All language subtitles for S01E02 - The Dead Flautist

[music playing]

[sound of oars in water]

[distant cheers]

Look.

[gun shot]

What was that?

Don't know.

Wait.

Oh, God, Paul.

What?

He'll kill me.

Come on. - Hang on.

What is it?

Shush.

Come on.

[music playing]

[distant flute playing]

Come on, Paul.

Stay there.

[dog barks] Floyd?

What's up, boy?

What's the matter, boy?

[flute music]

DI KERSEY: Bottrell Hall should be up there on the left.

There's a Lord and Lady Bottrell still rattling around in there

apparently and a brother Guy.

Bottrell family, is the dead man a relative?

No.

No.

He's estate manager named Miller.

Nasty way to go though, eh?

Playing lollipop with your own shotgun.

DI KERSEY: Mr. Miller was also game warden to the estate.

He was age 35, single.

There's no CRO on him.

This isn't the weapon used, sir, but not far different.

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

both triggers, bang.

So suicide?

Try it, sir.

No, thank you.

Come on, Doug, you do it.

Yes, sir.

So.

It's not easy, even with the long arm of the law.

Look how it pushing his head right back.

You'll be looking for that angle of fire.

What's Frank say?

Well, we're still waiting.

But from what I've seen now, I'd say iffy.

Prints?

Plenty on the lock, stock, and barrel, all the deceased's.

Someone could affect that after Miller was shot.

Very perceptive, sir.

Thank you.

Who found him?

It's a young girl, Jean Lander.

It was early morning walk, spotted the door hanging open.

Get a full run down.

I'll be up at the hole.

Like a look at the photos of Miller, sir, as he was found?

No, thank you.

Give them to Inspector Kersey, would you, please?

[music playing]

Is he a Bottrell, do you think?

Yep.

George Ignatius, chaplain to Queen Mary.

Heretical recusant, whatever that is.

Catholics.

Fides ad mortem.

Keep faith unto death.

Well, George Ignatius certainly did.

He burned at the stake.

God save us from religion.

His Lordship will see you know.

DI LANE: Thank you.

I'll do this.

DI LANE: Right, sir.

Jane will show you up.

I took Miller on about seven years ago.

He kept the books, collected rents,

did some maintenance work around the game park.

He was Hugh's private dogs body.

He managed the estate for me.

Did he--

Ah, come in, Paul.

This is Superintendent Wycliffe.

My son.

Did Mr. Miller have any family, friends,

you could put us in touch with?

No, he was quite a solitary chap.

Bloody refugee from life.

Just the sort to come unstuck and top himself.

You think so?

I've seen it in the army time enough.

Miserable cove, Miller.

Pickled pink more often than not, wasn't he, dear?

He did drink, yes.

Sometimes.

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

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

I was in bed with a migraine all evening.

I returned by train from the House that night.

So I heard nothing.

The house?

The House of Lords.

There was an important debate in the chamber.

I was in my room watching television.

There was a film on, Sylvester Stallone.

And you?

I can't remember where I was.

Remember where you were, Superintendent?

I can't feel movements.

I have no wish to be intrusive.

But for the present, we must treat this matter

as a suspicious death.

What does that mean?

It means there's a possibility Mr. Miller may not have

topped himself, as you put it.

[music playing]

Oh, there's little Jane you saw just now, parlor maid.

And then there's Lizzie, Lizzie Biddock, Lady Cynthia's maid.

Only she's gone.

Gone where?

Oh, London, I expect.

Just up and went a few days ago.

Maybe for good.

No, you can't never tell with her.

Flighty piece.

Morning, Mrs. Christopher.

This here's a policeman.

Detective Inspector Lane.

George Carter, estate foreman.

That's Jed, layabout.

Did you both work with Mr. Miller?

He was supposed to be our boss.

Didn't know nothing about farming.

Did he have any close friends that you know of?

No, he didn't mix well, Miller.

The lads is always don't at Bottrell

Arms, Fridays, darts night, but he never showed.

Wrong sort of chap.

Girlfriends?

[laughs]

Not what you'd call a ladies' man.

More of a man's man, eh, George?

Oh, don't get me wrong.

I liked the feller.

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

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

That's enough of that talk.

I can't stand here gassing.

Good day, ma'am.

[phone ringing]

Hello.

I told you never to ring me here.

It's about the police.

They think Tony Miller was murdered.

Murdered?

I'll have to tell them about Friday night.

You can't tell them about that.

Not now.

Just stick to the story.

But what if they find out--

um-- OK, then, don't worry.

I'll see you after school.

Ciao, Hazel.

They're doing a close search of the area, sir,

before it gets too contaminated. - Good.

Tell Doug what you know, Lucy.

Oh, yeah, according to local rumor control, Miller was gay.

Eh?

We'll work on that assumption anyway.

Well, that's interesting, because there

was a name and number on his phone pad, Lizzie.

I thought it was his girlfriend.

Could be a sister I suppose.

I had a mention of a maid up at the hall name of Lizzie.

Yeah, Lizzie Biddock.

Gone to London, according to the housekeeper.

Maybe Miller was AC/DC.

Give that number a ring, Lucy.

And run CRO tests on Hugh and Cynthia Bottrell

and on Guy, the brother.

Right.

Get in the car, Doug.

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

No.

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

[music playing]

WYCLIFFE: What time did you find the body?

It was about half past 9:00.

Are you sure of that, Jean?

She left the house about 9:00.

It's a half hour walk from here.

Could you allow your daughter to answer the questions,

please, Mr. Lander?

About half past 9:00, yes.

Did you often take these Saturday morning walks?

Sometimes.

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

haven't we, Edith?

Yes.

Yes.

The way it is these days.

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

Jean, would you tell us what you saw yesterday?

The wind was banging his cottage door open.

I could see him from the path.

And I heard his dog whining, so I called out Tony.

I went in and found him.

There was blood.

She called the police from the cottage.

WYCLIFFE: We'd like your daughter's fingerprints

at sometime, please.

What for?

WYCLIFFE: Well, we found several sets of prints

at Mr. Miller's cottage.

Hang on a minute.

You're not suggesting that my daughter and Miller--

We're not suggesting anything, Mr. Lander.

I'm sure as a solicitor you perfectly understand

the process of elimination.

I also understand the propensity

of some police officers to jump to unwarranted conclusions.

Pain in the colon.

Don't it to heart, Doug.

He's a solicitor.

Did you watch the girl?

DI KERSEY: What?

She's lying.

You OK?

Yes, sir.

One of the local lads recognized her.

The coach ticket is 1, return trip to London, sir.

What's this?

Photographs of Lizzie Biddock found dumped in a disused well.

Did you phone that number for her?

Ah, yes, sir.

A woman answered, A name of Taylor.

She was expecting Biddock in London last Friday.

She didn't show.

Yeah, coach was booked for Friday.

Ticket's still unused.

I also had another word with the housekeeper.

Her bedroom is next to Biddock's.

Now late last Thursday night, she

heard Biddock come in, bang about for five minutes,

and then leave again in a hurry.

She didn't see her?

No, sir.

Well, maybe Biddock's having a scene with Miller.

She finds out he's cobbing around.

The row and she-- uh--

Shoots him?

Well, he didn't shoot himself, sir.

DI LANE: Oh, yeah?

No, the path report just came through Lucy.

It confirms Miller's entry wound was in under the chin

and out through the back of the head.

Given the shot gun's length, he couldn't

possibly have achieved that angle of fire

and hold the gun himself.

DI KERSEY: She could have wiped the gun clean, took his hand,

lay his prints all over it, looked like suicide.

And she runs home, packs a bag, and drops down the well

to fake her disappearance.

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

Whole area tooth combed.

OK, sir.

What are we looking for?

If I'm right, the body is Lizzie Biddock.

[music playing]

Sacco's done us some copies of the Biddock photo, sir.

Do want to ask around the village?

Were these taken by professionals, do you think?

No, they're good, but they're more

like readers wives snaps you get in the girlie mags, you know.

Can't say I do, Doug.

No, that-- that's Sacco's opinion.

I mean, I never read them myself.

I haven't met a man yet who does.

Yeah, Doug, ask around the village,

by all means, but remember--

Understood, sir.

Soul of discretion.

Lucy, try up at the hall.

See if anyone knows who took them.

All right, sir.

Pull.

[gun shot]

Pull.

[gun shot]

Can you spare a moment, Mr. Bottrell?

Still here, Superintendent?

I was wondering if your memory had improved at all.

Memory?

As to your whereabouts last Friday

night between 9:30 and 11:00.

Is that relevant, Superintendent?

WYCLIFFE: It may be.

We now know that Tony Miller was murdered.

Look, this is all rather awkward.

I was with somebody.

Would you mind telling me who?

Well, I'd rather not.

OK.

We can always continue this conversation

down on the police station.

Oh, come on.

Were you with Lizzie Biddock that night?

One of your maids.

Lizzie Biddock, good god, no, of course not.

OK

Look, I can't re--

Guy was with me, Superintendent.

I thought you said you on your own that night, madam.

A migraine.

Yes, I said that.

It wasn't true.

You see, my husband--

Hugh knows nothing about this.

It's not our practice to disclose

sensitive information of a personal nature, sir,

unless we absolutely have to.

Quite.

I'm sorry we weren't all together

frank with you, Superintendent, but you understand.

Perfectly, sir.

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

Of course.

But I've got a bunch of chaps booked into the paintball trail

this afternoon.

This evening will be fine.

Good.

Right.

And thanks.

A lot of gear.

Yeah, well, you collect it over the years.

Do you take the photos?

No, I used to do a bit.

But I got me hands full nowadays.

Mr. Lander's lot do those.

What, Lander, the solicitor?

Yeah, he runs a little photographic club.

They got a studio in the old boat house down by estuary.

Has he?

They come frame in a lot for about 20 quid.

Probably do your copy if you was interested.

[music playing]

Ahem.

Oh, Superintendent.

This is a scene of a murder.

Didn't you see the warning tapes?

Yes, I--

I hope you don't mind.

I was just collecting some records, flute

music that I lent to Miller.

Tony played the flute, you now.

You had a mutual passion.

I'm sorry?

The flute.

Oh, yes, yes.

Close friends, were you?

Spent a lot of time down here?

No, I just lent him some records.

Well, that's very helpful, you see, because the fingerprints

of someone other than Miller have

turned up all over the cottage, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom.

They wouldn't be yours then.

This is a small community, Superintendent.

I hold a position the family look to set a standard.

And people just wouldn't understand.

Understand what?

Tony and I were lovers.

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

How long ago was that?

Six years, seven.

[sobbing]

HUGH: I just can't believe it.

I mean why anybody would want to kill him.

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

What were you looking for just now?

Oh, letters, holidays, you know.

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

I'm sorry.

Could you tell me again what your movements were

the night Mr. Miller was shot?

Pardon me, madam.

Um-- is Mr. Lander in?

No he's not here.

DI KERSEY: Do you know where I might find him, do you?

He should be back around 7:00.

Do you-- um--

know a Miss Lizzie Biddock?

Biddock?

Yes.

This is her.

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

No, I don't recognize her.

Sorry.

You don't know who might have taken this photograph, do you?

No, I don't.

OK, thank you.

[music playing]

Good afternoon, you too.

Want a lift?

No.

No thanks.

I'll see you.

I think you and I better have a talk.

Get in.

That chair is priceless.

Damn the bloody ch--

What is it?

The police know about Tony and me.

I told them.

Bloody wimp.

Oh, for God's sake, woman.

For once in your life, you could support me, instead

of always twisting the knife.

I spent 20 years supporting you,

Hugh, putting up with your damn perversion.

They think that I did it.

I killed Tony.

I didn't. You've got to believe me.

I swear I didn't.

I did believe once, Hugh, in you, in this.

You've destroyed it all.

I'm sick of it.

I'm sick of living here surrounded by all

your sham and humbuggery.

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

Bottrells, I hope you all rot in hell.

WYCLIFFE: So you are in the woods with Paul Bottrell

that night.

And that's when you discovered the body, not

the following morning?

Why didn't you tell us the truth?

My father.

You lied to the police just so your father

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

isn't it?

You don't know him.

He goes mad if I'm out late.

He always thinks I'm out with Paul.

He knows we see each other.

You've been a very responsible young lady.

I know.

I'm sorry.

Sorry.

Please, don't tell my father.

He'll kill me.

I mean it, he'll--

Was there anything else you saw that night?

There might have been something.

I don't know.

It was dark.

You saw someone?

Not-- not saw.

Heard.

A man running through the woods.

You didn't see him, but you knew it was a man.

Now think, Jean.

I didn't see his face.

I only saw him for a moment.

We were running.

I was frightened.

[music playing]

Tug.

Over here.

[music playing]

[knocking]

LANDER: I'm in here.

Oh, it's you, Inspector.

Yes.

Won't keep you a minute.

As can see, the photographic club uses this as a studio.

Private club, is it, sir?

It's just a group of amateur enthusiasts.

And what sort of pictures gets their juices flowing,

Mr. Lander, these enthusiasts?

Landscape?

Still life?

Full frontal?

I beg your pardon.

See you've got your own darkroom, sir.

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

Ah, yes, we're looking for a young lady,

a Miss Lizzie Biddock.

Do you know her?

Lizzie who?

Do you recognize her?

I don't think I--

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

I mean, they all look in their birthday suits, don't they?

Yes, it's Lizzie Biddock.

Did one of your fellow enthusiasts

take these or was it you, sir?

I took them.

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

but Lizzie had ambitions to become a model.

She wanted a portfolio of photographs.

She paid you to take them, did she?

No.

No.

I was interested in doing some life studies.

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

She needed the photos to show to agents.

It was a quid pro quo between us.

Sort of tit for tat, you could say, sir.

I find your attitude offensive, Inspector.

Have you any idea where we might

find this young lady, sir?

No, I do not.

Are you absolutely certain about that?

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

Right, you can shift her now.

Any cause?

The local medic says her neck's broken.

Her clothes nearby?

Nothing so far, sir.

So the body was brought here, then dumped.

Boat, do you think?

Maybe.

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

It's only half a mile away.

Lord Bottrell.

I'd say his favorite, sir.

Some sort of triangle between him,

Miller, and the Biddock woman.

Sorry.

So sorry.

Hey, Sally, Calborn nick.

No, Angela.

And I've never worked Calborn.

Ah, well, it's nice bumping into you anyway.

Hey, listen, where do you drink around here then?

I don't.

No.

Right.

Did you and she have any other sort of relationship?

No, of course not.

What do you take me for?

Were you aware that Lizzie Biddock was a close

friend of Tony Miller's?

No.

She may have mentioned him now and again.

Did you take any photos of Tony Miller?

Any life studies?

No.

These photographs have only an aesthetic and artistic interest

to me.

Artistic.

Frankly, Mr. Lander, some of these

would make a pornographer blush.

That may be your judgment.

I can't be responsible for other people's perverse and limited

imaginations, Inspector.

We do have some other photographs of Lizzie Biddock,

taken much more recently, the place

where her body was discovered.

Miss Biddock was found dead earlier today.

This is outrageous.

I came here voluntarily to assist you with your inquiries.

When did you last see her?

I don't know.

Last week sometime.

You see, as far as we can presently tell,

sir, Miss Biddock was murdered.

Did you kill Lizzie Biddock?

No, I did not.

You understand plain English?

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

A blow to the neck with a blunt weapon, main artery

ruptured, massive hemorrhage to the brain.

When?

Sometime last Wednesday or Thursday,

just before Mr. Miller--

ah, I thought so.

You see?

Fibers.

It could her own clothes.

It could be she grabbed at her assailant.

Any other injury?

There's no close encounters of a sexual nature.

She's a pretty healthy woman.

Now tell me again, Jean, is there anything

else you remember about the man you saw running

away from Mr. Miller's cottage.

You must tell them everything, Jean.

I don't know.

Was it your father?

Is that why you lied about finding the body?

I told you.

I didn't see who it was.

Honestly.

Mrs. Lander, were you aware that your husband was taking

photographs of Lizzie Biddock?

I suspected there was someone.

WYCLIFFE: Suspected?

He has an interest in that kind of thing.

It's pornography.

MRS LANDER: He calls it art.

Have you any reason to suppose that something

else was going on between your husband and Lizzie Biddock?

No.

WYCLIFFE: Would you say your husband

was a violent man, Mrs. Lander?

JEAN: Tell him, Mother.

Tell the truth about him for once.

Quiet, Jean.

He treats her like dirt.

He's so jealous.

She can't even go to the shops but he

accuses her of meeting a man.

Shouting and screaming at her.

Tell him, Mom.

Is this true, Mrs. Lander?

It's true.

And he asked me to do it.

To do what?

To pose for some pictures.

No.

I told him I didn't want to.

And he said-- he said I mustn't tell you he'd asked

or he'd stop me ever seeing Paul again.

My husband at times does have a terrible temper,

Superintendent.

But I don't believe he would kill anyone.

I can't believe that.

Your mission, to capture their flag.

Arms, paint balls.

A hit between neck and waistline is a kill.

Questions?

No.

Good.

OK, hands in.

Let's do it.

[cheering]

And, yellow team, go.

That'll do.

Oh, still got the other side to do, mum.

I've hardly started.

That'll do.

As you wish, mum.

This way.

If this is about the Biddock girl,

I've said I'd sign a statement.

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

Bottrell and Tony Miller.

As you are doubtless aware, Hugh and Tony

were close companions.

And that's all I can tell you, Inspector.

Was there ever a dispute between you and your husband

about their friendship?

I've put up with Hugh's peccadilloes

for 20 years, when men still lived with such things.

I see.

No, you don't.

I am my husband's wife.

Loyalty to country, church, and family

is the true trinity, Inspector.

DI LANE: And yet, you were with Guy Bottrell the night

Mr. Miller died.

Since he's chosen to tell you that,

I'm not in a position to deny it.

I take it your husband knows nothing of this.

Hugh has always been entirely oblivious to everything,

save his own infatuations.

DI LANE: Including the fact that you sleep with his brother?

Some things one has to do.

And one can only pray for forgiveness.

But I repeat, I am my husband's wife and that--

that I shall take to my grave, as I vowed before God to do.

Oh, I'm sorry, I heard voices.

Come on, Floyd.

I'm sorry.

You see?

And now with the dead Jesuits and ancestral bastards

who hang around Bottrell Hall, I must learn

to live with Miller's damn dog.

Sheppo?

Yes, not much charge left though.

I-- do you know any decent Indian restaurants around here?

Some, yeah.

So how are you fixed for tonight then?

I've got something on.

Pity.

Still, bear in mind, you know, one night

when you've got nothing on.

Don't hold your breath.

Hardly smoldering with the lust of the loins, sir.

More like a cold fish, I'd say.

Groceries.

Could only get you egg mayonnaise, sir.

Strengths so far.

Lander has no alibi for the times of either killing.

His wife implied he's a violent man.

The daughter backed that up.

And we know he took the photographs of Lizzie Biddock.

And we're still waiting for the fibers

under her fingernails.

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

They're certainly shaping up for it.

Yes, but I still don't understand

the photos in the bag.

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

He must have known they would lead to him?

Well, he panicked?

Yeah, but then why kill Miller two days later?

He's afraid he knew too much.

I mean, Lizzie and Miller were friends, probably lovers.

Jealousy.

Maybe.

I want another go at Lander.

Keep his feet to the fire.

OK.

Do you want me to sit in with Doug?

What did you say?

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

She confirmed it.

No, no, no, what did she say?

Uh-- she said, if he's chosen to tell you,

I'm not in a position to deny it.

One thing strange, she said, some things one has to do

and only pray for forgiveness.

Interview Lander.

See if you can get a crack open into him.

I'll be at Bottrell Hall.

You sandwich, sir.

You have it.

What's up with him?

Is he all right?

No, I don't think he is.

He was talking to me about his father.

His father was a farm laborer, big estate,

like Bottrell's up north, the lord of the land evicted him

and his family went looking was still a kid.

Wycliffe's dad shot himself with a 12 bore.

Your daughter lied about when she found the body.

She was seeing Paul Bottrell without my permission.

She was trying to cover it up.

Where were you at that time, sir?

In the dark room at the studio.

Anyone with you?

I was alone.

Look, I've already answered all these questions.

And when Lizzie Biddock was killed,

you were in a dark room on your own.

Same alibi.

These are not alibis.

They are simple statements of fact.

You have a violent temper, Mr. lander.

I do not have a violent temper.

That's not what your wife says.

My wife?

Nor your daughter.

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

Do things we didn't intend to do.

Is that what happened?

HUGH: I understand you arrested Stephen Lander.

WYCLIFFE: He's one of a number of people

who we're questioning.

HUGH: Ah, yes, yes, of course.

WYCLIFFE: You know him.

HUGH: He's done some work for the family,

wills and such, not socially.

Kind of a dry stick, I find.

Could he have been having a relationship with Tony Miller?

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

that they're in Narnia.

But Stephen Lander?

No.

[shouting]

Captains of industry.

No wonder this country is in such a damn awful state.

I'll leave you two to talk.

Good day, Superintendent.

Talk?

Just tidy up a few loose ends.

Sure.

Fire away.

I came here voluntarily.

I have concealed nothing.

I have represented myself.

Would you like another solicitor to sit in?

A colleague perhaps?

No.

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

My career will be in ruins.

Lizzie Biddock's career never got off the ground.

Tony Miller is six feet under.

That's what concerns me.

Well, it doesn't concern me.

None of this.

Can't you get that through your stupid, plodding police brain?

[knocking]

What is it?

He's just about coming unglued in there.

DI LANE: Forensic.

The fibers under Elizabeth fingernails,

they compared them with samples from Lander's clothing.

OK.

I did have a flirtation with the Biddock woman.

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

Bit of a Delilah around Lizzie.

Had an affair?

Did it a few times.

Desperate men do desperate things.

Dim little tart, but a good boy on her.

Mr. Miller.

That's Hugh's department.

I had nothing to do with that damn toilet loiterer.

And you were definitely with Lady Cynthia the night he died?

Look, I realize being in bed with a lapfull

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

but c'est la vie.

Only Lady Cynthia was somewhat less specific when my colleague

discussed the matter with her.

Cynthia lives uneasily with her conscience.

No doubt she's purged her guilt endlessly, done her Hail Marys.

You see, Mr. Bottrell, I don't believe

you were with her that night.

What?

I believe she's lying to protect you.

Why?

Why should she do that?

For the same reason she suffered

in silence all these years.

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

Keeping faith until death, isn't that the Bottrell family motto?

Look, I was with her.

On the night Lizzie Biddock died, where were you then?

Who were you with?

I don't know.

Somebody murdered Lizzie Biddock and dumped her body

in a ditch, went to her room, packed some of her things,

slipped the photographs into her bag hoping

to implicate Mr. Lander and then dump the bag

in the well in these words.

Do you know that well?

Yes.

We will discover the truth, Mr. Bottrell.

We have fibers from the dead woman's fingernails.

What were you wearing the night of Lizzie Biddock's death.

That sweater?

No.

What did you wear then?

Look, she deserved everything she got.

Yes, all right, I killed her.

But not before she killed me.

Killed you?

She denied it, but I knew.

She denied ti with that queer Miller.

He was having it both ways.

Yes, I disposed of him, as well.

One less dross to worry about.

He laughed at me.

Denied he and she'd--

I shot the shotgun under his chin and--

found out when I applied to renew my health insurance,

routine blood test they said.

Only I tested positive.

HIV.

It was her, the slut, and him.

They condemned me to a living death.

Any man would have done the same.

[music playing]

Sorry, old things, I just lost it.

HUGH: Superintendent?

WYCLIFFE: Yes.

Why?

Why did he kill Tony?

I don't understand.

Your brother has offered us an explanation

which we will be investigating.

Until we know more, that's all it would be advisable for me

to say at this present time.

I'm very sorry, sir.

[music playing]

Hi.

Lurking or working?

Bit of both really.

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

Well, afraid not.

We're off by the Calborn.

Jobs done here.

Pity.

Oh, well.

Maybe next time.

Yeah.

Must be written in my stars.

Once a Virgo, always a Virgo.

I'm all Taurus me.

DI KERSEY: Is that it then, sir?

I just read Franks.

He did the PM on Lizzie Biddock.

He ran a routine blood test on the body.

She was negative.

No AIDS? WYCLIFFE: No.

Nor Miller.

They're both in the clear.

So how come Guy Bottrell got told he was HIV positive?

He was in the army.

Stationed in Kenya apparently.

Oh, what?

WYCLIFFE: Yeah.

So Guy Bottrell killed both Biddock and Miller for nothing.

But then the Bottrells are landed gentry,

a law unto themselves. Always have been.

You know what you said about his father topping himself

and worked up as a kid?

Yeah.

Did he find the body?

Didn't say.

[music playing]