All language subtitles for Midsomer Murders - 13x02 - The Made to Measure Murders.WEB-DL.English.C.orig.Addic7ed.com

..bleeding me dry.

You're bleeding me dry!
You hear me?

Ah, ahh...

Ahh!

Help...

Help, help...

Morris Bingham was in the shop
yesterday, Mum.

He was asking after you.
Hey.

Don't you know what today is?
No. What?

It's two years today
since your father passed away.

So show some respect.

OK. OK.

Time we were opening the shop.

Drop me at the church, would you?

Somebody told me that the vicar's
started to hear confession.

Confession? That's a Catholic thing,
isn't it, Uncle Matthew?

It's not unheard of in the C of E.

Your mother wouldn't have anything
to do with it. Would you, Sonia?

I wouldn't confess the time of day
to Archie Moreland.

That is enough, Luke.

The vicar has been a great comfort
to me since your f...

..since your father died.

I'm sorry, Mum.

I'm sorry.

Morning, Beatrice.
Morning.

Where's Sonia?
We dropped her off at the church.

What in God's name is that?

You said I could dress a window.
But it -

it's horrible!
We sold three pairs of those jeans,

last week, at 150 quid each.
£150? For jeans already worn out?

I just... I just don't get it.

The peace of God,
which passeth all understanding,

keep hearts and minds
in the knowledge and love of God

and of his only son,
Jesus Christ our Lord.

And the blessing of God Almighty,
the Father, Son and Holy Ghost

be amongst us
and remembered always.

Amen.
Amen.

Mrs Woodley?

I'm sorry, Father.

You must trust in God
to give you strength

so that you can embrace life again.

That's what Gerald
would have wanted, I'm sure.

It's these terrible feelings
of guilt.

You were a good and loving wife.

You have nothing to feel guilty
about.

Oh, but I have.

Sonia, I can offer you the sacrament
of confession if you wish.

It's difficult, Father.

The truth is...

Oh! Sorry.

Sorry. Just sorting out
the prayer books.

It's all right, Mrs Minchin.

Carry on, Mrs Woodley.

No. Thank you.

It's all right. I have to get back
to the shop.

Thank you.

Will you be at home this evening?
Yes, of course, dear. Why?

I must talk to you.
Sonia, love, are you all right?

Well, no. Not really.
I'll see you later.

Morning, Sonia. Morning, Luke.

Morning, Morris.
Morning, Mr Bingham.

How many times? It's Morris.
Please.

Your mother's a stubborn woman.
Tell me about it.

It's two years ago today since Dad...

..you know.
Ah.

No sign of my tweed, I suppose?
Afraid not, Morris.

Next week, maybe.

Morning, Mrs Barnaby.
Morning, Luke.

I was wondering if Matthew
could do an alteration for me.

He's in the workshop,
if you'd like to go through.

I don't believe I've had
the pleasure. Morris Bingham.

I'm Joyce Barnaby.
Lovely to meet a new face.

I've been living in Milton Cross
for five years,

and the natives
still aren't talking to me.

Isn't that right, Sonia?

See what I mean?

Allow me to escort you
to the nerve centre, Joyce.

Thank you.

I own the garden centre
on the Causton road

and a couple of properties
in the village -

not exactly an empire,
but we're working on it.

Ah. Here we are.
The holy of holies.

The inner sanctum.

Morning, Matthew! Morning, Beatrice.
Morning, Morris.

Mrs Barnaby!

What can we do for you?

I found this in the vintage shop
in Causton.

It was only 20 quid.
But it's a bit big for me.

What do you think?
It's great. Perfect colour for you.

Oh! Fantastic material.

Ah. That's the Milton check.

For use by family and tenants only.

Excuse me while I tug my forelock.

His own check! Gosh.

But he's not the only one.
Feast your eyes on this.

The Bingham tweed,
designed by yours truly.

We're awaiting delivery
of the first batch.

It's um...

It's... It's very striking.

For my use only.

But I shall be honoured, dear lady,
to grant you special licence

to wear the Bingham tweed.
How kind!

This is more your sort of thing,
Mrs Barnaby.

I found it in the basement.

Must be 70 or 80 years old.

It's absolutely gorgeous.

We could make you a lovely topcoat.
Double breasted, maybe?

My husband would have kittens.
This might be your last chance.

Our lease is about to run out,

and we not be able to renew it.

Matthew? Mr Milton's here.
Speak of the devil!

Milton!
Come in, Mr Milton.

Matthew was telling us
about his lease.

Morris - please.

You're not really booting them out?

Not if I can help it, no.

The Milton estate is a business
like any other, Morris.

You should understand that.

I don't think we've met?

Ah. Joyce, let me introduce Edward
Milton, master of all he surveys.

How d'you do.
How do you do.

Except me, of course.
And you, come to think of it!

Joyce lives in Causton.

Ah! I thought
I hadn't seen you in church.

You probably go to St Botolph's.
Lovely church. Lovely vicar.

Quarter of an inch off the sleeves?
At least.

We're not regular churchgoers.
Come to St Chad's.

Ticket pocket, Mr Milton?

No. No, thank you, Matthew.

We've a thriving congregation.

She's a non-believer.
Leave her alone. Here, Milton.

What do you think about this?
The Bingham Tweed!

Not bad, eh?

Makes yours look a tad dreary,
don't thank you?

I hope you're not going to shoot
in that.

You'll scare the birds to death.
COMMOTION

Matthew - come quickly.
SOUNDS OF FIGHT

What the hell's going on?
Hey!

Get off!
Hey!

Hey hey hey!
Come on.

He was trying to nick some trainers.
I was looking, that's all!

You were trying to steal them!
That's enough, Gary.

I just wanted to try them on,
that's all!

You were going to run out of the shop
with them!

Matthew, call the police.
Let's not be too hasty.

Gary's father works for me. Doesn't
his mother work for you, Matthew?

Katie does some sewing, yes.

Well! I think we can deal with this
without involving the police.

It's not the first time
he's caused trouble in here.

Let's exercise a little Christian
charity, shall we?

Give the lad a chance.
Whatever you say, Mr Milton.

All right, but I won't have him
in the shop again.

That's fair enough, Mrs Woodley.
I'll have a word with his parents.

All right. Gary, you can go.
Thanks, Mr Milton.

Now, thank you for your patience.

I'll make sure
he doesn't cause any more trouble.

Any decision on our lease yet,
Mr Milton?

Soon, Matthew, soon.

I'll see you all in church
on Sunday!

In fact he owns the whole village,
bar this Bingham chap's house.

So when he said to let the boy go,
naturally they went along with it.

Self-policing. I'm all for that.

It's a bit feudal, isn't it?

The lord of the manor
dispensing justice and so on?

Matthew Woodley
showed me a lovely tweed.

Mm?
Offered to make me an overcoat.

MAKE you a coat?

That sounds horribly expensive.

Anyway, what's wrong
with the coat you've got?

I quite like that coat.

I bet you can't remember the colour.
I can. It's brown.

Blue.

Browny-blue.

It's grey.

And it's almost as knackered
as this shirt.

Browny-blue, grey -
it's the same thing.

That's me done for the day.
I'll be home later.

Hello, Katie.

I'm so sorry about what happened
with Gary. It won't happen again.

It had better not,
because next time I'll kill him.

All right, Luke. It's OK. But I'd
prefer him to stay away from now on.

I'll make sure he does.
Matthew, I hate to ask,

but...is there any work for me?

There's a suit needs finishing.

You could take it now.
Fantastic.

Thanks.

Trevor.

Take yourself off to the pub.

I want to talk to Sonia.
Ah... OK.

What is it, Sonia, love?

I don't know where to begin.

Sonia?

Go and start the car.

Sonia?

I wish you'd talk to me.
I can't.

If it's about Gerald -

Gerald was my brother.

I know what he was like.
He was a bully.

His time had come. Nothing you or I
or anybody could do would help him.

Anyway, it's not just Gerald.

What is it, then?

I don't understand.
I don't want to talk about it.

I'd do anything to help you, Sonia.

Anything to make you happy.

I'm going to be late for church.

We acknowledge and bewail
our manifold sins

and wickedness,

which we, from time to time,
have most grievously committed

by thought, word and deed

against Thy divine majesty,

provoking most justly

Thy indignation and wrath
against us.

We earnestly repent
and are heartily sorry

for these our misdoings.

The remembrance of them
is grievous unto us.

The burden of them is intolerable.

The body of Christ.
Amen.

The body of Christ.
Amen.

The body of Christ.
Amen.

The body of Christ.

I can't...

Oh...

Oh..

Hello!
That was lovely. Good.

Hello.
Morning.

Katie. Hello, Gary. Behaving?

Yeah.
Good.

Mrs Woodley.
Why didn't you take Communion?

I think I'm ready to talk to you
now, Father.

Very well.
Come to me after evensong.

Not still mourning that brute
of a husband, is she?

If it were me, I'd be dancing
cartwheels on his grave.

Well, I'm off to meet Beatrice
at the pub.

Do you fancy a pint, Uncle Matthew?

No, thanks. I'm off to the Sopers'
to see if Katie's finished the suit.

See you later, then. See you, Mum.

Did I hear you say you were going
to meet the vicar this evening?

What if I am?

Sonia, please be careful
what you say.

Matthew.

Whatever's said in confession
is confidential.

Confession? For crying out loud,
what's got into you?

I know you only go to church
to keep in with Edward Milton.

I don't want us to lose the shop!

Well, I go because I believe.

And my conscience is not clear,
Matthew.

Same again?

Um, no thanks.
I'm tired. I think I'll go home.

Well, I'll come with you.
Not tonight, Luke.

Please, Bea.
They're doing my head in at home.

I told you, I'm tired.

What sort of relationship is this
anyway?

The kind where I don't have to spend
a night with you if I don't want to.

Evening, Derek. Is Katie in?
She's gone out.

She was finishing a suit. I don't
suppose you'd know if it's ready?

Couldn't say, Matthew. Sorry.

Are you all right?
Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Just, you know,
thinking about the redundancies.

Any news on the lease?
No. Like you, just waiting.

Ah, well.

Took a hefty blow to the head,

then stabbed in the back,
probably in that order.

We won't know for sure till later.
Time of death?

Between nine and midnight
last night, I'd say.

What do you think, sir?
A mugging gone wrong?

It could be. No credit cards.

On the other hand, a £50 note there.

Who found her?
The vicar, sir.

He's waiting for you in the vestry.
Well, when we've finished.

The victim's name is Sonia Woodley.
She lives here in Milton Cross.

Yeah. Family?
She's a widow.

She lives with her son
and brother-in-law.

I expected Mrs Woodley last night
after evensong.

I, I waited for an hour,

and then I walked home
to the Rectory.

I must have walked right by her.

And you found the...
the body this morning?

Yes, I...on my way to open
the church for morning prayers.

You were expecting Mrs Woodley?
Yes, I was. Yes.

May I ask what for?

Mrs Woodley had expressed a desire
to make a private confession.

Confession? Aren't you C of E here?

The sacrament of confession
is part of the Anglican faith.

You're high church, aren't you?
I thought I smelt incense.

We observe some traditional forms
of worship, yes.

When Mrs Woodley didn't turn up
last night, were you concerned?

No. To be honest, no. It wouldn't
have been the first time.

She was - how shall I put it? -

she was somewhat conflicted
about the whole thing.

Any idea what was on her mind, sir?

No. Not really, no.

Her husband died two years ago.

I don't think it would be
betraying her trust

to say that she took his death
very badly.

Well, that is understandable, but
why would that involve a confession?

Grieving is a complicated business,
Inspector.

Sir.

Inspector Barnaby and Sgt Jones?
Yes, sir.

Edward Milton. I've heard, um,
good things about you

from Colin, the Chief Constable.

This is a terrible business.

I knew Mrs Woodley well.
Did you, sir?

Yes, she was a tenant of mine.
A tenant?

Yes. I, I own the Milton estate,
which includes the village.

And, well, the church, actually.

We're a tight-knit community.
This will hit us hard.

So if there's anything
I can do to help -

Well, thank you for that, sir.

We'll bear that in mind. Thank you.

Ah - while you're there,
when did you last see Mrs Woodley?

In church yesterday morning.

It's funny, she was...

She was what, sir?
She seemed out of sorts.

She came to the altar rail
but didn't take communion.

I'm sure it was nothing.
Oh. Well, thank you for that.

He owns the church? And the village?

Don't be envious, Jones.

Right, it's next of kin time,
I'm afraid.

I went to the Sopers' to check if
Katie had finished this suit for me,

then I went to the shop and did
some paperwork for an hour,

and then I came back here.

I assumed Sonia was already in bed.

She always went to bed around ten.

Um, I was in the pub.

Um, had a few drinks,
left about ten.

Like Uncle Matthew, I just thought
Mum had already gone to bed.

I believe Mrs Woodley was
on her way to see the vicar.

Ah...she might have been.

The vicar said she wanted
to make a confession.

Sonia wasn't interested
in all that high church stuff.

Oh. Well, was she um, upset or
depressed about anything yesterday?

We were told she didn't take
Communion.

Who told you that?
Mr Milton.

Sonia's husband, my brother Gerald,

died two years ago.

It was the anniversary of his death
the day before yesterday.

She was upset.

It's a difficult time
for all of us...

That's why she was going to church.

The vicar was was helping her
over a bad patch.

It was nothing to do
with confession.

Yes, of course. I'm sorry.
Matthew? Luke?

I went to the shop
but it was closed.

Someone told me about Sonia.
I can't believe it!

Sorry, you are?
Uh, Beatrice Daniels.

I'm an apprentice tailor
at Woodley and Woodley.

Woodley and Woodley,
the clothes shop?

Bespoke tailors, actually.

Yes, my wife is a customer there.

Mrs Barnaby?
Of course. I know her.

Haven't you just had a run-in
with some shoplifters?

Yeah, Gary Soper.
It was nothing.

A local troublemaker.

Mr Milton was in the shop.
He helped sort it all out.

Did he? That was very good of him.

I should have gone to the church
with her!

They weren't telling us everything,
though, were they?

Well, they're in shock, you know.

Well, something's not right.

The vicar says she was going
to confess, they say she wasn't.

Well, that's religion for you, Jones.

Brings out the irrational in people.

See what you can find out about local
scapegrace Gary Soper, would you?

This village is weird.

Jones...they're all weird.

Sonia Woodley?
Yes.

She was beaten around the head
and then stabbed to death,

in the graveyard, no less.

How awful.

Joyce, tell me about the scuffle you
witnessed at Woodley's the other day.

Ah, you're interested now.
Indeed I am.

I was in the workshop at the time.

We heard a commotion,
went into the shop,

and Luke Woodley was wrestling
on the floor with this youth.

What happened then?

I think they'd had trouble
with him before,

because Sonia
wanted to call the police.

But Milton talked them out of it.

The boy's father works for him
or something.

Milton owns the freehold
for the shop,

and the lease is running out,

so they're keen to keep him sweet,
I suppose.

Well, thank you, Joyce, for that.

This is positively the last time
I'm repairing this shirt.

Oh, come on.
There's tons of wear in that.

Perhaps you'd better go easy,
Uncle Matthew.

I'll be all right.
You don't look it.

I'm worried about what your mother
might have said to the vicar.

Mum won't have said anything.

Anyway, she's...

..she's gone now.

I loved her.
I know, Uncle Matthew.

But don't go soft on me.

Don't go pouring your heart out
to anyone,

like the vicar, or Barnaby. OK?

Good morning, Causton CID.
DS Winter speaking.

A map! Excellent.

This bloke Milton
owns half the county.

There's Milton House, four or five
farms, the park, the village,

not to mention the mausoleum

and the Ice House.
Ice House?

God forbid the G & T's
should get warm, eh?

Sonia Woodley's walk to the church

would have taken about ten minutes,
I reckon.

Luke walked to the pub here.
That's no more than five minutes.

Matthew took the car.

He drove to the Sopers'
cottage here,

then to the shop, here.
Or so he says.

Has Gary Soper got a record with us?

No, never been in trouble
with the police.

Has he not.
Go and have a chat with the Sopers.

See if there's any kind of history
between them and the Woodleys.

I'll go to the pub,
see who was in that night.

Strangers would stand out a mile
in a village like that.

I'll go and talk
to Matthew and Luke again.

Barnaby.

Yes, George. On my way.

The blow to the head was heavy,

but it was the stab wound
that killed her.

Hell of a wound too. Punctured
her right lung from behind.

Hm. Big knife?
I'm not so sure it was a knife, Tom.

Whatever it was, it was pointed,
yes, but, ah, heavy-duty.

More like a tool of some kind.

I've seen something similar before
and I can't remember when.

I'll have to trawl the archives.

What about the blow to the head?

A smooth, rounded object,
almost certainly manmade.

Do you think
there were two of them?

One struck her
and the other stabbed her?

Dunno. It's possible.

Funny old village, Milton Cross.

The wife's sister goes to church
there sometimes.

She likes all the rigmarole
they go in for.

'They put on a good show,' she says.

One orange juice.
Party on, eh?

So. Sonia Woodley.

I, er...

A lovely, lovely lady.

Um, the whole village
is devastated.

Did you know her well?
Well enough.

We'd see her in church on Sunday.

This has got to be the most
God-fearing village in the county.

Hm!

Well, Mr Milton treats his tenants
pretty fair and square.

But yes, it does help to show your
face in church every now and again.

Did Sonia come to the pub?
You must be joking.

None of the Woodleys came in here,

at least not until Gerald
popped his clogs, anyway.

Disapproved of pubs, did he?
Oh no.

He disapproved of spending,
more like.

He had them working all hours
in that shop, and paid 'em peanuts.

Luke was still on pocket money
when Gerald keeled over.

So how come he didn't
just up sticks and leave?

Well, he wanted to
look after his mum, I suppose.

Look after his mum? How do you mean?

He was a big bloke, Gerald,
and he had a terrible temper.

That's all you need to know.

So Luke comes in here now?

Yeah. Now and then.

He was in on Sunday night,
wasn't he?

Yep, came in with Beatrice.

Any strangers in that night?
No. No. Very quiet, it was.

And he left when?
About nine.

Nine?
Yeah.

You sure?
Yeah.

A couple of minutes after Beatrice.

And they didn't leave together?

Lovers' tiff. You know.

They're engaged, aren't they?

So Lukey-boy keeps telling everyone.

But when he says it,
she has this look on her face.

Having second thoughts,
if you ask me.

Oh, really?
Uh-huh.

Barnaby.
According to the landlord,

Luke Woodley left the pub at 9:00pm
on Sunday, not 10:00.

Nine? Well, I'm at the Woodley's now.
I'll double-check.

'But Jones?'
Sir?

'Let's not fixate on the Woodleys.'

There are other avenues to explore.

Have you talked to the Sopers?
I'm on my way there now.

What do you want?

Another little chat, please, Luke.

I was hoping to talk to your uncle
as well.

Luke?
Sorry.

Um, Uncle Matthew's in the shop.

The shop's still open?

No. He's in the workshop,
finishing an order.

Keeping busy.
It's his way of coping.

Beatrice is helping him.

I'm not a tailor.
Are you not?

So you didn't follow
in your father's footsteps?

You're joking, aren't you?

Stuck all day in the back room,
sewing?

No, I'm much happier in the shop.

Well, fathers...

They can be difficult.

What was yours like?
Hm! Difficult.

But you got on all right?
Yeah, we did,

in the end. But you know,
fathers and sons.

It's complicated stuff.

Yeah, complicated.

That's the word.

Luke, what time did you say
you left the pub on Sunday night?

About ten.
You sure it wasn't earlier?

I don't know, do I?

I wasn't paying
that much attention to the time.

No. OK, thank you. Um...

your mum, Luke -
did she have any credit cards?

Dad wouldn't let us have plastic.
Too tempting.

When he died, we asked Mum
if she wanted us to get her one,

but she said she was used
to doing without.

She asked me to get her £50
out the bank.

I thought she might buy herself
something, but she didn't.

She just kept it in her purse.
And it was still there.

So it doesn't look like a mugging?

No, it does not.

Or how about this?
It's a silk, linen and mohair mix.

Fantastic handle.

How do you mean?
The texture. Feel it.

Wow. Yeah. I see what you mean.

We're closed!

This is going to sound stupid but...
What?

Well, I always wanted a suit like
Cary Grant's in North by Northwest.

Oh yeah, great suit.
And this would be perfect.

Jones?

I was just um, you know...

Yes, I do know.

Mr Woodley, I would like to ask you
a couple of questions please.

Do you mind if I carry on with this?
No, you do that.

Ooh! Did you make this?
Yes.

It's lovely.
The vicar's very particular.

Of course, Mr Milton foots the bill.

The embroidery was mostly done
by Katie Soper and Wendy Minchin.

Terrific seamstresses.
You won't get better in Savile Row.

Actually, it was the Sopers
I wanted to talk to you about.

What about them?

Er, I was wondering

if Mrs Woodley had had any trouble

with young Gary Soper
before last week. Hm?

Trouble?

I think the inspector wants to know

if Mrs Woodley had a problem
with Gary Soper.

No more than anybody else
in the village.

Sir?
This cloth, where did it come from?

Ah. That's a lovely 18oz tweed,

handwoven in Scotland
before the war.

I swear my father had a suit
in this material.

I wouldn't be surprised.

I can remember how it smelt
when he'd been out in the rain.

You should have one too.
A proper bespoke job, inspector.

Bespoke? Oh no. No. No I've got
plenty of suits, thank you.

Are they all like this?
Hmm?

Why, what, what's wrong with this?

Oh, nothing it's just, well, maybe
peaked lapels would suit you better.

And you need a little
more structure across the shoulders.

The sleeves are too long.

You want to flash
a bit of shirt cuff, don't you?

And you need a higher waist

and a little more taper
in the trousers, perhaps.

But I mean apart from that,
it's um, great.

We'd do you a very sensible price,
inspector.

Oh. Hmm.
Think it over.

Here.

If you want to know
about Sonia's state of mind,

you should talk to Wendy Minchin.

She was probably
Sonia's best friend in the village.

She might have an explanation.

An explanation of what?

Gerald was a monster, no other word,
he treated Sonia appallingly.

But two years on,
and she was still grieving.

If anything it was getting worse.

There was nothing we could do or say
to help and we tried everything.

Thanks for your time.
Yeah, thanks.

Bye, Ben.

'Bye, Ben'?

What?

This is a murder investigation,
Jones.

And instead of being out there
doing the job,

I find you fondling cashmere
in a back room.

The Sopers were out.
Derek Soper works at Home Farm.

Go find him.
I'm gonna talk to Wendy Minchin.

Anyway, it wasn't cashmere,
it was a silk lin- Go!

Mr Barnaby.
Thank you.

This is Mr Barnaby, Trevor.

He wants to talk to me about Sonia.

Why don't you go and make us
some coffee?

I know when I'm not wanted.

Thank you.

Don't mind Trevor.

He works
in the Milton Estate office,

they don't like us talking
to outsiders.

Ah. This is a tied cottage, is it?

Yes.

That's why we have to
mind our Ps and Qs around here.

You knew Sonia Woodley very well,
didn't you?

Yes, she was a good friend.

And how had she seemed to you, er,
recently?

She was...

not herself.

And she hadn't been herself, had she,
er, since her husband's death?

That man!

The way he treated her was criminal!

Now, Mrs Minchin, was there anything
else, apart from her husband's death,

which might have been troubling her?

Well, I'll tell you something
that's been troubling me.

Make of it what you will.

The day it happened, Sonia phoned
me. She was in a terrible state.

Gerald had collapsed in the garden.

He was a sick man, you know,
he'd already had two heart attacks.

I don't know what to do, she said.

Pull yourself together, woman,
I said. Phone for an ambulance!

It's all right, she said,
Luke has phoned for one.

I asked her if she wanted me
to go round.

No, she said, she'd manage.

Well, there's only one road
in the village

and an ambulance going to the
Woodleys' would have to pass here.

Well, I waited and I waited.

And an ambulance came...eventually.

Eventually?

Yes, an hour and a half later.

I never asked Sonia
why it took so long.

But something must have happened.

Aw!

Mr Soper?

MR SOPER!

Detective Sergeant Jones -
I know who you are.

I want a word about Gary.
Yeah. Of course you do.

Anything happens in this village,
it's down to Gary.

Look, he had a run-in
with Sonia Woodley

a couple of days before she died.
You saying he killed Sonia Woodley?

No. But I have to ask the questions.

It's my job.

Yeah, OK.

Here.
Thanks.

So, where was he
the night Sonia died?

At home with me.
Watching the football.

And Mrs Soper?
In Causton.

She works bar
a couple of nights a week.

We need the extras to get by.

Not much money in farmwork,
I suppose. Yeah, you could say that.

Mr Milton's thinking
of laying a few of us off

so I'll lose the cottage as well.

Which means you are in deep...

..whatever this is.

Yeah. And Gary goes to school
in Causton

where all his mates are showing off
the latest trainers

which cost half a week's wages -
The temptations of the modern world!

How can we protect ourselves,
never mind our children?

I assume you're making inquiries
about Gary, Sergeant.

That's right.

Well, I've known Gary all my life.

He's made a few mistakes
but which of us hasn't?

'Remember not the sins of my youth,'
eh?

I'm sure Gary will turn out
all right in the end.

Mr Milton's always been...
very supportive.

If you've finished here, Sergeant?

Yeah.
Come up to the House.

We'll get you cleaned up.

You don't have to do this, really.

'Teach us, thy God and King,
in all things Thee to see,

and what I do in anything,
to do it as for Thee.'

All the same -
It's no trouble.

The Bible teaches us that there is
much satisfaction to be had

in a job well done, no matter
how menial.

I hear that
some of your estate workers

may not have a job at all soon.

These are difficult times.

I'm working as hard as I can
to preserve the estate.

My employees must fulfil their side
of the bargain.

Which is?
Hard work. Honesty. Loyalty.

And turning up at church on Sundays?

Edward?
Inspector Barnaby is here.

Ah, good.
Come in and sit down.

Have some tea.
Ah, no, thank you. Not for me.

Jones?
I'm waiting for my shoes.

How is the investigation going,
Mr Barnaby?

The investigation?
Oh, we're making progress, sir.

Excellent...

I hope you won't take it amiss
if I offer you a word of caution.

Caution, about what?

Milton Cross is a proper village.
Everyone knows everybody else.

We work and we worship together.
That's the way we like it.

But there is a downside.
And what would that, downside, be?

Ill-informed gossip.

A human failing.

Hmm.

Do you have any particular gossip
in mind, sir?

Oh, please, you know,
anything that helps.

You may have heard tittle-tattle
about the Woodleys

and the late Gerald Woodley
in particular.

Could you be more specific?

About the way he treated his family.

He had an authoritarian streak,
true,

but he was a Christian
and a good man at heart.

There are rumours about
the circumstances of his death.

What kind of rumours?
Unfounded rumours.

Treat them with a pinch of salt,
Mr Barnaby.

The same goes for talk about
Gerald's meanness.

Grossly exaggerated, I'm sure.

He was prudent, and his family
will reap the benefits.

How so?

Gerald left a considerable sum
in trust for Sonia.

Well into six figures, I believe.

And now that poor Sonia
is no longer with us,

I suppose Luke and Matthew
will inherit, hm?

Thank you, Mrs Milton.

The ambulance didn't come
for an hour and half?

No, according to
Mrs Minchin.

So what were they up to
for an hour and a half?

Gerald Woodley had had, what,
two heart attacks?

I bet there wasn't a post-mortem.
We don't know that Jones.

Luke and Matthew did for Gerald
somehow or other

and Sonia Woodley knew about it.

Guilty conscience, that's why
she wanted to confess.

You're saying that Luke Woodley
killed his own mother.

No, no, I'm not buying that.
Luke and Matthew!

One bangs her on the head,
the other stabs her.

They shut her up about Gerald
and they inherit the trust fund.

It's win-win.

Well, if you're right,
we're investigating two murders.

It's your call, sir.

We need a court order to check
the timings of those phone calls.

It's done...

Hmm.

You don't think it makes me look
a little broad in the beam?

No, not at all, Vicar.

If anything,
it makes you look taller.

Oh really?

Do you really think so?

Not that appearances are the thing
here. Of course not.

Sorry, Vicar. Am I early?
No, no Morris.

You're right on the dot.
Thank you, Matthew.

And then there's lust.

Lust, Morris? Yes, there's a very
pretty little house on the by-pass.

Three acres and planning permission.
I can't get it out of my head.

By this authority committed to me,
I absolve thee from all thy sins.

In the name of the Father, and of
the son, and of the Holy Ghost.

Amen.
Amen.

Let us pray.

O most merciful God, who, according
to the multitude of thy mercies,

dost so put away the sins
of all those who truly repent.

Amen.

Oh. I almost forgot.

I was asked to give you this

by someone who wishes
to remain anonymous.

What is it?
I haven't the faintest idea.

She said... The anonymous person
said, you'd know what to do with it.

Good night.

Argh!

Throat's been cut so deep,
it's almost severed the head.

And, he sustained a blow to the head
similar to the Woodley woman.

Hm.

Yeah, you said
that there was something familiar

about the stab wound
that killed Mrs Woodley.

Haven't figured it out yet, Tom.
I'll let you know.

But there's something odd
about this, too.

What? Normally when a throat's
been cut,

you can tell whether the incision
was made

right to left or vice versa.

But this looks like both.

Both?
Yeah. Doesn't make sense, does it?

Sir, think you'd better see this.

Looks like they took the keys
off the Vicar

then came back here
to see what they could nick.

Hm.

Why didn't they nick the computer?

Or the cash?

This is just like Sonia Woodley's
bag, innit?

How?

Well, they were certainly
after something.

Mr Bingham?
Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby.

You wanted to see me.

Yes. We're lighting candles
for the Vicar and Sonia Woodley.

Do you mind?
No, please.

I was here last night,
to see the Vicar.

I might have been the last person
to see him alive.

Apart from the murderer, that is.

What time was this?
Eight o'clock.

I come once a week, to confess.

To confess?

It's funny. When I moved here,

I only started coming to church
because everyone else did.

To fit in, you know?

And it was a chance to see Sonia,
of course.

I thought, after a decent interval,

she might, you know,
give me a chance to...

Well...she wasn't interested,
sad to say.

So I started coming to see
old Moreland now and then.

Not that I had much to confess.

Used to make things up,
just to keep him amused.

But I found it very calming.

And last night?

The day Sonia was...

well, she gave me a letter.

I assume it was a letter,
it something in an envelope.

I was to give it to the Vicar, I
wasn't to tell him who it was from.

And I wasn't to tell a soul,
she made me promise.

Well, you should've told us,
Mr Bingham.

I know, but to tell you the truth,
what with all the goings-on...

I forgot about it until last night.

So you gave the letter to the Vicar
last night?

Yes. He was as puzzled as I was,
and then I went home.

Did you see anyone else?

No.

You could ask Matthew,
he might've seen something.

Matthew Woodley was here last night?

Yes, he was in the vestry, kitting
out the Vicar in a new chasuble.

The Vicar did like his glad rags,
bless his soul.

He was a good bloke, the Vicar.

God moves in mysterious ways.

He certainly does.

Mr Bingham, thank you very much.

The letter! Matthew and Luke
were looking for the letter.

Hmm. And what do you think
was in the letter, Jones?

The truth about what happened...

The truth about what happened
to Gerald Woodley.

Sonia couldn't bring herself to tell the Vicar
face to face, so she wrote a letter instead.

But why give it to Morris Bingham?
He'd know who wrote the letter.

She wasn't behaving rationally.

She was at the end of her tether,
everyone says so.

We'll talk to them tomorrow.
Pick 'em up, take them to the nick.

No, no, no, no.
Let's keep this.. informal.

Why, sir?
Because...

Because I have a hunch
that we might not want

to pursue this line of enquiry.

What?

My father?
You want to talk about my father?

Jones, would you put that away,
please?

Yes, Luke. We want to talk to you
about the...

the circumstances surrounding
your father's death.

It was two years ago!

He died of a heart attack! How about
finding out who killed my mother?

That's exactly
what we're trying to do.

If you just tell us
what happened

the day your father died, please.

My father collapsed while he was
working in the garden.

Uncle Matthew and I
were at the shop.

Mum was in a panic, so she rang us.

I called an ambulance,
then Uncle Matthew

and I came straight home
and Dad was...

Dad was dead.

And then the ambulance came.
That's it, OK?

How come Mrs Woodley
didn't call an ambulance?

She was... She was scared,
she wasn't thinking straight.

So you called an ambulance
immediately? Yes, of course.

From the shop?

Obviously.

According to our records,

there was no call to the emergency
services from the shop.

Well, the records are wrong, then.

Someone called them from here,
though. At four o'clock.

An hour after Mrs
Woodley called you at the shop.

And an hour after your father
collapsed.

Now, Luke, how do you explain that?

Were you waiting for him to die?

I'm going to answer this.
Uncle Matthew -

No, I'm sorry, Luke.

We weren't waiting for him to die.

We were praying for him to die.

I made sure he was dead.

Then I called for an ambulance.

But you didn't know about Sonia's
phone call to Wendy Minchin.

Not at that time, no.

Sonia told us about it afterwards.

He beat her, you know.

And Luke.

He hit her that afternoon.

That was the last straw
as far as I was concerned.

We all felt remorse afterwards.

She could never cope
with what we'd done.

Is that why she wrote the letter?

What letter?

We think she wrote a letter
to the Vicar, about what happened.

A letter?

No, I don't know anything
about a letter.

The thing I realised,
after Gerald had died...

..was that she still loved him.

There's no accounting for the human
heart, is there?

What are we going to do about them?

Not a lot. They didn't kill Sonia
Woodley or the Reverend Moreland.

What about Gerald Woodley?

Later...

Couldn't figure it out at first.

It looked as if the throat had been
slashed twice,

first one way and then the other.

But the wounds were inflicted
simultaneously.

'How can this be?' I asked myself.

Two knives wielded by an
ambidextrous assassin?

And how did you answer yourself,
George?

Ah! Well, remember when I said
that something was familiar

about the stab wound
that killed Sonia Woodley?

Yes, I remember you saying.

I looked it up on the records and
bingo! Badger's Drift, 2005.

Look, you'll have to refresh
my jaded memory here.

The gardener who refused to cut down
his giant hedge? Remember?

And was killed
with his own garden shears.

Exactly! Closed for the stab
and open for the throat.

So, the murderer used garden shears?
No. No, not garden shears...

..tailor's shears.

Tailors shears,
now they can be quite hefty.

So the handle would do for the blow
to the head.

So you've got stun and stab!

Or in the case of the poor old
padre, stun and snip.

These are mine...

and these... are Beatrice's.

And those?

Mine. Before I packed it in.

And that's the lot?

Yes.
No, it's not.

Where are Dad's?

Dad's?
Well, Gerald's shears.

They belonged to our father.
They're usually hanging up there.

Big, old, heavy things -
I could barely lift them.

Well, when did you last see them?

God knows.
No idea.

I used them on the canvas linings
for the Vicar's new chasuble.

That would be about a month ago.

His new what?
Chasuble.

It's a kind of er..,like a...
like a poncho.

I was working on it in the vestry
the night he died.

He asked me to put a special pocket
in it for his mobile phone.

A pocket?

A special pocket?

Eureka.

Ah, there it is!

Gotcha!

'My darling, I am at our
special place.

There is someone with you, I suppose
it is her whoever she is.

How can you do this to me? She will
never love you as much as I do.'

'It is torture not being able
to talk

so I will come here again on
Thursday at the usual time.

Please, please, please we must talk.
You can't just throw me away

like a piece of rubbish.
I love you, my darling.'

It's a rejected lover.
A rejected illicit lover.

Sonia Woodley? Maybe that's why she
was in such a state.

It wasn't guilt because of Gerald's
death,

it was an unhappy love affair.

But did Sonia write this letter,
or was she the recipient?

Neither rings true to be honest.
No, they don't.

And in any case, why give it
to the vicar?

If the murder weapon turns out to
be Gerald's shears,

that makes the Woodleys suspects
again, doesn't it?

Ah, they wouldn't be so stupid,
would they?

No, I think someone is trying to
frame the Woodleys.

Someone who knows there was
something dodgy

about Gerald's death. Hm. That means
everybody in the village.

I'll tell you one thing, Jones.
Whoever did write that letter,

could be in serious danger.

'I will come here again on Thursday,
at the usual time.'

I wonder where that special place
is.

God, she's never got her phone on.
Well, wherever it is, Jones,

we'd better find it quick.
Tomorrow is Thursday.

Joyce.
Ooh! Hello, what are you doing here?

I do wish you'd keep your phone on,
once an a while. Oh, I'm sorry,

I keep forgetting. I would've made more
sandwiches if I'd known you were coming.

I want to talk to you about the
Woodleys. That's why you're here.

Could you move?
You're blocking my view.

When you were at the Woodleys,

did you ever notice a large pair of
tailor's shears hanging on the wall?

Yes.
Were they there that day?

I think so.

The inner sanctum, holy of holies.

Yes, they were Gerald's, I believe.
Tell me what happened.

But I've already told you.
Yes, I know you've already told me.

Tell me again, please.
I was in the workshop.

Matthew was there and...that
nice Beatrice girl.

Then there was the cheeky chappie in
dazzling tweeds. Morris Bingham.

That's the one. And the Lord of the
Manor bloke.

Makes yours look a tad dreary,
don't you think?

I hope you're not gonna shoot in
that, Morris.

You'll scare the birds to death.
Matthew, come quickly!

And then we all rushed into the shop
to see what was happening.

Matthew was first, then Sonia...
Oi! What the hell's going on?

...then Beatrice and Morris
Bingham...

Hey! Hey! Hey! Get off! Get off!
...then me.

Who was last out of the workshop?

Actually, now you come to
mention it...

That's enough, Gary.
Edward Milton, by a good minute.

And did you notice anything unusual
about him?

He'd taken his jacket off, I thought
that was a bit odd.

What jacket?
The one they were making for him.

And why was that odd? Well, they
hadn't finished the fitting.

So, he came out of the workshop in
his shirtsleeves.

Yes.
Oh, that's a pity.

And he was carrying his coat,
one of those waxed country things.

It was sort of folded up,
under his arm.

Under his arm?
That's good, that's very good.

Very good that.
Really? Yeah.

Oh, and so's that. That, that's very
nice. Thank you, Joyce.

That's very useful.

He had his coat under his arm. So
what? Held tightly, under his arm.

OK.
He was hiding something, Jones.

Mrs Barnaby is absolutely certain

that those shears were still hanging
on the wall that day.

And Edward Milton was the last
to leave the workshop.

You think Milton took the shears?
Do you remember how he dropped hints

about Gerald Woodley's death?
You see how clever that was?

Telling us to ignore the rumours

while making sure we were aware
of them.

Yeah. And making sure how we knew
about the money in trust for Sonia.

Yeah. How about this. Edward Milton,
lord of the manor,

has an affair. He tries to end it,

but the rejected party's having none
of that,

so she writes a desperate letter.
Which somehow or other

ended up in Sonia Woodley's
possession.

Yeah. So he kills Sonia with her
husband's shears.

Why? To, to implicate the Woodleys?
I don't know.

But he didn't find the letter.
Because she'd given it to the Vicar.

No, actually, she'd given it to
Morris Bingham.

Wendy Minchin was her best friend,
why didn't she give her the letter?

Well, maybe she did.
And maybe Wendy Minchin

didn't want to know about it.

I mean, look, her husband works in
the Estate's Office

and they wouldn't want to get
the wrong side of Edward Milton.

I see. Whereas Morris Bingham
is a free man.

Exactly right. I bet Wendy Minchin
knows about that letter.

I bet she does too.

If Milton wanted to incriminate the
Woodleys,

how come we haven't found the shears
yet?

Well, maybe he plans to use them
again.

What do you want?
It's Inspector Barnaby.

Yes. I know who you are. What do you
want? Please, may we come in.

No, I'm very busy. I can't talk to you now.
Have you seen this before, Mrs Minchin?

Go away! Please!
Do you recognise the handwriting?

It's nothing to do with me!

My husband could lose his job.
We could lose our house.

Mrs Minchin, somebody's life is in
danger.

Now, could you please, please
tell us who wrote this letter.

It was Katie! Now go away!
Katie Soper?

Yes.

Right, I'll pick up Milton.
You go find Katie Soper.

Ah, haven't got a car. It's only a
couple of minutes to the Sopers'.

Get some back-up.

I'm sorry, he's always forgetting to
turn his mobile on.

I could phone the Estate Office,
they might know where he is.

Yes. Yes. I would appreciate that.

Such a big estate, it's hard to keep
track of him.

Yes, I'm sure.

Hello! It's Mrs Milton. Do you
know Mr Milton's whereabouts?

Thank you, I'll hold.

'My darling, I am at our special
place.

There is someone with you, I suppose
it is her, whoever she is...'

Oh!

Jones.
Did you find Katie Soper?

No.
Where are you, Jones?

On the farm.
Get yourself to the Ice House.

What? The Ice House.
West end of the woods.

The what?
In the woods!

The Ice House is in the woods!
And move yourself.

All right. Flipping hell.

Katie.

Katie I told you never to
come here again.

Come on.

Oh, I miss you so much.

We've got to stop this, Katie.
Why?

Because it's a sin.
I love you. Is that a sin?

It's a sin in God's eyes and we must
pray for God's forgiveness.

Kneel.

I've done my duty.
Your husband's job is safe.

Your family's safe. Be content.

How can I be content when I'm not
with you?

Dear Lord, look down
upon these thy servants

who have grievously sinned against
you in thought and in deed.

The west end of the wood.
Yeah, right!

Forgive us, Lord,

we have indulged shamefully
in the pleasures of the flesh.

Open thine eye of mercy upon these
thy miserable servants.

Renew...

..renew in us whatsoever hath been
destroyed

by the fraud and malice
of the devil.

You shouldn't have written
the letter, Katie.

I told you.
Never write anything down.

Hello!

Jones!
It's locked.

Thanks.
In the name of the Father...

...and of the Son...and of
the...Holy Spir- Stop!

Got him?
Yes.

Ah! Ah!

Oh, Edward! We were praying!

Were you? Well, we've got a little
prayer of our own.

Haven't we, Jones?

Edward Milton, I'm arresting you
on suspicion of murder.

You do not have to say anything, but
it may harm your defence

if you do not mention when
questioned - Eddie?

Oh. Welcome to the prayer meeting.

..if you do not mention when
questioned

something which you later rely on in court.
Anything you do say may be used as evidence.

Amen.

Go on.
Ah, yes erm...

Katie Soper wrote that letter and
she left it at the Ice House.

Edward Milton put that letter into
his trouser pocket,

but he forgot to take it out again

when he took the trousers down the
Woodleys' for alteration,

And Sonia Woodley...found it.

Did Sonia realise what the letter
was about?

Yes, she did indeed.

And Edward had been carrying on with
the village women

for donkey's years.
Like his father before him

and his father before him.

Women whose families depended on
the estate for their livelihood.

What are you going to do about the
Woodleys?

What do you mean 'do'?
What about them waiting for an hour

before they called an ambulance?

Gerald Woodley died of a heart
attack.

Impossible to prove otherwise.

So, what's it like working in the
back room, Luke? It's great.

He's picking it up a treat.

Now, I've given you a single vent,
Mr Barnaby. I hope that's all right.

Oh, yes, a single vent with that
tweed, certainly.

What are you having, Jones?
Oh, no vent.

No vent? Really?

I watched 'North by Northwest' again
last night to make sure.

That's right. No vent in
Cary Grant's suit.

That's looking good, Sir.
Oh, you think so?

Yeah. I might go for something in
tweed, when I'm older.

Will you be wanting a ticket pocket,
Mr Barnaby?

Like er...Mr Bingham here.
Of course he wants a ticket pocket.

I don't know.

I wish I could remember what my
father had.

Hello, Joyce!

Oh, Tom, how could you?

That's MY tweed!
Well, I'm very sorry, Mrs Barnaby,

but it is now MY tweed.

Anyway, the only question is,
should I go for a ticket pocket?

What do you reckon?
Yes or no?