All language subtitles for Midsomer murders s11e07

Hello?

Hello?

Stan?

Nesta?

Thank you.

Well, it's blood, alright.
Whether it's human is another matter.

- And this is how it was found?
- Yeah, same as the other cottage

Breakfast on the table,
tea still warm.

Kettle on the hob.
No sign of the occupants.

If that is not human blood, George,
what is it?

Four people live in these cottages
and no sign of any of them.

I'll get the lab to run a check.

And the postman called us in?

- Noticed the blood stain, apparently.
- Yeah, where is he?

On his rounds,
as far as we know.

That big house we passed
on the way here.

- The priory?
- Yeah. See if there's anyone in.

So, George. In this cottage we got
Nesta and Stanley Goodfellow.

What about the other?

The Thomases.
Molly and Colin.

Did you know them?

I did the post mortem on
their 10-year-old son Peter.

He ran away from home
after an argument.

Found wandering in Monksbarton
Woods for a couple of days.

He was alive when they found him
but he died soon after.

Suspicious death?

No, no, no. He died of
hypothermia.

When they found Peter,
he was jibbering.

No one could understand him.

The locals had it that
he was speaking in tongues.

Isn't there some kind of mystery
surrounding Monksbarton Woods?

Well, I don't know any
details, Tom.

The man you want's
Wallace Stone, local historian.

He's the vicar over at
Beau Clayton.

Bit of a hellfire and
damnation man, too.

Water stains?
It could be.

Dunno.
Ask Forensics to pay us a visit.

I made some enquiries, though.

It's owned by a Lynton Pargeter.

He lives in London,
but the place has been

in the family for as long as
anyone can remember.

Who lives there now?

He does.
Last of the Pargeters.

It's a big place for a
weekend retreat, isn't it?

- Not if you're rich.
- Is he?

Well, I looked through the window,
the place is stuffed with antiques.

Right. Check his details.
Give him a ring.

You drive. Drop me off at
Beau Clayton vicarage.

I want to talk to a
Reverend Stone.

Monksbarton Woods... er...
haunted, apparently.

By what?

The ghosts of monks, Mr Barnaby.

Men of the cloth who
died violent deaths.

There was once a thriving
religious community

in Monksbarton.

The abbey was destroyed during
the Dissolution of the Monasteries.

And the priory is
all that's left?

When the soldiers arrived,
the monks fled into the woods...

they were hunted down
and slaughtered.

Local legend says their death cries
can sometimes still be heard.

This village is obsessed
by Monksbarton legends.

We're plagued by ghost hunters,
fanatics and freaks.

Half the village is among them.
I'm a man of God, Mr Barbaby.

There's no place for superstition
in my religion.

Sarah!

Could you tell me, please,
about Peter Thomas.

The boy had a silly argument
with his mother,

ran away, got lost.

Died of exposure.
Sarah!

It was said that when he
was found he was... erm...

Speaking in tongues, yes.

Utter nonsense.

And near blasphemous
nonsense at that.

I preached a sermon against it.
Did you press my jacket?

Why was he not found sooner?

The woods must've
been his playground.

No, Colin and Molly Thomas lived
all their lives here in Beau Clayton.

They only moved to Monksbarton
after Peter died.

Molly got the idea
that she'd be nearer to her

dead son's spirit up there.

She thought she might be able to
get in touch, ask for forgiveness.

She had a breakdown.

She wasn't in her right mind.

Country people, Mr Barnaby.

Simple minds can be
easily ensnared...

by the talk of ghosts and ghouls
and the walking dead.

Frankly, I'd have preferred a
city parish, but it seems...

I'm not thought suitable.

Odd, don't you think?

To be spurned for the
strength of one's belief?

Did Molly Thomas
come to you for help?

No, she spoke to my wife,
for all the good it did.

Did you think that Mrs Thomas
was unbalanced?

Mrs Stone?

She was a woman in grief.

What do you know about
Monksbarton?

Monksbarton.

Apart from the two cottages
it's just the priory now.

With Stanley Goodfellow and
his wife to look after it.

Colin and Molly Thomas?

Colin's the manager of Benyon's
Woodyard in Beau Clayton.

After Peter died, Molly insisted
they move up to Monksbarton.

Did you know them?

I was part of the investigation
into the boy's death.

Molly was in a bad way.

So the Goodfellows are...
what, caretakers?

They manage the priory and
the woodland that surrounds it.

Stanley Goodfellow used to be a
gamekeeper up on the Farley estate.

So, a normal couple.

Nesta was know to be
a bit of a goer.

They say she had
a couple of affairs.

You know... just the usual.

Hello.

Yes. Just a moment.

- Can we pick this up later?
- Okay.

Drink after work?

Yeah, great.

Mr Pargeter...

Pargeter's on his way here?

He is.

Keys to the priory, just
where he said they'd be.

Where's the post?

Postman called this morning.

Where's the post?

Got scared and forgot
to leave it?

We'll ask him.

I'll check for return post.

Nice telly!

Plasma screen...

Every moment of footballing magic
in high definition.

- It's expensive?
- 15-hundred? Two grand?

Whew.
On a laborer's wage?

Forward!

Forward!

What?
You didn't hear it?

- It's a fox.
- Didn't sound like a fox to me.

Oh, all right.
It's the howl of a were-wolf,

ravening for blood.

Lucky I'm here
to protect you, then.

What's that?

Oh, that, Jones... is an iron maiden.

It's a medieval
instrument of torture.

Ooh!

A slow lingering death
in exquisite torment.

Different interrogation techniques
in those days.

All right. You take the rooms
upstairs. I'll look down here.

And make it quick. Chop, chop!

You don't expect to find them?
Not unless they're all dead.

Ooh! Yeah.

Jones?

Hello?

Jones, can you bring the keys?

Help!

You slammed the door.
Yeah. Any punctures?

No! You slammed the door.

No punctures?

No punctures?

Aah! That, Jones...

is because this version
of the iron maiden

uses a mechanical device

to do its work.

See?

Instead of being impaled immediately,

the victim would suffer
the slow advance

of the spikes.
It's neat.

Good job this IS the more
sophisticated version. Otherwise...

Got the keys?

Thank you. Come on.

Break in.
Yeah, seems so.

And take a look at this.

Something has taken the polish
off the table.

Water stains?
It could be.

Dunno.
Ask Forensics to pay us a visit.

Detective Sergeant Jones?

Lynton Pargeter.
We spoke on the phone.

Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby.
Causton CID. Chief Inspector.

Oh, dear.

Did you do this?

No, sir, we did not.

You've had a break-in.
Perhaps you'd look around.

See if you've got anything missing.

Apart from my tenant workers

Just in time.
I got you a Chicken Jalfrezi.
Didn't have time to cook.

What?

Busy day, love?

Yes. I went to a fascinating talk
at Beau Clayton village hall.

Cyrus LeVanu.
Oh, for crying out loud.

He's a very interesting man.
He's not interesting.

He's a con, a charlatan, a phoney.
Have you seen his TV show?

Yes.
Well, it's... it's... it's laughable.

Isn't it? I mean, what does he
call himself? The ghostbuster

Ghost HUNTER. Ghost hunter.
You have a closed mind.

I do not have a closed mind.

I'm a copper.

I can spot a phoney a mile away
and LeVanu fits the bill exactly.

What's he doing in Causton?

The ghostly monks.
He's here for the anniversary.

What anniversary?

Of the massacre. It's tomorrow.

He's holding a ceremony
of spiritual healing in the woods.

Did I order that?

Unquiet spirits, speak to me.

I feel something.

Something tremulous in the ether.

Something that speaks of bloodshed
and darkness.

A spirit voice crying for help.

Oh, wonderful

We're in the company
of troubled souls.

Excuse me... Mr LeVanu.

Are you a seeker after truth?
No.

Er, yes... Well, not en-

I am a police officer.

Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby
from Causton CID.

And these woods, sir, are off limits.

Is this a crime scene?

Well, no.

It isn't.
Quite.

These woods are full of voices
of tormented souls, Mr Barnaby.

And I'm here to bring them peace.

With the express permission
of Mr Lynton Pargeter.

Pargeter?

Full... and express permission...

of Mr Pargeter.

Our mission begins.

Restless spirit, speak to me.

Unquiet spirit, speak to me.

My God!

What was that?

A spirit presence calling for help.

We must go deeper. Always deeper.

How long's he been dead?

Well, it's a shallow grave,
so some insulation.

Looking at the state of the body,

insect infestation and so on,

at least three days.

You must have known Colin Thomas.
Is this him?

No, I met Molly once,
but never Colin.

Ah!

Gail. Can you identify the body?
He'd be able to help.

What with being able to
talk to the dead

So. Is this Colin Thomas
or Stanley Goodfellow?

Neither of them.
I've never seen that man before.

I was drawn to him, Barnaby.

Called by the dead.

Erm, this officer
will take your statement,

Mr LeVanu - then you can go.

Go?

Go where? It must be plain to you
that I'm needed here.

I'm blessed with a great gift.

So, this man
isn't one of my tenants.

No, we don't know who he is yet.

We'll be asking you to view the body
in case you can identify him.

Me? Why would I know him?
Just for elimination purposes.

Excuse me.
Yes, Gail.

Mr Pargeter.

I understand that you've given Cyrus
LeVanu full access to the woods.

Yes, I have.

Well, it's making my job
very difficult, sir.

You know some people think
that Mr LeVanu is a charlatan?

A fraud?

Do you share their view?

On the contrary.

I think Cyrus LeVanu
is a gifted psychic.

If the troubled souls
of those who were murdered

still wander these woods,
perhaps LeVanu

might find a way
of bringing them... rest.

My granny used to read tea leaves.

She saw a ghost once.
It walked through the wall.

Why don't they use the doors,
like everyone else?

Any news on those stains
by the window?

Lab report says
they're water stains,

with minute traces of blood.

Ooh, not ectoplasm, then

Someone clearing up a bloodstain?

The bloodstains
at the Goodfellows' cottage?

- Definitely human.
- Ooh, a scientific fact, at last

Did you ask about the postman?
Sam Nelms.

Lives in Beau Clayton. And, yes.

There was a delivery made
that morning.

Charlatan!

Anti-Christ!

How dare you come to my parish?

With your unholy gibberish
of witchcraft.

And you are...?

The Reverend Wallace Stone.

I am the guardian of the moral
health of the people of this parish.

People you seem happy to corrupt,

with your wicked talk
of psychic powers.

More than one path to the truth,
Reverend Stone.

Blasphemy!

If there are restless souls
in Monksbarton Woods...

..it's God's task
to give them their rest.

Not that of
an unscrupulous mountebank.

That's slander.

You'd do well to watch your tongue.

I foresee
big trouble between those two.

And I don't need a crystal ball
for that.

Anybody in?

What?

Causton CID.

What do we know about er... Mr Nelms?

He's been a postman in Beau Clayton
for three years.

Before that, delivery driver -
sacked.

Before that, milkman - sacked.

Why?
Thought to be on the fiddle.

I gave a statement.

We know that, Mr Nelms.
May we come in?

It's a bit... difficult just now.

We know that, too

- She's um...
- None of our business, Mr Nelms.

I'd like the postal packet
you were supposed to deliver

to one of the cottages
up at Monksbarton.

The what?

There must have been something
to deliver, or why go there?

It must have been a packet,

or why not put it
through the letterbox?

It was so spooky.

Finding the place deserted.

I forgot about it.

Later, I realised I still had it.

Still... it can't be worth much,
can it?

Little plastic statue.

That is a...

is a Netski.

Look, Jones, how beautiful that is.

Is it... valuable?
Have you seen anything unusual

up at the Monksbarton cottages
recently?

Recently?

No.

Course, I've seen the lights
in the woods of a dark morning.

And I've heard those weird noises.
But seeing as

the woods are haunted,
that's only to be expected.

You believe those stories?
Do I look simple?

Listen. Um...

It'd be better if you could er...

keep quite about things - you know.

Keep quiet about a theft?
No.

About my... friend.

Your boss'll have to know
about this.

Yeah, well, jobs are easy enough
to come by. But erm...

She's a...

speciality act.

What did you call it? A net what?
A Netski.

Some of them are worth a fortune,
others not.

And this one?

Go and ask the expert.

As discussed...

John Temple.

Yes, I remember.
She came in asking for a valuation.

And...?
Well, it's not ivory.

It's not old. 1950s, or thereabouts.

And carved from whale tooth.

Eighty quid, perhaps?

A hundred, at best.
I made her an offer over the phone.

She turned it down
and I returned it by post.

I don't haggle.

A Mrs Smith, Sergeant Jones.

Mrs Smith.

Keep in line!

Creatures of darkness...

hear me!

Creatures of darkness...

hear me!

Creatures of darkness...

hear me!

The Netski was taken
to Temple Antiques by a Mrs Smith.

Obviously,
Nesta Goodfellow or Molly Thomas.

Yeah. Well, whoever took it...

they certainly came from The Priory.

I think the present Mr Pargeter

has been strapped for cash.

Hm.

You say some kids...
called at the station?

Yes. Up here on a dare.

Saw lights in the woods.

Oh, that'd be the wandering souls
of the dead

Is the entire population
of Beau Clayton...

suffering from ghost fever?

Let my words reach you.

Let the flame of love be your balm.

Speak to me out of the dark.
I want you out of these woods,
all of you!

And out now!

Mr Barnaby, we're conducting
a healing ritual.

Anger has no place
in the circle of the phoenix.

We're expecting a spirit presence.

Are you? Yes, well, I'm sorry.

But this area really is now
off limits.

So, I'd be very grateful
if you'd all leave.

And I'll arrest you... if you don't.

You heard that?

We all heard that!

The dead are speaking to me.

You must have heard it, sir.
It was a fox.

Or it was a bird or... whatever.

It didn't sound like a bird.

No, you're right.

It didn't, did it?

No.

And who are they?

I told you. I don't know!

But I would never leave them
to this scum of Corinth. No.

They'll be my very own assassins.

They'll take the princess
a gown of silk.

A golden crown.

But these, I'll drench
in poison so strong that anyone

who touches them will die in agony.

But the thing that tears my heart...

..is what must happen next.

I shall kill my children.
Kill them both.

No-one shall save them.

No-one shall own them.

And when I've brought
both Jason and his house

to ruin, I shall leave this land.

Unnatural woman,

flying from the death cries
of my darlings.

From their blood.

Their blood.

Their blood!

How is it I can bear such guilt...

..but not the laughter
of my enemies?

'I thought you said your dog
didn't bite .' 'Whose dog?'

'Your dog.'
'Yeah. But that's not my dog.'

12-bore shotgun, apparently.

Shot in the back.

- It was Molly Thomas, wasn't it?
- Positive ID from Mr Pargeter, yeah.

Bullard thinks she'd only been dead
a few hours.

So, what do you think?

I think that um...

She goes for the phone.

She doesn't make it.

She pulls the table over.

She turns the radio on full blast.

To try and attract attention.

I think the effort of...
reaching for the radio

must have finished her off.

So, the question is...
how did she get back here?

And where from?

And why did she come back?

Where's Pargeter now?

He went back to The Priory.

She was shot in this room,
wasn't she?

And she was shot in the back.

She wasn't running away.

It looks as if she was
facing the wall.

Whoever killed her...

couldn't look her in the face
when they pulled the trigger.

Speak to me...

..and I will bring you peace.

To those who worship false gods,

I say...

'Harken and tremble...

..you root of all evil,
you author of pain,

you begetter of death!

You will be cast out
with every Satanic power,

with every unclean spirit,

and your voice will be stilled
and your hand will be stayed,

and your eye will be blind.

TURN from your way of darkness!

TURN from the devil's paths!

Or you must suffer
the torments of hell

through all eternity!'

Well?

That was my rehearsal for Sunday.

Oh. I'm sorry, Wallace.

I wasn't really listening.

So, you were out walking,
Mr Pargeter. Am I right?

- Yes.
- In the woods.

They are my woods, Barnaby.

So, you're not put off
by talk of ghosts.

I frequently walk there.

I've come to no harm.
But you've seen the lights?

Heard strange cries?

From time to time.

My family have lived with these
phenomena for many, many years.

If there are ghosts, it would seem
I've come to terms with them.

So, you're coming back
from your walk...

you hear the radio...

you go into the cottage
and you find Mrs Thomas?

Yes.
You didn't see anyone?

Hear a car driving away?

The place was... deserted.

Just... Molly Thomas lying there.

And erm... the radio on.

You're quite a collector,
Mr Pargeter.

In a small way.

Mostly pieces acquired by my family.

Of course, some of them have gone

to my least favourite charities

My ex-wives.

Also collectors, in their way

So, you've got er... valuable
antiques here, family heirlooms.

And no alarm system.
I did have one.

It tended to go off
three or four times a week.

For no good reason.

Stanley and Nesta Goodfellow
kept an eye on things.

Yes, but they're not here now,
are they, Mr Pargeter?

Two murders, three people missing.
Don't you think

you'd be safer staying at the pub
in Beau Clayton?

But there's no alarm, Barnaby,
as you pointed out.

And all these valuable things.

As you said.

Did you see that?
Indeed, I did.

I think, Jones...

..whatever is in those woods...

it's time we met it face to face.

Come on.

Do ghosts have faces?

Oh, I think they do, yes.

Except the headless ones

- Stay close.
- I will

Did you hear that?

Where's that coming from?

I think it came from over there.

Ah. There's an echo, isn't there?

Hard to tell.

Jones! Where are you?

I'm here, sir!

Where are YOU?

Sir?

Jones?

Sir.

Are you there, sir?

Aargh!

Jones?!

Aargh!

Aargh!

Who's there?!

Sir!
Aargh!

Jones.
I heard you call for help.

I did not call for help.

I was attacked... by an owl.

I saw something.
What?

I don't know. Well, whatever it was,
Jones, it was not a ghost.

Someone has been tracking me.
But now I am the tracker.

Come on.

Stanley?

It's Stanley Goodfellow.

Excuse me.
I'm looking for Dr McKay.

Mr Barnaby.
Yes.

I'm Mary McKay.

Stanley's upstairs. This way.
Thank you.

Stanley is suffering from
dissociative trauma.

He experienced something
so terrifying,

his mind has simply
closed down on him.

It's a defence mechanism, of course.

Well, at the moment,
Stanley Goodfellow

is the only man who can solve
the disappearance of his wife

and two other people.

My problem is...

he can't speak.

Well... he's not saying
anything anyone can understand.

Words are a danger
to Stanley just now.

His subconscious is telling him

to reject speech because...

whatever happened to him
lies beyond description.

Well, when will he be um...?

He's lost touch with reality,
Mr Barnaby - we just can't say

when he'll want to return,
if ever.

Oh. Excuse me.

Jones?
Mystery body in the woods, sir.

Positive ID from The Met.

Terence Paul Lowther.

Part of a well-organised
London gang

that specialise in nicking antiques.

Good work.
I'm just leaving The Pines now.

Nothing yet from
Stanley Goodfellow.

- Well if you're on your way back...
- I'll pick you up.

I want to go down to the village,
pick up on the local gossip.

OK. We'll talk then.

Bye.

Your details, please?

Gail...? Are you free this evening?

After work? For a chat.

Yeah. Where shall we go?

Oh, a pub.
Yeah.

Yeah, lovely.

- And here endeth...
- The first lesson

And here beginneth the second

The Met said Lowther could be
linked to half a dozen robberies
involving antiques.

That antique shop fellow.
John Temple?

What did he say about the Netski?
He reckoned it was worth about ã100.

Said it was modern -
nothing special.

Did he? Meaning...?
Maybe he was conning her into
selling it for a song.

You know. In either case, it must
have been taken from The Priory.

Why didn't Pargeter...
report the theft?

See that?
Yeah.

I'll follow you in.
Yeah, OK.

Excuse me. Could I...?

This village is ghost crazy,
if you ask me. There you go, mate.

Oh, look out. Here's the law.
Hello, Mr Nelms.

A man of leisure, thanks to you lot.

Gardening leave.
Don't let me interrupt you, sir.

Carry on. What were you saying?
That something weird's going on.

But spirits?

Spooks? I don't think so.

Shall we sit and wait for them
to come outside? Jones.

Detective Chief Inspector.
Mr Pargeter.

I was intending to come to see you.
I heard.

You did? About what?
Stanley Goodfellow. You found him.

Yes, indeed. In your woods.

Is it true that he's lost his mind?

He's under medical supervision
just now.

I'm hoping to be able
to speak to him in due course.

But er... this is what I wanted
to talk to you about.

Ah, yes. Yes.

It was supposed to be delivered
to the Goodfellows.

Not really their thing.
We wondered if they were

taking it in for you.
No. No, no.

This has no great value.

It's... nice enough.

I'm going to an antiques fair
in France

for a couple of days.

I'd be grateful if the police could
watch The Priory while I'm away.

Mr Pargeter,
two murders have been committed.

Both bodies were found on your land.

A visit to France...
out of the question.

This is outrageous.
I have business to attend to.

Friend of yours?
Who?

Jones.

- Not his netsuke, then?
- Oh, no

Of course it is.
He's up to something.

Are we mobile yet?

Pit-stop wheel change, sir.
Oh, good.

Time in the Traffic Division
not wasted, then

Thank you.

Exorcizamus te...

..omnis incursio

infernalis adversarii...

..omnis legio,

omnis congregatio,

et secta diabolica!

Jesu Christi!

I adjure you, Satan.

Yield now to God.

Depart, accursed one!

Depart, foul fiend!

Depart -

If there ARE restless souls
in these woods,

they are the souls of godly men.

And it is the work of God's minister
to bring them deliverance.

And you saw no-one.
No.

Just...

Sitting up in his grave
as if it were... judgment day.

Gases. Post-mortem gases, causing
expansion and consequent movement.

- It sometimes happens in the morgue.
- Really?

A body rising under a sheet.

He was buried.

It was a shallow grave,
like the other victim.
He was barely covered in earth.

Whoever buried him
must've been in a hurry.

Or didn't have the tools
to do the job. Do we know who he is?

Yes. It's Colin Thomas.

Positive ID from Stephens.
Cause of death, George.

Shotgun wound.
12-bore, by the look of it.

So, we've got two people dead,
one mad, one still missing.

Why these people?

What was it about them

that made them the victims, eh?

There's something
we're still not seeing.

Right. Let's start again. Let's have
another look round the cottages.

Sir!

Ticket to Florida
in the name of Nesta Goodfellow.

With a note.
Saying...? See you at the airport.

Is that note signed?
Sex bomb.

Our over-eager postman?

I wonder if her husband knew.

What?
Someone's in there!

Oi! Hey... hey!

Don't kill him, sir!
He'll kill himself if he carries on.

How fast is he going?

He'll come out over
on the Beau Clayton road, won't he?

Whoa!

Lost him!

Not necessarily.

Take a look round the back.

Please don't say it was a hunch.
Observation.

Saw it first time we called.
Didn't you?

Make sure he doesn't
jump out of the back window

and escape or something.

Muddy ride, was it

Did you find anything?

No.

A few coins in a jar.

Thought they might have other
bits and pieces hidden away.

Why were they hidden?
They were at it.

Nicking stuff up at The Priory.

A little nick here,
a little nick there.

You had a look around
in the Goodfellows' cottage as well.

Didn't you? Did you see
anything you fancied in there?

You can't get a 40-inch
plasma screen on a mountain bike.

'I am the way and the truth
and the life, ' says the Lord.

For tempters and blasphemers abound.

And those who love evil
are in our midst.

The times are out of joint...

where wrongdoers prosper
and the spawn of Satan multiplies.

Where the virtue finds no respect.

For who does not know that,
in the face of such evil,
it takes a man of courage

to stand up unafraid and say,
'I am for divine justice
and retribution'?

Stanley.

Did you know, Stanley...

that Nesta... was getting ready
to run off and leave you?

I wonder if you...

I wonder if you knew that.

You hold the key... Stanley.

Somewhere inside. Sorry.

What happened to you, eh?

The number plate of that SUV
was on the computer.

Stolen from an address in Chelsea
a week ago.

Right. Let Chelsea know
it's been spotted here.

And get our Traffic Division
to watch out for it. Yes, Sarge.

I don't know why you're coming.
You said you think he's a fake.

Well, he's a prime suspect,
for starters, Joyce.

It's a bit odd,
him suddenly turning up in Midsomer.

A bit opportune, don't you think?
Maybe all this psychic drivel

is a cover for something
more sinister.

Don't be ridiculous. Why on earth
should he want to kill anyone?

Give him someone to talk to.

The powers with which
I have been gifted

led me to the grave of a man

who'd fallen victim
to the forces of evil.

I intend to use these same powers...

to envision the whereabouts...

..of a missing woman.

Nesta Goodfellow.

I'm so glad I came Shh!

The knife of light
will point the way.

I shall fall into a trance...

..and concentrate on
the strong psychic projection

of her fear.

I shall seek her out
in the dark night

of her distress.

Aargh!

I can see her!

Agh!

She lies... beneath
the sign of the witch.

Oh!

Of the witch!

For goodness sake. Come on!

I mean, to talk to the dead!
How stupid is that?

I mean, what is the point
of talking to someone

who is incapable of listening?
You might do worse

than follow up on what he said!
Oh, you mean, the inspired vision?

Well, look. Let's see.

A dark place, he says.

Three people have died,
two buried in shallow graves.

Of course he talks about
a dark place!

And the sign of the witch?

Witches.
Stock in trade of the phoney psychic.

Witches are bound to be
top of the agenda.

He fainted!
Of course he did.

And how theatrical that was.

It's fine. All clear.

Right.

I got your message.
YES... Jones.

Sorry, sir. Are you all right?

Of course I'm all right.
I didn't expect you to ambush me.
What happened?

Pargeter and the others loaded some
furniture in the SUV and drove off.

That's why he had to
stay in the house.

Half those antiques he's got there?

Stolen. He's still in there.
Good chance to nab him.

No. We should wait.
He doesn't know we're onto him.

And I don't want to scare off
the delivery boys.

Did it occur to you to follow them?

I made a quick phone call.

They won't be looking for
a woman driver.

Uh-huh.

I see.

And you're absolutely certain.

OK. Thank you.

Morning, Jones.
Morning, sir. Call from the lab.

Blood in the Goodfellows' cottage?
Definitely not Colin Thomas's.

Not?
Nope.

So, it's not Lowther's
and it's not Colin Thomas's.

That poses a few questions.
Yeah.

And Pargeter's got
more than a few to answer.

- Where are you going?
- Well, I thought we were...

No, no, no.

I think we give Pargeter and Temple
a little more rope.

Come on.

Maybe if we get off the track...
Maybe what?

Of course... I could be wrong.

Surely not

And after the news
here on Radio Causton,

we'll be talking to psychic
and ghost hunter Cyrus LeVanu,

whose latest book Talking To
The Dead has just been published,

and asking him about
his recent sensational experiences

in the famously haunted
Monksbarton Woods.

Yes.

Ooh! That was close.

We're getting near.

Gotcha!

That sound you're hearing, Jones.

It's the sound of
a radio signal being blocked.

Somewhere...

..up in that tree.

Well, it's not gonna be me.

Fine.

Jones? We've got another one here.
Oh!

Ah! There you are.

What have you got?

Ah.

I think we'll find
this little gizmo is well stocked
with mysterious noises.

And I reckon we'll find
a few others like this,

courtesy of Cyrus LeVanu.

How did you know?
How?

Well... last night,
after my car got stuck,

I had to walk about half a mile
through these woods.

I could hear the cries and I knew

there must be some sort of
rational explanation.

And I thought how convenient
all this was for Cyrus LeVanu.

Obviously, the woods weren't full
of his supporter stooges
whispering on cue.

And then I thought I heard
this buzzing sound.

Aagh!
And I...

You all right, Jones?
I'm absolutely fine, sir.

Thanks for asking.
Well, come on.

And then I thought,
it's not ectoplasmic eruption
we're talking about here.

It's radio waves.

And then you found the body.
I mean...

Wow! That must have been
one hell of a shock, wasn't it?

Not if, like me, you've been gifted
with special powers.

Gail... Oh, yeah?

On now?

Thanks for letting me know.

What's that?

This.

My last meeting
was a complete sellout,
so I will hold another one.

Tonight at Beau Clayton Town Hall.

And, although there are those
who would prevent me,

I've every intention of returning
to Monksbarton Woods.

Where you'll be...
Talking To The Dead!

Well, that's all we've got time for,
so a big thank you to our guest,

the psychic adventurer, Cyrus Leva-

Where's our
'psychic adventurer' staying?

Er, The Monk's Retreat.

I shall go there.
I want you to go to Temple Antiques.

For whatever was shipped over there
last night. Yeah.

Oh!

Local radio shows might
seem small beer for someone like me.

There you go.
But er... the most important thing

is to get the message across.

Loud and clear.

Loud and clear, Mr LeVanu!

Like the signals
from your transmitters.

Barnaby, what are you talking about?

Do you not know, Mr LeVanu? I'm
talking about the mysterious cries

in Monksbarton Woods.

But, of course,
there is a logical explanation.

As you well know.
Where do you transmit from?

Your room here?

Your car?

Or do you have an accomplice,
who helps you

with your special effects?

I've never seen this object before
in my life.

What I find offensive
about people like you,

Mr LeVanu, is that you
feed off other people's anxieties.

And their pain.
You trade on their weaknesses.

Ooh! Listen to that.
How spooky is that?

Frightened me to death

Detective Inspector Jones,
isn't it? Sergeant.

I was wondering if you'd had
any more contact

with Mrs Smith, the woman who -

Brought in the Netski.
No. I did agree to phone if I -

Yes. I was just passing and
thought it just as easy to pop in.

Will you excuse me?

Hello?

Yes... Yes.

Erm... Yes. I think we'd agreed
the fourth of April.

Well, you could bring it in
in the morning.

Oh, Gail.

There's pictures on here
of some items of furniture.

Let's see if Art and Antiques
can recognise something.

Right... Sarge?

Are we still on?
It's just that, last night -

You were on extra duty.

Of course.

Gail.

Gail?

Look...

What?

No workplace involvements.

It's just tough to have a...

proper working relationship if...
we also have...

..a relationship.
You think so?

It's never been a problem for me
in the past.

Vile and untruthful accusations
have been made against me.

Those whom I considered steadfast

have abandoned me.

Even thrown aside their belief.

No, it's you they've thrown aside.
Why?

Because you've been exposed
as a liar and a cheat.

That's slanderous!
Not if it's the truth.

And it is,
which is why your slavish followers

have abandoned you.
I never put transmitters in trees.

No, of course not

Now everyone's seen you
in your true colours...

..why don't you pack up your tricks

and your hocus-pocus and leave?

Leave?

I won't be leaving.

I will be returning
to Monksbarton Wood

in the hope of bringing peace
to souls in torment.

Poison, LeVanu.
Your fake philosophy is poison.

Your ridiculous rituals are poison.

You are poison.

Jones.

Sir. Quick response from the photos
I took at Temple Antiques.

Four items definitely stolen,
two suspected.

The table with the water stain

is part of a haul
from a house in Devon.

The Devon Police are pretty sure
a London gang was involved.

They turned them over,
but no result.

So, the stuff must have gone to
a receiver the next day.

Pargeter fences it to dealers.
Including John Temple.

He's got the outlets -
here and abroad.

That's why he wanted to go to
the antiques fair in France.

The SUV guys are his distributors.

Now all we have to do...
is find the murderer.

Barnaby.

You checked house and garden?
Thoroughly.

He's not here. I'm sure of that.
You said you found a weapon.

Ah, yes. Here.

Has anyone touched it?
No.

There's blood on the blade.

What kind of a knife is it?

It's er... a kris.

It's a collector's item.
An antique?

Got backup?
On the way.

He's here, all right.

It's time to put the screws
on Mr Lynton Pargeter.

Let's hurry.

Right.

Take the upstairs rooms.
I'll look down here. And be careful.

I heard one of those cries.
Yes, I know.

It was me.

Take a look at that.

We have seriously misjudged
Cyrus LeVanu. It was Pargeter,

not LeVanu, responsible for those
strange noises in the woods.

His way of keeping the locals out

while he took delivery
of stolen goods.

And the mysterious lights...
must have been from the vans.

Delivering the dodgy antiques.

Well, he's packed a case,
so it seems he'll be back.

Oh, he will. Airline ticket.

Guess where to.
Florida. Yep.

Pargeter and Nesta Goodfellow?

What's that?

Jones?

In the woods, behind The Priory.

Behind The Priory!
Into the woods.

Come on, quick!

All right? Straight through!

Gone.

Yeah. Gone to ground.

Come on.

How long can you keep this up,
Stanley?

Another week?

- Oh, very good, Stanley.
- It's very good

Had me fooled.

Where is she, Stanley?

Where is Nesta?

Stay with him.

Dear God. Nesta?!

Jones?!

I'm going to talk...

to Mr Goodfellow
whilst you pay Mr Temple a visit.

Yes, sir.

Once it started...

no going back.

Pargeter was a fence,
a receiver of stolen goods.

You knew that.

And he knew you knew.

We could see what he was up to.

What could he do?

If we didn't take too much,
he didn't worry.

All of you?

Colin and Molly Thomas too?
Colin was up for it.

Molly was unhappy. She...

tried to get him to stop.

If she'd succeeded,
he wouldn't have got involved

in the murder of Terry Lowther,
would he?

I didn't mean to kill him.

He broke in.
He knew that Pargeter was in London,
so he didn't expect to see anyone.

And you took him on.

The water stains on
the antique table and the carpet.

They were caused
when you mopped up the blood.

Mm. Then we buried him in the woods.

But then Colin lost his nerve,
didn't he?

It'll be all right.

How can it be all right? He's dead.

He went home and told Molly.

We've talked it over, Stan.
It's the only thing to do.

They wanted to go to the police.

You buried him.
But you killed him.

We hid the body. You think the
police are gonna be understanding?

That's it, Stan.
You can do as you please.

No, Stan. Please. No.

I didn't know what to do.

I wasn't going to prison.
I knew that much.

We was on a good thing,
up there at The Priory.

If only they'd listened to reason.

I thought I'd keep them
in the woods till they saw sense.

And then Colin decided
to have another go at me.

No! No, please!

Please, stop it! No!

Colin!

The thing was...

I didn't mean to kill him either.

It was just...
one thing after another.

You know?

Just... one thing after another.

You buried Colin Thomas,
just as you buried Terry Lowther.

I made the women do it.

Get up!

I was gonna go back later
and make a proper job of it.

But... I knew I couldn't trust them.

So... we had to keep moving round
the woods, stay ahead of the police.

But I had to find
somewhere to keep 'em.

Somewhere safe.

So you thought of this shack.

Well... I used to work
as a 'keeper on the estate,
before I worked at The Priory.

I know every inch of these woods.

But something went wrong,
didn't it, Stanley?

Molly Thomas somehow managed...
to escape.

They thought I would kill 'em.
I hadn't thought about it.

I hadn't thought about
anything much.

Molly ran indoors.

I was close behind.

No. Aargh!

I saw where she went.

There was nothing for it.

Well... no way back. Not then.

But I... I couldn't...

You couldn't look at her, could you?

Turn round.

What... what have you done?

Perhaps I should have
killed Nesta then.

Yeah. I should have killed her.

But I didn't.

The fact is, Stanley,
you very nearly did.

Well, that was your fault.

I put her in the well,
keep her out of trouble.

Then you caught me
and she was stuck down there.

And she must have been down there
when we found you the first time.

She didn't have the strength
to call out.

And this is my fault?

Definitely.

Oh, yeah. That was down to you.

Stanley, you could have
told someone where she was.

She was getting ready to leave me.

I knew that.

Stealing things to pay for it all.

Did you know
it was Lynton Pargeter...

that she was having an affair with?

Not until he came at me
with a knife.

I wasn't expecting it.

Otherwise he'd never
have got close enough.

What have you done, you bastard?
Where's Nesta? Dead?

Aargh!

Then it was him...

or me.

No choice in the matter.

You caught up with him
at The Priory.

What I don't understand
is how you got there so quickly.

I mean, all he had to do
was grab his case,

chuck it into a car and he'd be gone.

I've lived round Beau Clayton
all my life.

I know every track, every shortcut.

His bad luck. He got back first.

But I came across the fields.

He wasn't quick enough.

No! Aaaargh!

John Temple is very anxious
to co-operate.

Is he? Shouldn't be long before
we find Pargeter's delivery men.

Was he...
Forthcoming?

Yes.

Surprisingly so.

Except... perhaps not such a surprise.

Sir?
He could have been miles away

by the time we found the body.
Yet, when we chased him,

where does he come?
He comes back here.

Where we found him
in the first place.

Perhaps he wanted to be caught.

Perhaps he wanted her to be found.

See? It's all your fault, really.

Still doing his mad act, then?

I'm not sure he's acting. Not now.

A horseshoe over water.

A witch's sign,
my Welsh granny used to say.

She's in a dark place.
It's dark.

She cannot speak, she cannot see.

She lies... beneath
the sign of the witch!

No. It's nonsense.

I preached to the people, Sarah.

Now the truth has been heard.

The blasphemer is unmasked.

Sarah?
I'm sorry, Wallace.

I've had enough.

What do you mean?
I don't understand. No.

Of course you don't.

Surely it's too late
for the postman.

No.

Perfect timing.

So, it was your fault.

What was my fault?
It was your fault

that LeVanu was accused of fraud.
He is a fraud.

You're such a cynic.
Joyce...

people like ghost stories,
they enjoy being scared.

It's basic human nature.

You don't believe it all, do you?

Well, why not? I have an open mind.

Unlike some people.

Hm. All right.

Come on.

I don't care how you rationalise it.

There's definitely
something spooky here.

Yeah. Well, so people say.

Accounts of the mass murder
in Monksbarton Woods

have been handed down
from generation to generation.

There is a theory that the very
stones of The Priory, even the earth,

where the victims fell,

is imprinted with psychic recordings
of those terrible events.

And Cyrus LeVanu
traded on that theory.

I was wrong about LeVanu
just in one respect.

It was Pargeter,
not LeVanu, who put...

speakers in the trees to scare off...
the locals. Right.

Let's see if we can summon up...
a ghostly presence for you.

Joyce?

Joyce?

Joyce. What is it? Are you all right?

What's the matter?
What's the matter?

Very strange,
and difficult to explain, really.

Is it, George?

Stan Goodfellow
encounters him in the woods,

thinks he might raise the alarm
and kills him to keep him quiet.

No, Tom. This man died recently.

This morning, in fact.

Long after Stanley Goodfellow
was arrested. No.

It's the manner of his death.

I've heard of it and never seen it.

Parasympathetic rebound.

It happens when
someone is so terrified

that the whole
metabolic system reacts
and tries to calm itself down.

The problem is,
it can make too good a job of it,
and the heart simply stops beating.

I don't know what it was he
encountered in Monksbarton Woods.

Frankly, I hope I never find out.

Aargh!

Parasympathetic rebound.

You're telling me
that Cyrus LeVanu...

died of fright.