All language subtitles for Wycliffe - S01E02 - The Dead Flautist

- Look.

- What was that?

- I don't know.

- Wait.

Oh, God, Paul.

He'll kill me, come on.

- Hang on.

What is it?

- Shhhh.

- Come on.

- Come on, Paul.

- Stay there.

Floyd?

What's up, boy?

What's the matter, boy?

Bottrell Hall should
be up there on the left.

There's a Lord and Lady Bottrell

still rattling around
in there, apparently.

And a brother, um, Guy.

- Bottrell family.

Was the dead man a relative?

- No, no.

He's estate manager,
name of Miller.

Nasty way to go though, eh,

playing lollipop with
your own shotgun?

Mr. Miller was also game
warden to the estate, sir,

he was age 35, single,
there's no CRO on him.

- This isn't the
weapon used, sir,

but not far different.

Two rounds racked into the
breach, pushed under the chin,

both triggers, bang.

- So suicide?

- Try it, sir.

- No thank you.

Go on, Doug, you do it.

- Yes, sir.

So.

- Yeah, it's not easy.

Even with the long
arm of the law.

Look how it's pushed
his head right back.

You'd be looking for
that angle of fire.

- What's Franks say?

- Well, we're still waiting,
but from what I've seen now,

I'd say iffy.

- Prints?

- Plenty, on the lock,
stock, and barrel.

All the deceased's.

- Someone could've faked
that after Miller was shot.

- Very perceptive, sir.

- Thank you.

- Who found him?

- A young girl, uh, Jean Lander.

Out on an early morning walk,
spotted the door hanging open.

- Get a full rundown.

I'll be up at the hall.

- Would you like to look at
the photos of Miller, sir,

as he was found?

- No thank you.

Give them to Inspector
Kersey, would you, please?

Sir Bottrell, do you think?

- Yep.

George Ignatius, chaplain
to Queen Mary.

A reticle recusant,
whatever that is.

- Catholics.

Fides ad mortem.

Keep faith under death.

- Old George Ignatius
certainly did.

He burnt at the stake.

- God save us from religion.

- His Lordship will see you now.

Thank you.

- I'll do this.

Right, sir.

- Jane will show you up.

- Well, I took Miller on
about seven years ago.

He kept the books,
collected rents,

did some maintenance work
around the game park.

- He was Hugh's private
dogsbody.

- He managed the estate for me.

- Did he...

- Ah, come in, Paul.

This is Superintendent Wycliffe.

My son.

- Did Mr. Miller
have any family,

friends you could put
us in touch with?

- No, he was quite
a solitary chap.

- Bloody refugee from life.

Just the sort to come
unstuck and top himself.

- You think so?

- I've seen it in the
army time enough.

Miserable cur, Miller.

- Pickled pink more
often than not,

wasn't he, Hugh?

- He did drink, yes, sometimes.

- We're still trying to fix
the time of Mr. Miller's death.

Do any of you remember hearing
a gunshot on Friday night?

- I was in bed with a
migraine all evening.

- Well, I returned by train
from the House that night,

so I heard nothing.

- The house?

- Oh, the House of Lords.

There was an important
debate in the chamber.

- I was in my room watching
television.

There was a film on,
Sylvester Stallone.

- And you?

- I can't remember where I was.

Remember where you were,
Superintendent?

Account for your movements?

- I've no wish to be intrusive.

But for the present, we
must treat this matter

as a suspicious death.

- What does that mean?

- It means there's a
possibility Mr. Miller

may not have topped
himself, as you put it.

- Oh, there's little
Jane you saw just now,

the parlormaid.

And then there's Lizzie,
Lizzie Biddick,

Lady Cynthia's maid.

Only she's gone.

- Gone where?

- Oh, London, I expect.

She just up and went
a few days ago.

Maybe for good.

No, you can't ever
tell with her.

Flighty piece.

- Morning, Mrs. Christopher.

- This here is a policeman.

- Detective Inspector Lane.

- George Carter, estate foreman.

That's Jed, layabout.

- Did you both work
with Mr. Miller?

- He was supposed
to be our boss.

Didn't know
nothing about farming.

- Did he have any close
friends that you know of?

- No, he didn't mix
well, Miller.

Hey, lads is always down
at Bottrell Arms,

Fridays, darts night,
but he never showed.

Rum sort of chap.

- Girlfriends?

- Not what you'd call
a lady's man.

- More of a man's
man, hey George?

- Hey, don't get me
wrong, I liked the feller.

But he were a bit
soft, that's all.

Tell the truth, he didn't know
if he were Arthur or Martha.

- That's enough of that talk.

- I, uh can't stand
here gassin'.

Good day, ma'am.

- Hello?

I told you never
to ring me here.

- It's about the police.

They think Tony Miller
was murdered.

- Murdered?

I'll have to tell them
about Friday night.

- You can't tall them
about that, not now.

Just stick to the story.

- But what if they find out...

Um, okay then, don't worry.

I'll see you after school.

Ciao, Hazel.

- We're doing a close
search of the area, sir,

before it gets too contaminated.

- Good.

Tell Doug what you know, Lucy.

- Oh, yeah, according
to local rumor control,

Miller was gay.

- Gay?

- We'll work on that
assumption, anyway.

- Well, that's interesting,
because there was

a name and number
on his phone pad.

Lizzie.

I thought it was his girlfriend.

Could be a sister, I suppose.

- Nah, I heard mention
of a maid up at the hall

name of Lizzie.

Yeah, Lizzie Biddick.

Gone to London, according
to the housekeeper.

- Maybe Miller was AC/DC.

- Give that number a
ring, will you, Lucy?

And run CRO tests on
Hugh and Cynthia Bottrell

and on Guy, the brother.

- Right.

- Get in the car, Doug.

- Don't you want to
see the scene, sir?

- Nope.

Let's have a word with the
girl that found the body.

What time did you find the body?

- It was about half past nine.

- Are you sure of that, Jean?

- She left the house about nine,

it's a half hour walk from here.

- Could you allow your daughter
to answer the questions,

please, Mr. Lander?

- At about half past nine, yes.

- Did you often take these
Saturday morning walks?

- Sometimes.

- We've told her not to walk
through the woods alone,

haven't we, Edith?

- Yes.

- Yes, the way it is these days.

- Yes, I have a daughter
myself, Mr. Lander.

Jean.

Would you tell us what
you saw yesterday?

- The wind was banging
his cottage door open.

I could see him from the path,
and I heard his dog whining,

so I called out "Tony".

I went in and found him.

There was blood.

- She called the police
from the cottage.

- We'd like your daughters
fingerprints

at some time, please.

- What for?

- Well, we found several
sets of prints

at Mr. Miller's cottage.

- Now, hang on a minute,
you're not suggesting

that my daughter and Miller...

- We're not suggesting
anything, Mr. Lander.

I'm sure, as a solicitor,
you perfectly understand

the process of elimination.

- I also understand the
propensity of some police
officers

to jump to unwarranted
conclusions.

- Pain in the collar.

- Don't take it to heart,
Doug, he's a solicitor.

He won't give us a signpost.

Did you watch the girl?

What?

- She's lying.

- You okay?

Yes, sir.

- One of the local
lads recognized it.

- The coach ticket is one
return trip to London, sir.

- What's this?

- Photographs of Lizzie Biddick,

found dumped in a disused well.

Did you follow that
number for, um...

- Uh, yes sir.

A woman answered,
name of Taylor.

She was expecting Biddick
in London last Friday,

she didn't show.

Yeah, coach
was booked for Friday.

Ticket's still unused.

- I also had another word
with the housekeeper.

Her bedroom's next to Biddick's.

Now, late last Thursday night,

she heard Biddick come in,
bang about for five minutes,

and then leave again in a hurry.

- She didn't see her?

- No, sir.

- Well, maybe Biddick's
having a scene with Miller.

She finds out he's
cobbling around, they row,

and she, uh.

- Shoots him?

Well, he certainly
didn't shoot himself, sir.

Oh yeah?

- No, the path report
just came through, Lucy.

Confirms that Miller's entry
wound was in under the chin,

and out through the
back of the head.

Given the shotgun's length,

he couldn't possibly have
achieved that angle of fire,

and um, held the gun himself.

- She could've wiped
the gun clean,

took his hand, laid
his prints all over it,

to look like suicide.

And she runs home,
packs her bag,

and drops it down the well
to fake her disappearance.

- Yes, but why the photos
in the bag of her naked?

The whole area tooth-combed.

- Okay, sir, what are
we looking for?

- If I'm right, the
body of Lizzie Biddick.

- Sorko's done us some copies
of the Biddick photos, sir.

Do you want to ask
around the village?

- These taken by
professionals, do you think?

- They're good, but
they're more like,

reader's wives snaps you get
in the girly mags, you know.

- Can't say I do, Doug.

- Oh, well, that's
Sorko's opinion,

I never read them myself.

- I've never met a
man yet who does.

- Yeah, Doug, ask around
the village by all means,

but remember...

- Understood, sir,
soul of discretion.

- Lucy, try up at the hall.

See if anyone there
knows who took them.

- All right, sir.

- Pull!

Pull!

- Can you spare a moment,
Mr. Bottrell?

- Still here, Superintendent?

- I was wondering if your
memory had improved at all.

- Memory?

- As to your whereabouts
last Friday night,

between 9:30 and 11.

- Is that relevant,
Superintendent?

- It may be.

We now know that Tony
Miller was murdered.

- Look, this is all
rather awkward.

I was with somebody.

- Would you mind telling me who?

- Well, I'd rather not.

- Okay.

We can always continue
this conversation

down at the police station.

- Oh, come on.

- Were you with Lizzie
Biddick that night,

one of your maids?

- Lizzie Biddick?

Good God, no, of course not.

- Okay.

- Look, I can't really...

- Guy was with me,
Superintendent.

- I thought you said you
were on your own that night,

Madam, with a migraine.

- Yes, I said that.

It wasn't true.

You see, my husband...

- Hugh knows nothing about this.

- It's not our practice to
disclose sensitive information

of a personal nature, sir.

Unless we absolutely have to.

- Quite.

I'm sorry we weren't
altogether frank with you,

Superintendent, but
you understand.

- Perfectly, sir.

But I will need a statement
confirming all you've told me.

- Of course.

But I've got a bunch
of chaps booked into

the paintball trail
this afternoon.

- This evening will be fine.

- Good.

Right.

And thanks.

- A lot of gear.

- Yeah, well, you collect it
over the years, don't you?

- Do you take the photos?

- No.

I used to do a bit, but I
got me hands full nowadays.

Mr. Lander's lot do those.

- What, Lander the solicitor?

- Yeah, he runs a little
photographic club,

they've got a studio
in the old boathouse

down by the estuary.

- Really.

- They come frame and the
lot for about 20 quid.

He'd probably do you a
copy if you was interested.

- Oh, Superintendent.

- This is the scene of a murder.

Didn't you see the
warning tapes?

- Yes, I, I hope you don't mind.

I was just collecting
some records,

um, flute music that
I lent to Miller.

Tony played the flute, you know.

- You had a mutual passion.

- I'm sorry?

- The flute.

- Oh, yes, yes.

- Close friends, were you?

Spent a lot of time down here?

- No, I just lent
him some records.

- Well, that's very
helpful, you see,

because the fingerprints of
someone other than Miller

have turned up all
over the cottage.

The kitchen.

Bathroom, bedroom.

They wouldn't be yours, then?

- This is a small
community, Superintendent.

I hold position and the
family are looked to

to set a standard.

And people just wouldn't
understand.

- Understand what?

- Tony and I were lovers.

It began when he first
came here to work for me.

- How long ago was that?

- Six years.

Seven.

I just can't believe it.

I mean.

Why anybody would
want to kill him.

He wouldn't, wouldn't
harm a soul.

- What were you looking
for just now?

- Oh, letters.

Holidays, you know.

I was a fool to imagine
it wouldn't come out.

I'm sorry.

- Could you tell me again

what your movements were the
night Mr. Miller was shot?

- It's only me, madam.

Is Mr. Lander in?

- No, he's not here.

- You don't know where I
might find him, do you?

- He should be back
around seven.

- Do you, um, know a
Miss Lizzie Biddick?

- Biddick?

- Yes, uh, this is her.

I'd show you the rest but
they're a little indelicate.

- No, I don't recognize her.

Sorry.

- You don't know who might
have taken this photograph,

do you?

- No, I don't.

- Okay, thank you.

- Good afternoon, you two.

Want a lift?

- No, no thanks.

I'll see you.

- I think you and I
had better have a talk.

Get in.

- That chair is priceless.

- Damn the bloody chair.

- What is it?

- The police know.

About Tony and me.

I told them.

- Bloody wimp.

- For God's sake, woman,
for once in your life,

you could support me instead
of always twisting the knife.

- I've spent 20 years
supporting you, Hugh.

Putting up with your
damned perversion.

- But they think that I did it.

That I killed Tony.

I didn't, you've got
to believe me.

I swear I didn't.

- I did believe once, Hugh.

In you, in this.

You've destroyed it all.

I'm sick of it.

Sick of living here
surrounded by all your sham

and humbuggery.

- For the sake of the
family, we have got to--

- The Bottrells?

I hope you all rot in Hell.

So you
were in the woods

with Paul Bottrell that night.

- Yes.

- And that's when you
discovered the body,

not the following morning.

Why didn't you tell
us the truth?

- My father.

- You lied to the police
just so your father

wouldn't find out where
you'd been that night,

that's right, isn't it?

- You don't know him.

He goes mad if I'm out late.

He always thinks I'm
out with Paul.

He knows we see each other.

- You've been a very
irresponsible young lady.

- I know.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, please don't
tell my father.

He'll kill me, I
mean it, he'll...

- Is there anything
else you saw that night?

- There might have been
something, I don't know.

It was dark.

- You saw someone?

- Not saw, heard.

A man, running through
the woods.

- You didn't see him, but
you know it was a man?

Now think, Jean.

- I didn't see his face.

I only saw him for a moment.

We were running,
I was frightened.

- Jack!

Over here!

- I'm in here.

Oh, it's you, Inspector.

- Yes.

- Won't keep you a minute.

As you can see, the
photographic club

uses this as a studio.

- Oh.

Private club, is it, sir?

- It's just a group of
amateur enthusiasts.

- And what sort of pictures
gets their juices flowing,

Mr. Lander, these enthusiasts?

Landscape, still life?

Full frontal?

- I beg your pardon?

- See you've got your
own darkroom, sir.

- Yes, I fail to see the
purpose of these questions.

- Yes, we're looking
for a young lady,

Miss Lizzie Biddick,
do you know her?

- Lizzie who?

- Do you recognize her?

- I don't think I...

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

I mean, they all look different
in their birthday suits,

don't they?

- Yes, it's Lizzie Biddick.

- Did one of your fellow
enthusiasts take these,

or was it you, sir?

- I took them.

Look, I know what you're
thinking, Inspector,

but Lizzie had ambitions
to become a model.

She wanted a portfolio
of photographs.

- Oh, she paid you to
take them, did she?

- No, no.

I was interested in
doing some life studies.

- Ah, that's what
they are, is it?

- She needed the photos
to show to agents.

It was a quid pro
quo between us.

- Sort of tit for tat,
you could say, sir?

- I find your attitude
offensive, Inspector.

- Have you any idea
where we might

find this young lady, sir?

- No, I do not.

- Are you absolutely
certain about that?

Why don't you have a
good look, sir, hmmm?

- Right, we can shift her now.

- Any cause?

- The local medic says
her neck's broken.

- No clothes nearby?

- Nothing so far, sir.

- So the body was brought
here and then dumped.

Boat, do you think?

- Maybe.

Or came through the woods
from Lord Bottrell's place.

It's only half a mile away.

- Lord Bottrell.

- I'd say he's favorite, sir.

Some sort of triangle
between him, Miller,

and the Biddick woman.

- Oh, sorry.

- It's okay.

- Say, Sally, Camborn lick?

- No, Angela, and I've
never worked Camborn.

- Oh, well, it's nice to
bump into you, anyway.

Hey, listen, what do you
drink round here, then?

- I don't.

- No, right.

- Did you and she have any
other sort of relationship?

- No, of course not.

What do you take me for?

- Were you aware that
Lizzie Biddick

was a close friend
of Tony Miller's?

- No.

She may have mentioned
him, now and again.

- Did you take any photos
of Tony Miller?

Any life studies?

- No.

Look, these photographs
have only an aesthetic

and artistic interest to me.

- Artistic.

Frankly, Mr. Lander,
some of these

would make a pornographer blush.

- That may be your judgment.

I can't be responsible
for other people's

perverse and limited
imaginations, Inspector.

- We do have some other
photographs of Lizzie Biddick.

Taken much more recently.

In the place where her
body was discovered.

Miss Biddick was found
dead earlier today.

- But this is outrageous.

I came here voluntarily to
assist you with your inquiries.

- When did you last see her?

- Oh, I don't know.

Last week sometime.

- You see, as far as we
can presently tell, sir,

Miss Biddick was murdered.

- Did you kill Lizzie Biddick?

- No, I did not.

Do you understand plain English?

I have not, could not, did
not kill Lizzie Biddick.

- A blow to the neck
with a blunt weapon,

main artery ruptured, massive
hemorrhage to the brain.

- When?

- Sometime last Wednesday
or Thursday.

Just before Mr. Miller.

Ah, I thought so, you see?

Fibers.

It could be her own clothes.

Could be she grabbed
at her assailant.

- Any other injury?

- There's no close encounters
of a sexual nature.

She's a very healthy woman.

- Now, tell me again, Jean.

Is there anything
else you remember

about the man you
saw running away

from Mr. Miller's cottage?

- You must tell them
everything, Jean.

- I don't know!

- Was it your father?

Is that why you lied
about finding the body?

- I've told you.

I didn't see who
it was, honestly.

- Mrs. Lander.

Were you aware that your
husband was taking photographs

of Lizzie Biddick?

- I suspected there was someone.

Suspected?

- He has an interest
in that kind of thing.

- Pornography?

He calls it art.

- Have you any reason
to suppose that

something else was going
on between your husband

and Lizzie Biddick?

- No.

Would you
say your husband

was a violent man, Mrs. Lander?

- Tell him, Mother.

Tell the truth about
him for once.

- Quiet, Jean.

- Oh, he treats her like dirt.

He's so jealous.

She can't even go to
the shops but he

accuses her of meeting a man.

Shouting and screaming at her.

Tell them, Mum.

- Is this true, Mrs. Lander?

- It's true.

And he asked me to do it.

- To do what?

- To pose for some pictures.

- No!

- I told him I didn't want to,

and he said, he said I
mustn't tell you he'd asked,

or he'd stop me ever
seeing Paul again.

- My husband, at times,
does have a terrible temper,

Superintendent, but I don't
believe he would kill anyone.

I can't believe that.

- Your mission, to
capture their flag.

Arms, paintballs.

A hit between neck and
waistline is a kill.

Questions?

No.

- Good.

Okay, hands in.

Let's do it.

Go on, orange team!

And yellow team, go!

- That'll do, Tafey.

- Oh, I still got the
other side to do, ma'am.

I've hardly started.

- That'll do.

- As you wish, ma'am.

- This way.

If this is about
the Biddick girl,

I've said I'll sign a statement.

- No, actually, I wanted
to talk to you about

Lord Bottrell and Tony Miller.

- As you're doubtless
aware, Hugh and Tony

were close companions.

That's all I can tell
you, Inspector.

- Was there ever a dispute
between you and your husband

about their friendship?

- I've put up with Hugh's
peccadilloes for 20 years,

one learns to live
with such things.

- I see.

- No you don't.

I am my husband's wife.

Loyalty to country,
church, and family

is the true trinity, Inspector.

And yet you were
with Guy Bottrell

the night Mr. Miller died.

- Since he's chosen
to tell you that,

I'm not in a position
to deny it.

- I take it your husband
knows nothing of this?

- Hugh has always been
entirely oblivious

to everything save his
own infatuations.

Including the fact that
you sleep with his brother?

- Some things one has to do,

and one can only pray
for forgiveness.

But I repeat, I am
my husband's wife.

And that, that I shall
take to my grave.

As I've vowed before God to do.

- Oh, I'm sorry, I heard voices.

Come on, Floyd.

I'm sorry.

- You see?

And now, along with
the dead Jesuits and

ancestral bastards who
hang around Bottrell Hall,

I must learn to live
with Miller's damned dog.

- Shopping?

- Yes, uh, not much
dry stuff, though.

Do you know any decent Indian
restaurants around here?

- Some, yeah.

- So how are you fixed
for tonight, then?

- Oh, I've got something on.

- Oh, pity.

Still, bear it in mind,
if, you know,

one night, when you
got nothing on.

- Don't hold your breath.

- Hardly smoldering with
the lust of her loins, sir.

More like a cold fish, I'd say.

- Groceries.

Could only get you egg
mayonnaise, sir.

- Right.

String so far.

Lander has no alibi for the
times of either killing.

His wife implied he's
a violent man,

the daughter backed that up.

And we know he took the
photographs of Lizzie Biddick.

- And we're still waiting
for the fibers

under her fingernails.

I mean, if they come from
Lander's clothes, well...

- He's certainly shaping
up for it.

- Yes, but I still don't
understand the photos in the
bag.

If he is Mr. Meticulous,
why didn't he check?

He must have known they
would lead to him.

- Oh, he panicked.

- Yeah, but then why kill
Miller two days later?

- He was afraid he
knew too much.

Lizzie and Miller were
friends, probably lovers.

Jealousy.

- Maybe.

- I want another go at Lander.

Keep his feet to the fire.

- Okay.

- Do you want me to
sit in with Doug?

- What did she say?

That Lady Cynthia woman, when
you put Guy's alibi to her.

- She confirmed it.

- No, no, no, what did she say?

- Uh, she said...

"If he's chosen to tell you,

"I'm not in a position
to deny it."

Yeah, and one thing's strange,

she said "Some things
one has to do,

"and only pray for forgiveness."

- Interview Lander.

See if you can get a
crack open into him.

I'll be up at the hall.

- Your sandwich, sir.

- You have it.

- What's up with him,
is he all right?

- No, I don't think he is.

He was talking to me
about his father.

His father was a farm laborer,

at a big estate like
Bottrell's up north.

Yeah?

The lord of the land
evicted him and his family

when Wycliffe was still a kid.

Wycliffe's dad shot himself.

What?

With a 12-bore.

- Your daughter lied about
when she found the body.

- She was seeing Paul Bottrell
without my permission.

She was trying to cover it up.

- Where were you at
that time, sir?

- In the darkroom at the studio.

- Anyone with you?

- No, I was alone.

Look, I've already answered
all these questions.

- And when Lizzie
Biddick was killed

you were in the darkroom
on your own.

Same alibi.

- These are not alibis, they
are simple statements of fact.

- You have a violent
temper, Mr. Lander.

- I do not have a
violent temper.

- That's not what
your wife says.

- My wife?

- Nor your daughter.

Look, we all lose our rag
sometimes, Mr. Lander.

Do things we didn't
intend to do.

Is that what happened?

Now, I understand
you've arrested Steven Lander.

He's one
of a number of people

we're questioning.

Oh, yes, yes, of course.

You know him?

- Well, he's done some
work for the family.

Wills and such.

Not socially.

A bit of a dry stick, I find.

- Could he have been having a
relationship with Tony Miller?

- Superintendent, I've known
men so deep in the closet

they're in Narnia,
but Steven Lander?

No.

- Captains of industry.

No wonder this country's
in such a damn awful state.

- Ah, I'll leave
you two to talk.

Good day, Superintendent.

- Talk?

- Just tidy up a few loose ends.

- Sure, fire away.

- I came here voluntarily.

I have concealed nothing.

I have represented myself.

- Would you like another
solicitor to sit in?

- A colleague, perhaps?

- No.

Don't you realize what all
this does to my reputation?

My career will be in ruins.

- Lizzie Biddick's career
never got off the ground.

Tony Miller is six feet under.

Now, that's what concerns me.

- Well, it doesn't
concern me, none of this!

Why don't you get that
through your stupid,

plodding police brain?

- What is it?

He's just about coming
unglued in there.

Forensic.

The fibers under Lizzie
Biddick's fingernails?

They compared them with
samples from Lander's clothing.

- Okay, I did have a flirtation
with the Biddick woman.

But believe me, I wasn't
alone in that.

Bit of a Delilah, I would say.

- Had an affair?

- Did it a few times.

Desperate men do
desperate things.

A dim little tart, but
a good body on her.

- Mr. Miller?

- That's Hugh's department.

I had nothing to do with
that damned toilet-loiterer.

- And you were definitely
with Lady Cynthia

the night he died.

- Look, I realize being
in bed with a lapful

of one's brother's wife is
not the choicest of alibis,

but c'est la vie.

- Only Lady Cynthia was
somewhat less specific

when my colleague discussed
the matter with her.

- Oh, Cynthia lives uneasily
with her conscience.

No doubt she's purged
her guilt endlessly.

Done her Hail Marys.

- You see, Mr. Bottrell.

I don't believe you were
with her that night.

- What?

- I believe she's lying.

To protect you.

- Why?

Why should she do that?

- The same reason she suffered
in silence all these years.

Married to a man who
doesn't, who can't love her.

Keeping faithful 'til death,

isn't that the Bottrell
family motto?

- Look, I was with her.

- And the night Lizzie
Biddick died,

where were you then,
who were you with?

- I don't know.

- Somebody murdered
Lizzie Biddick

and dumped her body in a ditch.

Went to her room, packed
some of her things,

slipped the photographs
into her bag

hoping to implicate Mr. Lander,

and then dumped the bag
in a well in these woods.

Do you know that well?

- Yes.

- We will discover the
truth, Mr. Bottrell.

We have fibers from the
dead woman's fingernails.

What were you wearing the night
of Lizzie Biddick's death?

That sweater?

- No.

- What did you wear, then?

- Look, she deserved
everything she got.

Yes, all right, I killed her.

But not before she killed me.

- Killed you?

- She denied it, but I knew.

She denied it with
that queer Miller.

He was having it both ways.

Yes, I disposed of him as well,

one less dross to worry about.

He laughed at me, denied
he and she had...

I shoved the shotgun
under his chin, and...

Found out when I applied to
renew my health insurance.

Routine blood test, they said.

Only I tested positive.

HIV.

It was her, the slut, and him.

They condemned me
to a living death.

Any man would have
done the same.

Sorry, old things.

I just lost it.

Superintendent.

Yes?

- Why?

Why did he kill Tony,
I don't understand.

- Your brother has
offered us an explanation

which we will be investigating.

Until we know more, that's
all it will be advisable

for me to say at this present
time, and I'm very sorry, sir.

- Hi.

- Lurking or working?

- A bit of both, really.

- If that offer's still on,
I'm free tomorrow night.

- Well, afraid not.

We're off back to Camborne.

You know, a job's a job here.

- Pity.

- Yeah.

- Oh well, maybe next time, hm?

- Yeah.

Must be written in my stars.

- Once a Virgo, always a Virgo.

- Listen, I'm all tours, me.

Is that it then, sir?

- I just rang Franks.

He did the PM on Lizzie Biddick.

He ran a routine blood test
on the body, she was negative.

- What, no AIDS?

- No, nor Miller.

They're both in the clear.

- So how come Guy
Bottrell got told

he was HIV positive?

- He was in the army,
stationed in Kenya, apparently.

- Oh, what?

- Yeah.

So Guy Bottrell killed both
Biddick and Miller for nothing.

And the Bottrells
are landed gentry.

A law unto themselves.

Always have been.

- You know what you said
about his father

topping himself when
Wycliffe was a kid?

- Yeah.

- Did he find the body?

- Didn't say.