)

-[Wield] Excuse me.

Someone just made a phone call.

Who was it, please?

- Over there.

-[Wield] Can I use
your back room?

-[Clerk] Yes, it's round
the side there.

- Cheers.

Come in, and shut it.

Key's in the hole.

- What's this?

- Well, up here, we
call it a room.

Don't know what you call
it where you come from.

Well, come on then, son.

Haven't got all day.

- What?

- Well, you ring me at the
station, don't give a name.

Ask to meet in this dump.

You must have something
to tell me.

- Like I said, I'm a
friend of Maurice's.

- Maurice?

Who's he when he's at home?

- Maurice Eaton, that's who.

I thought you'd have
remembered him,

seeing as you were
such good friends.

I've read the letters.

Seen the pictures.

Maurice suggested I look you up.

But as you've forgotten
your friends, I'll move on.

- Steady on.

What's your name?

- Cliff.

Cliff Sharman.

- Thanks very much.

You didn't have to
come back from

the funeral so soon, you know.

- That's all right.

I hate ham, anyway.

And arguing about wills.

- It happens.

There's nothing quite as
corrosive for decent behavior

as a disputed inheritance.

- Especially the one that
involves three million quid.

- Left by a dear lady
with a few kangaroos loose

in her top paddock.

- Poor Auntie.

The man at the funeral.

What if he really is
the long lost son?

- Then he's got a lot
of explaining to do.

But if I'm convinced,
he gets the lot.

You know what the
will says, Lexie.

If Alexander Huby turns
up before the year 2010,

he gets everything.

Otherwise the money goes to
the League of Women for Empire.

- Their man, Goodenough, he
should be here any minute.

- Then he might hear
something to his disadvantage.

(dog barking)

-[Goodenough] Winston.

- Mr. Goodenough?

- Yes, that's right.

Winston!

I apologize if I have a dog with

absolutely no manners
whatsoever.

-[Eden] Eden Thackeray.

- Andrew Goodenough.

Just thought I ought
to pop in for a chat.

- I'm glad you did.

There's been something
of a development.

- Oh?

Winston, sit!

How very intriguing.

- Hello.

- Lexie, you...

You work here, for the lawyer?

- Yes, I do.

Did you want to see
Mr. Thackeray?

- I have some business
with him, yes.

-[Lexie] He has someone
with him just now,

but he shouldn't be too long.

Have a seat.

- Well, Lexie, have you
no questions to ask me?

By now, everyone else would
be plying me with them.

"Who is he?

"What is he?

"Could he possibly be?"

- You don't always get answers
to questions by asking them.

You can use your eyes and think.

- So, Lexie, now you
have used your eyes

and you have thought,

what is your conclusion?

- You never came back until
both Auntie Gwendoline

and her husband were dead.

No word, no sign, for
half a century.

Your mother, if she
was your mother,

grieved so much it broke her
heart, then drove her mad.

What kind of son could do that?

- What kind, indeed.

- So, either you're a fraud

or a sadist with
a heart of stone.

- I cannot argue with
your logic, Lexie.

- I think you're a fraud.

I think I prefer it
that way round.

- After you.

Good afternoon, Alessandro,

or should I say, Buonasera.

- How do you do?

- We'll be in touch.

- Yes.

Yes, indeed.

- Would you like
to come this way?

- What about Wieldy?

Wouldn't come for a pint.

- I don't know.

Seems to have the world on
his shoulders this afternoon.

- Oh?

Can't say I noticed.

- No sensitivity, lad.

Call yourself a new man?

Maybe he's met our new DCC

and he's thinking about
a career move.

(dramatic music)

- Nice.

Very cozy.

You live on your own?

Of course.

Maurice said you
hadn't come out.

Can't be easy for you.

Being a detective
and everything.

Round here, I mean.

- I manage.

- It's good of you to put me up.

- For a few days.

Till you move on.

- Any chance of a shower?

- Bathroom's through there.

- Oh, by the way.

Where do you want me to sleep?

- Sofa's comfy.

- Speak of me as I am,
nothing extenuate,

nor set down aught in malice.

Then must you speak of
one that loved not wisely

but too well,

of one not easily
jealous, but being wrought

perplex'd in the extreme,

of one whose hand...

- Let's go to the bar.

I mean, killing yourself
for love

is a bit camp, don't you think?

Anyway, we open tomorrow.

You should come, should
be a laugh.

It'll be nice for you and me

to get to know each other again.

You don't say much, do you, cuz?

- Just waiting for you to
finish putting me at my ease.

- I see I shall have to
watch you, little Lexie.

- I'm five foot and
half an inch.

Just about big enough
and old enough

to know when I'm
being patronized.

- All right, I know
when I'm beaten.

- Why did you change your name?

- I didn't think the
name Rodney Windibanks

was terribly sexy.

Rod Lomas is altogether
more purposeful.

- And more likely to please
your wealthy great aunt?

- My dear, you're not exactly
innocent to the charge

of sucking up.

Isn't Lexie short for Alexandra?

- My dad's idea, not mine.

Much good it did him.

- You got a lousy 300 like me?

- More importantly, I got
all her old opera records.

- So now we understand
each other,

why don't we retract our
claws and have a chat?

Tell me about this job of yours.

- Why?

What do you want to know for?

- Maurice.

It's me, Mac.

Yeah.

Yeah, listen.

What's this Cliff
Sharman lad up to?

- This is very good
of you, Lexie.

- Don't get used to it.

I'm not running a taxi service.

I saw that.

So you just asked her if
you could stay, did you?

- Keechie?

Equity minimum, love.

I can't afford The Howard
Arms like my dear mother.

Actually, neither can she,

but that's another story.

(gentle music)

-[Lexie] Here we are.

- Troy House.

And there's the faithful
housekeeper.

Hello, Keechie.

- The witch.

- Hello, Lexie.

- Seems rather foolish
to sit here on our own

and not even acknowledge
each other.

- I have a bottle of
wine, nearly full.

You have an empty glass.

Would you care to join me?

- Thank you.

Please.

(wine pouring)

- To health and prosperity.

So, you are Stephanie?

I remember you as a little girl.

You were very pretty.

And so you remain.

- You're very good, aren't you?

Whoever you are.

- Are you married, Stephanie?

- I was.

He died.

- Oh, I'm sorry.

- And you?

You have a family?

- Oh, no, no.

I'm all alone, I'm afraid.

(gentle music)

- They do say it's better
to travel hopefully

than to arrive.

Is that your philosophy,
Mr Pontelli?

- Uh, as a matter
of fact, it is.

Does it bother you that
you've just made love

to your cousin?

If your story's true, that is.

Nasty.

-[Man] Old wounds.

They no longer hurt.

- Tell me how...

- Shh.

Questions, they come later.

-[Wield] What do you want?

- I can't sleep.

- Make yourself a cup of cocoa.

- This is stupid.

- What, exactly?

- Me, sleeping on that couch.

- What are you trying to say?

See something you fancy?

- Haven't you?

I'm just wondering where
all this is leading.

- Aye.

Me, too.

- What's your hang-up, Mac?

Are you scared of something?

Or are you just saving yourself
for the Chief Constable?

- Listen you.

I'm not stupid.

Did you think I wouldn't
call Maurice

and find out you're
a thief and a liar?

Aye.

And maybe a budding
blackmailer, too.

- Is that what you think?

- That's what I know, sunshine.

(ominous music)

- Are you leaving?

- I think it is more discreet.

My room is just down
the corridor.

(gentle music)

- Andy.

Nice to see you.

Good of you to help.

- Steady, Eden.

I've committed meself to nothing

except the full English
breakfast.

Kippers, you said?

- Arbroath smokies.

Come on in.

(dramatic music)

- Cliff?

(phone ringing)

- Ogilby.

- Is that the Investigations
Department?

-[Ogilby] You're through
to the organ grinder,

not one of the monkeys.

This is the editor.

What can I do for you?

- How much is a story
about a bent copper worth?

- When you say bent, do you
mean corrupt or homosexual?

- Both.

His bosses don't know he's gay,

so he's got to be crooked
to keep it quiet, hasn't he?

- Maybe.

I didn't catch your name.

- That's 'cause I
didn't give it.

Why don't you work out how
much you're willing to pay

and I'll call you back, okay?

(knocking)

-[Woman] Alexander?

(dramatic music)

- Now, let me guess.

You want me to check
this Pontelli out.

That's not police work.

Hire a private eye.

- I need to find out about

his background in Venice.

What he did there, when he left.

Where he's staying,
who he's seeing.

Now, all this can be done
swiftly and easily by the
police,

whereas a poor solicitor...

- Poor solicitor?

Do me a favor.

-[Eden] A quick call
to Interpol.

-[Man] Good boy.

- I'm a policeman, Eden.

Not a telephonist.

I investigate crimes.

(glass shattering)

(dramatic music)

Didn't park on a double
yellow line did you, Eden?

-[Officer] Whoa, calm down, son.

- Get off.

Oh!

All right, all right, all right.

- Right, son.

You're nicked.

Malicious damage and
ruining my breakfast.

Get him in my car, come on.

Come on.

(siren wailing)

Hey, Wieldy.

Book this clown, will you?

Playing traffic wardens,
are you, lad?

-[Man] Sir.

He's been shot.

- Bloody hell.

They've started a delivery
service now?

- Apparent cause of death
was hemorrhaging and shock.

The wound wasn't immediately
fatal.

He could have lived
an hour after it.

- Which means he probably
wasn't shot where he was found.

- Well, it's open to
speculation, Andy,

but I would think not.

- Well, that's a relief.

Wouldn't do a lot for
our credibility

in the great law and
order debate, would it?

Well, some old bloke being
brutally slayed in our car park.

- What about the scars?

- Um, old gunshot wounds.

Terrible bit of stitching.

Field hospital, probably.

Birthmark on his hip and
he had cancer of the bowel.

Inoperable, by the look of it.

Some people might have
called it a mercy killing.

- I'm not sure that's
what he'd say.

Anything else?

- Yeah.

He'd had sex not long
before he died.

- Randy old sod.

- It's from a Luger P08.

- So we're looking for
some old Nazi, eh?

Maybe Martin Bormann's
shacked up in the Dales.

- A popular souvenir for troops
to bring back, wasn't it?

Probably been sitting
in someone's drawer

for the last 50 years.

- We need to talk to
Thackeray first.

He met the man.

Put a trace on him.

Find out who he talked to.

Especially members
of the family.

Search his hotel room and make
a list of the calls he made.

- I already checked.

Nothing in his luggage,

and he didn't use
the phone at all.

- And get on to the
Italian police.

Who was Pontelli?

Where he was born,
all that stuff.

Maybe Wieldy could do that.

Where is he, by the way?

He's about as much use as
a chocolate teapot today.

- Mac.

(buzzing)

- This interview is
being tape recorded.

It may be tendered in
evidence if your case

is brought before a court.

We are in an interview room at
the Wetherton Police Station.

I'm Detective Sergeant Wield.

- Oh, it's a grand place to
hang out in, the Liberal.

Very Yorkshire sort of a
place, if you know what I mean.

-[Raymond] Hmm.

- I've seen more deals
than a Las Vegas casino.

- Deals?

- Way of the world, isn't
it, Mr. Raymond?

- Not my way, Mr.
Ogilby, I'm happy to say.

- Oh, of course I was
forgetting, yes, sir.

Policemen never get
their hands dirty

or dip their snouts
into the trough.

- I was interested to glance
at your newspaper, Mr. Ogilby.

I can see why it might
turn a man like yourself

into a cynic.

-[Man] Drink?

- Orange juice for me, please.

-[Ogilby] Brandy for me.

Double.

-[Raymond] So, Mr...

- So, Deputy Chief Constable.

How do you feel about
homosexuality?

That isn't a proposition,
by the way.

- Well, I think it's
a sore affliction

for the people concerned.

I feel very sorry for them.

They deserve our
sympathy, support

and psychological counseling.

- And do you feel
as compassionate

towards homosexual policemen?

- Is that a hypothetical
question, Mr Ogilby?

- Not exactly.

- So you don't deny
being outside

the Wetherton Liberal
Club this morning?

You must speak in reply.

- No.

- And you don't deny smashing
two Georgian picture windows?

- No.

- So maybe now you'd like to
enlighten us as to your motive?

- You think you're so
clever, don't you?

So smug.

I've nothing else to say.

- Come on, Winston.

Good boy.

Ah, Mr. Huby.

Andrew Goodenough.

I represent the League
of Women for Empire.

I have a proposition
to put to you.

- Oh, aye?

- Would you like to come
this way, Inspector?

-[Man] Thank you, Miss...?

- Huby.

- Huby?

- My secretary is the late
Mrs. Huby's great-niece.

I gave her the job on Mrs.
Huby's specific request.

I have to say, she's
never let me down.

She's a bright little thing.

- Well, that was kind
of the old lady.

What was she like?

- Snobbish, overbearing, rude.

Uh, some might say that
she was politically naive,

but actually she was a fascist.

She treated animals better
than she did her relatives.

She squandered whatever
human feelings she had

on a crazy obsession,
which ruined her life,

soiled the lives of others

and brought us here to this
present unhappy situation.

That was a pretty powerful
speech for the prosecution.

Well, having said
that, I must say,

she was a very valued client.

She brought you a
lot of business?

- Oh, she was never
off the phone.

Mostly about the search
for her son.

- Was she disturbed?

Imbalance-of-the-mind disturbed?

Latterly, yes.

She had a stroke about
three years ago.

She made a good recovery,

but then she spoke quite openly

about a psychic conspiracy

to stop her from seeing her son.

She said that her enemies

had sent a black demon as a
fake messenger from Alexander,

but she'd seen through
the deception

and she'd slain the demon.

- Well, I think that
answers my question.

What about Pontelli?

- He just turned up
out of the blue.

-[Inspector] What did
you make of him?

- Well, he'd certainly
done his homework.

Dates of birth, family
business, Troy House.

It was all very convincing.

But when I pressed
him for reasons

of why he'd stayed
away for so long,

he got agitated,
rubbed his head,

muttered something
about years of pain

and then left very abruptly.

(knocking)

- Sorry to interrupt,
Mr Thackeray,

but I'll get off,
if that's okay.

-[Thackeray] Yes, of course.

- I'd better be off, too.

Appointment with a Mr. Othello.

Thanks for your help.

(audience applauding)

-[Lexie] The last scene
got me thinking

of Pontelli's death.

- What?

- I thought you'd have heard.

He was found outside
the police station.

- No, no.

I've been stuck in a
dress rehearsal all day.

- Hello?

Enjoy the play, Miss Huby?

- It was okay.

- I thought it was terrible.

I'm sorry.

I'm sure we've met.

- My cousin, Rod Lomas.

You've just watched
him play Gratiano.

- Ah.

- Inspector Pascoe's
investigating Mr. Pontelli's
death.

All the same, a very
interesting production.

- Good.

- No.

What I need to have are details
of place and date of birth.

No, birth.

Like what happened
to the Virgin...

Where the man was born and when.

Very good.

Thank you.

No, no, no.

It's very good.

Almost as good as my Italian.

Yeah.

Arrivederci.

Lord help us.

- How's it going, Andrew?

- Sir.

You work late.

Oh, of course, yeah.

The empty in-tray,
the full out-tray.

Oh, it's not bad.

We've established where
Pontelli lived in Venice

and that he worked as a
translator and travel courier.

Not much of a living,

but he only had himself to keep.

He was a bit of a loner,
so they reckon.

- I wanted to have a word
about another serious matter.

What do you know about
unnatural practices in CID?

- Oh, there's no need
to worry about that.

The last practicing
Freemason retired last year.

- Andrew, it's come
to my attention

that there may be an active
homosexual in your department.

The press are onto it.

That rag The Challenger.

I'm unhappy about
the implication,

so I would like you to
tell me who it is.

- You would?

- I would.

- Well, give us a kiss
and I'll tell you.

(laughs)

Oh, sorry, sir.

It's been a long day.

I take it you're serious?

- Be assured of it,
Superintendent.

(dramatic music)
(knocking)

- I came for my things.

- They're where you left them.

Bit late to catch a bus.

Where are you going to stay?

- In town somewhere.

Things to do.

- Like blackmailing a copper?

- I could've said something,
but I didn't.

- What on Earth made you do
such a stupid thing, anyway?

- I didn't come here
looking for you.

I came to find my dad.

- Your dad?

- He went off years back.

He did that sometimes
after me mum died.

He'd pack in his job
and just take off.

That final time, he sent
us a postcard from up here.

It was the last I
heard from him.

- Maybe...

-[Man] What?

- He didn't want to
get in touch again.

Maybe he met somebody and...

- He wouldn't do that.

At least, I don't think...

I need to find him.

He wasn't very nice sometimes,

but he was my dad.

- So you rang a policeman?

- I felt a bit lost.

I mean...

I mean, here I was,
not knowing anyone.

For all I knew, they
still tarred

and feathered queers up here.

- Then what?

Walk the streets looking
for a familiar black face?

- I rang all the Sharmans
in the book.

Nothing.

And then I thought
if I get my name

in the papers or something...

- You're not trying
to say that's

why you smashed those windows?

That's the daftest bloody
thing I've ever heard.

- Well, I don't know, do I?

What with you and dad
and everything.

I've got to go.

- Well, it's late.

It's very late.

- Don't you feel lonely
sometimes, Mac?

Give us a hug, will you?

(dramatic music)

(singing in foreign language)

(opera music)

(thunder rumbling)

- Speak of me as I am,
nothing extenuate.

Nor set down aught in malice.

Then must you speak

of one that loved not
wisely but too well.

- Mac, there's something
I have to tell you.

- Bit early for the
declaration of love.

- I did think about
trying to make something

out of you being gay.

- Well?

- I thought I'd make a few
quid out of the papers.

I rang one of them up
after we had that row.

The Challenger.

- What happened?

- Nothing.

I spoke to this bloke.

He wanted to meet and talk
about money and things.

But I didn't.

- Did you mention my name?

- No.

No, I didn't.

Honest.

- Well, that's all right, then.

No harm done.

- Sugar?

- No, thank you.

- Milk?

- Please.

Well, Mrs. Windibanks, you said

you wished to sleep on my offer.

- Just run it past me
again, Mr. Goodenough,

if you'd be so kind.

- Of course.

A thousand pounds down.

I could write you a check now

on your signature of the waiver.

And if my challenge
to the will as

it presently stands
is successful,

then you'd receive five
percent of the estate.

- Which might equate to what?

Roughly, of course.

- A little hard to say.

It depends on the value
of the shareholdings

at the time of sale,

but certainly no less
than 150,OOO pounds.

- Which means that the
blue rinse fascists

get almost three million.

What do you plan to do with it,

open a few concentration camps?

- Madam, I know there's
a lot at stake here

and no doubt you're
unhappy about the will,

but there's really no
need to be offensive.

- So, what about my cousin?

Presumably he's spending
your thousand pounds

even as we speak.

- I think Mr. Huby saw the
merit of my proposal, yes.

- Not a lot, is it, 150,OOO

compared to three million?

- It is when you have
no case in law

and, forgive me, no
means to pursue it.

I think a more appropriate
comparison

is between 150,OOO and nothing.

- Mr. Goodenough, you're a
very persuasive young man,

but I'm turning down
your proposition.

- Mother, what are you doing?

- But I should like to
thank you for making it.

Goodbye.

(dramatic music)

- Challenging the will
yourself would, I assure you,

be an extremely expensive
mistake.

-[Man] Where are you going?

- Work.

You sleep on, eh?

- Yeah.

Thanks.

- I'm a bear of very
little brain.

Just go through it slowly.

- Just suppose it
could be proved

that Pontelli really
was Alexander.

What then?

- Pontelli?

Well, then he would inherit.

- So now he's dead.

What happens to his estate?

- It'll go to the hordes
of Venetian gondolieres

he probably sired.

- But if he had no
family and made no will,

then his estate would go
to his nearest relative.

- Hmm.

You tinker!

You!

You'd inherit because you
were his first cousin,

not second like publican John.

Lots of ifs, all the same.

- You just leave them to me.

- And Pontelli, was
he really Alexander?

- He might have been.

(dramatic music)

- Mrs. Windibanks.

- Was it something particular

you were looking at,
Superintendent,

or just taking a general view

with an idea of making an offer?

- Well, the coachwork
looks grand,

but the engine could do
with a closer inspection.

- And sometimes I wonder
why I ever left the North.

Bottoms up.

- Why did you?

- Why else?

To marry a man.

- Arthur Windibanks?

- It's not true whatever
you read.

Arthur was a fine man

and a wonderful husband.

- He left you without a penny.

-[Woman] I managed.

- So I see.

Now...

Where were you the
night before last?

- I had dinner, came
in here for a while,

then I went to bed.

- Did you see Mr. Pontelli?

- I think you know very
well that I did.

- Your impressions?

- I liked him.

A sad man, in a way.

I got the feeling he thought
he'd wasted his life.

- You felt sorry for him?

- Yes, I did.

- Enough to make you
invite him into your bed?

There's evidence he had sex
not long before he died.

- He came to my room, yes.

- I wish all my confessions
were as quick as that.

- Well, you've talked
to the barman

and no doubt you'll soon be
tracking down the chambermaid.

He stayed till about
10:00, then he left.

- You're sure?

- Superintendent, you might
have a case against me

if he'd been strangled
with a silk nightgown,

but I gather he was shot.

- Well, thanks.

That'll be all for the moment.

- Have you deliberately
not asked

the question I most expected?

When I was a little girl, we
went to Troy House on holiday.

One summer's day, we went
for a swim in the river.

Blacksmith's Pool.

I was only about five and
Alex was already a soldier,

but he was shy about
getting changed.

He put a towel round his waist,

you know, like we used to.

And at the vital moment

his friend pulled
the towel down.

- He flashed his lunchbox,
you mean?

- Not quite.

I saw the other side.

On his left buttock
he had a birthmark

shaped like a maple leaf.

I've never forgotten it.

- Well, give us the
punchline, then.

- When Signor Pontelli was
in my bed the other night,

I saw it again, very clearly.

It seems he really
was my cousin.

(dramatic music)

- I take it you weren't
convinced

by Mr. Pontelli's appearance?

- Oh, a certain coarseness
of feature,

not unlike the publican Huby,

but not a trace of the Lomases.

Alexander was a very
pretty child.

This man...

- Did he visit you?

- Me?

Why should he?

- Well, this was his old home.

You were his nurse.

Wouldn't it have been natural
to have wanted to come?

- Well, perhaps, if
he'd been Alexander,

but he wasn't, so he didn't.

- What's in there?

- It's the cellar.

Full of old memories.

Who's interested now?

Make a fine bonfire soon.

- So you came to see
Mrs. Windibanks.

We heard you're planning
to contest the will.

- Absolutely.

- With, we understand, an
agreement with Mr. John Huby

that he won't be making any
claim on the estate himself.

- Yes, that's right.

- Very generous of him.

Is there a sweetener?

- His case isn't a strong
one, but if he pressed it

he might cause a degree
of nuisance.

- How much, if you don't
mind my asking?

- A thousand pounds down
and five percent

of the estate if we win.

-[Wield] What are your chances?

- Fair.

- Fairer still now that
Pontelli's out of the way,

I suppose?

- Didn't put him there yourself,
did you, Mr. Goodenough?

- Superintendent,
I'm a part-time,

unpaid advisor to a charity.

Do you really think I'd
murder an old man

so it might, just might
benefit from his death?

- No.

Silly question.

Here's another one.

What's a nice, bright,
presentable young chap like
yourself

doing with a bunch of loonies

like the League of
Women for Empire?

- Old colonials don't have

a monopoly on patriotism,
Mr. Dalziel.

There's a greater threat
to our independence

and sovereignty, our
whole way of life,

our very Englishness,

than at any time in
the last 500 years.

Time for all good
men to stand up

and do their bit, whatever
it may be.

- You'll be singing Land
of Hope and Glory next.

All right?

Winston!

(phone ringing)

- Sergeant Wield.

AA patrolman spotted
Pontelli's car

at the Hartley Roundabout
about 11:00.

All over the place.

Like the driver was drunk.

- Did he see where
it had come from?

- Pretty sure it was
the Greendale Road.

- That's a great help
in narrowing it down.

He might've been to Huby's
pub, Troy House or here.

Listen, you might check
out Goodenough.

Find out if his Little
Englander routine is for real.

- Something else, sir?

- Maybe.

Thing is, Wieldy, someone's
out to cause trouble.

- Trouble?

- For me.

More particularly, for some
other bugger on the force.

The editor of The Challenger

shoved a banger down the
trousers of the nutter

who's just moved into
the DCC's office.

That means big trouble.

Sodom and Gomorrah
kind of trouble,

if you know what I mean.

- I'm not sure that
I do, sir, entirely.

- No.

It's all gobbledygook, isn't it?

I'll just have to think of a
way of dealing with it meself.

("Love Walked In" by Thunder)

Like I was approaching the end

Just about that moment
the timing was so right

You appeared like a
vision sent down to my life

- Ta-da!

Prepared a feast.

Hope you like Chinese.

- Don't smoke that
stuff here, right?

- Oh.

Bad day at office, love?

Sit down.

I've just made a fresh pot.

- I want some answers from you.

Right now.

-[Man] What?

- You know what about.

- What, I don't know.

- I must be stupid to trust you.

- Chill out, man, what's wrong?

- Me, why me, eh?

- What about you?

What do you mean?

(knocking)

- Wieldy?

I just thought you
might fancy a jar.

- I'm a bit busy.

- Oh, right.

I just thought with Ellie
away, we might, you know.

- I'm sorry, Pete.

- That's okay.

Another time, maybe.

- All right.

-[Pete] See you tomorrow.

- That one of your mates?

You should've invited him in.

- When you rang up the paper,

you didn't tell me you'd
spoke to the bloody editor.

What did you say to him?

- Last night you said
it didn't matter.

Don't you trust me?

- I need to know.

Something's been said
down the station.

- Oh!

How terrible for you.

You might actually have to
come out and admit the truth.

Is that it?

Maurice was right about you.

You're a hypocrite.

- Maybe he was right
about you, too.

- You're dead, do you know that?

From the waist up and down.

You're a dead pig!

They should just stick
you on a platter

with an orange in your mouth.

I'm sorry, I shouldn't
have said that.

- You're a liar, a
thief and a tart.

Get out!

(dramatic music)

- Hey!

Snowy!

Whoa!

Snowy!

Whoa!

Whoa, whoa!

Stand!

Snowy!

Where's he going?

(ominous music)

- Look, you can't see her.

This death on her
doorstep has made her ill.

- If that's her doorstep,
there's a donkey

crapping on the living
room carpet.

Miss Keech.

Are you all right?

Do you know who I am?

-[Woman] You're a policeman.

- This is a lovely
bedroom you've got.

You...

You nursed Mrs. Huby
in here, didn't you?

After her stroke?

- Yeah.

- It can't have been easy.

With her mind going and that.

With all that stuff about
black demons and that.

- Please, don't speak of that.

- Superintendent...

- Miss Keech, um...

I know you can't tell us much
about this young man's death,

but just one question.

I wanted to ask you about
Alexander Huby.

You were his nursery maid.

Is that right?

- One of my less pleasant
duties over the years, yes.

- Can you remember, um...

Did he have any distinguishing
features at all?

You sure?

Nothing like a birthmark
on his backside?

- No, he did not.

- You'd know, I suppose.

- Well, I wiped his
bottom enough times.

- Aye, right.

- Uh, who was he?

That boy in the lane?

- Sharman.

His name was Cliff Sharman.

- Oh, yes.

Yes.

(dramatic music)

- All right, Wieldy?

- I've just made a statement.

I heard nothing, I saw nothing.

Do we have to go through
all this again?

- So you heard nowt and
saw nowt last night.

And ditto when Pontelli
got topped.

Right little wise monkey,
aren't you?

- Beats being a gorilla,
I suppose.

- Where exactly were you the
night of Pontelli's murder?

I know you did the show,

but you didn't come home till
about 2:OO in the morning.

- Well, it's a little difficult.

(laughs)

It's a long story.

- Shorten it.

- He was with me.

I picked him up after the show

and took him back to the inn.

Dad was in bed, so
we had a drink

and then went up to my bedroom.

- I see.

- Miss Keech is asleep now,
so I'll get off to work.

I'll come and look
after her tonight

while you're at the theater.

Okay?

(dramatic music)

- I thought you two
were related?

- Only very distantly.

- Couple of convictions,
small beer.

Prostitution and possession
of dope.

Born in London, no parents.

His gran's on her way up.

- What was he doing here?

Apart from his bit with
the glazing trade?

-[Man] Sir, can I have a word?

- Yeah, I'm off to see the doc.

Meet us at the mortuary.

- Clearly took a
bit of a beating

before the car ran over him.

- Yeah, well, what's that?

- Uh, some animal had
a nibble in the night.

Fox, maybe.

We'll have to wait for
the PM to be certain.

- Sir, I need to talk.

The thing is, sir...

I'm homosexual.

- But Wield, lad, I've
known for years.

- No, no.

You don't understand.

I'm gay.

A poof.

Queer.

- I know.

I spotted it as soon
as you came into CID.

The only time it bothered us

was when you got all misty-eyed
over that young lad Singh.

So I had him posted
up-country, out of harm's way.

- You sod.

What am I supposed
to be, grateful?

- You can be anything you like,
Wield, except insubordinate.

What you are is only my business
when it touches the job.

Like now, for instance.

What about this lad Sharman?

- I was attracted to him.

At least he had the guts
to be what he really was.

I think he thought I
was pretty contemptible.

He was probably right.

- He went from your
flat to phone the paper.

Ready to blow the gaffe on
you for a little bit of lolly.

- I'm sorry, but that
doesn't help at all.

- This relationship between
you and him, was it physical?

(knocking)

- Sorry, sir.

Oh, I didn't realize.

-[Dalziel] Well?

- Cause of death as suspected.

Wasn't a dosser.

Body, hair and nails clean.

He'd had intercourse
not long before he died.

- Okay.

Was that you?

- Yes.

- Right.

I want you to go home
and stay there.

- Oh, come on.

- You've withheld information.

You've broken police
regulations.

You've acted in a manner
unbecoming a professional!

Oh, aye.

And you're a suspect
in a murder inquiry.

- What, you think I
killed him, do you?

- Some people might.

I'm not sure I'd be one of them.

- Okay.

- You might throw
in the odd "sir"

if it's not too much bother.

Who else is going to get
you out of the doggie doo?

Erm...

Shut the door and sit down.

- Who's that?

Why have you come to me?

- It's all right, Miss Keech.

It's only me.

- Oh, it's Lexie.

Little Lexie.

- Brought you something
to eat and a pot of tea.

- Oh, I can't eat and
I don't want tea.

There, in that cupboard there.

Pour me a glass, will you?

Just as it comes.

(humming)

I dreamed a dream one day

And now, that dream

Is it the same with

Oh.

(coughs)

Mother's ruin.

- Would you like to sleep
now or shall I read to you?

- You're very kind.

Never liked me, though,
have you?

- No, not much.

-[Woman] And why is that?

- Because when I came here
when I was a little girl,

you weren't very nice.

Tried to frighten me.

- I never quite succeeded.

Strange little creature
that you are.

- Well, bugger me.

- Best be careful what you say.

(laughs)

Hey?

What's up?

- I'm not sure it's a
laughing matter, sir.

- Well, what is it, then?

A hanging matter?

- That's not what I meant
and you know it.

I reckon I'm a damn
sight more...

- Liberal?

Is that the word you're
groping for?

Don't tell me.

Some of your best
mates are poofs.

You're only bothered 'cause
Fat Andy with a coarse gob

sussed out what you didn't.

- Shall we start again?

You pack in the gags and I'll
go easy on the righteousness?

How are we going to
get Wieldy out of this?

- Hello.

- Everything all right?

How's Keechie?

- Funny.

Not her usual self,
saying odd things.

- Her reasoning couldn't
be worse during the night.

I don't suppose there's
any chance...

- What?

- Of you staying.

To look after Miss
Keech, I mean.

There's lots of bedrooms and...

Well, you'd have to ring to
tell your dad, of course.

- It's all right.

I already have.

- What do you think our
parents would say

if they could see us now?

- Oh!

My dad would say,

"What you doing with
yon useless,

"namby-pamby lummox?"

And your mother would say,

"Darling, how could you with

"that little chit of a girl?"

- You don't like my
mum much, do you?

- She dotes on you, doesn't she?

- Until about three years ago,

I was the marvelous boy
of infinite promise.

Then Dad died and I became
just another unemployed actor.

So she had to rewrite my role.

Now we're both word perfect
in an intimate two-hander,

in which I don't say that she's
old enough to be my mother

and she doesn't say
that I'm old enough

to be earning my own living.

- I certainly spotted the fraud
you pulled on Auntie Gwen.

Mr. Thackeray missed it,

but I saw the entry in
her bank statements.

- What?

- Her offshore investments.

Your mother and you have been
siphoning off the profits

these last few years,
while she was ill.

- Stephanie had no money.

We were desperate.

- That's why I did nothing.

But what about the paperwork?

- I looked the other night.

Couldn't find anything.

Is that why you gave
me an alibi?

- No.

I just knew you hadn't
killed Mr. Pontelli.

-[Man] How?

- Because when I told
you about his murder

you were genuinely shocked.

You're not that good an actor.

(laughing)

-[Man] Thanks.

(knocking)

-[Man] Wieldy, I'm sorry.

-[Wieldy] What for?

- Well, thinking I was a friend

and not really knowing you.

And for the boy.

I don't know what
he meant to you,

but I'm sorry for his death.

And the manner of it.

- Dalziel knew.

Did he tell you?

- Not half.

Bloody irritating.

- At least I was able
to fool someone.

Even if it was a
short-sighted, insensitive sod.

You'd better drink your coffee

before we both burst into tears.

- Look, anything I can
I do for you, just say.

- Maybe there is.

Cliff came up here looking
for his dad.

Name of Richard Sharman.

Said he was brought up in a
children's home round here.

Now, I don't know if
it's got anything

to do with Cliff's killing,

but we should find him and
let him know his son's dead.

I owe the kid that
much at least.

- Well, I'll try
Social Services.

There can't be many black lads
in homes up here in the '50s.

If we can't find him,

we might be able to track
down a relative.

- You heard us rowing the
other night, didn't you?

And I know you'll
have to tell Andy.

And I know it'll look bad, too.

But I didn't kill
the kid, Peter.

Even though I feel I did.

- Wieldy...

- Just find out, will you?

(dramatic music)

- Hello, Mrs. Sharman.

- What do you want?

- Just a little chat.

- I'm 79 year old and I've
still got me own teeth.

- Is that right?

- Trouble is I've
forgotten where I put 'em.

- Listen, love, I came to
talk to you about your son.

- Son?

I haven't got a son.

What you on about?

- Sorry, but the records
show that in November 1944

you gave birth to a son
called Richard Sharman.

- Uh...

That little tart, not me.

She called herself Mrs.
Sharman but she weren't.

That were me.

Even though me and him weren't
exactly Darby and Joan.

- Your husband, Sergeant
Ernest Sharman,

was he black, then?

- Black?

Don't be bloody daft!

He were born in Bradford.

Listen, lad.

The tart served at the
same base as Ernie.

Dropped her knickers
for him and all.

Much good it did him.

He were dead inside three month.

Copped a bullet in the Ardennes.

- So, she must have
been black, then?

- No, lad.

She were the colour
of cold custard.

But her babby were black, all
right, like the ace of spades,

which proves Ernie
weren't the only

squaddie who'd had
his way with her.

Some big buck GI put her
up the spout, I reckon.

So, she didn't get what
she were after.

I got that.

I got the sod's pension.

She got nowt but a
lifetime's trouble,

which was all she deserved.

- Mrs. Sharman.

- What?

- Right, one more thing.

Who was she?

- Her?

Her name were Keech.

Ella Keech.

(dramatic music)

- No, I'll not be late.

You don't mind staying?

- Of course not.

I've got things to do.

Go on.

(goats bleating)

(lively dance music)

- Seen this lad before?

- Not sure, actually.

- Try a bit harder.

- Sorry.

Can't help.

- Look.

Yes, I'm a copper.

I'm also queer.

Understand?

So was this lad.

He got himself into trouble.

So have you seen him?

- He's been in a
couple of times.

- When?

Was he with anybody?

- Look, pal, I don't
want to get involved.

- He was murdered the
night before last.

Somebody beat him up and then
drove the car over his chest.

(dramatic music)

- Oh.

- I think perhaps you'd
better sleep now.

- Oh, I'll soon have
more of that

than I'll know what to do with.

- Now then.

- A woman's sleep's full
of dreams, Lexie.

Sadness and regret and all the

bad things you've
done in your life.

Faces, too.

Where are you going?

- I'll just be downstairs.

- Listen, I'm scared, Lexie.

Gwennie was right.

There are devils down there.

Devils and demons.

-[Lexie] Down where, Miss Keech?

- All done.

All gone.

You didn't let him do
it, did you, Lexie?

No, Rod's a nice boy.

But they're all the same.

They'll leave you.

One way or another.

(dramatic music)

(knocking)

- Come in.

- I thought you'd like to
see the report on that boy.

- Peter gave me the gen.

You can spare me another example
of your turgid prose style.

- Ah, well, then, you
might miss something.

Like I nearly did at the PM.

- Come on, then.

- The bite.

Wasn't a fox, it was a dog.

Well, I thought it
might be helpful.

(dramatic music)

(ominous music)

-[Ella] Hello.

- Miss Keech.

- Oh, Ella.

Why don't you call me Ella?

-[Lexie] What are you
doing with that?

- Ernie brought it
back after the war.

He showed me how to
oil and use it.

Ernie Sharman.

That's my husband, you know.

You know, it's never been fired?

- Please.

- Tell a lie.

Just the once.

- Who?

- Oh.

That's my son Richard.

- Your son?

- Well, I couldn't send
him away again, could I?

I couldn't do that.

Brought him back with
me after the war.

Was a beautiful baby,
such lovely skin.

I had nothing, nobody.

Ernie had been killed and
I'd only my position here.

She made me send him away,

so I had to put him in a home.

"Can't have him here", she said.

"Well, you can't have a
little black bastard here."

Do you know, I think
she couldn't

get over the fact
that I had a son

and she'd lost hers.

- But he came back.

- Oh, I used to visit
him in the orphanage.

I was Auntie Ella.

Then when he was about 13,

he started going on and on

about coming to live with me.

Well, I couldn't
be doing with it.

So I stopped going.

Didn't see him again until...

-[Man] Is anyone there?

- Huh, who is that?

- Hello?

-[Ella] Have they come for me?

-[Lexie] Look out!

(gun firing)

- You all right?

- Yes.

- Sergeant.

- I want a word with you.

You're quite versatile,
aren't you?

Conman, pimp, blackmailer.

- Wield!

Leave it, lad.

What's all this, then?

- He killed Cliff.

- He's mad.

He's mad.

He tried to kill me.

I'm going to sue you for this.

You've got nothing.

- You're gabbling, son.

We've got everything.

At least we will
do when Forensics

have had a shufti
at Fido out there.

- What?

- Next time you give
someone a going-over,

not that there'll
be a next time,

make sure you feed your
mutt beforehand.

- Is that you, son?

- I met him in a bar in Soho.

He was a pretty little boy.

I had him and then
I pimped for him.

Older men used to go
for him in a big way.

As you well know.

But he's a fastidious
little creature.

Never really liked it
when I asked his clients

for a bit of a loan
now and then.

- When you blackmailed
them, you mean?

- And finally he refused
to play along at all

and we had a bit of
a tiff and he split.

That was months ago.

- At which point you
came up with something

potentially much
more profitable.

- Advisor indeed.

But then, I suppose charities

have always attracted villains.

Especially the plausible ones.

Like wasps to strawberry jam.

- Well, the League would
have got their cut.

- Then you'd have got yours.

When you came up here,

you ran into Cliff again,

that morning, here at the club.

- Yeah, that's right.

We agreed to meet up and he
tried to sting me for some money

to keep him going, he said,
whilst he looked for his father.

- You shut him up.

- Well, no, we'd driven
out to the country to...

Well, then he started
on the money again

and he was blackmailing me.

So I gave him a bit
of a beating.

Nothing special, I mean,

he used to go in for
that sort of thing.

Then I went back to the
car and he followed me

and that's when it happened.

- You killed him.

You drove your car
over his body.

- No.

No, it was an accident.

- So who cares?

Only a black bastard, wasn't he?

- Well, finally, Richard
tracked us down.

It was after Gwennie's stroke.

She was madder than ever.

He came one afternoon
when I was out shopping,

and when I got back,
she was lying here,

raving on about black demons

and Richard was lying
on the floor

with a dagger in his chest.

He was still breathing.

We had a few minutes
together before he died.

- You never told anybody?

- What was there to say?

They'd have taken him away.

And I was waiting.

- Waiting?

What for?

- Alexander.

I knew he'd be back.

And...

I was waiting.

(ominous music)

(thunder rumbling)

- Hello, Keechie.

Keechie!

-[Ella] Bang!

He went away again.

- And died in our car park.

You killed him, Miss Keech.

- She killed my son,
I killed hers.

Now I can die content.

Soon, I hope.

What a life, eh?

What a bloody life.

- So, that's the clincher.

The lad did have a birthmark.

Who gets the money now, then?

- Well, since Alexander is dead

and it seems he went
without making a will...

- No wife?

No family?

- It goes to the nearest
living relative.

Stephanie Windibanks.

It seems that she and her son

are embarking on a very
comfortable life.

- Poor lad.

What a life he had
in front of him.

Who's the little girl
in the photo?

I do wish you'd go and
get ready, darling.

And for heaven's sake, cheer up.

- Don't you think it's
a little bit foolish

to be spending all of this money

when it's not even certain
you're the rightful heir?

- Don't worry your pretty
little head about that.

It's okay.

- He might have made
a will of his own.

- He didn't.

I know.

What do you think?

Hampstead or Highgate?

Villa by the Heath, I think.

While they're doing it up,

I think we'll take
a suite somewhere.

I've always liked Claridge's.

What do you think, Rod?

- Stephanie, you can't.

- Don't you think
I've paid for it?

For years with nothing,

the shame of what happened
to your father,

the misery of being without him?

That's my due and yours.

- We'll be in touch, Andy.

- All right.

- Mr. Lomas.

- You'd better read this.

- Well, come on, then.

What is it?

- It's a will.

Alexander Huby's.

Dated, signed and witnessed
on the day he died.

There's only one beneficiary.

Well, this is for you, Lexie.

- Me?

You read it.

- "Dear Lexie, we have
only met twice,

"but it seems I already
know you well enough

"to say that you
are the brightest

"as well as the most decent Huby

"or Lomas I've come across.

"Though a cynic might say
that's not saying much."

Very nice.

"You asked me why I came back.

"The truth, all my life
I've been hiding,

"most shamefully during
the war when

"I deserted the men
under my command.

"I built a new identity,

"but the hiding went
on for 50 years."

- Only when I knew that
I was dying of cancer

did I decide to show
myself to my poor mother.

What I found was her coffin.

And apart from your gentility,
anger and suspicion,

that is the reason
for the enclosed.

I hope that the Huby money is
of use to you and not a curse.

Make the best of your life.

- "Alexander Huby."

- Poor man.

Came home to die.

- Very satisfactory,
Mr. Dalziel.

-[Dalziel] Sir.

- Just one little item
not yet cleared up.

- Sir?

Oh.

Oh, isn't all that
dead and buried,

sir, with poor Clifford Sharman?

- Yet somebody might dig it
up again, Superintendent.

So I think you'd better
tell me, finally,

without any further
prevarication.

- Right.

You see, sir, the thing is...

This is very difficult for me.

People think I'm a big,
bruising bull in a china shop.

But I'm not, really.

Not deep down.

I'm a sensitive man, really.

- Mr. Dalziel.

- You're a good listener,
you know that?

I have a confession to make.

- A confession?

(knocking)

- I'm sorry, sir.

Excuse me, it's just
Cliff's gran, she's leaving.

- Would you excuse me, sir?

For just one moment?

Have you been dyeing
your hair, Peter?

-[Peter] Sir?

- Maybe it's the sun
that's bleached it a bit.

It suits you, though.

Thank you, sir.

For being so kind and...

Understanding.

I've just told him...

(laughing)

(dramatic music)