All language subtitles for Midsomer Murders S09E05 - Four Funerals and a Wedding

(slow dramatic music)

(birds chirping)

- I need a drink, Pa.

Doc.

(sombre music)

- Forgiven now.

Forgive and forgot.

(birds chirping)

(sombre violin music)

(bird's trilling rattle)

- What's all this?

- Friday kids' club.

- No no, I agreed to one day a week only.

- Popular demand, Rector.

- Is there no end?

(bird cawing)

I asked you to take this down, Hewlett.

I will not have Skimmington
propaganda here.

- It's community information.

- Ahh, there you are.

How's the new job, Anthony?

Quite a change for you,

having a woman for a deacon.

And a Skimmington at that.

- Sound and fury.

And a nauseating proliferation
of salad lunches.

- Broughton certainly
hasn't settled down much

in my 40 years' absence.

Oxford is dull by comparison.

As is, quite frankly, this
issue of my final resting place.

- There's a diseased tree
due to come down soon,

in the east corner.

- Oh that will do.

So long as it succumbs without
too protracted an illness.

- You look to be in rude health, Mildred.

- Bad habits catch up with
one in the end, Anthony.

As you know.

- How did you--
- Archdeacon Able wrote.

And any way, who said anything
about a natural death?

("Midsomer Murders Theme" by Jim Parker)

(car door clicking open)

(car door slamming shut)

(wheels crunching gravel)

(paper rustling)

- [Policewoman] Thank you, Sir.

(phone ringing)

- Sir, I'll leave the Farlow
file on your desk for Monday.

- No, hand that over now.

I'll work on it now.

- I thought you were keen to get off?

- Not particularly.

Mrs. Barnaby's mother is
staying for a couple of days.

- Ahh.

- And Cully's turning up too.

It'll be two days of
lurid medical discussions.

And the footie, if permitted at all,

will be on the portable in the bedroom.

- Nightmare.

- And to complete my weekend's enjoyment,

I have community liaison duties
to perform, in Broughton.

- The Skimmington village?

- Nothing good can come of it, Jones.

Nothing good.

(lively music)

(traffic bustling)

(villagers greeting)

(Range Rover sputtering)

- [Roland] Tonight's the night, Pa.

- What, you're gonna pay your bar bill?

- On this night, history will record,

the Riders of Broughton sealed the fate

of the Skimmingtons forever.

- So what are your plans
for tomorrow, ladies?

- Ah well, Grandma thinks

we ought to come with you to Broughton,

to the Skimmington Fayre.

- What about some shopping in Oxford?

Broughton's very grim.

- Grim, ha.

Tragic, more like.

- [Cully] What?

- Oh it was a,

a mistake, I suppose you'd call it.

At the Somme in 1916.

Montagu Marwood, big local landowner.

He raised an entire
company from the village,

whole generation of men.

And then one night, he led
them all to a terrible death.

- Leaving their wives
and children to starve.

The women formed a self-help group,

the Skimmington Society.

They worked together,

they raised money, educated each other,

and took control of the village.

- Yeah, but how do you know all this?

- Oh it was a story I heard

when I worked in the
land army during the war.

The Second World War.

(laughing)

The Society's still
going strong, I believe.

And the centrepiece is
the Skimmington Ride.

- As I understand it, that Ride

is a barbaric mediaeval ritual

revived by the Skimmington ladies

to humiliate their menfolk.

- Yes.

I'd really rather like to see it.

- [Cully] Unmissable!

- There, that's settled.

(lighthearted music)

(plastic bag rustling)

(toy rattling)

- We're having a party next week.

We'd be honoured if you'd join us.

- Oh delighted.

- And we'll see you at 09:30 tomorrow

at the Committee Rooms for
the pre-Fayre briefing?

- [Mildred] I'll be there.

- Great to meet you, Mrs. D.

- You're too kind.

- Hard to believe you're related

to our public enemy number one.

See you tomorrow.

- I assume you'll be staying
for the Fayre tomorrow, cousin?

- Actually I'm making a speech.

The Skimmingtons are making
me honorary president.

- One wonders why you chose
to stay here at the Knox,

and not down at Aynscombe farm.

- Oh, but Anthony,

sleeping with the enemy is
so much more interesting.

- Polly,

men need serving in the club room.

- I'm not stopping you.

Evening Mrs. D.

- Evening, Polly.

Bob.

- Mildred, could I come up for a moment?

- You'll be late for your meeting.

- Yes but,

about the Archdeacon's letter.

Perhaps I might call on you later?

- If you like.

(lively music)

(door latch clicking)

(mobile keypad beeping)

- [Answering Machine]
Welcome to BT Call Minder.

The person you are
calling is not available.

Please leave a message after the tone.

(tone buzzing)

- This is Mildred Danvers at the Knox.

I think you'll know why I'm calling.

(suspenseful music)

(bar patrons murmuring)

- Apologies, chairman.

Medical emergency.

- Open the off licence
late did they, Doctor O?

- Oh,

the cruel perspicacity of youth.

(knocking on wood)

- Attention, members.

If we could all settle down please?

I call this meeting of
the Riders Club to order.

Before we begin,

Roland and I

would like to thank you all for your

prayers and kind support,

since Vivienne passed on.

- [Men] Hear, hear.

- Much appreciated.
(knocking)

- Door, Alan.

- [Man] Don't want anybody
hearing our Riders' business.

- Oh yes, Polly,

Polly?

Do you mind?

(door latch clicking)

- Blessing, Anthony.

Make it a good one.

- We beseech thee Lord,

that it may please thee

to strengthen such as do stand,

to comfort the weak-hearted,

and give us courage to beat down

the Skimmingtons under our feet!

Amen.
- Amen.

- Historic news, members.

- The tyranny of the
Skimmingtons is finally over!

I can safely say that tomorrow

will be the last time

that we bow our necks to the yoke

and submit to the awful
humiliation of the Ride.

- Ha, you're not married to a Skimmington.

- Well, the Ride's a symbol of

some old conflicts in the
village, right enough.

But it's just that, Anthony, a symbol.

- Two pronged strategy.

One, Anthony's new blood.

He's bound to be nominated tonight,

so we've been training with Bluebell.

And we're confident.

Number two, the legal offensive.

Anthony.

- [Anthony] Make no mistake, gentlemen,

the monstrous regiment
of women marches ever on.

The battle for Broughton must
be joined once more, and won!

- [Men] Hear, hear.

(lively music)

(patrons murmuring)

- Oh good.

(laughing)

Well done, Polly.

(laughing)

Well Skimmingtons, it
looks like Gant and Roland

have guessed that the Reverend

might just be nominated
as our Rider this year.

- They've been secretly
working on his technique.

I saw them in the paddock last night.

He was hopeless!

(laughing)

- What about the legal issue, though?

Can Gant really get us
outlawed for discrimination?

- The legislation's been around for ages.

- But it's for the protection of women.

- Well, cuts both ways, Fi.

Our constitution explicitly
forbids male members,

which, strictly speaking, has
been illegal for some time.

- Are we making a mistake
nominating Gant at all?

- We can't let him dictate to us.

He's got to be stopped.

- Have a quiet word with him
tomorrow, before the Ride.

- He won't listen.

And we can't let him close
us down, or stop the Ride.

- Gant's a throwback, Mum!

He really believes that women
are the root of all evil!

- If Lorna's talks fail,

we'll decide on a new action plan

as soon as the Fayre's over.

For now, we have to cast our
votes and nominate our Rider.

(sombre music)

(knocking)

- Come in.

- Mrs Danvers,

I'm just returning your flask.

Dr. O'Dowd found it at the
Hermitage this afternoon.

- Mr. Marwood.

Very kind of you.

(sombre music)

- You, (stumbling)

You didn't know my wife personally?

- Regrettably no.

Her late mother, and yours,

were friends of mine many
years ago before I went abroad.

(door creaking open)
- Cocoa, Mrs. D.

(cutlery clattering)

- Well, thank you and
goodnight, Mrs. Danvers.

(sombre music)

- You're not serious about
pursuing this legal nonsense

against the Skimmington's are you?

- Deadly.

- Well, you'll have a fight on your hands.

And you needn't come looking
to me to heal your wounds.

Goodnight gents.

- Night.

- Coming for brandy, Anthony?

- Not tonight, Roly.

We must have clear heads for tomorrow.

And I have some business to attend to.

(lively music)

(tense music)

(car engine kick starting)

(light music)

(door knocking)

- Come in.

(door latch clicking)

(suspenseful music)

- Are you worried about Gant?

- He's certainly stirred things up.

- You coming home?

(deeply sighing)

- In a bit.

I'll see you later.

(gate clicking)

(suspenseful music)

(rowing machine creaking)

(gustily exhaling)

- I have erred, Lord,

and strayed

from my path like a lost sheep.

I have followed too much

the devices and desires

of my sinful heart.

And help me to beat down

mine enemies underfoot.

(car rattling)

(night birds chirping)

(suspenseful music)

(church bell ringing)

(owl hooting)

(heavily exhaling)

- Hm, you know you'll frighten someone

to his grave one of these days.

Trouble sleeping, old friend?

- Quiet in the van.

Chatter here.

Spirits help.

(chuckling)

- I'll not disagree with you there.

(falling branches rustling)

(sombre music)

(hammer pounding)

(villagers murmuring)

- [Cully] Who's John Knox?

- Oh, an infamous Scots
misogynist, long dead.

- Probably where the men
hide from the Skimmingtons.

- Rather appropriate, if that's the case.

- Look, I do think a modicum
of respect is due to the men

who sacrificed their
lives in two world wars.

Mind you, if they hadn't died

this would be a much happier village.

- It seems perfectly happy.

- Dad!

Dad!

Call the police!

(surprised villagers murmuring)

- For all of us there is a time ordained

by God the Father almighty;

a time to plant and a time to pluck up.

And inasmuch as that time has
now come for our dear cousin.

(door knocking)

(door creaking shut)

- I just happened to be arriving outside.

- This is Detective Chief Inspector,

Barnaby of Causton police.

He's doing the honours with
the starting pistol this year.

- Anthony Gant, cousin of the deceased,

Mrs. Mildred Danvers.

I came up just now to visit,

couldn't get a reply.

Polly brought the pass key.

- Doctor O'Dowd at your service.

- Doctor.

What's the cause of death?

- Heart attack.

She had a history, I understand.

Nothing for you to ruin your
weekend over, Mr. Barnaby.

- No, I'm sure you're right.

- Mrs. D was going to be made
honorary president today.

- Of the Skimmington Society.

Would you excuse me?

I have got rather a busy day,

a shooting competition to
host before the Fayre begins.

- Yes.

- I should go and make some arrangements.

- History of heart attacks, eh?

(sombre music)

- Doctor?

- Yes?

- Did she have something in
her hand when you came up here?

- Oh, well yes, her flask.

I moved it to examine her.

Now where is it?

Strange, I--

Oh,

there now.

Here it is.

(loudly sniffing)

Nothing untoward, I hope?

(suspenseful music)

(birds tweeting)

(music quickening in pace)

- Better safe than sorry.

(mobile phone pad beeping)

Jones,

are you busy?

(birds trilling)

(suspenseful music)

(bird cawing)

(shovel crunching)

(paper rustling)

(tense music)

(paper tearing)

(poker clanging)

(dramatic music)

(door bell clanging)

(footsteps receding)

- Mrs. Hastings.

- Condolences, Anthony.

I've just heard about Mildred.

- Still, not a mercy call, I imagine.

- I come to parley.

- Did Mrs. Danvers have any
visitors last night, Polly?

- I heard Mr. Gant

asking if he could see
her after the meeting.

Something about a letter.

- What meeting was that?

- Riders' Club.

They were all here,

the Marwoods,

Reverend Gant,

the Doctor,

(nervous laugh) poor old Alan,

the gravedigger.

He talks to dead people.

Oh,

and I saw Mr. Marwood

in Mrs. Danvers' room
when I took up her cocoa

at half nine-ish.

- They knew each other, did they?

- Mrs. D. knew his mother
from years ago, apparently.

She attended his wife's funeral yesterday.

- Who made Mrs. Danvers' cocoa last night?

- Dad did.

- Are you the copper?

- I'm Detective Chief
Inspector Barnaby, yes.

- Cathy Hewlett, church deacon.

I've just heard about Mildred Danvers.

Do you know how she died?

- That has yet to be
precisely established.

Why do you ask?

- I heard her talking to
Anthony Gant yesterday

about her burial plot.

She told him she doubted if her death

would be a natural one.

- Joyce!

- Everything alright?

- Possibly not.

I've called out a team.

(Joyce groaning)
(Cully scoffing)

- Never a dull moment
in Broughton, it seems.

- [Joyce] Wouldn't you rather
drive over to Oxford, Mum?

- Oh, don't be a sissy Joyce,

this is much more fun than shopping!

(car horn loudly beeping)

- Jones.

(children yelling)

- What have we got, Sir?

- We've got Mildred
Danvers, aged 78, deceased.

- And you don't think she died of old age?

- Well, let's say I've
got reasonable doubt.

- Gets you out from under, anyway.

- I'm not in the habit of
using murder as an excuse.

- No, of course, but

there are upsides.

- Look, it's a bit late.

Secure the scene as best you can.

Hold onto that for Bullard,

I've got to make a call.

(lively music)

(gunshot blasting)

(gunshot blasting)

(gunshot blasting)

- Good shot!
- Oh, very well done.

- Oh marvellous, Peggy.

Skimmingtons' now two shots ahead.

Roland?

You're up.

You're next to shoot.

(gentle music)

- The Skimmingtons are having

the best of the luck, aren't they?

- Not luck, no.

They're just better than us, I'm afraid.

Have been for a long time.

- Hasn't there ever been
an outbreak of peace?

- There's acceptance, in the main.

The Riders aren't much of a match

for the Skimmingtons these days.

(gunshots blasting)

(onlookers cheering)

- I say, well done!
- Well done, nice shot.

- [Henry] So, what can I do for you?

- Mildred Danvers.

Her death might have
been due to foul play.

- Whatever makes you say that?

- We believe her hip flask
might have been spiked.

- Oh, I never met her until yesterday.

There was coffee for the
guests after the funeral and,

I was introduced briefly.

- And I believe that
you went to see Mildred

after that meeting last night?

- That's right, yes, of course I did.

Yeah, she'd left her gloves behind.

I returned them to her.

(gunshot blasting)

- Good shot!
- Good shot.

(clapping)

- Henry?

Final shot to you.

A bullseye

would tie the competition!
- Would you excuse me?

(suspenseful music)

(gunshot blasting)

- Oh tough luck, Henry.
- Nevermind, Henry.

- Congratulations, Ms. Aynscombe.

- Thanks.

Lorna Hastings, our chair.

This is my daughter Fiona,

and you've met Cathy, I understand.

- Yes, I have.
- Our invigilator

for the Skimmington Ride, ladies.

Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby.

- How do you do.

I understand that you
all knew Mrs. Danvers.

Can you tell me when you last saw her?

- Well, Fiona and I saw
her briefly last night,

before our meeting.

- And does anyone here know
of anyone in the village

with a reason to harm her?

- No, why?

- Well, Cathy could tell you.

She overheard Mrs. Danvers suggesting

her death might be an unnatural one.

Let's hope she was mistaken.
(bell ringing)

- I'm afraid that's our cue, Mr. Barnaby.

- Retribution time.

(bell tolling)

(murmuring of villagers)

(lively music)

- [Crowd] Skimmington!

Skimmington!

Skimmington!

Skimmington!

(tense music)

(bell ringing)

(footsteps crunching gravel)

(bell ringing louder)

(sliding window creaking)

(birds tweeting)

(paper rustling)

(suspenseful music)

(birds loudly twittering)

- [Crowd] Skimmington!

Skimmington Skimmington Skimmington!

- Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen!

(crowd cheering)

I'm Tom Barnaby and I'm standing
in for the Chief Constable,

who sadly cannot be with us today.

- Anything in the flask?

- 10 year old brandy and
lashings of barbiturates.

(crowd cheering)

- Maybe I should stop the proceedings.

The boss would be happy.

- Ha, I'd like to see you try.

- To welcome you all to this
year's Skimmington Fayre.

(crowd cheering)

As you all probably know,

it traditionally starts with a,

(chuckling) a unique event.

So without further ado,

I'll hand you over to the chair person,

Ms. Lorna Hastings for this year's

Skimmington Ride nomination.

(women cheering)

(men booing)

- The charge is for flagrant misogyny,

and the nominee is the
Reverend Anthony Gant!

(men cheering)

(women booing)

- The Skimmingtons have
laid down their challenge.

Now is for the Rider to show his mettle.

(crowd cheering)

The women may beat the Rider freely

with their skimming ladles,

but not impede the donkey's progress.

If the Rider can last the course

without falling off his mount,

he wins the right to suspend
the Ride indefinitely.

If not, the Riders must
return next year to try again.

(crowd clapping)

(light flute music)

(car boot clicking open)

Is the Rider ready?

(crowd booing)

(boot slamming)
Are the Skimmingtons ready?

- [Roaring Women] Aye!

(gun blasting)

(crowd cheering)

- [Women Chanterers] Skimmington
Skimmington Skimmington!

Skimmington Skimmington
Skimmington Skimmington!

(crowd shouting encouragingly)

(gun blasting)

(surprised exclamations)

(shocked gasps)

- He's been shot!

- Well don't look at me.

(siren wailing)

Joyce.

I think it's best if you go home,

or what do you want to do?

- Well, if I can get mum
away from all the excitement.

- Excuse me, excuse me.

- Looks like shopping in Oxford.

- Yes.

See you later.

- Jones.

Jones!

- I'm sorry.

- Leave that, it's pointless.

I've got uniform
collecting all the cameras.

Someone, somewhere must
have some useful footage.

- Ah good thinking, Sir.

- Oh thank you.

So glad you approve.

Alan?

You are Alan, aren't you?

I'm Tom Barnaby, Causton C.I.D.

You worked for the
Reverend Gant, didn't you?

- Mr. Henry, he pay me.

Our people here.

I mind them.

- Polly told me that you talk to,

to your people.

- They talks to me.

Chatter chatter.

- Alan, did you see the
Reverend Gant this morning

before the Ride?

- 'Morning Reverend, 'morning Alan.

- And did the Reverend
Gant seem his usual self?

No problems?

- Miss Lorna, she never come.

- Lorna?

Lorna Hastings?

- There was a barney.

- Lorna Hastings and the Reverent Gant,

they argued this morning?

- She never come.

- You all right, old friend?

Anything I can do to help, Mr. Barnaby?

Alan here is quite special,

if you know what I mean.

- Yes, Doctor.

If you could give me a
list of all those people

you prescribed barbiturates
for during the last year.

That would be very helpful.

What have you got?

- Quite a bit.

First off,

Valium.

I found them in the desk.

Gant's name, recent date.

Only two pills left.

Thing is, though,

if Gant did spike
Mildred's flask last night,

and he was the first person
in her room this morning,

why leave the murder
weapon for us to find?

- Why indeed.

- Have a look at this, Sir.

The window's been jemmied.

Now I sent a PC straight over here

to watch the place after the shooting.

- So if the Reverent Gant left
here just before the Ride,

the intruder must have got in here then

or during the ride, yeah?

- Yeah.

- Anything taken?

- Well, it's hard to
say with all this stuff.

- Well, it looks as if the Reverent Gant

was trying to mount some
kind of legal challenge

against the Skimmington Society.

Hey, these are Mrs. Danvers'
effects aren't they?

- Yeah, it looks like it.

Maybe she gave them to him.

(birds cooing)

Sir?

- Or maybe not.

(lively music)

Archdeacon?

- Oh Mr. Barnaby?

That's devastating news.

Mildred was a great mate.

We met in Africa in '75.

Anthony was a,

a one-off.

- I was wondering, you know,

if you had any ideas about motivation?

- For murder?
- Yes.

- Oh I can't imagine.

Anthony was a troubled soul,

pretty obsessive.

- Obsessive, about what?

- Trying to prevent the incursion of women

into all aspects of life.

He's on a loser there, obviously.

- Was your appointment of
Ms. Hewlett as his deacon,

was that intended to underline that point?

- Cruel, I know, but educational.

Compromise was never
Anthony's strongest suit.

- I understand that you had some reason

for writing to Mrs. Danvers.

Was that something
concerning Reverent Gant?

- Oh yes, very sad.

I mean, I used what influence I have,

but he had to leave Oxford.

Wound up back in Broughton
for his sins, poor man.

- What sins?

- Oh, nothing illegal, I mean.

It was some embarrassing incident

with a young man at a
posh christening party.

Oh, Tony was gay, you know.

And well he'd had a few and,

he and this young chap were discovered

groping behind the champagne fountain.

I wrote to Mildred about
it when she first got back,

to avoid awkward questions for Anthony.

You don't think the
letter could have caused

some kind of problem?

- I don't think anything
at the moment, Archdeacon.

(dog barking)

- All patients prescribed barbiturates

during the past year, as requested.

- Thank you.

- Cathy Hewlett,

Roland Marwood.

- Reverend Gant.

- Yes, he lived on his
nerves, did Anthony.

Cathy sprained her ankle
last month, couldn't sleep.

- And Roland Marwood?

- His mother's illness took a toll.

- It seems you were a bit quick

to assume natural causes, Doctor?

- Clearly I was, yes.

- Did Mrs. Danvers have any enemies

you know of in the village?

I mean, someone settling old scores?

- Well, she was a Skimmington
before she went away.

But her fighting days were
long over, Mr. Barnaby.

- The early evidence suggests that

Mrs. Danvers was murdered
by the Reverend Gant,

to stop her exposing a secret in his past.

- Except everybody knew his secret.

- Everybody knew?

- That Anthony and Henry
Marwood were half brothers, yes.

Henry's father was a bit of a roamer.

Anthony was his love child.

His parents died in the big fire in 1960.

- Henry's parents were killed
in that fire too weren't they?

- Yes, Henry was an infant.

He has no memory of them.

There were others, too;

family, friends.

It was a devastating tragedy.

That's who Alan talks to, you know.

All those poor souls lost that night.

He was six.

Still is, to all intents and purposes.

But I often think, he remembers.

So that the rest of us can forget.

(jaunty music)

- Yeah.

Thanks, mate.

The barbiturate found in Mildred's flask

doesn't match any of these.

- Yeah, I'm not surprised.

- It's the sort used by vets.

- Vets?
- Yeah.

We're going to need an incident room.

- Hey, Jones.

(lively music)

(phone ringing)

- Sir.

(donkey baying)

- Very photogenic, Sir.

- Oh thank you.

Anything from the lab?

- Yeah, there's traces of old lime mortar

on the trigger of Fiona Aynscombe's gun.

And an eyelash that isn't Mildred's

in the bottom of her flask.

They managed to get some
prints off the flask as well.

Mildred Danvers,

Dr. O'Dowd,

and Henry Marwood.

- Henry Marwood?

(gentle music)

(birds cawing)

(ducks quacking)

I hope I'm not interrupting?

- No!

- Is that Marwood Hall?

- Ah, the ruins of.

Luck has not been with
us for quite a while.

So, what I do for you?

- Mildred Danvers' hip flask.

Your fingerprints were on it.

(heavily sighing)

- I've been such a fool.

I really don't know why
it's, (loudly sighing)

I suppose I haven't been
thinking very clearly.

I lied about the gloves.

It was the flask I was returning to her.

- And why didn't you tell
me that straight away?

- It was cowardly.

Well, you'd just said that you
suspected foul play, and I--

Oh I just didn't want any
more fuss after Vivienne.

I know how it looks.

- I'm assuming that you knew about

the Reverend Gant's troubles in Oxford?

- Yes.

- Were you aware that Mildred
Danvers knew about them too?

- No.

- So you weren't trying
to save your half brother

from exposure, then?

- No, no!

I have no idea

why anyone would want to
do away with Mrs. Danvers.

Or Anthony!

(sombre music)

(sheep bleating)

- It's Mrs. Hastings by the way.

I lost my husband.

- Oh it was an assumption,

I do beg your pardon.

- Rumours that we're all
raging dykes at Aynscombe Farm

are erroneous.

But no less popular for that.

- How can we help?

- We've had confirmation
about Mildred Danvers' death.

It wasn't natural causes,

it wasn't suicide.

It was indeed murder.

And I believe that one or both of you

have information that's
relevant to our enquiries.

- I'm not sure what you mean.

- Mrs Hastings,

two people have died here
in the last 24 hours.

Can I recommend that you
co-operate without prevarication.

- It's my fault, I asked
Lorna not to say anything.

The day after Mildred
arrived in the village,

she shared a confidence with Lorna and I.

- We already know about the scandal

that brought the Reverend
Gant to Broughton.

What was Mildred's reason
for telling you about that?

- Oh she was aware of her
cousin's attitude towards women.

She thought the information
might prove useful.

- So when you said Mildred
might have been murdered.

- I saw Gant last night, you see.

Coming out of the pub.

- [Ben] What time was that?

- About quarter to ten.

I was locking up the committee rooms.

- And you withheld that
information, haven't you?

- Murder's not an accusation you make

without firm evidence, Mr. Barnaby.

(Barnaby chuckling)

- Is that why you went
to see the Reverent Gant

at the rectory this
morning, Mrs. Hastings?

- No, no.

We had other things to discuss.

- Like blackmail?

- Yes.

Peggy and I agreed the legal
thing was a serious threat.

So I went to talk to him.

- And suggested that if he drop it,

the legal action that is,

you'd keep his little secret?

- Those were the broad strokes.

- Did it work?

- He was understandably upset.

But he agreed to reconsider.

- Which is why none of
us would have any reason

to shoot him, Mr. Barnaby.

If that was your next question.

- Gant's got to be our man, hasn't he?

Something to hide,

plenty of opportunity,
and he was spotted--

- No, no.

George Bullard said that the cocktail

that Mildred Danvers drank

would have killed her within half an hour.

Now Gant left the pub at quarter to 10.

Mildred Danvers didn't die
until after midnight, you see.

There was still plenty
of time for someone else

to visit her.

- True.

What about Gant's killer?

- Well, I suppose

shutting down the Skimmington Society

might have provided a motive.

- What are you doing here?

- My job, Miss Aynscombe, my job.

I understand the Reverent Gant and you

didn't always see eye
to eye, is that true?

- You could say that.

- When the bell rang for
the start of the Ride,

you said something like,
"It's retribution time."

- I didn't shoot him.

- Well, someone with a very good eye,

and a rifle very like
yours, certainly did.

- Me and Fi were on
the Green all the time,

our guns were locked in Fi's car,

outside the committee rooms.

- Don't leave the village, ladies.

We may want to talk to you again.

(nervous laugh)

(suspenseful music)

(bird cawing)

(night birds chirping)

- Who poisoned Mildred?

- I've have no idea.

Do you know who shot Anthony?

- No, of course not.

- Then what's going on?

- I don't know what to think.

- Don't you trust me, Peggy?

Even now?

(suspenseful music)

(bird cawing)

(forensic team murmuring)

- Jones.

- Sir.

- Good news only, please.

- Mum-in-law's not leaving.

- Only two more days.

I've released Mrs.
Danvers' body for burial.

You and I are going to attend the funeral.

Any notable absentees,

crocodile tears, that sort of thing.

- Well the good news is,

forensics found another eyelash

on Fiona Aynscombe's gun sight.

- Yeah?
- Yeah.

They did a D.N.A. check

and it matches the one in the flask.

So odds on we're talking one killer.

Now all we have to do is
put a name to the D.N.A.

and we're out of here.

- Yeah, you know what
that means now don't you?

It's getting a voluntary mouth swab

from every single person in this village,

including the Skimmingtons.

- Yeah well, that was the

bad news part of the good news, Sir.

- Only for you, Jones.

- We'll get uniform to sort it, yeah?

- It's not a uniform job,
that Jones, not on my shift.

Got the kit in my car.

You can get started as
soon as we establish

the position of our sniper.

- The clock tower, Sir?

- Well, it's got to be hasn't it?

- George.

- Tom.

Now from video footage
taken by spectators,

we've established, pretty accurately,

where the victim was
when the bullet struck.

We have calculated the angle

at which the bullet entered the skull and,

hey presto!

- Well, that's amazing, George.

Thank you.

So helpful.

- Yes, it's marvellous, isn't it?

(spade scraping)

- Hello there, Alan!

Alan, I wonder if you could tell me,

what did you do after you rang
the bell to start the ride?

Did you see anyone go into
the church during the ride?

- Chatter, chatter.

Too busy.

They don't like that.

- Sir.

- Ah Jones, you ready?

- As I'll ever be.

- Thank you, Alan.

(spade crunching)

Good morning, Cathy.

I'm sorry to disturb you.

I need to take a quick look
in the bell tower if I may.

- I suppose so.

- Thank you.

Oh, and D.C. Jones here
has something to ask you.

- What?

(jaunty music)

- Open wide, Ms. Hewlett.

(suspenseful music)

(bell ringing)

(gentle music)

(bird cawing)

Forensic evidence places your gun,

firmly in the bell tower, Miss Aynscombe.

- I told you I didn't shoot Gant,

from the bell tower or anywhere else.

- And you did say, did you
not, in your statement,

that you and only you,

had the keys to your
vehicle and the gun rack?

- And there's no evidence to suggest

the car was broken into.

- No, but.

I lost my keys actually.

Or thought I did.

- Well, you didn't mention
this before, did you?

- Me and Cath were in
the middle of the crowd.

Everyone was jostling to see.

I put my hand in my pocket,

I assumed the keys had fallen out.

- And when did you rediscover them?

- Not until after Gant was dead

and we were asked to give in our rifles.

I wasn't even thinking about it.

I went back to the car,

put my hand in my pocket,

there they were.

I thought I'd made a mistake.

So, can I get on now?

(jaunty music)

(goat bleating)

- 'Morning girls!

- [Woman] Who's that there?

- Ladies!

- [Woman] Who are you?

- I'm D.C. Jones,

and I work with D.C.I. Barnaby.

He's asked me to ask you all
for voluntary mouth swabs,

for D.N.A. testing.

- Voluntary?

- [Ben] Yeah.

- Answer's no, then.

- Refusing to co-operate implies

you've got something to hide.

- All right, you can do me first.

Don't worry, D.C. Jones,

I'll be gentle.

(amused laughter)

(birds tweeting)

(wind rustling)

- Pa!

- Roland!

I wanted to--
- D.C. Jones is here.

He wants to test our D.N.A.

- [Henry] Oh right.

(bouncy music)

- [P.C.] Cup of tea, sir?

- Thank you.

- Mr. Barnaby?

- Mrs. Hastings.

- Mind if I disturb you for five minutes,

some files I need?

- No no, please help yourself.

- [Lorna] Thank you.

(phone ringing)

Are you getting anywhere?

- Information gathering.

- Anything I can help you with?

- Yes, did you know Henry
Marwood's wife, Vivienne?

- Not well.

She'd been ill for years.

Why do you ask?

- Information gathering.

Successful afternoon?

- Like blood out of a stone, Sir.

And that was the easy bit.

(phone ringing)

- Well thanks, anyway.

- Oh, Mrs Hastings, before you go.

Would you mind letting D.C. Jones here,

take a D.N.A. sample?

(suspenseful music)

- Bonny as ever, Lorna.

- And busy as ever.

- You've time for an old friend.

- Not right now, Keiron.

- It's always cruel
postponements with you females.

When you know how I've felt
about you all these years.

- What's brought this on?

- Murder.

Makes you think.

- Mildred's funeral's
in less than an hour.

- Come over to the house for five minutes.

- I can't!
- It's important.

It concerns Henry and Peggy.

(suspenseful music)

- So how did you find out?

- Same way as you did, I should imagine.

Poor Vivienne was ill and getting worse.

Peggy and Henry lonely,

and tired of fighting their
families' empty battles.

I won't be talking.

You can count on me.

(bird cawing)

(suspenseful music)

- I thought we should
meet on neutral territory.

- What do you want?

- A truce.

And an exchange of information.

- Very funny.

- Things have changed, Fiona.

You could say now we
have interests in common.

(paper rustling)

(gentle music)

(bell ringing)

(birds tweeting)

(bell tolling louder)

- Before we begin, Peggy has
asked to say a few words.

- We're here to mourn the first of two

untimely and violent deaths.

But surely,

we're also here to ask ourselves,

how on earth has it come to this?

I don't know why Mildred or
Anthony were killed, or by whom.

But if it had anything to do
with our past conflicts here,

I want to say that the
time to forgive is now.

Right now, because--

Because Henry Marwood and I are in love.

(surprised gasps)

In fact, he's asked me to be his wife,

and I've accepted.

In going public now,

I hope we will persuade
others that it's time

to bring peace to Broughton.

(gasping sobs)

- Come on now, everybody.

I say bravo to Peggy and Henry,

for having the courage to forgive the past

and look to the future.

Come on. (clapping)

(sobbings)

(running footsteps receding)

- Right,

well,

if you've finished Peggy.

We'll return to the business at hand.

In the midst of life,

we are in death,

of whom may we seek for succour,

but of thee, O Lord, who for
our sins art justly displeased?

- Now do you trust me?

- No.

But you were right after all.

I will not have everything
my family has worked for,

given up to a Marwood.

(birds cawing)

- So what'll happen?

Will she bring him here,

let him just take over everything?

- The Marwoods' debts alone
will probably bankrupt us.

- Oh don't be an idiot, Fi.

Peggy's fallen in love,

she hasn't taken leave of her senses.

- I can't believe you're
even thinking that, Lorna!

We have to stop this marriage happening!

- Find just cause or impediment.

- So, what is just cause?

It's possible Henry killed Mildred.

Or Gant.

- What reason could he have?

- The D.N.A. never lies.

That's what D.C. Jones said.

If Henry's the killer,
they'll find out eventually.

- It might be too late by then.

You knew them, Lorna, the Marwoods.

You worked for them.

There must be some
skeleton in their closet.

- There's Vivienne Marwood's death.

I mean, she was demented, poor woman,

but she was still young.

What, suddenly she gets
pneumonia and dies?

Very convenient in the light
of the thing with my mother.

(bird cawing)

(gentle music)

- No point in meeting here any more, eh?

Oh come here.

- You really shouldn't
have told anyone, Peggy.

Not Barnaby.

- Why not?

We've got nothing to hide anymore.

What's this?

- You really shouldn't have told them.

(dramatic music)

- I never thought I'd be
this glad to be in a pub

with no women.

- We're collecting D.N.A. swabs, Doctor,

and Detective Jones here
is having a little problem

persuading the ladies.

- Well if you need my help,
I've got some leverage.

Well even Skimmingtons
need a doctor sometimes.

- Are you serious?

- A large Irish and I'm at your service.

- [Tom] And for me.

- [Ben] Sir.

- You never married then, Doc?

- Not for want of trying, Mr. Barnaby.

- No Skimmington would have you?

- Not the one I wanted,

no.

- I'll catch up, Fi.

Talking of skeletons in closets,

I'd forgotten about this.

I found it,

when I broke into the rectory.

(loudly sigh)

It was Fi's idea.

I was looking for what he had on us!

Look, this man's got to be Henry's father.

And that's Mildred.

So was she Henry's father's secret lover?

- Do you want to leave the case with me?

I'll lock it up in my pharmacy cupboard,

get my girl to arrange the
appointments in the morning.

- Sir?

- No, that'll be fine.

You go back with him, make
sure they're locked up safely.

- Doc, you're a star!

- Where are you going?

- Home.

To souse myself in cheap whiskey
as is my preferred habit.

- You're a Rider.

You've got a duty to fight this marriage!

- Grow up, Roland.

- Maybe a kick up the arse
would change your mind.

- [Ben] I don't think so, Mr. Marwood.

- [O'Dowd] Grateful to you, Ben.

(bird cawing)

(sombre music)

(bird chirping)

- Is this where they met?

(sombre music)

She completely fooled me.

She lied to everyone.

- Dad was the same.

I tried to get him to talk
about what was going on once.

- So you knew what they were doing?

Even before your mother died?

- No, but I had my suspicions.

(dramatic music)

- Her death was very sudden.

- I even wondered whether he'd,

you know.

- Seriously?

You must have hated my mother.

(bird cawing)

(ominous music)

(implements clanging)

(suspenseful music)

(door knocking)

- Come in.

- Sir.

Here on the right hand.

- Oh heh, sorry to make you
miss your breakfast Mr. Barnaby.

- Ah, it's no problem.

What happened?

- I was in the surgery
finishing something off,

about eleven o'clock.

I felt something land on my head.

The next thing I know I'm on the floor,

and it's four in the morning.

- Anything taken?

- My wallet, some prescription sheets.

I mean, kids, I'd imagine.

Oh they didn't get into
the pharmacy cupboard.

(bird trilling)

- Cupboard was locked tight.

Everything's here.

- I'm not sure I buy this as a robbery.

- Maybe the attacker
wanted it to look this way.

Roland Marwood could have had a pop.

He was looking for a fight
in the pub, last night.

I'll have a word if you like, Sir.

- No, no, no!

You got the D.N.A. samples to collect.

(gentle music)

(ducks quacking)

(motor rattling)

(paws scratching)

- Keiron's been attacked, Roly.

The police want to talk to you.

- Why me?

- Well, you weren't exactly friendly

towards the doctor last night, were you?

- I was drunk.

- Mr. Marwood?

Can you tell me where you were

between 10:30 and 12 last night?

- Upstairs, in my room.

- Don't like, Roly.

- But I was!

- Oh for, look I saw you leave the house.

- All right.

I was with Fiona Aynscombe,

till about half two, if you must know.

We were discussing our common dilemma.

(suspenseful music)

- Apologies for the choice of rendezvous.

- Don't worry.

- And thanks for coming.

- Not at all.

- This is hard, Henry.

- I realise it must have been a shock.

- No, I didn't mean--

No, I'm delighted about you and Peggy.

I really couldn't be happier.

Keiron told me, about Vivienne.

- Oh, I see.

- He says you're talking
about going to the police.

- Talking.

- I can't tell you what to do, Henry.

But just remember what you've got to lose.

- I can hardly forget, Lorna.

But in the end, it's a
question of conscience.

(birds hooting)

- I suppose you're right.

(sombre music)

Goodbye, Henry.

(bird hooting)

- Look, I'm really not sure.

- You wouldn't want to get
done for ignoring evidence.

- Miss Aynscombe.

- Miss Aynscombe.

What can we do for you?

- I'm here to demand an exhumation.

- [Ben] It's not a joke, Sir.

- Roland says no post mortem

was carried out on Vivienne's body.

Even he suspects Henry.

He's got motive, his
affair with my mother,

and now there's new evidence to suggest

he might have murdered Mildred.

You've got to dig up, Vivienne!

- She's serious.

- Yes, I get the idea.

What new evidence?

(phone ringing)

Thank you.

Did you get this when you
broke into the rectory?

- That was Cath, actually.

Look the point is,

that must be Henry's father, with Mildred.

Maybe Mildred had something on the family

and he killed her to keep her quiet.

Maybe he poisoned Vivienne too?

Ben says that some poisons
can stay in peoples' bodies

for years after they've been buried.

Any proper police investigation--

- Well what a well-informed
constable Ben is.

Thank you, Miss Aynscombe,
thank you for coming in.

I'll hold on to this for the
moment, if you don't mind.

In the meantime, might I suggest

that you leave the proper
investigation to the police.

- If I come clean--

- They'll arrest you, Henry, and Keiron.

(birds cawing)

- Sorry to intrude.

I'd like a word with you,
Mr. Marwood, if I may?

(heavily sighing)

- You're here to ask me
if I murdered my wife?

- Yes.

(paper rustling)

- You'd better see this.

- Thank you.

- Vivienne loved life.

She was terrified of
losing her independence

but even more of losing her senses.

She was haunted by that.

She wrote that to me when
she was first diagnosed.

She insisted that if I,

I truly cared for her, I'd be prepared to

see her off

before she lost her dignity.

- And did you?

(heavily sighing)

- One night, Vivienne and I both had 'flu.

It had gone to her lungs and
she had a terrible temperature

but she was more rational
than she'd been in months.

But I'd had some very
strong sleeping pills.

I fetched them and brought them
back to Vivienne's room but

she'd fallen asleep.

So I just sat there and I watched her.

I suppose I must have
fallen asleep too because

I woke up some time later and the

bottle of pills was on the
bedside table half empty.

Vivienne was

dead.

(sobbing)

I'm not trying to escape any
of the consequences of this.

I'm just trying to tell you the truth

of what actually happened.

I had intended to help her die that night.

But in the end,

she helped herself.

(bell tolling)

(loudly breathing)

That's Anthony's funeral.

What are you going to do?

(door knocking)

- Can I have a word, Sir?

- Yes.

- I think Cathy Hewlett's our murderer.

Her eyelashes are on the
rifle and in the flask.

You don't look happy.

(thunderous rain)

(mourners murmuring)

- [Tom] Everything all right?

- It's Cathy, she
doesn't appear to be here

and the church is locked.

Well I've just been to her
cottage, she's not answering.

(thunder rumbling)

- What you going on about?

(thunder rumbling)

- Alan!

Do you know where our deacon is, Cathy?

Have you got any idea where she is?

- Chatter, chatter, now.

They don't like that.

Too busy.

(ominous music)

- Jones!

What's she saying, Alan?

- Chatter chatter.

Not a happy chap.

- I don't suppose she is.

(siren wailing)

(police radio muttering)

- Blunt force trauma to back of skull.

Sometime before midnight.

- I found these in Cathy's
cottage under her bed.

Back to two killers, then.

- Don't jump to conclusions, Jones.

- We're never going to get
out of here, are we, Sir?

It's groundhog day.

- Well, at least we've got
some new leads to follow.

- We have?

- Yeah.

I need a file from the archive.

The Marwood Hall fire, August 1960.

- Sir.

- And George.

George?

I need a D.N.A. sample
from that body A.S.A.P.

- Right.

- We do have her D.N.A.
though, Sir, many times over.

- Yes, I know we have.

Just indulge me.

- Sir.

- Something I'd like you
to look at, just occurred.

I want some clarification
or identification

of the people in these photos.

- Ah that's my family, and some friends.

Well that's my grandfather.

There's my mother.

- That's Mildred, isn't it?

- Yeah I suppose it is, it looks like it.

- And this man?

- Why that's Fred Hastings
I think, Lorna's husband.

Oh and there's Lorna, look.

I don't see my father anywhere.

- That's him, isn't it?

Next to Mildred?

- No, no that's not my father.

Well, that's my father there.

Oh we look very alike but,

I've never seen this man before.

(gentle music)

- Peace and quiet?

Ps and Qs, better mind them.

- Hello, Alan.

(bird cawing)

Alan,

can you show me where

little Benjamin Hastings
is buried, please?

Lorna Hastings' child.

(expectant music)

Alan, when we met before,

you said that Mrs. Hastings never come.

Lorna, never came.

Did you mean here,

to the graveyard?

- No one ever come for him.

Poor baby.

(birds tweeting)

(suspenseful music)

(phone ringing)

- Hello, Jones.

- Sir?

- Are they finished in the churchyard?

- Yes, Sir.

You've got a theory, haven't you?

I know that look.

- Well, I may have half an idea.

- Clue?

- I'll do better than that.

Get yourself back to George Bullard.

As soon as he gets the D.N.A.
from Cathy Hewlett's body,

ask him to re-test it
against all the samples

we've already got, ok?

- Why?

- And then (loudly blowing) and only then,

you may read the name
I've written on here,

and try and work out how I got there.

(lively music)

(knocker banging)

- Oh Mr. Barnaby.

- May I come in?

(ominous music)

Tell me Doctor,

did you mean to take the flask,

that morning we met in the Knox?

- No, I--

No.

- But you can tell me who attacked you

last night, can't you?

- I've no idea who attacked me.

- Oh I think you do have, Doctor.

You can tell me who attacked you,

and who the murderer is because,

they are one and the same person.

(door bursting open)

(ominous music)

(paper rustling)

(dramatic music)

- Well, well, well.

We've got you a new match.

- And I think you'll
find that's who it is.

- Heh clever chap, that boss of yours.

(hydraulics hissing)

- You went to the police.

You used me.

- I had to try and stop them.

- By accusing my father of murder?!

- You said it, not me.

- Well it hasn't worked.

- No.

I'm sorry Roland.

I was wrong.

- Truce?

- There, you see Miss Aynscombe.

Co-operation with the other
half of the human race

is much easier than you think.

Can you tell me where
Mrs. Hastings is, please?

- She had an appointment in Oxford.

Mum and Henry have taken
her to the station.

(dramatic music)

(train rattling)

- Mrs. Lorna Hastings,

I'm arresting you for questioning
on suspicion of murder.

- What?

No wait, this is ridiculous!

- It's alright, Peggy.

I love you both.

- Please.

(suspenseful music)

(gentle music)

Can you tell me the name of the man

in this photograph, please?

- His name was Jack Braintree.

- And he is the real father
of Henry Marwood isn't he?

- Yes, he is.

- But the man Peggy
Aynscombe is due to marry

isn't really Henry Marwood, is he?

He's actually your
illegitimate son, by this man.

- I was due to be married that month.

Jack was an acquaintance
of the Marwood family,

a teak farmer from Burma.

He'd caught Mildred's eye, I knew.

And one night, he caught me.

By the time I discovered I was
pregnant, Jack was long gone.

- So a year after the babies were born,

Benjamin and Henry,

a fire broke out at Marwood Hall.

You're trapped with the
babies in the nursery,

your husband dies trying to get to you.

- I could hear little Henry screaming.

The smoke was so thick.

I thought, if I die saving
him, Ben will be all alone.

- So you took your own son
and left little Henry to die.

- I knew what would become of Ben and me,

without Fred to support us.

And I was right.

I was let go weeks after the fire.

It was Peggy's mother who gave
me work at Aynscombe farm.

- But things didn't go so well
for Henry Marwood, did they?

I mean later on you had to watch him

being dragged down by
debts he'd inherited.

- Well, there was no
way to go back by then.

- But then, years later,
a fairy tale comes true.

The two people you care most
about in the whole world,

are in love,

they plan to marry.

But you hadn't counted on the return

of Mildred Danvers, had you?

- No.

She recognised Henry's paternity
the moment she met him,

at Vivienne Marwood's funeral.

(tense music)

- So that night she invited
you to go back to her room?

- I guessed what she was going to say.

- I'm really very sorry, Lorna,

but you've committed a terrible crime.

I feel bound to inform the relevant people

as soon as possible.

- I asked Mildred for a glass of water,

and while she was getting it--

- You put the poison in her flask.

But you didn't know then, did you,

that Mildred had kept the photograph

of herself and Jack Braintree?

You see, this photograph
was one of the things

that Gant had taken from Mildred Danvers.

And you saw this photograph

when you went to the rectory.

Gant's a clever fellow,

put two and two together,

and now he had something to
fight your attempt at blackmail.

- Think of it as a mutual
conciliation, Anthony.

- I may have other bargaining
tools at my disposal.

- [Lorna] Such as?

- Such as the question
of what you were doing

at the Knox last night?

(ominous music)

- So you stole Fiona Aynscombe's car keys,

you took her rifle from
the back of her Land Rover.

You went to the church
tower and you waited,

till I fired the pistol to end the Ride.

- It wasn't difficult
in all the excitement.

(crowd cheering)

(gunshots blasting)

I thought that was enough.

- But you didn't count
on Doctor O'Dowd's offer

to assist with the
D.N.A. samples, did you?

(O'dowd groaning)

- What the?

No.

- [Tom] So, you couldn't kill Dr. O'Dowd.

But you did kill Cathy Hewlett.

- [Lorna] Cathy brought me the photograph.

I knew then, I was losing control.

(door knocking)

- Come in.

(ominous music)

- Hi Lorna, what can I do for you?

(dramatic music)

- Cathy Hewlett had to disappear entirely

to make her a plausible suspect,

make her a plausible killer.

You put her body in Anthony's grave.

Then you went back to her cottage.

You collected a few of her things,

planted a bit of evidence
to make me believe

that she'd run away.

Did you seriously believe

that you'd get away with any of that?

- There's no getting away
with it, is there Mr. Barnaby?

At least it's all over now.

(siren wailing)

- Thank you.

- Do you want to see her?

- Yes please.

- Okay.

(door knocking)

Barnaby.

(sombre music)

- We commend unto thy hands of mercy,

most merciful Father,

the soul of this thy sister departed,

Catherine Elizabeth Hewlett,

and we commit her body to the ground,

earth to earth,

ashes to ashes,

dust to dust,

in sure and certain hope,

of life everlasting.

(congregation murmuring)

(bright music)

- Friends, we're gathered
here on this special day,

to celebrate the marriage

of Benjamin Thomas Hastings

and Margaret Gillian Aynscombe,

the joining together of two
people in holy matrimony,

but in the greater sense the
joining of our own community.

Dearly beloved,

we are gathered together
here in the sight of God,

in the face of this congregation,

to join together in holy matrimony

this man and this woman.
- Time to go.

- Thank you.

(bird cooing)

- [Celebrant] The bond
and covenant of marriage

established by God of creation,
our Lord Jesus Christ.

(celebrant continuing faintly)

("Midsomer Murders Theme" by Jim Parker)