All language subtitles for Dalziel.and.Pascoe.S02E01.Ruling.Passion.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-squalor1

Pull.

- Yes.
- Good shot, Colin.

Well, aren't you
the country gent?

- All part of his camouflage.

- Right, who's next?

Timmo.

- Alright, you're still
pulling, are you Carl?

- Yes, of course.

- Here we are then, come on.

Put that in your right hand.
- I'm left-handed.

- Oh yes tell us something
we didn't already know.

One cartridge, in here,
into the muscle,

right in the muscle
here, that's it, big one.

- Ooh, it tickles!

- Don't get him excited,
he'll kill us all.

- Darling I'm just nipping
down to the pub, okay?

What's the
matter sweetheart?

- Well we've forgotten
Carlo's scotch.

Oh, don't worry,
I'm fine with this.

- Oh no no, it's fine,
it won't take a minute.

Alright, darling.

Darling.
- What, what?

- Casserole, ten minutes.

- Right, yes, right.
- Take it out.

- Casserole, Colin.
- Okay, stand back.

- Ready?

- And pull!

Good shot, Timmo!
- Good shot!

- Pull!

Pull!

- Evening, Rose, you look good.

- Overdressed more like.

We've got some friends
up for the weekend

and Colin completely
forgot to buy any whiskey.

Is there one called Professors?

- Here.

Teachers.

Don't worry, I'll put
it on the slate.

Just so long as you don't
go to Jimmy Riddle's.

- I nearly did.

I was halfway through the
door when I remembered

the stupid snob had banned us.

Colin, if you have forgotten my.

- Right, then.

Let's welcome the new boy.

Police Cadet Singh, innit?

- Yes, sir.

- I want you to know
that we're a warm,

loving, happy team here.

We laugh when we like,
we cry when we like,

we belch when we like
and fart when we like.

There's just one thing
we don't do.

Go home early on the
night of a big op.

Do we, Sergeant Pascoe?

- No, sir, except I
thought this case

was a minor robbery
at an old lady's.

- And you don't think
an old lady is worth

giving up valuable
supping time for?

It was an antiques burglary.

With the ten we've got so far,

that makes how many, Singh?

- 11, sir.

- Good, you'll do, no thank you.

So, if you're all
wondering why I'm keeping

you late on a Friday
when you want to gratify

your primal urges, my
concern is twofold.

How many folds, Singh?

- Two, sir.

- Give them the tea.

No sugar please.

- One, 11 burglaries
stops being a nuisance

and starts being
a serious crime.

Two, this bugger is showing
a serious taste for violence.

- He hit an elderly
gardener over the head.

- Yeah, he was wearing a
crash helmet at the time.

- Aye.

And if he hadn't just
hopped off his moped,

he'd be lying dead

and this would be a murder
investigation.

Isn't that right,
Sergeant Pascoe?

Tonight, what we're up to

is what your university sods
call preventive policing.

- Preventative policing.

May I make a phone call, sir?

- Aye, go on.

Better than you standing
there looking

as if I'm boring the
nickers off you.

Right.

- Hello?

Oh, it's you, Watson.

What's happened?

Oh, never mind.

Well I told Rose that
we wouldn't make dinner,

but how 'bout breakfast?

Yeah but you tell the fat man
he's ruined a lovely weekend.

- Note the common factor.

Every one of these
burglaries happened

when the occupiers
were on holiday.

Suggesting what to
the trained mind?

Singh?

- Close observation of
the premises, sir.

- Or inside information.

- Welcome back, sunshine.

I hear you've been
withholding something vital.

- What's that, sir?

- When our burglar
visited Mrs Cottingley's,

he left behind some
crucial evidence.

- He micturated in
a kitchen utensil.

- He did what?

- He urinated in the
lady's kettle, sir.

- Must be a damn good shot.

- Well I don't think he did
it through the spout, sir.

- And I've sent the
liquid for analysis.

- Good, because now we know
exactly who we're looking for.

The Wetherton Micturater.

- Oh, beautiful.

Some things are worth
being woken up for.

- I know exactly what you mean.

Can you hang on till
the next lay-by?

- That's what got
me into this mess.

- You look glowing.

- Fat and glowing.

Oh, I need a quiet weekend
in the country.

- Thornton Lacey, this is it.

Just in time for breakfast.

Same old Colin.

- Old jokes are the best.

I sniff bacon and fried bread.

I'm starving.

And so is he, or she.

- Nothing.

Maybe they're not up yet.

- Well, the door's open, go in.

Hello?

- Hello?

Right, now they're probably
still in bed.

- Oh, food!

Oh come on, aren't you up yet?

- You've got a bloody
cheek, Derek Backhouse,

calling Yorkshire on the
morning of a big match.

Yeah.

Sergeant Pascoe.

He's one of mine.

What's he been doing?

Exposing himself on
the street again?

And he did promise
the magistrate.

- You never change,
do you, Andy?

- Come on, love, come inside.

- No, I can't breathe in there.

- Well, bugger me.

I didn't know Pascoe had enough
friends left to spare three.

- I want you to confirm
his story.

He says he would've arrived last

night but you kept
him late on a case.

- Aye, I did.

And I want him back here
sharpish to get it all sorted.

- Rose--
- And Timmo and Carlo.

- They're all dead?

- Yep.

- Colin, what happened to Colin?

- I don't know, love.

- You must find him, Pete.

He's got to be told.

- I'm sorry, Sergeant.

I wonder if you answer
to the name Sunbeam.

- Oh, there you are, Sunbeam.

How's Ellie?

Ah well, she's got more
feelings than you have.

Listen, don't you
know you're not

allowed to look for extra
murders in your spare time?

Now, hark to this.

This is Boghouse's
problem, not yours.

Make your statement
and walk away.

I know the victims are friends,

but don't get personally
involved.

Golden rule of policing.

Boghouse may look like a big
soft nelly, but he's clever.

He'll drop you right
in it, if he has to.

They're not all like
me, you know.

That's all, Sergeant,

except take care of yourself.

You'll make a good
policeman one of these days.

- Morning, Hamblyn.

Any developments?

- We've got a call out
on the blue Jeep.

We still haven't
found the weapon,

we're searching the
coverts over there.

Sorry, sir.

- Trying to find witnesses and
looking for a Colin Hopkins.

- Blue Jeep, sir?

- It was Mrs Hopkins'.

She used it to go
to the farmers.

It seems your friends
run out of Scotch.

Were they heavy drinkers?

- Not normally, but it
was a celebration.

Colin's a well-known
writer and journalist

and he just finished
his new book.

- Open the gate, please.

You're on my land.

And those are my coverts
you're trampling on!

- Excuse me sir, who are you?

- Angus Pelman, Thorton Hall.

Are these men yours?

- This is a crime scene.

Three people were shot dead
last night at Brook Cottage.

- Oh my Lord!
- The Hopkinses?

You knew them?

- Should to, I own
the damn place

Who's shot?

- Mrs Hopkins and two
friends from London.

- Damn me!

What about Colin?

- We're looking for him.

Did you pass here last night?

- I did as a matter of fact.

Parish Council meeting,
I chair it for my sins.

Started 7:30, finished, when
would you say, Marianne?

Oh, um, 10:15?

- Mrs Culpepper's the
Parish Council secretary.

- When you passed the cottage,

did you see a blue Jeep
parked outside?

- Saw it coming down,
not going back.

- Let him through, Hamblyn.

Now, you found Rose
Hopkins by the sundial.

Forensic have actually confirmed
this is where she was shot.

We think we can time
it just after eight,

not many minutes after
she left the pub.

- Why?

- Cap from a fresh bottle.

See the seal's unbroken.

It exploded, it exploded
when the pellets hit her.

- I number only the happy hours.

- You're a policeman,
if this were your case,

what's the first question
you'd ask?

- What would make a man
like Colin Hopkins

take the life of his wife
and two close friends?

But I knew him sir, there's
no way I can believe that.

- I've encountered a
fair few murderers,

the one thing they had
in common was their close

friends said they were
incapable of the crime.

Coroner's here, sir.

- And sorry I took so
long, Superintendent.

I was halfway 'round the golf
course when they reached me.

Luckily I was playing
with Hartley here,

who knew this place
and drove me over.

- Hartley Culpepper.

My house is just down the road.

- I should like to
get this inquest

over as soon as possible,
Superintendent.

You know what these
villagers are like,

there'll be rumors and
suspicions flying about
everywhere.

You must calm
the people down, Mr--

- Peter Pascoe.

- Oh, you found them.

Dreadful.

So what happens to you now?

- My wife's pregnant
and in shock

but we're needed as witnesses.

I hear there's an inn
in the village?

- Two, but one of them
doesn't take guests

and the other shouldn't
be allowed to.

Come and stay with us.

We were all supposed
to be coming

for drinks this evening anyway

and I'm sure my wife
would be delighted.

- I think I've already met her.

- Really, where?

- Well just now, with Mr Pelman.

Anyway Mr Culpepper,
we'd be glad to accept.

- Good.

Aye aye.

Who's the man of the match?

- Wanted from Thames
Valley, Colin Hopkins.

Thought armed and dangerous.

Isn't that Sergeant
Pascoe's friend?

- Yeah, silly pillock.

- Sergeant Pascoe?

- No, Superintendent Boghouse.

Jumping the gun, that is.

Anyway, get your kecks
on, we're going out.

- The tranquility of
this Cotswold community

was shattered today as villagers

woke to the news of
a triple murder.

Last night as they
sat in their home,

three friends were confronted
by an armed killer.

The motives for the
murders is unknown,

but police are anxious
for a fourth friend,

A Mr Colin Hopkins.

- One whisky chaser.

- Thank you, Sam.

Right.

- Yes, sir?

- Pint of bitter, please.

Did you serve Mrs Hopkins
last night?

- Press, are you?

- No, I was a friend.

I found them.

- I can't believe it.

Really nice people.

- They come in here often?

- They did lately.

They got fed up with the Angel.

Landlord by the name
of Major James Riddell.

Otherwise known as Jimmy Riddle.

They were glad to find
someone more friendly.

- What happened last night?

- Rose came in just before
eight to get a bottle of Scotch.

Hardly here a minute.

Doesn't seem possible
in Thornton Lacey.

Such a quiet place,
it used to be.

- Not anymore?

- Changed completely
since the motorway.

You can be in the smoke
in 90 minutes

and the smoke can be up here.

Now it's too many squires
and not enough peasants.

- Oh, Marianne.

You did remember the
parish minutes, my dear?

- Angus, I never forget
anything, you know that.

- Right!

Freddie, Fenton!

Drinkies, come on, chop chop!

Dreadful
business, complete tragedy.

- Just follow the
dogs, Marianne.

- Victims too, I suspect.

- Of course, of course.

- Major.
- Hello, sir.

Boring bloody
meeting, eh?

It brings the
village together, Angus.

Oh!

Well, it brings us together,
doesn't it?

- Haven't harmed your beautiful
head of yours, have I?

- Not at all.

- I've always tried to
keep up standards here,

but all I got was abuse
from those two.

- Hmm, I've heard that Hopkins
was a bit of a troublemaker.

- Ah, completely off his
chump, atrocious temper!

As for his wife, well.

No gentleman could
possibly repeat

some of the words that
came out of her mouth.

- Who are you then?

Her psychiatrist?

Social worker?

- Who are you, another madman?

- I say, isn't this exciting?

- Alright, Sergeant
Pascoe, that'll do.

This isn't Yorkshire, we don't
use Dalziel tactics here.

Come and sit down, I'll
get you a drink.

- No, sir.

This is my and this
gentleman is barred.

- Official warning, don't
enter this place again.

- I didn't know you
were on duty, sir.

- I was enjoying
a pleasant lunch

and eavesdropping on a
very useful conversation.

Riddell was shooting off
his mouth to the press.

That man was a reporter.

- What for, Harpers and Queen?

Sorry.

- You're not the only one
to be banned from that bar.

Riddell was about to explain
why he kicked out your friends.

- Hello, darlings.

Coppers, are we?

I thought we were being
a tad peelerish.

- You were getting on very
well with Major Riddell, Mr?

- Yes I was, wasn't I?

Davenant, Anton Davenant.

I do features for
gourmet magazines.

You know, look out for the
wonderfully kept pork pie

and so nice to have a
horse brass up your ass.

- Yeah, when you were at school,

did they teach you to be
kind to little old ladies,

or was it Wetherton
Comprehensive?

Remember, we've got nowt.

Only a modus operandi.

You ...

You speak Latin, I take it?

- No, sir.

Is that the same as an MO?

- Not quite, almost.

One, nice house in the country.

A bit secluded.

Two, owners away on holiday.

- The gardener wasn't.

No, but the weather changed,

so he came inside and
watered the plants.

He changed his modus operandi.

Three, the loot's
usually the same.

Small antiques and
collectables, hard to trace.

- Mr Dalziel!

- Four, the owners are
generally batty.

How's the gardener?

Oh, he'll be all right.

His crash helmet was
completely ruined.

Fortunate he was here.

- It wasn't for him!

- Oh, they might've taken
even more of my stuff.

Her, take Butch, I'll
make us a cup of tea.

- Take Butch, Singh.

- Butch, sir?

- That stinking lump of hair.

- Oh, why don't we just go?

Be nice to have a
bed for the night,

but this isn't my scene.

In fact, I hate this.

- Hello?
- Hi.

- Mrs Pascoe?
- Yes.

- There we go.
- Thank you.

Welcome to Lacey Manor.

What a time you've had.

So, if there's anything
we can do to help you.

- I think what we most
need is a rest.

- My wife.

About time!

- I saw you at Brook
Cottage this morning.

Marianne Culpepper.

- Peter Pascoe.

I saw you at the Angel.

- With Angus Pelman.

So, Hartley?

- Well I invited Mr and Mrs
Pascoe to spend the night.

They would have been
staying at Brook Cottage.

- Darling, we've obviously
got our wires crossed again.

You've seem to have forgotten

that I've invited people
in for supper this evening.

I tell you what.

Why don't you two slip
upstairs before

the fun starts and I'll
pop your supper on a tray?

- Honestly!

Who'd want my little
collectables?

- Where did you keep
your little collectables?

- In the china cabinet.

- What was taken?

- Stones.

Precious stones?

- Well, they weren't
exactly precious.

- Oh, aye, just stones?

- They were very nice
Yorkshire stones.

Mr Dalziel, I can see
why this thief would take

my collection but why would he
want to wee-wee in my kettle?

- Must've been the excitement.

Did you tell anyone
you were going away?

- Only the gardener.

I was staying with my
sister in Northumberland.

It was all very sudden.

She slipped on this cream
bun and broke her ankle.

- Thank you, Mrs Cottingley.

I can promise you we'll
leave no stone unturned.

- Here young man, give me Butch.

- Good God lad!

You look like you've
been shagged by a sheep.

Oh pardon me, Mrs Cottingley.

- He does, doesn't it?

- You alright then?

Bet you're wondering
who's the little man

having a tete-a-tete
with Hartley Culpepper?

- He obviously moves
in top circles.

What does he do?

- Oh, Hartley you mean?

Public relations.

Some kind of big fish
with one of the big fish.

Nordrill, I think it's called.

- It is.

The oil and drilling group.

We make holes in the
bottom of the sea.

- I know.

I had no idea you made them in
the bottom of the Cotswolds?

- No we don't, Scotland
and the North Sea.

While I work in London, I've
always loved Oxfordshire.

- And it's an easy spin
down the M40, isn't it?

- Freddie, Fenton, stay!

Very good dogs.

- Oh, dear, you've
started without me.

Evening, my dear!

You look absolutely blooming!

- Angus Pelman, Lord
of our manor.

- He and Mrs Culpepper
wouldn't happen

to be a number, would they?

- A publican has to be
the soul of discretion.

- You okay?

Brought you some supper.

- I don't think so, I
still feel dreadful.

- Of course you do, come
on, you've got to eat.

- What's been keeping you
down there with that lot?

- It's a case.

- Not your case, not your patch.

Nothing you can do.

Who is it?

Who's there?

- I didn't know there was
a swinging party going on.

I'll come back another time.

- So you're a friend of
the Culpeppers, as well?

- Met them now and again
at artistic do's in London.

He collects, you know.

I just thought I might
look them up.

- And Colin Hopkins?

You know him too?

- Oh.

Yes, I met him through Timmo.

- Timmo Mansfield?

- Two of a kind, you
know what I mean.

- Are you quite sure you're
a journalist, Mr. Davenant?

- Oh yes, darling but back
of the paper, not the front.

Eaties, drinkies, artifacts
and general goodies.

I can't bear crime.

It attracts the worst
kind of reporter.

- Yet you were interviewing
Jimmy Riddle.

- Yes, I had to find
out what happened.

Tell me, would you call
Colin a raving Marxist?

- No, I wouldn't.

- Neither would I.

That's what Riddell called him.

It's a dire phrase in his
insult book, I can tell you.

- What made them fall out?

- Mmm, my question exactly.

Apparently, there was a
row in the Sportsman's bar.

Riddell's a classic snob.

One night, he refuses some kids
who come in in biker's gear.

Rose complains, tells him
not to be such a tight ass.

Riddell calls her a bitch.

Colin tips his drink
over him, there we are.

Sounds like fun to me.

- It doesn't explain
a triple murder.

- No.

Would you care for a
drink at the Angel?

- I think it's time I
went back in, Mr Davenant.

- Suit yourself, old darling.

- Come in.

Was anyone there?

- A Mr Davenant was
in your grounds.

- Friend of Marianne's.

Whisky?
- Thank you.

Very interesting room,
Mr Culpepper.

I'm glad you like it.

Do you care for porcelain?

- Oh, I don't know
enough about it.

But the policeman in
me makes me wonder

whether you've got all
this properly insured?

- Oh, yes, yes.

But, you see, it doesn't
have a price.

Not to me, just a value.

It's irreplaceable.

The fascination's
in the collecting.

And I've always been
interested since I was a boy.

- What a relief after a day
in the corridors of power.

- That's a place where
nothing has a value

and everything has a price.

Known the Hopkinses
long, Mr Culpepper?

- Just since they moved to
the village a few months ago.

A nice couple.

- Can you think of anyone who
might have cause to hate them?

- Well apart from JR,
no, but I think you have

the wrong idea about
villages, Mr Pascoe.

These days, they're not cut
off little places anymore.

They're part of a bigger world.

Colin Hopkins spent
half his time in London.

He might've made quite
a few enemies.

He had quite a temper.

But then you'd know that
if you were close friends.

- Voice from the grave.

Or, should I say, from
the underworld.

From which I hope
to lead you back

into the land of the living.

The land of the living.

Stay next weekend.

Come and stay next weekend.

Friday night.

Fun starts at dinner.

Be there.

My Eloisa and Abelard.

- Peter!

Peter?

- Hello, hearts.

Is this where they're
holding the inquest thing?

Come along
sir, move along, please.

- Police continue looking
for the getaway car,

a blue Suzuki Jeep and for
the mysterious fourth friend,

who police believe is
still in the area

and who may be armed
and dangerous.

- We have heard all
three deceased

were killed by a
12 bore shotgun.

We must of course, await
the pathologist's report.

But there is also a common
time of death,

between 8:00 pm and 11:00 pm.

I express my sympathy
to Mr Pascoe

and, I presume, Mrs Pascoe,

who found the tragic victims.

We have heard that police
anticipate an early

arrest and wish them every
success with their inquiries.

In the meantime,

I adjourn this inquest sine die.

- What are you doing here?

Are you alright?

- Nearly alright.

Early arrest, what do they mean?

- Colin.

- What have you told them?

- Nothing!

- You don't think
Colin's really a suspect?

- Well suspect or not, we
all want him found, don't we?

- If your fat controller had
let us come Friday night,

none of this wouldn't
have happened!

- No Ellie, it doesn't
mean that,

it means it could've
happened to us too!

- Excuse me Mrs Pascoe,

Sergeant Crowther
needs your help

with some witness statements.

I'll look after your wife.

Well Mrs Pascoe,
what's it to be,

a short, bumpy car ride

or a pleasant stroll
through the village?

- We go back a long way.

Three couples at university
together.

None of us knew where
we were heading.

Then Colin and Rose married.

- Happily?

- I always thought so.

Then Carlo went to do
a PhD in Glasgow.

Timmo became a Eurocrat
in Brussels.

I became a lecturer.

Pete put on the helmet
of salvation.

- Sorry?

- Became a copper.

But I married him
in spite of it!

- And this weekend, you all
arranged to meet up again?

- About a month ago, I'd
arranged to see Colin in London.

He's a successful journalist
and I'm a struggling novelist.

I thought I might get some help.

- What do you mean, with
a book or something?

- Yeah.

- Excuse me!
- Sure.

- Thank you!

Sergeant Crowther?

Oh, are you a policeman?

You'll do.

My sister and I keep
the post office.

She runs the counter
and I deliver letters.

Well, you know how
it is in a village,

we don't like to be too
official about things.

So, if any letters come for
the village, we just take them.

- It was the usual Colin,
full of himself.

We meet to talk about my book,
we end up talking about his,

Poverty In The 90s,

Executive Unemployment
And White Collar Debt.

I told him he was crazy
doing it in the Cotswolds.

He told me I didn't
know the half.

- When I heard the awful news,

I thought this might be
important, a letter from Mr
Hopkins.

It it had been Royal Mail,
I'd have had to deliver it.

But, well he just handed it in.

So I thought Sergeant
Crowther ought to see it.

- Quite right, Miss Langdale.

I'll take that.

- So I'll get that typed up

and circulated if
I may, Mrs Pascoe.

- Think you'd better
see this, sir.

Wouldn't like it to get
into the wrong hands.

- Mr Pascoe, thank you
for your patience.

Have a safe journey home.

- Damaged perforations.

I'd recognize these
stamps anywhere.

- I'm sorry, sir,
Superintendent's busy.

Oh, maybe Sergeant Pascoe
could help you.

This is Mr Sturgeon, one
of the burglary victims.

Hey.

- A friend of mine bought
these Sergeant

and knowing of my philatelic
expertise, showed 'em to me.

I knew them right off.

They're mine.

- Well, very nice, Mr Sturgeon.

Where did your friend find them?

- There's an old Birkham,
on the Moors.

- Lovely up there, isn't it?
- Aye, gradely.

Well that's where
he bought them,

in an antiquey place
on the square,

Etherege and Burne-Jones.

- Very good, Mr Sturgeon,

we'll need to keep them
to make further inquiries.

Desk sergeant will
give you a receipt.

Perhap there's something you
could do for me, Sergeant.

Give the Scottish police a ring

and see if they know
anything about that chap.

- Archie Selkirk.

Strath Farm, Lochart, Inverness.

What about him?

- Well who he is and
where he's got to,

you know, that sort of thing.

- I'm sorry, Mr Sturgeon,

but we're not an information
bureau.

Busy enough as it is.

- All right, please yourself.

Thanks, anyway.

- Poor old beggar.

Used to have a timber supply
business up Ormiston Road.

Sold up and retired a
couple of years ago.

But he's a real Yorkshire
tyke, just can't settle.

Not a lot to do with yourself,

is there, when your job's gone?

- He isn't the only one.
- True enough, true enough.

What can I do for you, sir?

- Hi, it's me.

How are you?

Yeah, I know.

Well cancel the lecture
if you feel too bad.

Listen, how about meeting
up for lunch in Birkham?

One o'clock?

Yeah, I'm gonna be up that way.

Alright, love you.

Yeah, okay, bye.

- Do you mind not
talking to your doxy when

I'm staring at you?

- Sorry, sir.

Was there something?

Aye, get your boots on.

Your micturater's
been at it again,

only on this job, he
was interrupted.

- You mean this time
we've got a witness?

- No, I mean this time
we've got a corpse.

Is the doctor
there now?

Sir.

- Name's Matthew Lewis.

He was an estate agent.

But that's not ours
to judge, is it?

- Are you alright, sir?

- Of course I am.

You don't look all that
good to me yourself.

- What makes you so sure
it was the micturater?

- You can sniff it.

Collector.

Staffordshire pots or something.

Off on holiday.

Nice house in the country.

Big grounds, long drive.

- It's a bungalow,
sir, in suburbia.

- You always were a stickler
for detail, weren't you?

Alright, Wieldy, who did it?

Where is he, and what have
you put in his confession?

- Morning, sir.

Matthew Lewis of
Lewis and Cowley,

Estate Agents, Bridge Street.

- Simply the best?
- That's the one.

He and his wife were at their
holiday cottage in Scotland.

He drove down overnight
on Friday

for a meeting with his partner.

He didn't return Saturday night,

so she came down herself
on Sunday,

found him battered to death.

Now the body's in here
Doc Vickery's here,

he's got the gory details.

- Where's Mrs Lewis?

- Staying with a neighbor.

Very upset, couldn't
tell us much.

Lewis?

Where are you?

I want you to call me.

Urgently.

- In here, sunshine.

- Another grave lost
to the Liberal club.

They'll be hauling members
in off the street soon.

- What does it take to get
a result like that, Doc?

- Well one blow would lay
him out, two would kill him.

And he's had a lot
more than two.

- At least we know
he's dead then.

- Probably happened
Saturday afternoon,

he'd been like that
about 24 hours

before his wife found him.

- What was taken?

- Oh some quite good
stuff, insured for 25,000,

according to Mrs Lewis.

- What was in here then?

- Silverware mainly,
including a snooker trophy.

Looks like pure micturater.

- No, I'm not sure.

There's a big difference
between peeing

in a kettle and beating
a man to death.

- They both leave a foul
mess to clear up.

What's your theory
then, sunshine?

- What, an estate agent, how
'bout disgruntled client?

- Oh, aye.

Got gazumped once, did you?

- The answerphone, sir.

Someone was after him.

No sign of a struggle, so he
could have known his attacker.

- Or the micturater was
in the house already,

jumped him from behind.

Consistent with the
injuries, Doctor?

- Could be.

Andy, I don't like the
sound of that cough.

- Sorry, it's the
only one I've got.

Look, you're ridiculously
overweight,

you're coughing too much

and it's time somebody
had a proper look at you.

I want you in my surgery
tomorrow morning

and this time I won't
take no for an answer.

- Yes, Doctor.

Well, don't just stand there.

Check out that estate agent's.

- I'm sorry, but this
is a very bad time.

My partner's death has left me

with a barrel load of problems.

- It's left us with a
barrel load of problems.

This is a murder inquiry.

I'm Detective Sergeant Pascoe.

- John Cowley, Matt's partner.

Look, is all this absolutely
necessary?

I thought Matt was killed
by a burglar.

- We like to check everything.

You don't seem to have
very many deceptively

large properties on
offer, Mr Cowley.

- Oh, you mean houses?

Who wants them these days?

No, we specialize in
business packages,

commercial premises,
landed estates.

No, if it's a desirable semi
you want, you go elsewhere.

- Was it a business package that

brought Mr Lewis down
from Scotland on Saturday?

- Who told you that?

- Mrs Lewis.

Said her husband left
for an urgent meeting.

- Urgent?

- Well it must have been,
he drove down overnight.

- Oh no, that was pure Matt.

Bundle of action, a real
mover and shaker.

- This meeting then,
who was at it?

You, Mr Lewis and?

- And no one.

That was it.

- So, it couldn't have
been done by phone or fax?

- Matt was very hands-on.

Look, this wasn't unusual.

He went back and forth
between Wetherton

and Scotland 10,
12 times a year.

He just wanted to check
out his bottom line.

- Why did Mr Lewis go
back to his house?

- No idea.

Get some papers, feed the dog?

- Meet a client?

- I wouldn't know.

We were business
partners, not bosom mates.

- This cottage of his in
Scotland, where abouts is it?

- In the glens.

Somewhere near Inverness.

- Lochart?

- Don't remember.

Never been to Scotland.

- No, no, no, don't tell me.

The fat man asked you to
clean his boots, so you did?

The man thinks he possesses you.

- No, Ellie.

Another body, another murder.

- Why did I ever marry
a policeman?

- Why don't you just go
home and take it easy?

We haven't just got
you to think about.

- Don't mollycoddle me!

- Look, why don't we just
go into this antiques place,

buy something to cheer you up?

- Okay.

- Anyway, you all right?

- No, I'm not alright.

But I staggered through
my lecture anyway.

My students must
think I'm crazy.

Any news of Colin?

- Nothing.

He's well and truly disappeared.

- I rang Rose's parents.

Her body's been released.

The funeral is on Thursday
and you're coming,

whether the big slob
likes it or not.

Hello?

Hello?

Oh, hello there.

Do you mind if we look around?

- Oh please, be my guest.

- Thanks.

I didn't know you liked stamps.

- Don't know much about
me at all, do you?

- Wouldn't happen to be
working, would we?

- How could I be?

- These are nice.

- All good local work.

Very local, me.

Always keep your
neighborhood craftsman happy.

- And rich!

- 20% off to test
your sincerity.

The gentleman will pay.

- Thanks.

See you later.
- See you later.

Cheers.

So, you're Burne-Jones?

- Nearly, Jonathan Etherege.

- Ever seen these before?

- Mm, scraps of paper to me.

I'm mainly furniture and crafts,

my partner deals with stamps.

I sometimes think
he hangs around

school play grounds
and does swopsies.

- Can I speak to him?

- Bit difficult, he's just gone
to Corsica on his holidays.

- I suppose you've seen
lists like these before.

- Stolen goods?

Bill, are you?

We try to check where
all our stuff comes from,

but you know how it
is with antiques.

Staffordshire pot dogs?

- We're mainly furniture.

They're collectables.

If you wanna take anything
and check it, be my guest.

- Very cooperative of
you, Mr Etherege.

- Not really, nothing in here
worth more than a few quid.

- Come on, Cassius.

Come on, let's go, this way.

- I just need to check
them for identification.

Jonathan.

- There's no problem
getting them back.

- Good, bring the young lady.

It's always nice to make a sale.

- There you are, sunshine.

Bought you a pint.

- Very kind of you, sir.

- I thought you might need it.

Call from your friend Boghouse,

they picked up a bloke
in Nottingham,

to up with their inquires.

- Colin Hopkins?

- That's the general idea.

Sorry, son.

I'm not sure what for,
but I'm sorry.

Now, let's do some work.

Talk to Lewis' partner?

- Yeah.

The age of the yuppie
isn't dead.

- Poncy bugger, was he?

Not the sort of bloke you'd
buy a used house from.

- Not much help either.

He says Lewis rushed down
overnight from Scotland

for a business meeting
but it wasn't important.

- So it's back to your
disgruntled client theory?

- Well there's a call
on the answerphone

and we still don't know why
Lewis went back to his house.

- Yes we do.

I talked to Mrs Lewis.

When she left the
house last week,

she unplugged the answerphone.

Lewis was so annoyed, went
back home to switch it on.

- Telling us what?

- That call was made after Lewis
met his death night before.

- Which screws up your
disgruntled client theory.

It leaves just two
lines of inquiry.

The break-ins themselves and
the disposal of the loot.

It's quality stuff, the
micturater's taking now.

So he won't keep
it in his bottom

drawer 'til the right
girl comes along.

How's he getting rid?

- Well I checked the
antique barn in Birkham

where the Sturgeon's
stamps turned up.

Nothing much there.

- That's what I like to
see, a chuffed policeman.

- Want to know why the
micturater micturated in the
kettle?

- Defacement of premises.

Some lads get off on that stuff.

- No, sir, not that.

- Well, go on then, I'm agog.

- Forensic checked that kettle.

Our lad suffers from diabetes,

which causes frequent urination.

- This stuff does the same.

- Edgar, love, can you get
some cat food on your way back?

- It's not cold, is it?

- As a witch's tit.

- Will you lie down on
your back, please?

- You know, while you're
buggering about down there,

you could do something useful.

Tell me about diabetes.

Or hadn't they discovered it by

the time you graduated
from the barber shop?

- You haven't got
diabetes, Dalziel.

- Good, but someone
we wish to see

in the course of our
inquiries has.

- Just roll over and
face the wall, will you?

How d'you know?

- He left behind a kettle
full of urine.

What type?

- I think it was a Swan.

- Not the kettle!

Didn't they tell you?

There's three different
types of diabetes.

There's type A.

Type B.

- Type C.

What, did you spend five
years learning the alphabet?

- And type AB.

Type A's the best known,
although it's not the commonest.

It means you're dependent on
insulin injections for life

and the symptoms are
excessive thirst

and frequent urinating.

Right, you can sit up now.

What a gut you've got on you.

You know, if you were to get
diabetes, you would get type B.

- That's better, is it?

- Doesn't strike til middle age,

victims generally overweight.

Commonest form.

It's usually treated orally,

rather than by insulin
injection.

- Can I put my knickers on now?

- Yeah.

- What about AB?

- Oh, stress diabetes.

People in their 30s
and 40s get it usually.

It's the same type B,

only the victim's
generally not overweight.

In fact, quite frequently
underweight.

- Well, that's a big help.

All we need to do now
is find is a thin man

between 30 and 40,

a fat man of 40 to 50,

and a thin or fat man
of any age at all.

- Not quite.

- How do you mean?

- Could be a woman.

Right, now.

I've fixed up for you to have
some X-rays at the hospital.

See, I like to get
in all the evidence

before I make a prognosis.

- Oh.

- What was he doing on the moor?

I've got to see him.

The old lad was so
worried lately.

Worried about what?

- Money, his investments,
what would become of me.

He was afraid of
being poor again.

I know something went
amiss over the weekend.

I've never seen him like it.

Besides, he never
went there before.

- You just rest there,
Mrs Sturgeon.

Have you got a friend who
can come and sit with you?

Yeah? Good.

Look, I'll give them a call.

- Mavis.

I want to see Mavis.

- What's that?

Your plan for refighting
the Gulf War?

- Our connections, sir.

Lewis and Sturgeon,

are both members of
the Liberal Club.

Now one of them's dead

and the other one's
critically in hospital.

- Liberal Club?

One of the few clubs
in Wetherton,

I've never been chucked out of.

Mind you, that's probably
because I never

joined it in the first place.

- Alright and then
there's Lochart,

a place in the Scottish
glen's near Inverness.

Lewis had a cottage there

and Sturgeon was trying to
track down someone there,

a Mr Archie Selkirk.

- We got a phone number
but it's the Lochart Hotel.

This Selkirk stayed there
twice, about a month ago.

- Did he leave an address?

- A London hotel.
- So, we know he likes hotels.

Why not ask Sturgeon?

- Too ill to talk, sir.

Then there's the accident,
we checked out Sturgeon's car

and it's mechanically sound.

- Now I think I'm beginning
to get your drift, laddie.

You think Sturgeon did Lewis
in, for some unknown reason.

Then drove off the road.

Well, suicide after murder
isn't uncommon.

- I know, sir.

It's feasible, isn't it?

- Never heard owt so
daft in my life.

Lewis was burgled.

That connects his case
with 11 other victims,

including Sturgeon.

Here, give me that.

That's where you
wanna be looking!

Now I've got an appointment
with the doctor.

Have a pint waiting for me
in the Black Bull later,

always assuming I'm spared!

- Never mind, he's not himself.

- Go on, then.

Tell me the worst.

- Worried, are we?

- Bloody terrified, Doc.

- Ah, bet your fertile
imagination's been

running through all the
diseases known to man.

Well, you'll be glad to know
you've got none of them.

- You mean you've got me
here under false pretenses?

And I've put off coming
to see you for months!

- Now then, you're very
far from perfect.

You drink too much,
you smoke too much,

you eat too much and you
interrupt your doctor.

So the bad news is, if
you don't take my advice,

in a 12 month you'll
be laid low by any

one of a dozen diseases,
high blood pressure,

thrombosis, bronchitis,
cirrhosis.

Now, I've got this
diet sheet for you.

You need to lose
at least a stone.

It's gonna be tough,

especially without alcohol
or nicotine.

- You're a bloody
sadist, Doctor.

- Follow it closely, no excuses.

- All right.

Now I've dedicated my body to
science, do something for me.

You're a member of
the Liberal Club?

- You don't want me to
put you up, do you?

- I'm not that sick!

I want you to buy
me a drink there

tomorrow at lunch time,
a soft one of course.

You'll send me the bill
for all this lot?

- Too bloody true!

And hey, if you're
gonna leave this behind,

pay bloody quick.

I don't want to make a
claim on your estate!

- Would the congregation
please rise for the committal?

Having commended into the hands

of God our sister departed,

we now commit her body
to be cremated.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,

putting our whole trust
and confidence

in the mercy of our
heavenly father,

and in the victory of his son,

Jesus Christ, our
Lord, who died,

was buried and rose again for us

and is alive and reigns
for ever and ever.

Amen.

Amen.

- Excuse me.

Sir.

I heard you picked up Colin
Hopkins in Nottingham.

- Mistaken identity.

The man was a Romanian
on a false passport.

Goodness knows what they
could get up to in Nottingham.

- So the case is
still wide open?

- Yeah, very much so.

You know, since you
left Thornton,

things have been quiet or
simmering under the surface.

- I'm amazed there's
so much to simmer.

Rose and Colin were
only there a few months.

- Yeah, long enough to
make a few friends

and at least one enemy.

- Major Riddell?

- Your friend seems to have
been quite a journalist.

Did you know he was
researching the village?

- Yeah, for the book
he was writing.

- Well it turned out there
was no Major Riddell.

But there was a Sergeant
Riddell in the catering corps.

A proud reputation
would've fallen

if that had reached print.

It was all in that letter

you tried so improperly
to acquire.

Would you say your friend
was given to blackmail?

- No, I'd say he saw himself
as a fearless journalist.

- Like Mr Davenant.

See you at the inquest,
Sergeant.

- Good to see you
again, Mr Pascoe,

despite the sad occasion.

Oh, congratulations on your
wife, an intellectual pearl

in the constabulary
crown, I must say.

- What was all that about?

- He was asking about Colin.

Any news?

- Still nothing.

- I'm getting very
afraid, Peter.

- That Colin's dead?

- That he did it.

- Well what would any of us do,

if we were really pushed?

- We don't know of anything
that would've pushed him.

Oh, Ellie.

How are
you feeling then, Andy?

- Never better.

And I've a doctor's
note to prove it.

- You know, I'm looking
forward to this.

The thought of you knocking

the balls around our baize,

is enough to scare
anybody into a confession!

- I prefer rugby.

It's dirtier and I was never
any good with funny handshakes.

- Ha, come on, get in.
- Heavens above, it's true!

I thought you're
winding us up, Alan.

- I know, I shouldn't have.

But it's very difficult
to resist

a detective superintendent
when he really insists.

- This is the man who thinks

Attila The Hun was
a bit left-wing.

Cheers, Andy.

I don't believe it!

The lad's on the wagon!

Don't have too
many of those, Andy.

Right, a pound
a point, is it?

- So long as Andy doesn't start

talking business and put me off.

- It's funny that.

'Cause I thought talking
business was what happened here.

The late Matthew Lewis,
for instance.

Were he as sharp with money
as he was at this lark?

- We hope we're all sharp, lads.

Matt, he handled some of
the more unusual aspects

of property speculation.

So did the Church of England.

- Aye, and we all know
what happened to them.

Noolan.

You keep a close eye
on your accounts.

Was Lewis in the
black or the red?

- Now, now, I've a bank
manager's secret oath to keep.

I'm not trying to bring
down capitalism.

Just find a few cracks
in the old boy network.

- Well, let's put it like this,

whoever settles that estate
won't have much to pay out.

Matt Lewis was like you,

a man who enjoyed the
good things of life

with a fine indiscrimination.

- Aye, with him it was
wine, women and song.

For you it's beer, cigarettes
and rugby.

- Ah, I only risk my body.

He risking his overdraft,
as well.

You do any business
with him, Jacko?

- Well he tried interesting
me in land

speculation in the
Scottish glens,

seems somebody was
digging for haggis

and found an oil vial.

- Oh, well you can't do a lot
better than that, can you?

- Yes you bloody can!

The oil company was in trouble!

Conservation lobby
was after them.

In fact last week, I saw
somewhere where they had

to pull out of land-based
exploration completely.

Now I take my risk
close to home, aye.

Where you can send in the
heavy gang if all goes wrong.

- I'll forget you said that,

if you'll tell me about
Edgar Sturgeon.

- Oh lovely lad, one of
Yorkshire's best,

you'd really like him.

- If I ever have the chance.

He's on the critical list.

- Aye, bad that.

Self-made man.

- His wife talked
him into retiring.

- But he just couldn't
sit and do nowt.

- Is that why he had a look at
Matthew Lewis's speculation?

- It's down there at
the end of the bar

and Lewis would tell him all
about the bright blue yonder.

We all tried saying something,
didn't we?

- Lot of decent people go
to the wall these days.

Bad times, bloody
bad governments.

- I know, vote Liberal.

- Some kids were playing on
the quarry edge and found it.

Always was a dangerous
spot, this.

- Other incidents?

- A boy drowned two
summers back.

Body was never found.

- Sir.
- Yeah?

- There's a note.

It was on the passenger seat.

Nothing, looks like you
were right, boss.

- He's still very ill, sir.

A serious accident like
this at his age.

- I'm bringing him the best
wishes of the Liberal Club.

Has he said owt?

- He's just asked
to see his wife.

You won't do anything
to upset him?

- Trust me, Nurse.

Mr Sturgeon.

Superintendent Dalziel.

I want to try something
out on you,

tell you a little story.

You just say if it's
right or wrong, okay?

- Okay.

- There once was a
lad called Sturgeon

who put a bit aside
for a rainy day.

He met another fellow
called Lewis,

who told him how to
make a fortune.

Sturgeon trusted
him because they

both belonged to
the Liberal Club.

Lewis tells him a fine tale.

He says there's oil
in the glens,

right by his cottage at Lochart.

The Nordrill Mining
Company found it.

Sturgie only had to come
and take a look.

So Sturgie goes to Scotland
and stays at the Lochart Hotel.

And who does he meet
but a Mr Archie Selkirk,

who has a farm to sell.

Am I wasting my breath?

So Sturgie decides to
gather his savings,

remortgage his house
and buy the farm.

Lewis gives him the
best commercial advice,

as only an estate agent can.

But one day, Sturgie
hears bad news.

Nordrill isn't going to drill
in the glens, after all.

- In the paper.

- He tries to contact Lewis,
but he won't answer his calls.

He looks for Selkirk,

but nobody seems ever
to have heard of him.

And the police do
sod all to help.

Everything's gone
wrong for Sturgie.

So, one morning, he goes
to Mr Lewis's house.

He hits Mr Lewis over the head,

which makes him die.

He knows he's gonna be caught.

So, he gets in his car
and drives off the road.

- I didn't kill Lewis.

- You drove your
car off the road.

- I lost all my money
to Selkirk.

All I got left was
my life insurance.

Tell Mavis,

I did it for her.

Told you I'd never heard
owt so daft in all my life.

He didn't kill Lewis.

- Which company's supposed
to have found the oil?

- Group called Nordrill.

- Do you know, a butterfly
beating its wings

in the Amazon can cause
a hurricane in China?

- No, but you hum it
and I'll join in.

- A multinational pulls
out of the glens

and there's chaos across
Middle England.

- What's the third verse?

Anyway, you keep singing.

I want to find Mr
Archie Selkirk.

- Selkirk.

No, sorry Superintendent,
there's no such client.

- While you're there, have a
look for a Mr Edgar Sturgeon.

- I assume these were people

Matt was dealing with privately.

We each had our own
personal clients.

No, nothing on Sturgeon either.

- Was Mr Lewis in financial
difficulties?

There's no need to be coy.

It'll all come out
when the lawyers

start settling his estate.

- Well he was having a
few temporary problems

with his bottom line, yes.

My partner liked to live
a bit high off the hog.

- And to get himself
out of these temporary

difficulties with
his bottom line,

he got himself involved
with some dodgy dealing.

- I'm afraid I know
absolutely nothing about that.

- Isn't that why he came
rushing down from Scotland?

- No, he didn't.

And if you think I had any
reason to kill him, I didn't.

His death has left me in
serious commercial trouble.

- Mr Cowley, you told
my lovely sergeant

here that you had never
been to Scotland.

- That's true.

- In that case, can you
tell me what you were

doing the weekend of, um?

- 17th.

- August the 17th.

- Yes, that shouldn't
be too difficult.

Yes, I went to a rugby match.

- Oh?

Who was playing?

- Wetherton V Pontefract.

Pontefract won.

42 to three.

- Well done, spot on.

- Was there any special
reason for that question?

- Oh, didn't I say?

That was one of the
weekends when

Mr Archie Selkirk
was in Lochart.

- Oh, yes, the man I've
never heard of.

- Do you think he was
Archie Selkirk?

- Course he was,
the poncy bugger!

Any fool knows Pontefract
beat Wetherton.

Lewis was the straight man.

Cowley played the dumb farmer,

who didn't know he got oil
sloshing around under his land.

I want you to check his
story till it cracks.

- Yes, sir.

When I get back from
Thornton Lacey.

- My God, you going on
your holidays again?

- Nice day for an inquest.

- Mr Pascoe!
- Not coming?

- No, I'm needed in
the corridors of power.

- Ah, sounds a bit chilly.

Spend a lot of time there?

- For my sins.

This is the London train?

- Yeah, safe journey.

Good afternoon.

- "Death, only death can
break the lasting chain

"and here, even then
shall my cold dust remain.

"Here, all its frailties,
all its flames resign

"and wait till 'tis no
sin to mix with thine.

"Present the cross before
my uplifted eye.

"Teach me at once and
learn of me to die."

That's all, sir.

- Thank you, Superintendent.

And that note was found on
the seat of the Suzuki Jeep?

- Yes, in Hopkins' writing.

And what did you
do after you'd found it?

- I set up a frogman's
search of the quarry,

despite days of searching,
nothing was found.

- The quarry is deep.

Bodies have disappeared
there before, have they?

They have.

- Very well.

It seems to me that the
intention was quite explicit.

In the circumstances, there
can be only one verdict.

In the matter of the
deaths of Mrs Hopkins,

Mr Mansfield and Mr Rushworth,

I find they were unlawfully
killed.

As for Mr Hopkins,

I take it on presumption

that he then took his own life

and left clear evidence
of that fact.

- In the latest development

in the case of the
Cotswold killings,

the coroner's accepted that
the mysterious fourth friend,

Colin Hopkins was himself,
the murderer.

- It's your woods that are
the problem, Mr Pelman.

The stream runs through
the village.

Somewhere there's evidence
of pollution.

We need access to your coverts.

- Oh no, private land,
no one goes in my woods.

- I quite agree, sir.

Squire has his rights, what?

- The verdict as you
expected, Sergeant?

- It's what you expected,
wasn't it, Superintendent?

- Frankly I find it a
little bit too clever.

From someone taking
his own life?

- And from someone not about
to take their own life?

- Possible.

Anyhow, whatever our old
fashioned coroner says,

police inquiries aren't over.

Can I give you a lift?

- Thank you, sir.

- That was extraordinary.

You really read poetry
very well, Superintendent.

I was wondering, was Mr
Hopkins' book ever found?

- No it wasn't.

The publishers expected
it that weekend

but they never received
the manuscript.

- Oh, and it wasn't
at Brook Cottage?

- No, Mrs Culpepper.

- Hm, well thank you.

- I'd like to take another
look at the cottage.

If that's alright with you, sir.

- Sorry.

- Don't whinge about this.

The pub would've been heaving
and I'm a pregnant woman,

in case you hadn't noticed.

- Two cream teas, please.

- And a large slice
of humble pie.

- Thank you.

- I like this place.

It's halfway between
Pete's work and mine.

And I like meeting
people halfway.

Even though I do get
suspicious when my man's boss

rings as soon as he
goes away for the night.

- Shouldn't have gone
then, should he?

That inquest's a right
waste of police time.

I'll give you the verdict now.

Murder and suicide by a
lad name of Colin Hopkins.

- Colin could still be alive.

- A note's a note.

Alive or dead, still
looks like a confession.

Dust it all away, neat and tidy,

that's what every sensible
copper wants.

- It's not what Peter wants.

- He's shouldn't be so
soft then, should he?

I've told him.

Golden rule of policing,
don't take it personally.

- Well that's because
Pete's a very

different kind of
copper from you!

He's got real compassion.

- And I've not?

Is that what you reckon?

- Well, I've never seen any.

But take that man, Sturgeon.

He lost all his savings
and nearly his life.

You ought to be getting
his money back,

that is what you're paid for.

- Sturgeon got a piece
of land in Scotland.

Maybe he gave all the odds,

but that's what he paid for.

- You don't seem
to realized that

90s Britain is one hell
of a place to be poor in!

- Oh, I don't know any.

You're gonna be a burden
on the whole bloody force!

Now listen, I'll tell
you something for nowt.

Here you are.

- Thank you.

- I'm a good policeman, you
won't find a better one.

Trouble is I've pissed behind

too many doors to
get any further.

If your man toned down
his daft ideas,

I could be sir-ing him
one of these days.

- Meaning he has to
be more like you?

- Meaning there's
a nasty outbreak

of heart around the
bloody place.

It's all usual symptoms,
swellings of sympathy.

Failure of proprieties.

You stick to giving him
his soldier's comforts

and let him do the
job he's paid for.

- Evening, madam.

How do you like your pendant?

- I like it very much,
Mr Etherege.

- You should come in again,
we've got some new stock.

Bring your friend or
maybe this gentleman.

Aye, and who
the hell are you?

- Jonathan Etherege.

From the Antiques Barn
around the corner.

Always on the lookout
for a satisfied customer.

- I know, I'm the same.

- Right

Bye, then.
- Bye-bye.

Why did you phone me tonight?

- Very nice, that.

I thought you'd like to know
first and break the news.

- What news?

- Pascoe's promotion's
come through.

Now when you whisper him sweet
nothings in his shell-like,

you can call him Inspector.

- What?
- Nowt to do with me.

Blame the Chief Constable.

Well?

Happy or sad?

- I don't know.

But I do know I better
phone him.

Oh, and after that,

I'm going to buy you
a very large whisky.

- Mr Backhouse thought you
might like a lift after all.

- Very thoughtful of him.

Is this all Pelman's
land around here?

- Mostly.

- Sam Dickson mentioned
a stream, where's that?

- Just below Brook Cottage.

Mr Dickson reckons
it's contaminated.

But, then, Mr Dickson's
none too pure himself.

- Sergeant Pascoe.

Not any more
you're not, Inspector.

- Inspector?

I don't believe it!

- It's the truth,
the whole truth,

and nothing but the truth.

- Inspector Pascoe, who said?
- Well, the fat man of course.

- What are you doing
there with him?

Look, with
the shape I'm in,

he can't really be trying

to get into my knickers
now, can he?

I want a blow by
blow account of every--

- Look, I'm sorry, there's
something very interesting here.

- Ellie?

- Mr Davenant!

What are you doing here?

- Good God!

Well, I suppose what most
people do here, passing through.

Actually I'm writing an article

for a magazine about a
restaurant nearby.

Why don't you join
me for dinner, hm?

You know the sort of thing,

my lovely companion had the
reindeer hock in tarragon sauce

and I had the Canadian
goose in chocolate.

- I'm sorry, I'm with a friend.

- Oh.

Aren't you the lucky one?

- Hello there?

Anyone about?

Shop!

Yes, can I help you?

- Aye.

I've come about one of them
things you put round necks.

- What, a horse collar?
- No!

She'd look a bit daft
in one of them.

I mean pendants.

- Please wait.

Well, it's not a fix.

It's just my insulin shot.

- Well, well, well.

- Nothing wrong with
that, is there?

- Only if you go around peeing
in other people's kettles.

- There are plenty of
diabetics, Superintendent.

- Come here!

- Jonathan?

"All then is full
possessing and possessed.

"No craving void left
aching in the breast.

"This sure is bliss if
bliss on earth there be.

"And once the lot of
Abelard and me."

- Mr Pelman, put down the gun!

Put down the gun!

- Got it?
- Yeah.

- You got it?
- Yup, got it.

- Right.
- Careful with it.

Concentrate,
concentrate, that's it, that's
it.

That's it, come on.

- You alright?
- Hi.

- How did you know he was there?

- Sam Dickson started saying
the stream was polluted

and I was sure Colin
had been murdered.

And that suicide note
wasn't a suicide note.

It came from a poem
by Alexander Pope.

- The Epistle Of Eloisa
To Abelard.

But why did he copy it out?

- For Ellie and me,
a welcome poem.

He called us Eloisa and Abelard.

- Not very complimentary,
was it?

As I remember the story,

Abelard was a monk who
fell in love with Eloisa.

So they locked her
away in a nunnery

and he was taken away
and castrated.

- Academic life and
the police force.

He thought it fitted.

- But someone found
it on his desk

and put it in the
seat of the Jeep.

I reckon Angus Pelman.

- Don't jump to conclusions.

Pelman has a very good alibi
for the night of the murders.

- What, Marianne Culpepper?

I think they're a number.

- Don't just to conclusions
there either.

- No, Pelman just
tried to shoot me!

- Yeah, he says he
thought you were a poacher

after his fish, so he fired
into the air to scare you off.

What hit you was the
branch of a tree.

No, this case isn't
over, Sergeant.

Oh, except I'm told I'm
supposed to say, Inspector.

Congratulations.

He's here!

Sh, he's coming!

Here he is!

- Congratulations
from us all, sir.

- Thanks very much.

Except I hear my
wife's been doing

most of the detective
work in my absence.

- Very good she was too, sir!

- Where's the Big D?

- Oh, he nearly landed
up in the cells.

He arrested Etherege
and thumped a customer.

- And the customer
pressed charges?

That's great!
- Oh, aye?

No, Inspector, the customer
didn't press charges.

He was Mr Burne-Jones,
Etherege's partner.

But he also kept the
boarding kennels next door

so he could tip Etherege
the wink

when people went on holiday

and left their animals with him.

- You alright?

- Don't you worry about
me, sunshine.

You should see the
other buggers.

Now, go on you idle lot!

- I want all this stuff listed

and checked against
stolen property.

- What is it?

- Stuff from the Antiques
Barn and the kennels.

Anything important yet, Wieldy?

- Most of the good stuff's
missing, sir.

Either he sold it on privately

or he had a professional
handler.

- Of course he did.

- Thought you might be
interested in this one, sir.

It's got a name on it.
- Oh, aye?

Matthew Lewis.

Wetherton Liberal Club.

Snooker Champion
1995, 96 and 97.

Well done, Gunga.

Now then, where's that daft,

university-educated inspector

who reckons Lewis wasn't
killed by the micturater?

Move the bowels today,
Mr Etherege?

- You, you sod!

You put me in here!
- No.

I didn't.

It was 12 robberies, the
murder of Matthew Lewis,

and a kettle full of urine
that put you in here.

- Come on, you might
notch me for

a few robberies, no way
can you get me for murder.

- No?

You've got a rotten temper.

We've placed you at
the murder scene.

And what will your partner
Davenant say about that?

- It wasn't Davenant who
put you onto me, was it?

- No.

But you just put me on to him.

You quite sure you don't
need a bedpan?

- What do you expect?

I couldn't see you poor
again, could I?

I thought it were for the best.

- It wasn't for the
best, you silly old sod!

What if the shock had killed me?

You'd have been put in
your box for nothing.

- You're looking a lot
better, Mr Sturgeon.

- Aye, gradely!

What have you got there?

- I brought some things you
may be able to identify.

We arrested Mr Etherege from
the Antique Barn at Birkham.

- Yeah well, that's
ours for a start.

- And that is.

And that!

- There were a stamp album.

I suppose they sold that.

It were very valuable you know.

Have you caught up with
Mr Selkirk yet?

- What does Mr Selkirk
look like?

- 30-ish.

Scots accent, mustache, glasses.

- So that's not him, then?

- No, nothing like him.

He wore those big black-framed
glasses.

- How about that, then?

- By golly, that's amazing!

That's Archie Selkirk!

- You were dead right, sir.

Cowley's Selkirk.

- Your doxy was dead right too.

Davenant's our handler.

- Ellie?
- Got it in one.

Kept seeing him in Birkham

and linked him with Etherege.

I'm thinking of taking
her onto the force

and downsizing you.

- I really don't think
she'd like it.

- What, working with me?

Of course she would!

Now look, Inspector,
you've a hard day.

Best get a good night's sleep.

- Very thoughtful of you, sir.

- Excuse me, sir.
- I know.

And first thing in the morning,

I want you down to Thornton
to pick up Davenant.

Boghouse has him in custody.

- What's he doing
in Thornton again?

You know, it seems odd
he keeps on turning up

on the edge of two murder cases.

Of course then so have I.

- Of course you have,
you daft bugger.

You're a policeman.

I was wondering when it
would penetrate that fine

graduate brain of yours,
these cases are connected.

What's that ditty of
yours about butterflies

in the Andes causing
earthquakes in Chile?

- Well that's the chaos theory.

But I stink don't see--

- Colin Hopkins, was he
interested in antiques?

- No.

Timmo Mansfield was
quite a collector.

- That's one to go for, then.

Oh, I've been thinking,

now you got your promotion,

maybe we should call each
other by first names?

- Perhaps so, sir.

- Right, grand.

Night, then, Paul.

My name's Peter!

- Good morning.
- Morning.

- Well I must say darlings,

it's not very convivial to
be interviewed by two of you.

- It's because you're the
subject of two police inquiries.

You're Anton Davenant.

Real name, Terence Arthur Dick.

- Really, must you,
Superintendent?

- A magazine journalist
who travels

widely in Britain and
on the continent.

- Well I hope you're
not making that illegal,

it's what journalists do!

- And dealers in
stolen antiques?

- Oh, how rude!

Do you have any actual
evidence for that?

- You've been seen frequently
in Birkham

visiting the Etherege and
Burne-Jones' antique shop.

- I was writing an
article about it.

I did see from the paper you
picked up Johnathan Etherege.

You can't possibly imagine
that he's a murderer.

- He's already confessed
to being a burglar.

And that you disposed
of the valuable items.

- Well I can only assume he's
asking for a plea of insanity.

Dealing with stolen antiques,

what a base suspicion,
Mr Pascoe.

- Wasn't it stolen antiques
that took you

to Brook Cottage on the
night of the murders?

- Ha!

Is there any actual
evidence for that?

- Yes, the vehicle check we
carried out in the village

that night, your car
was spotted three times.

You knew Timothy Mansfield.

He left the EC after
a fraud scandal

and set up a business shipping

collectables across the channel.

- Timmo did?

- I met him in Paris
on a gourmet tour.

He had a French figurine for
a particularly valued client.

- Did you shoot the people

who were at the cottage
that night?

- No, darling, that I didn't do.

I had a chat and left
before dinner,

they were completely alive.

All right, Mr Dick.

While you were at the cottage,
did you see the contents

of a book by Colin Hopkins?

- Yes, fascinating it was.

Rich Man's Poverty, The
Problem Of The 90's.

It was all about Thornton Lacey.

He had it well sussed out.

Half the village must've
been wetting themselves

about that book coming out.

So if you're thinking of
charging me with murder,

I can assure you there are
some far more likely suspects.

- Where did you go after
you left Brook Cottage?

- I went to see Hartley
Culpepper.

- The particularly
valued client.

You supplied his porcelain
collection.

- I made a contribution.

- Excuse me, sir.

- Interview suspended, 11:37.

- I found this in his car, sir.

Stamp album.

- Sorry I couldn't make more
substantial contribution.

But you know how it is.

- It's much appreciated,
Major, thank you.

Excuse me.

- Morning, Pascoe.
- Oh, Mr Pascoe.

Weren't you due some other time?

We're about to have
a lunch party.

- Pascoe, heard you
were in the village.

Look, sorry about that pot shot.

Been having poacher trouble.

So, let's just pop these in
the back of your car, shall we?

If you're going to be
mistaken for a poacher,

better go home like one.

- This what you want?

- Take them through, Sam.
- Alright.

- Well, Mr Pascoe, now
you've seen the bottles,

I suppose you might
as well come in.

- Nice to see you, Mr Pascoe.

Always coming back, aren't you?

Not thinking of buying
a cottage here?

- I assure you, you'd
be very welcome.

- "A perfect piece of England,

"where every prospect pleases"--

- "And only man is vile."

Isn't that how it goes on?

- Drink, Mr Pascoe?

You see, the village
is back on form

since the inquest, so.

What brings you here?

- Porcelain, Mr Culpepper.

I realized last time I was here,

I didn't really pay enough
attention to your collection.

I wonder if I could take
a look at it now.

He says that on the
night of the murders

he brought you a
French figurine.

- Yes.

There it is.

Are you telling me
that's stolen too?

- We'll need to check,
Mr Culpepper.

He arrived at?

- 7:30, left at 10 to
go back to Oxford.

- And you were you able to
pay him for the figurine?

- Why do you ask?

- Because the company
you work for,

Nordrill, is in difficulties,
isn't it?

- We have had problems with
our Scottish operation.

- So they've been downsizing.

In fact, they let
you go months ago.

- Yes.

- But you kept up the pretense.

Going to London as if
you're attending meetings,

collecting porcelain,
entertaining.

Very well, too.

- Appearances are very
important, Mr Pascoe.

Without them there's nothing.

Is this anything to do with you?

- Yes.

'Cause Colin Hopkins
found out, didn't he?

Told the story in his book.

- Colin Hopkins was a
termite who set out

to destroy this whole village!

Have you any idea at
all what it means

for someone to lose their job?

My job was me.

When you're an unemployed exec

in 90's Britain, that's
the way it stays.

You're top of the tree,
then you're nothing.

It's happening everywhere and
the thing is, nobody cares.

Some of them are glad
I went under.

They thought I deserved it.

- Like Colin Hopkins?

Oh, he was very thorough.

Checked the executive
employment agencies,

stalked his prey,

then set out to destroy lives.

Destroy all of this.

He was writing about my
financial crisis,

my bloody marriage!

My porcelain.

He even found out that
was worthless,

soiled by that grubby
little thief!

I didn't know.

- Inspector Pascoe.
- Sir?

- This is my case,
if you don't mind.

- Hartley, no!

Don't!

Oh no!

Sam!

It's all right, love.

It's alright.

- Inspector Pascoe has
entered the room.

- As an observer.

Go on, Mr Culpepper.

- When Davenant came
with the figurine,

he told me about Hopkins' book.

He thought I wouldn't
be able to pay him.

I owed him a good deal
for this and that.

- And when he left, you
went to the cottage?

- Not to harm Hopkins, just
to make him see reason.

Rose Hopkins was out.

They had friends to stay.

So Hopkins and I were
in the living room.

- You're living a bloody
lie, Culpepper.

- What's it to do with you?

- I'm a journalist.

What do you expect?

- I expect you not to ruin me.

- It goes to the publishers,
first thing Monday morning.

Now leave us alone, Culpepper.

We're about to have dinner.

- I hit him.

I hit him.

Then Rose
Hopkins came back.

- Yes.

I ...

- You killed her.

Then you went after Colin.

He was running
towards the stream.

I had to stop him.

- You bastard, Culpepper.

- All right, Pascoe.

What about the book?

- Afterwards, I went back
to the cottage to get it.

There was a poem on it.

It was all about death.

That poem
was meant for me.

- I drove the Jeep
to the quarry.

I had time.

I knew Marianne would
be with her lover.

Sam Dixon?

- I went home, burned
the book, hid the gun.

- You're not just cruel,
you're actually evil.

- Believe me, I regret
it Mr Pascoe.

But when someone sets
out to destroy

your entire life,
you no longer feel

quite the same about theirs.

- She's completely fantastic.

And so are you.

- I thought we'd call her Rose.

- Rose for remembrance?

- Well.

It's nearly right, isn't it?

- Yeah.

You know, this time
was so different.

I mean, normally X kills
Y, you find X,

charge him and forget about it.

This time Y was.

- Irreplaceable.

But for someone, it must
be like this every time.

I hope you remember that.

Excuse me,
but you can't!

- No, it's alright, I'm an
old friend of the family.

I brought these two clever
sods together.

There wouldn't be any
baby without me.

- Oh, no!

You're not supposed to do that!

- Aye, but I know the matron.

- What, another member
of the Liberal Club?

- Well what is it then,
a filly or a colt?

- She's a girl.

- Oh.

- Wouldn't like to be
the godfather, would you?

- Aye, I reckon I would!

Dalziel The Godfather,
sounds just like me.