All language subtitles for Jonathan Creek s02e05 The Problem At Gallows Gate 2.eng

I'm sorry. Were you praying? I heard
the words "Oh, God" several times.

Duncan, please...

A chap could come to a very sticky
end if he did something silly.

Duncan!

We all have to learn
to deal with rejection.

- Bye, Fliss.
- No!

Tell me you never loved me. You can't.

Felicity... I never loved you.

Neville is happy with me. That
should make you happy, too.

- You're insane!
- I think you forgot something.

You never mentioned your sister.

Hello, Chester. How are you?

Hewie Harper,

- the legendary blind jazz musician...
- Right.

- Oh!
- Oh!

- .. isn't blind.
- It's me. Kitty.

- You coming or not?
- What have you found?

Fell out the killer's pocket,
you reckon, in the struggle?

Yes, police? A woman's been
murdered. 14 Gallows Gate.

As God is my lord and judge, that's him.

If you'd just tell us his name, please.

I'm sorry, Inspector, she's
made a mistake, I'm afraid.

That man couldn't possibly
have murdered Felicity.

Oh? What makes you so sure?

Because that man's Duncan Proctor.

He killed himself three weeks
ago, jumping out of a window.

"DANSE MACABRE" BY SAINT SAËNS)

I'm sorry, Miss Sallinger,
there are a lot of names here.

I just need to separate
them all in my head.

Felicity Vale was in bed
with this chap Neville?

And when Duncan walked in
and found them together...

I mean, he was just ga-ga about Fliss.

Ga-ga all told. God knows how
much he'd drunk that night.

He just opened a window and...

OK. We'll leave it there for tonight.

Obviously, I'll need
more from both of you.

For now, we'll organise a
couple of cars to run you home.

You see to that.

You two haven't got to be
anywhere special, have you?

Er, look... We've already
told you everything we...

But I don't think we got a
formal statement down, did we?

If you just pop next door
with WPC Hicks for a moment...

.. while I get your
version down in here.

What do you mean, "version"? I don't
very much like the implication...

Madeline... Magellan.

How are we spelling that
surname? Oh, hang on. Of course.

It'll be on here, won't it?

"Scales of Injustice".

"An exposé of ten shamefully inept
criminal prosecutions compiled by... "

One G, two Ls.

This is unreal.

What am I, Joseph K?

You realise this is completely
illegal when I haven't been charged?

Look...

I need to go to the toilet.

But... You're not going
to give him the key?!

You're not serious?

You know what? This is
bordering on date rape.

Before you touch anything, I
demand to see your fingernails!

So, just to get my
bearings again here...

when we arrived, the front door was
bolted on the inside... wasn't it?

Back door locked. Windows all locked.

And the only people inside the
house, apart from the victim,

were you and your
friend Lassie in there.

Oh, what...?

We both strangled her, then rang
you up so you'd come and arrest us

Hang on. Not too fast.
"We both strangled... "

Oh, very good.

Why was it, do you suppose, you weren't
nominated at the British Comedy Awards?

Come on. Wakey-wakey.

Hello?

Uh!

Not funny, Jonathan Creek...

in any respect.

Oh, God.

I was being strangled by a giant badger.

What time is it?

Practically time to go to bed.
We didn't get in till gone seven.

Those bastards. Wait till I get
the chance to make them sweat.

How come when I stay at
your place, I get the sofa,

and when you stay here,
I still get the sofa?

Because you're being terribly
chivalrous and gentlemanly,

and very solicitous of my welfare.

Don't I get any food?

So, logically, there are only
two possibilities here, basically.

Number one, Kitty got it wrong

and she didn't see this Duncan Proctor,
just someone who looked a bit like him.

Or two, it was him, and
he isn't really dead.

Except his chums were there when
he threw himself out of that window.

- Is that what she said?
- That's what she said.

- Where do you keep your salt?
- That cupboard.

Top shelf, right at the back...

there's a leaflet explaining
why it's bad for you.

All right... Evidence.

Wish I'd made a list now,

but no doubt you can remember
it all, Mr Photographic Memory.

That pipe under the washbasin.

Duncan Proctor was a pipe-smoker.

You'll say it could have
been put there deliberately.

- It WAS put there deliberately.
- Because?

If it had fallen from a pocket, the
loose ash would have spilled out.

Hang on. This doesn't make sense,
does it? Why frame a man who's dead?

Why did he take her stockings off after
he killed her and throw them in that bin?

How do you work that out?

You said three had been washed. The
other two she was obviously wearing.

- Why obviously?
- Her shoes were next to her on the floor.

A pair of tight-fitting boots.
There's no way they fell off.

They were deliberately
removed there in the bathroom.

- Would you wear those boots on bare feet?
- All right,

but the word "why" springs to mind.

It's got an echo of
something I just can't access.

What the hell does that remind you of?

Oh, it'll come when it's ready.
What are your plans for today?

My plans? OUR plans. What do you
think? Going back to Gallows Gate.

To find out how a woman
could be murdered by a ghost.

You've seen everything there is to see.
I've had three journalists here already.

My hairdryer's just exploded,
so it's not the best time...

No problem. Jonathan's brilliant
with anything electrical, aren't you?

So, she was here first, then, Felicity?

- You'd been sharing how long?
- Coming up to two years.

Ironically, I thought it'd be safer
out here from crime, burglaries.

Well, you've been on the receiving
end. You know London. I never dreamt...

What did she do, then, exactly?
Some sort of graphic designer?

She was a cartoonist. Animation work.

Have you seen that advert for soup
with the mushrooms jumping into a pot?

You're kidding? Are
you an artist, as well?

Me? Can't draw a circle round a penny.

Osteopathy is my line of work.

I have a little practice in
town, off the Charing Cross Road.

Last night was a bit of a late one.
If I'd got back half an hour earlier...

Oh, this is ridiculous!

- Problem?
- The tape's gone from the answerphone.

Yes, I noticed that last night.

No, I mean the second one.

I put another tape in this morning
to replace the one that went missing.

Now that's gone, as well. How
in the name of God did that...?

Oh, great. We back in action?

I did my best.

This party you all went to at Duncan's
house, where did you say it was?

Northumberland. The other end
of the earth, it felt like.

- He lived there on his own?
- Had no family, as far as I know.

He'd been in the Army a while,

had friends still serving, but
he never saw it as a career.

And when he met Felicity, he
just fell hopelessly in love?

I don't think Duncan loved Fliss.

She wasn't easy to love. She
wasn't easy to understand at all.

He was obsessed with her,
which is quite another thing.

That's why he did it, I'm sure, when he found out about Neville
- to punish her.

Of course, a week later, Neville
had already found someone else.

- Oriental lady?
- That's right.

He'd told Fliss it was all over.
She just couldn't deal with it.

I mean, it demolished her completely.

So... how did he do it?

- Sorry?
- Duncan.

How could he have jumped to his
death in full view of everyone,

and then come back to commit a murder?

How can he possibly be alive?

- Well, he can't, can he?
- Yet he is.

- What do you mean?
- I thought that was why you both...

- You mean you don't know?
- Know what?

The police rang just before you arrived.

Those boots Felicity was wearing
that she bought only three days ago,

Duncan's fingerprints
were all over them.

Oh!

Oh, I don't know what to say!

One word would do it.

"Yes. "

Evening. Neville Bruce, is it?
We haven't met. Madeline Magellan.

I hope you don't mind. I rang your
secretary. She was incredibly helpful.

Very nice telephone
manner. I'd hang on to her.

Tell me if I'm interrupting anything.
I just need a word about Felicity Vale,

who I understand you were heavily
involved with before, um...

You know, obviously, that
she was found dead last night.

I've told the police
everything I know. Who are you?

I'm a professional investigator for
the deceased's life assurance company.

Any information you have could help speed
up the processing of her family's claim.

I was wondering, for instance, when
you last actually saw Miss Vale alive?

It would have been a couple of days ago.
She came to my house, rather hysterical.

I had to be blunt with
her about how things stood.

I don't know if they told you, but
a witness saw the murder take place.

- In fact, she's identified the killer...
- As Duncan Proctor,

which speaks volumes
about her reliability.

- Well, she's looked at a lot of photos...
- Forgive me,

but I was there when he jumped.

I saw him on the ground. No human
being could walk away from that.

The man is dead. I'm
sorry, she's mistaken.

She could be mistaken, Mr Bruce, but
how do we explain the fingerprints?

- Fingerprints?
- His prints were all over her shoes.

And the door handles.
Everywhere. It's all been checked.

I think I'll have the roast salmon
mousse and artichoke hearts. Thanks.

So, any background you can give
me, really, on this young lady.

I'll try not to be too indelicate,
but it could impact upon the crime.

During the period you
were having sex together,

did she ever talk in her
sleep, can you remember?

About other lovers?

Or at a critical moment, for instance,
accidentally scream someone else's name?

Oh, it's like travelling back
to the Stone Age coming here.

I mean, this is the pits,
Jonathan! It hasn't even got an S!

- The S has completely snapped off!
- Try not to use it, then.

It's the most common letter
in the English language!

No, it's not. E is the most
common. S is the 8th most common,

After E, T, A, O, N, R and I.

Oh, you'd have to know that, wouldn't
you? Useless piece of information.

Not useless at all if you're
trying to crack a cipher.

Funnily enough, I'm not cracking
a cipher at this precise moment.

I'm not actually cracking
anything very much.

I've got a murder committed by a dead man
in a house he couldn't have got out of,

involving a girl found
horribly "trangled"

with her "hoe" and "tocking"
removed in the "downtair" cloakroom!

Oh, have you ever heard of silence?!

I'm trying to achieve a level
of abstract thought here,

trying to prise this...
whatever it is out of my memory.

What is it? Let me have a go.

I told you, I can't put it into words.

It's purely intuitive.
It's just a feeling.

It won't come into
focus till it's ready.

I thought perhaps that image
might have triggered it, but...

- I could put them on.
- The point is, they've been taken off!

Yes, this is the home of
Cro-Magnon Man. Can I help? Clare!

You're kidding? She's had another
tape stolen from the answering machine.

What? You put a third one in,
and when you got back that...

If someone was trying to find a message,
but didn't know which tape it was on...

It depends what you mean by progress.
To be honest, we were both just saying,

the only way we're going to solve this,
basically, is to actually go up there...

- weren't we?
- Yes, I suppo...

Up where?

Northumberland?! Have you any
idea how long this will take?

I've got the route
sorted. Five hours, max.

- And the rest, with your navigation.
- Look...

Anyway, I wonder how the police
are faring at the cottage?

- I don't envy them that job one bit.
- What job?

I gave Detective Inspector Barrison
a ring this morning before we left.

That business about
the answering machine?

Of course, there was something
I completely forgot to tell him.

I saw one of those tapes
floating in the lavatory,

and I accidentally knocked
the handle and flushed it away.

Probably a vital piece of evidence.

Yes, all right. Haven't you
ever seen a cesspit before?

Let's get searching.

"Was that the turning?" "Definitely. "

"You saw a sign for the 6342?" "Yes,
definitely. As God is my judge. "

- Which is why we ended up in Gateshead.
- I was sure it said 6342.

How can Hadrian's Wall run north to south?
The Romans divided the country lengthwise?

- Two and a half hours we lost.
- Will you give over moaning?!

- I've forgotten what we're looking for.
- A Victorian phone box.

There it is. First left and we're there.

This was completely open.
Fliss nearly went in.

His name's not been added yet. What
do you reckon? Get a shovel and see?

Yes, thank you, Dr Van Helsing.

Perhaps if we look round first.

Can you imagine anyone rattling around
on their own in a place this size?

It's immoral. You say he took it
over when he came out of uniform?

And his old Army pals,
whatever their names were...

- Ben and Buster.
- .. were both at this party?

- What do you know about them?
- I avoided knowing them.

They're still serving. They'll
be back overseas somewhere by...

What's he doing?

The breaststroke?

When you saw him on the ground,

can you show me how he was lying?

Yes, it was just here.

His head was over the edge.
No, a bit more... Yeah.

Yeah, about like that, I'd say.

- Roughly.
- Still some blood where he landed.

- Let me see.
- Something very wrong there,

- wouldn't you say?
- Would I?

Didn't you ever watch "Quincy"?

Felicity's birthday present to Duncan.
I don't think he was exactly overwhelmed.

You want to get that seen
to by a qualified osteopath.

What do you think? Give
him a quick seeing to?

- I could have a look...
- Yes, thanks all the same.

Anything that involves turning my
skeleton inside out, I get twitchy.

Oh, just get your kit off!

Right. Are you sure?

Nothing. OK. And that's for
the whole night and the morning.

The 21st and the 22nd?

All right. That's great.

Thanks for your help, then. Bye.

Oh. Where is it, then?

- Where's what?
- Sorry, I thought I heard a baby up here,

screaming its head off.

OK, three out of the four local
funeral directors haven't heard of him.

The other one, I couldn't get hold of.
Local rag, nothing in the obit columns.

But most importantly, the hospital
have no record of any Duncan Proctor -

no admissions - no call-outs, even - to
this address on the night in question.

The ambulance came and took
him away. We all saw it.

What you see isn't
always what's happening.

What you all saw that night,
I've got a horrible feeling,

was a very brilliantly conceived hoax.

Here we go. How it was done.

I know how I'd have done it, but
from what I've seen out there...

- Sh!
- What?

- You hear that?
- What?

The front door just opened.

There! It closed again.

How can you hear that up here?

Shh! There's someone moving
about now in the hall.

- Better go and have a look, then.
- OK.

- Why me?
- Because you're the man.

I don't think you'll find any
badgers in there, will you, Mr Creek?

What if they draw a blank?

When they draw a blank,
they'll fill it all in again.

Duncan Proctor's body is no
more at the bottom of that grave

than that answer tape
was in her sewage tank.

My God. You mean the killer
must have somehow realised

and got there before
you and fished it out?

I don't think they'll be buying
your next book, any of them.

There's only so much crap
a man can wade through.

So... do you know this lover's
leap thing was a set-up?

A dead man's not going
to be suspected of murder.

What we in our flat-footed ignorance
are still trying to figure out

is how the hell he faked it.

Someone said you work for a magician.

How uncannily appropriate.

Well, I've had a sniff round...

- given it a bit of thought.
- Go on.

Three people saw him jump,
everyone saw him on the ground,

but nobody saw him land.

In between was a gap of maybe eight
seconds, when they did the clever bit.

- They?
- He couldn't do it on his own.

He needed at least two accomplices
- one up top and one below.

- Buster and Ben.
- Whatever their names were.

His two chums from the Lancers.

Look how it stands up. Duncan's got this
total mind-numbing crush on Felicity.

He knows she's screwing Neville.

He decides to teach 'em both a lesson.

It's the sort of sick joke three drunken
soldiers would dream up between them.

They just go for it,
like a military exercise.

Leaping off the second
floor balcony is no big deal

if there's something to
catch you at the bottom.

You dug yourself a big hole

with a tightly sprung net inside,

rigged up the camouflage
frame covered in turf,

which slides across in seconds,
so you can't see the join.

As per the plan, one of them
rushes in as he's about to jump...

so if the other two get to the balcony
too quickly, he can hold them back.

During which time, Duncan's out
of the net and into position.

The hole's disappeared
and so has his friend,

making sure he's first on the
scene to pronounce him dead

and wave everyone else away.

Half an hour later, he's
whisked off in an ambulance.

It could have been a couple
of locals who were in on it.

It could have been pukka ambulance
drivers paid to keep their mouths shut.

The main thing is, his body's
gone, and no one asks any questions.

They've put it all right
again afterwards, obviously.

Although you can see a slight
camber where the level's a bit off.

And, of course, there was
the dummy blood on the patio,

carefully deposited just
before he fell to look fresh.

Problem is, you can see from the
scalloped edges around the splash marks,

they'd been dropped from
a height of several feet.

And you don't normally start
bleeding before you hit the ground.

These two squaddies are serving
abroad somewhere, did I hear?

But their house in Maida Vale could...

My God, I've just had a thought.

Well, he's got to be hiding somewhere.

What the hell do you
want? You can't do this!

Ah! What have I done?

Kitty, Kitty, Kitty. Come on.

Er, Inspector... So, that's
it? You're finished with her?

She can go back to Scotland?

Mr Klaus, we've barely started with her.

As long as Proctor exercises his right
to silence, she's the only case we've got.

- Fingerprints alone won't do it.
- Inspector...

You can't know how deeply traumatised
this experience has left my sister.

- She can't sleep.
- There's many a night I can't sleep.

No, no. You don't understand
the full horror of the situation.

She can't sleep... alone.

Three o'clock in the morning,

like something from the
nightmare world of M.R. James,

as the duvet is lifted up... and
you feel it sliding in beside you.

Oh, to wake in the night... to those
eyes staring at you on the pillow.

For mercy's sake, Inspector, I'm
appealing to you for clemency.

I'm sorry. We need her down here.

Ah, now, I like this one. It's
got a Pentium processor, CD-ROM.

Whoo! Look at this. State-of-the-art
stuff, it's got an S.

You could type words like "floppy
disc" instead of "floppy dic".

Just browsing, thanks.

So, this'll be chapter four.

What do you reckon? A bit Perry Mason?

Do for the time being, anyway.

- Now. Intro...
- I wonder why he won't confess?

Proctor? Bit of a stupid
question, isn't it?

Why? He was seen throttling
her to death through the window.

It'd save a lot of time and money.

It's all wrong still. There's still too
much stuff left over that doesn't fit.

Those three tapes that were
stolen from her answering machine.

They found one of the
blank ones at that flat,

but we don't know about the
others or why they were taken.

Well, there was a message
he wanted to get back.

Probably one he'd left himself
that proved he was still alive.

That would explain why he'd
go back once, but why twice?

To come away with a blank tape, it's
obvious the message has been removed.

What if the third tape was
taken by someone else...

who was also trying to
get hold of that message,

who didn't know Proctor
had already got it?

How long does insurance take?!
I'm running out of showrooms.

Of course, there's the other problem.
Why did he take her stockings off her?

Jonathan, you've got an unnatural
fixation with this stockings thing,

more than is healthy.

Electric-shock therapy
could be the answer.

Stick your fingers in the cigarette
lighter and concentrate hard

on a pair of sheer... What?

- What now?
- THAT'S what it reminded me of.

That's exactly it.

- Bootlaces.
- I beg your pardon?

Different choice of words, in it popped.

He didn't take off her stockings,
he took her stockings off her.

The police would never
believe that, obviously.

- That's why he's not saying anything.
- About what? Stop talking Martian.

Come on. We've got to go through
this whole thing again, every detail,

- what everyone said to you.
- Why?

So we can find out who
really murdered Felicity Vale.

Sorry. Sorry!

I keep doing this, don't I? I
keep interrupting your love life.

This is our senior claims
investigator, Mr Creek.

We've been right back to the beginning
of this case now with Miss Sallinger here,

and there's some vital points we
need to clarify with you and Mr Bruce.

What the hell is your game? Can't you
wait till tomorrow, for God's sake?

- It's a quarter past midnight!
- Is it?

You'd better put some strong
coffee on, then. Two sugars, thanks.

Three tapes were stolen from the
answering machine, one after the other.

Why?

Let's say there was a very
important message on the original,

which was removed from the
machine on the night of the murder.

The next day, Clare puts
a new tape in, a blank one,

which, at some point, is also stolen.

And again, the day after
that, the same thing happens.

We know that Duncan
Proctor had a blank tape.

It was found at the flat by the police.

The other one had to have
been taken by someone else...

who was just as desperate
to get hold of that message.

What?

For God's... I... I mean... You...!

- What?!
- A young woman's lost her life,

a woman you loved
- or claimed to love, if only for five minutes.

We're entitled to a bit more
than splutters and a blank look.

Neville?

I just reached elastic limit, I'm sorry.

When I saw what she'd done
to Kiko with her scissors...

I picked the phone, the machine was on,
I tore into her, two minutes of poison.

- And threats?
- Warnings, certainly,

about what would happen
if I ever saw her again.

Any rate, it wasn't a tape you want lying
around after she'd been found murdered.

The following day, I found
a way in, grabbed the tape,

hoping the message would still be on it.

Of course, it wasn't... But
then the pressure suddenly eased

when you heard that Duncan
Proctor had been seen.

Even if that message did turn
up, no one would suspect you.

Yes, but I...

You're not sugges... She saw him do it.

He's been found alive and arrested.

- Duncan strangled Felicity.
- Except he didn't, actually.

Of course, neither did you.

That's why you rang her up, because you
were nowhere near the cottage that night.

But there was a third person in the house
who saw the whole weird and wonderful event,

and I think now's the
time to say, don't you...

Clare...

and tell us how you murdered her?

We've had an interesting afternoon
with the police pathologist.

It turns out those lesions
in the victim's neck

contained skin cells that didn't
belong to Felicity or Duncan,

but funnily enough, matched exactly
to some still in Jonathan's shoulders

after your fingers had been digging
into him yesterday afternoon.

You'll testify to the
power of her grip, I think.

Rozzers'll be waiting for you at
home. I wouldn't bother going anywhere.

Duncan was seen by a witness that night,

violently strangling Felicity
at the kitchen window.

And yet, he did nothing of the kind.

What Kitty saw, she didn't
really see at all, did she?

Felicity was so obvious.

She didn't even have to try.

But men like it obvious, don't they?

Men like Duncan.

In the space of three
weeks, I went the distance -

from idolising him, grieving for him...

to despising the pair of them.

He didn't love women. He
just wanted them to love him.

When I came back that night...

I saw him there... alive.

At first, I was too
shocked to do anything.

I heard him telling her what he'd done,
how he'd gone to ground at Buster's,

giving her all that phoney contrition,

while she just ranted and raved.

She was already in a
complete state about Neville.

It only needed one more
push to send her over.

And, of course, at that moment...

it came.

I've had it with you, Fliss.

I've had it with your
whole juvenile number.

I'd say get a life, but
you don't know what that is.

I'll say it one last time, Felicity.
I don't love you. I loathe youI

I despise youI Now stay awayI

And you want to know the truth?

I was willing her on.

Oh, no. No, no. No, no!

Give me those. Open your
mouth. Open your mouth!

Open your mouth! Do not
swallow, for goodness' sake!

I think she passed out for a while.

By now, he realised
what he was dealing with.

He'd make her safe,
then get the hell out.

So he took her into the bathroom.

And so she couldn't do any damage,
he took the stockings off the radiator

and the ones she was wearing.

He wasn't going to leave her any rope
to hang herself with... literally.

And then left.

Can you kill someone out of spite?

Maybe...

because it's so ridiculously easy.

His fingerprints were everywhere.
I made sure they found his pipe.

All I had to do was wait for
them to prove he was still alive.

Who was going to believe his story?

You took the tape
with Neville's message.

You didn't want the police
thinking he was involved.

You wanted all the
evidence to point to Duncan.

So, why did Duncan want to get
that tape back, for God's sake?

To corroborate his account
of what really happened,

that your message drove
her to try and kill herself.

Even then, it was all going
to sound pretty flimsy.

Yes, the wonderful bonus of Kitty, seeing
him with his hands around her throat.

You must've thought it was meant to be.

Only problem was it
brought us onto the scene.

How do you know they
weren't just larking about?

Larking about?!

Quiet as a grave. Probably miles
away by now, but you never know.

Cover the front entrance,
while I try the back.

I thought once you'd found it
all locked up, you'd go away.

Then when I heard the window...

There's one thing about this whole
business I still don't understand.

- Hmm?
- Why you swallowed all that crap

about skin cells in
Jonathan's shoulders.

Still, I suppose it broke the ice.

So, what made you think that I could...?

One, I finally remember that routine
of taking a prisoner's bootlaces off him

so he can't hang himself,

which put a completely different
spin on the whole thing -

what Duncan was really doing
with his hands around her throat.

And, of course, the other
thing was the burglary.

When they took the tapes? Why?

No, Clare. Not your
burglary, my burglary.

You remember when you were
showing me around the cottage?

Ironically, I thought it
would be safer from crime.

Well, you've just been
on the receiving end.

You know how bad it gets in London.

It never struck me till we went
over it again this afternoon.

How did you know about my being burgled?

I certainly hadn't mentioned it.

But then I remembered. I had.

There was only one way
you could have heard me.

How do you think that
burglar got into my place?

He didn't just give
up, did he? The bastard.

- Oh!
- Oh!

It's me. Kitty.

And God forbid you breathe
a word to a living soul.

I was told in complete confidence.

Ladies and gentlemen, the living
legend that is Hewie Harper.

One, two... One, two, three, f...

And keep your peepers off my
naked body in future, you pervert!

All right, come down
off there, please, madam.

Get off! Go away! Go on!

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