All language subtitles for Midsomer Murders S11E04 - Midsomer Life

(tense music)

(man panting)

(heart thumping)

(car engine rumbles)

- Hell!

(chainsaw roaring)

- [Woman] Well done.

Right, I'm gonna take that.

- On to work.
(man groans)

- If the bumpkins were
left to their own devices,

all these byways would be overgrown, mate.

(man in blue shirt chuckles)

Here you are, just down
here would be lovely.

- [Woman] Oops!

(woman speaking faintly)

- [Woman] We'd have to carry them.

- Hold up.

(ominous music)

(blonde woman chuckling)

- [Man In Blue Shirt]
Wow, mate, look at that!

- [Brad] Shh.

(dramatic music)

(siren wailing)

- [Man] About ten minutes ago,

but we need you here as soon as possible.

Yeah, ASAP.

We've done a PNC check.

The vehicle's registered to a
Charlie Finleyson of London.

He used to live in Midsomer Sonning

up until three years ago.

George thought you might know him.

- Morning, George.

I know of him.

- His wife reported him
missing two weeks ago.

- No obvious cause.

Time of death was something
like two weeks ago,

judging by the insect development.

- Broken from the outside.

No wallet or ID.

- The way the glass has
interacted with the body,

it looks like the window was broken

at the time of death,
or pretty soon after.

- Well, he certainly wanted

to turn round in a hurry, didn't he?

What he was he doing here,

with his Chelsea tractor
and his designer suit?

Not your typical birdwatcher, is he?

Miles from anywhere with a
map and a pair of binoculars.

- You know who lives
barely half a mile away?

Guy Sandys.

- Guy Sandys, owner of "Midsomer Life"?

- It also happens it was Guy Sandys' wife

who Charlie Finleyson ran
off with three years ago.

- Mm.

You're a very talented girl, Gemma.

- I thought it was
perhaps a little gruesome

for the gentle folk of Midsomer?

- We have to tell it how it is, Julia.

That's what we're here for.

We'll go with it as it is.

- Thank you, Mr. Sandys.

(Garth knocking)

- Oh, Garth, come in.

Excellent article this month.

- Thank you, Mr. Sandys.

- So, how's the hedge-laying going?

- Not much work about, as it happens.

- Oh, sorry to hear that.

- In fact, I started a new job today.

When you hear who I'm working for,

I'm not sure you're going to want me

writing the country diaries any more.

- [Matt] If Guy Sandys thinks

he's gonna publish this rubbish,

then he's got another thing coming.

Who the hell does he think he is?

- Looks like it's gonna
be one of his nasty ones.

It's ever since you opened
that off-road centre, you know.

That's what this is all about.

- I know what this is about

and I'm not gonna put up with it.

The opinions of that
dyspeptic dinosaur bastard!

(patrons chattering)
(tense music)

- Mr. Tomlin, any plans for the day?

No, right.

- It'd been sitting there
for two weeks or something!

I mean, don't these people ever clear up?

This is a public byway
we're talking about!

Yes, please.

I mean, we could've had kiddies with us!

- Mr. Farley.

Did you have a pleasant drive?

- You extracting the Michael?

- I beg your pardon?

- Have you not heard about the
body we found up on the hill?

- The dead body, hmm?

Blimey.

I thought gossip was supposed to spread

like wildfire in these parts.

I think it's Remys all round.

- Yep.

- Large ones.

- Of course.

(uneasy music)

- [Gemma] Morecroft bar, usual time?

Right, see you later.

(person knocking)

- So, we were doing a bit of
green laning up the back there

and we had to hack our way
through, and then there it was.

- Maggots crawling all over it!

- Yeah, all right.

- Sorry.

- Where was this?

- Up the back there.

I think it's called Drays Copse.

(patrons murmuring)

- Drays Copse?
- Drays Copse?

- (scoffs) What's that?

The haunted wood, is it? (laughing)

What are you like, you people, priceless!

- They're saying it's a
combination of that hot weekend

and it being the end of the season.

Can't get charcoal anywhere.

No, it'll be fine.

They say it's gonna be an Indian summer.

Ooh, there's your dad now.

Cully sends her love.

- Oh, Mrs. Dixon!

Hello, Cully, love!

- Did you get that?

(chuckles) Okay.

Yeah.

Yeah, see you then.

Bye, love.

Simon can't come after all.

- They're not avoiding on the
in-laws already, are they?

- No, course not.

Don't be silly.

Now, have you decided what
you'd like for your birthday?

- Joyce, I've just
walked through the door.

Could I have a moment please,

before you start all the questioning?

- You are, without doubt,

the most difficult person in
the world to buy a present for.

(gentle music)

(doorbell rings)

- Come here.

- Well, I never realised
there was so much money

in local-magazine publishing.

- There isn't.

Guy Sandys made his money in the city,

retired early, and bought
the magazine as a hobby.

Now, the crime scene's over there,

and this is the only house within a mile

of where the body was found.

(car engines roaring)

- Their faces went pale,
and then they went silent.

It was like "American
Werewolf In London," you know.

Like, don't stray off the
path, sort of thing, you know.

Ooh, Drays Copse!

(man with ponytail laughs)

Bleedin' hilarious.

Oh, I like those spots!

That's tungsten, that is.

Very nice.

What is that?

Oi, mate!

They've called and left a message.

- Who?

- The Transport Museum,

wanna know if you're were
ready to donate it yet.

(off-roaders laughing)

(siren wails)

- [Officer] Putting you through.

- Mrs. Finleyson?

- Yes.

- [Tom] Would you come through, please?

- Is it my husband?

- We've checked the dental records

and I have to tell you that the deceased

is, indeed, your husband.

I'm sorry.

Cause of death hasn't
been established yet,

but I'm bound to tell you

there are certain circumstances
which are suspicious.

Thank you.

We need to know what he was
doing where he was found,

and that was on the bridle path

that runs through Drays Copse.

- I have no idea what he was doing there.

- You do know where Drays
Copse is, don't you?

- Of course I do.

It's 500 yards from my ex-husband's house.

I would quite like to know

what Charlie was doing there myself.

(person knocking)

- I'm off to the Green Dragon.

- Matt Morecroft's been
on the phone again.

More veiled threats about
cancelling his advertising

if you go ahead with
publishing next month's review.

- Well, leave it to me.

Have you got his contract?

Thank you.

See you later.

- Bon appetit!

- My brother Martin works
at the Morecroft Hotel

and he phoned and told me
that they'd found a body.

- [Tom] Can you tell
us about the last time

that you saw your husband?

- It was the morning he disappeared.

We were sitting at home in Kensington.

He was eating some cereal.

I left early in order to beat the traffic.

I assumed he'd just gone to the office.

- And you've no idea what
he was doing in Midsomer?

- No.

Not one single clue.

Will there be an inquest, do you think?

- Oh, yes, there'll be an inquest.

We'll have to talk to you again.

- Ben, can I have a word?

- [Ben] Yep.

- It was while we were
looking over the SUV,

found something we thought
might be of interest.

- And if you could keep us informed,

please, about your movements.

- This is my brother's address.

I'll be staying there tonight.

- Thank you.

We'll be in touch.

What's that?

- Found down the side of the seat

in Charlie Finleyson's SUV.

It's a credit-card statement

in the name of Christina
Finleyson, with one entry circled.

A service station in Midsomer Sonning.

He was checking up on her.

(patrons chattering)

- Where's my glass?

- It's there, somewhere.

- (scoffs) If you'd just
leave it where I put it.

- I didn't touch it.

- And you don't want to.

The last person that
touched Eleanor's wine glass

is still eating through a straw!

(all laughing)

- Thank you.

Christina.

- It was Charlie.

- I am so, so sorry.

- Charlie?

What, the body in the car
was your husband Charlie?

- Do you think you could give us a moment?

- Yes, of course.

- I should've known.

I mean, he hadn't used his credit cards,

the bank account was untouched.

It was obvious.

- [Martin] Do they know how?

- No, not yet.

- Well, I shall miss him.

I mean, he was such a
lovely, kind and warm.

Well, I don't know, I mean,
such a genuine human being.

He just always had time for everyone.

I mean--
- Martin.

- Hm?

- Sorry, can I ask you something?

- Oh, please, anything.

- What on earth possessed
you to get a job as a barman?

- Well, I've tried quite a
few jobs since, you know.

Once you're the wrong side of
40, it's actually not very--

- Yes, all right.

Look, do you have a spare front-door key?

- Use mine.

You know you're welcome to
stay as long as you like.

- Thank you.

(uneasy music)

- Mr. Tomlin.

- Have there been any
telephone messages for me?

- No, not that I'm aware of.

- You're absolutely sure?

- All messages are put in
the pigeonholes at reception,

if you'd like to check.

What a peculiar man!

In fact, if he had anything to do

with what happened to your brother-in-law,

I wouldn't be at all surprised.

(men murmuring)

What's that?

Of course!

Your old restaurant got one
of Guy's reviews, didn't it?

Is this the one, hm?

Oh, well how extraordinary!

It's fallen open just at the right page.

"Crimes Against Gastronomy."

(tense music)

- Could you look after the
till for a moment, please?

- Yes, of course.

Oh, dear.

A confection of overworked
pretentiousness.

An amateur cook with all
the culinary instinct--

- [Guy] Culinary instinct of a lollipop.

Vile sludge!

- [Eleanor] sludge.

(car engines roaring)

- So it's really just a
matter of towing them out

if they get stuck.

And for God's sake, don't
give them any advice.

These city boys don't like
being told what to do.

It's all about making them feel good.

And don't come over all
Countryside Alliance.

They come here to relax
and we look after them.

- Did you divert the stream

through the old tip that was there?

- Yeah.

We put a hard core in the
bottom, it works fine.

(car engine roaring)

(off-roaders laughing)

(tense music)

- Mrs. Finleyson!

Hello?

Mrs. Finleyson.

Good afternoon.

You didn't answer.

- I was hoping you'd go away,
if I'm perfectly honest.

- We've got some new
evidence, Mrs. Finleyson,

which I hoped you could
throw some light on for us,

if you'd be so kind.

This is a credit-card
statement in your name.

It was found down the
side of one of the seats

in your husband's Lexus 44.

You see that circled entry?

That was for a purchase
at the petrol station

in Midsomer Sonning.

Do you know why that
particular entry was circled?

- Well, it wasn't circled
by me, I know that.

- Was it not?

Do you know any reason why your husband

would be curious about what you were doing

out here in Midsomer Sonning?

Mrs. Finleyson, can you tell me, please,

where you were on the day
your husband disappeared?

- I was here, seeing my brother.

Didn't I mention that?

You see, I had driven down from London

to help Martin with his finances.

Ever since his restaurant
went into receivership,

he's been finding it
very difficult to cope.

- Oh, so you've come back here before?

- Couple of times.

Once on the day of the
petrol-station entry.

I didn't tell Charlie, because
my brother asked me not to.

He's been embarrassed by his situation.

Has the cause of death
been established yet?

- No, it hasn't.

- You know, Charlie had
high blood pressure.

But I can think of
absolutely no reason why

he should suspect that I was seeing Guy.

The whole idea's ridiculous.

Now, if you don't mind,

I've got things I need to get on with.

- I'm afraid he's out at the moment.

Is it about the body they
found up at Drays Copse?

- It is.

Do you know where I can find--

- Is it true it was Charlie Finleyson?

- I had hoped I'd be the
one asking the questions.

- Sorry.

Habit of a lifetime.

- Where can I find Mr. Sandys?

- [Julia] He's at the
Green Dragon in Malham.

It's gastropub review day.

- [Server] There you go.

- I will not be needing the parachute.

I will, however, be needing
the seasonal vegetables

which I think are included in
the menu, if you don't mind.

(server exhales)

(phone rings)

- Morecroft Hotel.

- [Mrs. Wilson] Could I speak
with Mr. Tomlin, please?

- I'm afraid he's not here at the moment.

Can I take a message?

- [Mrs. Wilson] Could you tell him

Mrs. Wilson returned his call?

- [Eleanor] And your number is?

- [Mrs. Wilson] He has my number.

Just ask him to call.

(uneasy music)

(car engines roaring)

- I mean, I don't even know
what all the hostility's about,

do you know what I mean?

I mean, the countryside is supposed to be

a leisure resource for everybody, right?

(all murmuring)

Oi!

Excuse me.

There's a farmer who has deliberately

put a load of bulls in a
field we wanted to go through.

Now, a bridle path is
a public right of way.

Why would he do that?

- And where was this?

- It was in a field at
the Malham crossroads.

- Mm, I think you'll find they were cows.

(off-roaders snickering)

- Cows?

When was the last time
you saw cows with horns?

(patrons laughing)
(patrons chattering)

- Mr. Guy Sandys?

- Yes?

- Sorry to interrupt your meal.

I'm Detective Chief Inspector
Barnaby, Causton CID

and this is Detective Sergeant Jones.

Need to ask you a few questions, sir.

May we?

- Please.

- Thank you.

You haven't heard, have you,

about the body that's
been found in Drays Copse?

- No, I haven't.

What body?

- It was found in an SUV.

It's just been positively identified

as being that of Charlie Finleyson.

- Finleyson?

Well, I can tell you

it had absolutely nothing to do with me.

Can't think what he was doing down here.

I haven't seen the man for years.

Thank you.

Why do they always bring the vegetables

and the pie on two separate plates?

Does anyone know?

Either I have to eat them separately,

or transport the vegetables to the pie,

having first made a hole in
the pastry to put them in,

or vice versa and dribble
gravy all over the table.

Why can't they just put
them on the same plate?

Mm!

Actually, that's not bad.

- Charlie Finleyson, sir?

(suspenseful music)

He disappeared a couple of weeks ago.

Tuesday the 3rd.

Now, on that date, or
any time since that date,

have you seen or heard anything unusual

near to your house or
along the bridle path?

- I don't think I was at home that day.

No, I wasn't.

Or that night.

I had meetings in town and stayed over.

Sorry. (chuckles)

Is Matt here?

- Afraid not, Mr. Sandys.

Can I help?
- Well,

if it isn't the old school tie himself.

- Do I know you?

- Probably not.

The grandee fund managers

never had much time for us common folk.

- I remember you.

The paint-ball champion!

- And what's wrong with paint-balling?

(Garth snickers)

- Nothing.

- You wanna watch what you say, mate.

You haven't got your school
chums to back you up here.

- All right, that's enough, thank you.

- Are you mistaking yourself

for someone of any consequence whatsoever?

- Come on, Brad, leave 'em alone.

They're not worth it.

- You're lucky there's
ladies present, mate.

Eh?

Yeah.

- No surprises about the clientele, then.

Perhaps you could take a
message to your new employer.

Tell him the advertising contract is void

and I will be publishing
next month's review.

Henceforward, the
magazine refuses to carry

any further advertisements for his hotel,

at any price, ever.

- I'll pass that on, Mr. Sandys.

- Thank you, Garth.

(car engine rumbles)

(bird chirping)

What the hell was your
husband doing at Drays Copse?

- Sensitive and charming, as ever.

Thank you for the sympathy.

- What was he doing here?

- Well, you tell me!

- What on earth would I
want with a prat like that?

I've told you, he's a waste of space!

- Oh, you bastard!

Bastard.

- Thanks.

Hey, how's the new job?

- Interesting.

- Good evening.

(tense music)

- Give us a minute.

- He's gonna what?

Right, right, we'll see.

- Matt, is there anything
I can do to help?

- Have the new towels been laundered?

- That's not actually my job.

- Don't you like working here?

(ominous music)

(pleasant music)

- You've got that Salvador
Dali moustache look again.

In purple.

It's the Merlot smile.

- Oh.

- Eleanor.

- [Eleanor] Mm?

- Safe journey home.

(bell tolling)
(ominous music)

- Oh, pot holes!

They should get them fixed.

Hello?

Hello!

Oi, media baron!

What have you got in
store for The Morecroft?

What little nuggets of unpleasantness?

Come on, you can tell me!

(pleasant music)

(phone rings)

Yes?

- [Mrs. Wilson] Is Mr.
Tomlin there, please?

- Just a moment.

I'm sorry, I'm afraid he
doesn't appear to be answering.

- [Mrs. Wilson] Could you
ask him to phone Mrs. Wilson?

He has my number.

- Well, I have actually
already given him that message.

- [Mrs. Wilson] Could
you make sure he gets it!

(Eleanor sighs)

(tense music)

(sirens wailing)

- On his own spike!

Someone making a point, perhaps?

So to speak.

Anyway, there's no sign of
a struggle or forced entry.

- Estimated time of death

between six and eight
p.m. yesterday evening.

- Have we got a cause of death
yet for Charlie Finleyson?

- It's difficult with the
condition of the body.

(Julia sobbing)

- I wanted to check his diary.

I went in there to find it

and he was just lying on the floor!

I didn't touch anything.

I just came straight back in
here and called the police.

- Who are the other regular staff here?

- It's just me and Guy,

and Gemma helps out in the
office three days a week.

All the other contributors are freelance.

- I'm actually an artist.

- Yes, I know, you do the illustrations

for the Nature Diary, don't you?

They're excellent.

- Oh, thank you.

My brother Garth writes the column.

- Well, I'm very sorry
about what's happened here.

Do you have any idea at
all who could've done this?

- Guy wasn't everyone's favourite,

but I can't imagine anybody
actually wanting to murder him!

- We need to know where you both were

yesterday evening between six and eight.

- I was driving back from Causton.

I had a meeting there with the printers.

Got back about half six.

I didn't bother coming into the office,

'cause Guy had said he'd lock up.

He was working late.

I spent the rest of the evening at home.

- Can anyone corroborate that?

- I'm afraid not.

- I was at The Morecroft
bar from six to seven.

I was meeting Garth.

We often go there for a
drink before we go home.

We share a cottage.

Anyway, we must have left
about seven, quarter past.

There was that package.

The hand-delivered one?

(suspenseful music)

It was a brown envelope.

Big capital letters.

Addressed to Guy.

I don't know if that had anything
to do with what happened.

I put it on his desk.

- Who was it from?

- No idea.

He hadn't opened it by lunchtime.

He probably took it with him.

He often did.

There's something else
I feel I should mention.

My brother spoke with Matt
Morecroft that evening.

Guy had asked him to pass on a message

about how The Morecroft wasn't allowed

to advertise in "Midsomer Life" anymore

and I have to say that Matt

didn't look very pleased about
it when he left the hotel,

which was pretty much straight away.

- Yeah.

Come on, when you're ready!

(car engine roaring)

Come on, come on!

- Babe, there's something
wrapped round the front!

- Oh, the tyre!

You're gonna pay for this.

Or someone is.
(phone rings)

- Excuse me a second.

Hi.

- Where are you going now?

- [Gemma] It's Guy.

He's dead.

- When did it happen?

- They're saying between six
and eight yesterday evening.

They want to look over Guy's house.

Julia's taking them up there.

Sorry, Garth.

- Okay.

Bye.

- We need the wire-cutters,

when you've finished
communing with nature.

(tense music)

- Miss Benson.

Miss Benson, was Guy Sandys involved

in any romantic relationships at all?

- Yes, he was.

With me.

- With you?

- It started after I
began working for him.

When I moved here.

It was a magical time.

- Was it serious?

- I couldn't answer for Guy.

I suppose not very, probably.

Guy wasn't a big romantic.

We didn't live together.

I just came over here a few nights a week.

We didn't make a big
thing of it, publicise it.

- Sir, there's a telephone
number for a Mr. Tomlin here.

- Tomlin.

This name mean anything to you?

- It's a local number.

- Try it, will you?

That can't have been very easy for you.

- He was still hurting from the divorce.

She left him.

People take time to
trust again, don't they?

- It's the Morecroft Hotel.

- Thank you.

- We'll be in touch.

Guy's lover.

No alibi.

Has to be on our list.

- Julia!

Are you all right?

Oh, you poor thing.

You were so close.

- Stop it!

I'll be fine, you can go.

I can manage, please.

- If that's what you want.

- I'm sorry, it's just I've
got to sort out the magazine

and make the phone calls
and on top of Guy's death.

- Oh, you poor love.

- We'd like to talk to you, sir, if we may

about your relationship with Guy Sandys--

- Excuse me!

Excuse me!
- It was

fairly straightforward.

I disliked him intensely.

He was arrogant and vindictive.

- I just wanted to say--

- That's enough.

- I just wanted to say, Inspector,

that I knocked on the doors

of "Midsomer Life" offices last night.

It was about, oh, 10:30, I think,

and the lights were on,
but there was no reply.

- And your point is?

- Well, obviously he was lying there dead,

wasn't he, of course?

- Well, I'm sure that if the officers

want to talk to you about
your invaluable evidence,

they'll do so when they're ready.

- We'll talk later.

- Thanks.

- I'm sorry about that.

My mother made it a condition
of me taking over the hotel

that I keep Eleanor on.

It's misplaced loyalty.

The woman's a hopeless alcoholic.

- We understand you left the
hotel at 6 p.m. yesterday

after a conversation with Garth Platt.

Where did you go?

- I went to see Guy Sandys at his office,

about the advertising for the magazine,

but he told me I had
to make an appointment.

He had someone with him.

- Who did he have with him?

- Well, I didn't see them.

Whoever it was, was in the office.

Look, I just went there to
sort out this review thing.

- Which you were angry about.

- Actually, he was more angry
than I was when I got there,

if you really want to know.

- Oh, really, what about?

- I don't know.

He had a brown envelope in
his hand and he was cursing.

- Mr. Morecroft, does the name
Tomlin mean anything to you?

- There's a gentleman staying
in the hotel by that name,

if that's what you mean.

- His key's not here.

- Would you ring through
to his room, please?

- Yes, of course.

He's a suspect, is he?

- Pretty much everyone is
a suspect at the moment.

- You know, he spends a lot of time

sitting in his car outside.

Very odd.

He could be watching
"Midsomer Life" offices

from there, you know.

- When was this?

- And then there's that mysterious woman

who kept phoning him, Mrs. Wilson.

(gasps) Mr. Tomlin hasn't
picked up his message.

Now, there's a thing!

No, I don't think I should.

- Just give it to him!

- Mrs. Wilson returned your call.

(Matt sighs)

Is that it?

- She didn't leave a number.

She said he knew it.

Of course, I dialled 1471.

It was number withheld.

- I'll need to see his room, please.

(tense music)

- But he's booked in to stay
another couple of nights.

Paid in advance.

- Has his car gone?

- Well, it's not outside
where it usually is.

I notice.

And no, it's not in the car park, either.

Red hatchback.

(birds chirping)

- Christina!

There you are.

I'll be back after lunch.

- My husband would still be
alive, if it wasn't for you.

If you hadn't insisted
on all this secrecy!

Charlie thought I was seeing someone

when I was coming here

and he died believing I was
being unfaithful to him,

and it's all your fault!

- Well, I'm sorry, I didn't.

- God!

Not content with ruining
your own sad little life,

you have to go and ruin
everyone else's, as well.

And for what?

All because you didn't want anyone to know

how much money you'd lost
in the biggest harebrained

my-perfect-little-dream-restaurant
scheme of all time.

Chez Martin, home of the
pork-and-pineapple profiterole!

- Actually, a lot of people
were quite complimentary

about my pork-and-pineapple profiteroles.

- Oh, shut up!

- Yes, help yourself to anything you need.

- The signing-in book is usually,

well, it's usually right here.

- Could you put that on my desk, please?

Thank you.

Seems our Mr. Tomlin has just
been released from prison.

14 years for murder.

- Murder?

- Do you think you could
keep it to yourself,

for the time being?

Could you do that?

If you wouldn't mind.

- Yes, I did tell you he was
suspicious though, didn't I?

My God, I did say that.

I knew it, I knew he was weird.

- Sorry about that, sir.

- [Tom] Yes.

- Do you think someone
could've be paying him

to do their dirty work?

- I have no idea, but
I'd like to know more

about this Mrs. Wilson.

- There must be thousands
of them out there!

- Well, yes, I know.

Get his address from the signing-in book,

and better get a hold of the
chief investigating officer

on the Tomlin case, see what
he can tell us about him.

- Murder?

- "A well-oiled receptionist.

"The rooms themselves
overwhelmed with the odour

"of cheap toiletries and
other less savoury things.

"For some hours after
leaving the establishment,

"I felt a little soiled."

- He wasn't too bothered
keeping the advertisers sweet

or making a profit.

He was worth a lot of money
after his time in the city.

- I can't find the diary.

- Well, if it's not here, I've
no idea where it would be.

No sign of the envelope, either.

Did you think someone took it?

- It is possible.

Do you have any idea

who he might have been
seeing yesterday evening?

- He didn't mention anyone.

(bell tolls)

- I spotted him as being
a bit odd straight away.

Didn't I?

Excuse me.

I said he was weird.

- Did you?

- You know I did!

- Right, I need to establish
where you both were

between six and eight
p.m. yesterday evening.

- I think Eleanor was here at the bar.

I think you were here for
all that time, weren't you?

- Yes.

- Drinking.

Up until after 10, I think it was.

- And you were here behind the bar?

- I was here from shortly
before six till quarter to 11.

- Well, apart from the time you

said you went down to the cellar,

which was what, about ten minutes?

- And when would that have been?

- I don't know.

Half past seven to eight.

More like five minutes.

- Who else was here at the time?

- Just the two of us.
- Just the two of us, yes.

Actually, now I come to think of it,

10 minutes is more than
enough time for you

to get down to the "Midsomer
Life" offices and back.

I mean, I'm just saying.

And I suppose, come to think of it,

you'd probably have as
good a motive as anyone,

after that shocking
review that Guy gave you

about your old restaurant.

Absolute stinker!

But isn't that right?

- If there was no one else here,

then there's no one who can
corroborate you being here

for those ten minutes either!

You could have nipped up the
road and back again yourself!

And with the forthcoming
review of the hotel,

you'd have a motive, too,
being the founding employee,

what with his references to drunken staff!

Yeah, now, I wonder who
that was referring to.

- [Joyce] Who do you think
it was he was meeting?

- We only have Matt
Morecroft's word for it

that he was meeting someone.

He could've been lying.

There might not have been anyone at all.

- Have you seen the badgers?

- Pardon?

(lighthearted music)

Oh!

- She is so talented, that girl.

You do like her work, don't you?

- Oh, I do, yes, it's excellent.

What?

- Nothing.

What about Martin Reid?

- What about Martin Reid?

- Well, it wasn't just the restaurant

that he lost as a result of Guy's review.

Everyone knows that his wife
left him when it went bust.

He has motive.

- Possibly, yeah.

- I know a girl who
worked at that restaurant.

I could ask her about it.

Joyce.

Joyce, we've just discovered
there was a convicted murderer

staying at the Morecroft Hotel,
possibly a contract killer.

Now, I don't want you getting involved.

- Oh, Tom!

I love it when you come
over all protective.

Say it again.

- Ooh, come here, you!

- Oh, I talked to Julia's previous editor

on the red top she worked for.

Seems her leaving London was
more voluntary redundancy

than any burning desire
to live in the country.

(Tom knocking)

- And she is the love interest.

- Good actress or genuinely grieving?

- Hello.

Forgive the attire.

It's a late start.

Well, would you like to come in?

- [Tom] Thank you.

- [Martin] After you.

(door clicks)

- [Tom] Can we sit down?

- Oh, please.

So is the mysterious Mr.
Tomlin your chief suspect?

- Oh, yes, one of them.

Professional hit man
does seem a bit extreme,

but then, I suppose, they do exist?

- Using his real name doesn't seem

like the most professional of tactics.

- [Tom] But we're not ruling him out.

- Have you spoken to Julia Benson?

Are you aware she was copulating with Guy

on a regular basis?

- Well, thank you very much
for sharing that information

and good morning to you, Mrs. Finleyson.

- She's desperate to get
her hands on his money.

Can't wait to get him up the aisle.

If I were you, I would have
her on the top of your list.

- Excuse me, but how would killing Guy

before they were married,
how would that help?

- Well, I just wouldn't trust her an inch.

- When did you last see Guy?

- I suppose it was about half past four

on the afternoon of the
day he died, since you ask.

Yes, I'd gone over there to ask him

if he knew what Charlie
had been doing there,

but he denied knowing anything about it,

so I came home and that was it.

- Ah, the intrepid off-roaders.

Tell you what, if you want your vehicles

cleaned before you go,

I got a little brother
who'll do it for a quid.

- No, you're all right, thanks, mate.

- Yeah, course.

I was forgetting.

You lot like to keep the mud on

for when you visit your
supermarkets in Wimbledon.

Hey, tell you what,
I've got some stickers.

Genuine mud from the country.

Put one on the back there, if you like.

- You what?

- Ah, leave it, Brad.

You'd think with all the income

we bring to the area, they'd be grateful.

- So how do you feel about
Guy's review of your restaurant?

- He did me a favour, to be honest.

I'm just not restaurant material.

No, if Guy hadn't spelt it out,

I'd have probably struggled on for years

before I came to terms with it.

- Oh, come on, there's a little more

to it than that, isn't there?

I mean, the bank foreclosed
on you very quickly

after that review came out.

You couldn't have staggered
on for a week, could you?

And then you begged your sister

to keep quiet about the situation.

It obviously hurt you.

And then, on top of all that,
your wife ups and leaves you.

- Who told you that?

- Oh, come on, Martin.

It's common knowledge.

- Well, we'd grown apart by then, anyway.

Where's that coffee?

(gentle music)

- We particularly liked the illustration

of the young badgers.

- [Gemma] Oh.

- I don't know if you
have anything similar.

It's for my husband's birthday.

Oh, that's the very one!

- I could frame it for you

by tomorrow morning, if you're interested.

- Brilliant, oh, job done!

- Actually, best to make
it tomorrow afternoon.

We're a bit pushed at work at the moment,

what with recent events.

- I was so sorry to hear about Guy.

And we'll all miss his reviews.

- Perhaps not everyone.

- Oh, really?

(tense music)

- Fair bit of suppressed anger there.

- Yes.

Doesn't make him the murderer.

- And the sister's a bit pent-up, as well.

- Yes, isn't she just.

- Is there any chance she could've thought

Guy was responsible for her
husband Charlie's death?

- What, killed him in revenge?

- No alibi.

- That's right.

- Do you know where I
could get some charcoal?

- You'll be lucky to find any now.

It's the end of the season, see,

and after this hot weekend we've just had.

And that's five.

- Thanks.
- Sorry about that.

- Thanks, anyway.
- Okay, bye.

- Oh, look, there's Joyce.

Joyce!

- I just ran into Gemma Platt, our artist.

She says that Matt Morecroft

tried to bribe Julia Benson
not to run Guy's review.

She's the editor.

- Yes, I know she's the editor.

Didn't I ask you--

- [Joyce] Oh, do stop fussing, Tom.

- [Tom] I'm not fussing.

- Well, I can't help hearing things

if people insist on telling me.

Well, I thought you'd be pleased.

- I am pleased.

- Oh.

I'll see you later.

Hello, Ben!

- Morning, Mrs. Barnaby.

- Mrs. Barnaby has just
told me that Morecroft

tried to bribe Julia to
pull that hotel review.

- How did she find that out?

- Oh, she has her sources.

- They obviously don't think
that Tomlin's the murderer,

despite what some local experts think.

- They're considering all possibilities.

Doesn't mean he's not their chief suspect.

Why else would he do a runner?

- They seemed to think
a professional hit man

might not use his real name.

Might just have a point.

(tense music)

- Oh, potholes!

They should get them fixed.

(car doors slamming)

Of course, it is only
the opinion of policemen

with many years' experience
catching criminals.

- Well, if they are
looking for someone else,

I might just be able to point
them in the right direction.

- Why doesn't that surprise me?

- If you keep your eyes
open, you can see things.

Oh, yes!

- Gin and tonic, please.

- I don't think Matt Morecroft

would murder someone
for a bad hotel review.

And even if he did, why would he then

draw attention to himself

by trying to bribe them not to run it?

- Wonder where she's off to.

(patrons laughing)
(patrons chattering)

- Oh, thank you.

Look, I'm sorry about
what I said yesterday.

It's not your fault.

- Well, I'm sorry for what--

- Stop apologising.

I said it's not your fault, that's it.

I shouldn't have said what I said.

- Oh.

Thank you.

- Do you know, I still think
you shouldn't be working here.

I mean, especially for
that jumped-up little.

You know, you're better than this, Martin.

You could have any job,
if you just gave it time.

(Eleanor scoffs)

I'm sorry, did you just say something?

- Eleanor here thinks she
knows who the murderer is.

- Really?

Sorry, what's that on your lip?

- Oh!

No, that's not what I said.

And actually, the police will
be particularly interested

in what I have to tell them.

It's hard evidence about
what I saw in the car park.

I mean, who I saw in the car park.

And it's no good making faces.

- Some of the locals have
a strange sense of humour.

Don't take offence.

And don't worry about
the barbed-wire damage.

(patrons groan)
We'll sort that out.

Martin, my man, I want
you to give these guests

drinks on the house, whatever they want.

(patrons grumbling)

Don't you worry, I will sort it out.

(brakes screeching)

- Ms. Benson?

Ms. Benson!

I've just heard that Matt
Morecroft was trying to,

how shall I put this?

Persuade you to pull Guy's review.

- He's going to be disappointed.

It would be a travesty
to suppress any review

in Guy's memorial issue.

- Off to tell him, are you?

- No, I'm meeting Garth,

to ask him to write a piece about Guy.

(off-roaders laughing)

- If you'd just excuse me.

- I assure you, I'm totally serious.

- And what exactly did you see?

- Well, I think I'll
save that for the police,

if you don't mind.

- You're quite the detective, aren't you.

- Eleanor, have you finished
the towels and the laundry?

- Ooh.

- Now, perhaps you should finish that

before you have another glass.

Sorry about that.

- Don't worry.

She lives on another
planet, your receptionist.

- Has done for years.

- [Tom] Mr. Morecroft.

- Mr. Barnaby!

- Is it still all right to use

the side rooms for the interviews?

- [Matt] Be my guest.

- Thank you.

Garth, have a word, please?

- Sir.

- A minute.

- They found Tomlin's car in London.

It's a hire car, parked
near Waterloo station.

They're suggesting he might
have caught the Eurostar

and left the country.

- Garth.

- Guy came up to the off-road centre.

I told him Matt wasn't there
and he gave me the message.

Tore up the contract in front of everyone.

Everyone?

- Yeah, the clients.

The city boys.

That Brad bloke was
trying to cause trouble.

I think he worked at Guy's
firm, they knew each other.

- What sort of trouble?

- Stupid stuff about old school ties.

He was being an idiot, you know, chippy.

(ominous music)

Tall one, beige jumper.

- [Tom] Excuse me.

- Is there a problem?

- I'm Detective Chief Inspector
Barnaby from Causton CID

and this is Detective Sergeant Jones.

We understand that you
knew Mr. Guy Sandys.

Is that right?

- A bit.

Not that well.

- Enough to have a row with
him at the off-road centre.

- Well, don't you go anywhere, sir.

Need to have a little chat with you

after we've had a word
with Mr. Morecroft here.

Please.

- Guy Sandys was campaigning to have

the off-road centre
closed down, wasn't he?

- Was he?

- Did you argue about that, too?

- I told you.

He was seeing someone else.

- But there's no one who
can corroborate that.

- I told Eleanor when I came back.

- Eleanor Crouch?

- She should remember.

She'd better bloody well remember,

because I definitely told
her he was with someone else,

right when I--

- Excuse me, I was just
wondering if you know

how much longer it was gonna be,

'cause I do have to be somewhere.

- [Tom] We'll be with you,
sir, as soon as we can.

Thank you.

(machine whirring)

(machine thumping)

- For God's sake, she's back in the bar.

(ominous music)

(man in vest imitating
car engine rumbling)

(patrons groan)

- [Patrons] Aw!

(sombre music)

(patrons chattering)

- If I could have your attention, please.

Thank you.

Now, we need to establish
where everyone was

between the time Eleanor
Crouch left the bar

and the time that we found her,

and that means we need to take statements.

(patrons groaning)
- It's gonna take hours!

- Statements from each
and every one of you.

- Yeah, well, you are
going to see us first?

We are busy people.

- And our time isn't worth anything?

(patrons murmuring)
- Yeah, well, that's right.

- Can I point out that Eleanor
Crouch has been murdered

and I'm sure that you're all very anxious

that we should find the
person or persons responsible.

Can I just ask you, please, to be patient?

(ominous music)

- Excuse me.

Sir, I was just talking to Martin Reid.

Eleanor told him how she'd
seen someone in the car park

the evening Guy Sandys was killed.

She didn't say who it was,
but she was telling him

how the police would be very interested.

- Fax came through for
you at the station, sir.

- Ta.

So the suggestion is that
Eleanor Crouch was killed

to stop her telling us who
she saw in the car park?

- How much longer?

- Why don't you shut up?

- [Patron] Yeah!

- [Patron] Tell him, Garth!

- Sit down, please, sir.

Try and be patient.

- It's from the investigating
officer on the Tomlin case.

He says he'd be surprised

if Tomlin were a professional killer.

The murder he was convicted of

was a sexually-motivated crime.

He was previously a highly-respected

member of the community.

Tomlin was a teacher,

and he doesn't fit the profile
of any professional criminal.

(patrons loudly chattering)

- Well, people change inside,
especially after 14 years.

- Hm, yeah.

Maybe Tomlin had his own, you know,

personal motive for killing Guy Sandys.

- Did he kill Eleanor, too?

- Why would he do that?

Whether or not he's the killer,

Mr. Tomlin is certainly in the picture.

(patrons loudly chattering)

- And I bet he was your
bleedin' saboteur, and all!

- Could you keep it down, please?

- Look, just pour the beers, Jeeves.

Look, he's been working for the bloke

who wanted to close you down.

Of course it was him!

He sabotaged the course
to give you more grief.

- He wouldn't do that, would you?

- Of course he would!

- You think I'd take your money
and then betray your trust?

You think that's the sort of person I am?

- He's just a yokel
killjoy who can't stand

people having more money
and more fun than him.

- If you were stupid enough to
run your course through a tip

and then divert a stream through it,

you shouldn't be surprised

if old bits of rubbish start turning up.

- Well, thank you for that.

You're fired.

- What?
(patron snickering)

- Yeah, well, Guy always
warned me what a prat you are.

- Hey, hey.
(patrons chuckling)

- Would you throw this man out, please?

He's barred for life.

- I think you can do that yourself.

And you can stick your miserable job,

along with your rude,
patronising attitude!

(patrons cheering)

I'm out of here.

- Congratulations, Martin.

Well done!

- Well hang on, who's gonna serve us?

- I don't think the subject
of who's gonna serve

the metro tossers is on the top

of anybody's worry list right now.

- Who are you calling metro tosser, mm?

- [Brad] Hang on, Mandy, take it easy.

- Well?

- If the cap fits, darling, wear it.

(Christina grunts)

(lively music)
(patrons chattering)

- Stop it!

That's enough!

That's enough!

- [Ben] Stop it, stop it.

- That's enough!

(suspenseful music)

- Well, if you will get
involved in pub brawls.

(Tom groans)

Keep still.

- I would've left it
to uniform, of course,

but Jones was particularly keen

to protect a very pretty young WPC.

Not that she needed much protection!

She almost wrenched the arm
off one of the Londoners

when she was arresting him.

God, he's gonna have his hands full

if he ever gets involved with her.

- Maybe he wants his hands full.

(Tom chuckles)
There, all better.

- Thank you.

Our cells are full of rioting
locals and off-roaders.

Still no nearer solving the murder.

- Not one of your better days?

- No.

Oh, thank you.

Have you got any suggestions?

- Me?
- Yes, you.

Jones is always saying you do
all my detective work for me.

- Oh, no, no.

I just help out with a little
local knowledge when I can.

- I was only joking.

- Were you?

Oh.

- I was very interested to
get your call, and surprised.

I'd thought we'd actually got
somewhere with Freddie Tomlin.

It took him a long time coming
to terms with what he'd done,

you know, admitting it,

but we were actually quite confident

about giving him parole.

- Did he have much connection
with the outside world?

Visitors?

- The family virtually wrote
him off after the trial.

You know, complete cut-off.

No, as far as I know, he didn't
receive a single visitor.

Oh, except a couple of
months before his release.

Yeah, a Mrs. Jane Wilson.

- Wilson?

(tense music)

(doorbell rings)

- Can I help you?

- Mrs. Wilson, Mrs. Jane Wilson?

- Yes.

- I'm Detective Chief Inspector
Barnaby, from Causton CID.

Can you spare me a few minutes?

- I've been expecting you.

Come in.

- [Joyce] Perfect!

- I hope your husband likes it.

- Oh, I know he will.

No, my only problem now

is to find some charcoal for the barbecue.

- Well, you know my
brother makes the stuff.

- Really?

He wouldn't have some to spare?

- Only about a couple of tonnes.

- Oh, Personnel Department, please.

(ominous music)

No, no, look.

This is 14, 15 years ago.

Yeah, thank you.

(ominous music)

- No, I'm sorry.

I'm afraid he doesn't
appear to be answering.

But he's booked in to stay
another couple of nights.

Paid in advance.

- Has his car gone?

- It's not outside where
it usually is, I notice.

And no, it's not in the car park, either.

- I went to see Guy Sandys at his office.

I just went there to sort
out this review thing.

Actually, he was more angry
than I was when I got there,

if you really want to know.

He had a brown envelope in
his hand and he was cursing.

- [Gemma] I don't know if that had

anything to do with what happened.

(doorbell buzzing)

- [Julia] Mr. Barnaby.

- Miss Benson, may we talk?

- Of course, come in.

- Thank you.

I wonder if you'd take a look at these.

(tense music)

- Trust.

You said I could trust you.

- I remember the story,
but it's been a long time.

- Mr. Tomlin, who was staying
at the Morecroft Hotel

and who was seen watching these offices,

and who subsequently went missing,

is the man who was convicted
of the murder in this case.

- Really?

- Really.

And Mrs. Wilson here, she is the sister

of the chief witness at the trial.

That same chief witness
to whom the newspaper

for which you were working at the time

paid a large, very large,
amount of money for her story.

Mrs. Wilson, would you
tell us what happened

when you went to visit your sister

in hospital for the last time?

- Can I ask what--

- Please, Julia, bear with us.

Won't take long, I promise.

Mrs. Wilson.

- She was very sick,
she had terminal cancer,

and she was desperate
to tell me something.

(medical equipment beeping)

It was about the big murder case.

The trial of Frederick Tomlin.

She told me she wanted
to withdraw her evidence.

How, shortly before the case opened,

she'd become much less confident

that she could definitely identify Tomlin

as being the man at the murder scene.

- Thank you for coming.

- She said the people at the newspaper

told her that she couldn't
withdraw her evidence

and if she did, then she
wouldn't be a witness

and they'd have to take back the money

they'd paid her for the story.

But she'd already spent it.

My sister made me promise to go

and see the man who'd been
convicted, Frederick Tomlin,

and tell him what had happened
and ask him to forgive her.

Amazingly, he said she
had his forgiveness.

Unfortunately, my sister died

before I had a chance
to pass the message on.

- And her evidence died with her.

14 years on, Tomlin was due for parole.

Mrs. Wilson's story,
being hearsay evidence,

wouldn't have been admissible anyway.

Not in a criminal court
of appeal, that is.

But it might have been
admissible in a civil court.

And Mrs. Wilson here did
agree to give evidence

if Tomlin decided to bring a civil action

against the journalist involved.

And that journalist was you.

Stephens?

- [Stephens] Sir.

- Mrs. Wilson, if you'll
accompany this officer

back down to the police station,

and we'll be with you
shortly, and thank you.

- [Stephens] This way.

- There were a lot of us
working on the case at the time.

I don't know who she spoke to,
but it certainly wasn't me.

- We believe that Tomlin
came here to expose you,

to ruin your life as you
had certainly ruined his,

because he was innocent, wasn't he?

- They all say they're innocent.

- Oh, right.

But you didn't care whether he
was innocent or not, did you?

So long as you got your story.

We think that Tomlin delivered
that envelope by hand.

It contained a dossier
for Guy's attention.

Articles that you'd been responsible for,

along with a copy of the signed
affidavit from Mrs. Wilson

detailing her sister's
deathbed confession.

We know that Guy didn't
open his mail immediately.

But by the time he finally did,

Tomlin had already confronted you about it

and you had killed him.

(Frederick groaning)

- No.

Not me.

- Yes, you, Julia.

Guy must have read the dossier.

Did he guess that you'd killed Tomlin?

And what did he do, did he threaten you?

Threaten to go to the police?

Well, whatever it was,

you decided that he had to die as well.

(Guy sputtering)

- I really don't see how
you can fabricate this

without any evidence.

It seems very unprofessional.

- You wanted people to believe
that Tomlin had killed Guy

and done a runner, hmm?

So you had to make it look as if Tomlin

had left the hotel of his own accord.

So you went to his room, packed his bags,

but you couldn't risk being
seen wandering around the hotel

with his baggage, could you?

So you dropped it out of the window,

(suitcase thuds)

picked it up later on, and put
those bags in Tomlin's car.

We believe that you dumped those bags

on the way up to London,

where you left the car
outside Waterloo station

to make us believe that he had indeed

done a runner to the continent.

(Julia scoffs)

It would've worked out absolutely fine,

if Eleanor Crouch had not
seen you in the car park.

And Eleanor, miraculously,

remembered seeing you the next day

and thought, oh, that's
probably a very important

piece of evidence that
she should tell us about.

So you decided to kill her, too,

before she could tell us what she'd seen.

- [Eleanor] Oh!

(Eleanor grunting)

- No, wrong again!

- We spoke to your previous editor,

who said he had to let you go

because you'd do anything
to get the story.

Always have done, apparently.

- So it wasn't love of the country

that brought you out here, was it?

You just didn't have anywhere else to go.

- And that's it, is it?

A few squashed flowers in a car park?

Any proper evidence at all?

Perhaps you'd explain how
I was supposed to know

Eleanor planned to tell
you she'd allegedly

seen me in the car park,

when I wasn't even at the bar

when she was boring people with it?

I was with you and Sergeant Jones.

I had no idea what she'd planned!

- Where is Frederick Tomlin's body?

- You'll never find a body,

because there is no body to find.

He's alive and well and
congratulating himself

on giving those sluggish
country coppers the slip!

- I know that you are the murderer.

- Arrest me, then!

(siren wails)

- [Tom] Three big motives
and not a shred of evidence.

- Doesn't look like she's going

to be bluffed into a confession, either.

- No.

And what was all that
stuff about not hearing

what Eleanor had to say in the bar?

I mean, my thinking was,
she knew she'd been seen

in the car park by Eleanor
because she was there.

Simple as that.

Mind you, there was an air
of desperation about it all.

Why kill her at the hotel?

Why at that time, with
so many people about?

It was very risky, isn't it?

Maybe she had only just heard
what Eleanor intended to do.

- Could someone have mentioned it to her?

- No, I'm meeting Garth

to ask him to write a piece about Guy.

- Garth and Julia.

Garth and Julia.

What if they were having an affair, eh?

Julia would've kept quiet about that.

Wouldn't want to harm her
relationship with Guy.

It was Garth who told her
what Eleanor said in the bar.

- Garth's working over at Drover's Copse.

I thought you'd spoken to him already.

- It's just a few points, you
know, we need to clear up.

- Drover's Copse, where's that?

- It's the turning just
after the Malham road.

You go past Bonham's Farm

and ake a left after a
couple of hundred yards.

- Got that?

- Yes, sir.

- Would I be right in thinking

that Garth has got a girlfriend?

- He won't tell me, but there is someone.

There was lipstick on
his ear the other day.

He got all shy when I
pointed it out. (laughs)

- Thank you.

(suspenseful music)

- [Joyce] Hello, anyone there?

- The turning's just up here, I think.

- [Tom] You think?

(birds chirping)

- Hello?

Hello!

Ooh!

Eco friendly.

(sinister music)

(Joyce gasps)

(Joyce gasps)

- You looked in the bag.

You shouldn't have done
that, Mrs. Barnaby.

- Right or left here?

- It's right, I think.

Oh, no, as you were, to the left.

Sorry.

- [Tom] That's Joyce's car!

- Is it?
- Yeah.

(sinister music)

Joyce, what did I say to you?

- I just came up here for some charcoal.

Honestly.

- Do you realise who this man is?

We suspect he is an
accomplice to the murders.

- Well, not exactly an accomplice.

Apparently, Julia said she
killed Mr. Tomlin in self-defense

and Garth only helped with
the disposal of the body.

- And Charlie Finleyson
was a heart attack.

We saw him watching.

(eerie music)

Guy was away.

Julia suggested that we use the pool.

(tense music)

(Julia speaking faintly)

Julia panicked.

She mistakenly thought
the intruder was Tomlin.

- Get him.

- [Garth] The murderer.

(dramatic music)

She'd already told me that
he was getting out of prison,

that he'd sworn revenge on
her for putting him inside.

I had no idea it was someone else.

- Hell!

- I chased him.

I didn't know he was going to die.

(Charlie groans)

(sombre music)

It was locked.

I didn't know what to do.

I didn't kill him.

- You stole his wallet.

- No!

No, I just thought I'd
better check his ID.

That's all it was, I swear!

And then, when Tomlin did turn up,

he was suddenly dead, as well.

Julia said it was self-defense,

but that you lot wouldn't believe her

and we'd have to get rid of the body.

I didn't kill anyone.

I don't know how it all happened.

It's a nightmare.

- He says when Guy was killed,
Julia denied any involvement.

And the same with Eleanor's death.

He suspected that she
was behind both of them,

but by then he was in
too deep to say anything.

- Yeah, I wanted to believe
her, you know, but I knew.

(Frederick groans)

- So that's it?

- Mr. Tomlin's skull and the
rest of his charred remains

are in that bag, over there.

Really, I only came for the charcoal.

It was a coincidence.

(lighthearted music)

- God knows what might have happened!

It doesn't bear thinking
about, does it, George?

All right, maybe he wasn't the murderer,

but given the emotional state he was in,

he could've done anything!

- And he's no slouch with an
axe, from what I've heard.

- Oh, thank you, George.

- Yeah, I was wondering
about the body disposal,

because the temperature
in those charcoal retorts

doesn't get high enough to
reduce a body totally to ash.

- Yeah, well, hence the sledgehammer

to smash up the bones and the teeth.

He was gonna scatter the remains

all over the woodlands up there.

- And he confessed all to Joyce?

- Yes.

- Handy, having a wife to do
all your hard work for you.

It's the talk of the station, Tom.

And, talking of burning things to a crisp,

I think your Cumberlands need turning.