Original subtitles

(dramatic music)

- Paradisea liliastrum. - Penstamon digitalis.

- Penstamon stratus. - Ligularia digtata.

- Platycodon grandifloris. - Diantus superbus.

- Oh for god sake!

(dramatic instrumental music)

- Morning Mrs. Inkpen, I hear even more changes

are afoot of the family seat.

- Odious little upstart.

(horn blows)

- Come move it! - Oh for god's sakes!

- Hey, come on how long you gonna be?

(horn blows)

- This is the plan of the gardens.

We have an absolutely beautiful collection of Euphorbias.

But unfortunately no video arcade.

- The Inkpens have been here since the Reformation.

- They've had long enough to organise a decent car park

then haven't they?

- But Naomi had to sell 25 years.

Her husband died left her penniless.

A stock broker called Joe Bennet bought the place.

They're back of course now the Inkpens.

- Good god it's 11 quid.

How do you know all this.

- Desmond from the village shop,

he delivers our organic meat.

- I didn't know he'd gone organic.

- Haven't you noticed a difference?

- No.

- You haven't gone to golf then.

- No I haven't gone to golf.

(laughs)

- You two come here.

- Oh Euphorbias yeah, very good.

Is there any chance of a cup of tea?

- Going for a ride darling?

- No a swim.

- Daniel just gave me this.

Apparently you were making some kind of point

about ageing mothers.

Well you know what they say dear,

the old varieties smell the sweetest.

Take those to the ticket office, Hillary we're nearly out.

- These are beautiful, they're very fashionable

at the moment, Penstamons.

- That one's called White Bedder.

- Oh. (laughs)

- Flowers very well right through the autumn.

- I haven't seen them before,

are they hard to propagate?

- No, not really just soft wood cuttings

from non-flowering shoots.

Do you live locally?

- Yes, fairly Causton.

- Oh I'll be doing some of these next week,

I could drop you over a few if you'd like.

What's the name?

- Barnaby, Joyce but really it's--

- No it's no problem, they deserve wider appreciation.

What's the address?

- Parchmore Close, it's number six.

- Parchmore, right, fine.

I'll consider it done Joyce, see you next week.

- Thank you.

Well, how kind.

(dramatic music)

(gun fires)

(hollering)

(gun fires)

- Next time it'll be one of those bitches so help me.

- This is not the wild west, sir.

I'm afraid you are under arrest.

- I have had enough.

- I can hardly be blamed for Rodney Widger's behaviour.

- I'm not talking about Widger.

If you must fornicate at least have the dignity

not to fight like a pair of polecats

over the trousers concerned.

And as for the garden.

- My garden Mother, my garden and my gardener.

- Then face the consequences of your money grubbing actions.

- Yes, well when it comes to grubbing money.

- Hillary, would you bring me my whiskey and water please.

- And I'll have another g and t.

- Ma'am. - No thank you.

(slow instrumental music)

- Hello Dad!

Dad, what's the matter?

- Desmond? - Hello Jane.

- I've just heard about the memorial,

what on Earth are they doing?

- Elspeth's idea.

The Manor Garden's getting so popular

she decided they need a tea room

and that's where she's gonna build it.

- But she can't it'll break Dad's heart.

- You know there's a meeting tonight.

- Oh Daniel, give us some. - Go on you promised.

- I told you no.

- You gave some to me sister.

- How'd you know about that?

- She told me.

- She is only 15 your sister.

- Yeah.

- One bottle and don't ride your bikes afterwards.

- Mum. - Yes, darling.

- What's going on between you and Fliss?

- Oh pay no attention to your sister, dear

whatever she says, ever she's just a bad tempered

little madame.

I sometimes wished I'd given her up for adoption

rather than you.

Oh dear, rustics approaching.

- Just so as you don't forget Mrs. Inkpen-Thomas,

Village Hall half past seven.

- There's really no where else I'd rather be Desmond.

I'm just delighted to be the cause

of so much excitement.

Whoever said the English village was dead.

- Richard, no driver, no chaplain, you should,

you could be a commercial salesman instead of a visit.

- Good evening Father are you well?

- Well enough to give those damn Inkpens a bloody nose.

I'll see you later, unless you wanted to come?

- Whereto exactly?

- Village Hall, the villagers have turned to me.

- No, sorry.

- Nice to be a Deverell where a Deverell should be,

central to events.

- Did you know it was your anniversary today?

Two years since you walked into our lives here.

Into the bosom of your long lost family.

- Yes, I did know.

- Are you still glad you did?

All that time and effort in tracing us,

have we've been what you've hoped for?

- I've got no complaints.

- How wonderfully magnanimous of you.

- I do understand Fliss, how it must have been for you

when I turned up.

- The spoiled only child suddenly finding

she's not an only after all.

Because there's been a bastard lurking.

Do you think I'm jealous, resentful,

do you think I hate you?

I don't hate you, I pity you because--

- Are you coming to the meeting?

(chuckles)

- You don't think this is a bit voyeuristic?

- Not at all, it's a public meeting and I'm interested.

- I hope you're not planning to speak.

- No but I can vote if they ask for a show of hands.

- Oh look who's here.

- What?

- The man with the shotgun.

Uniform must have bailed him.

(slow dramatic music)

- You never finished what you were saying.

In doors earlier you said you pitied me.

Why?

- Because we have different fathers.

- But I know that.

- If you were a gentlemen, you would move

to allow my daughter and I to sit together.

- If you were a lady I shouldn't hesitate.

- There are still seats further back Mrs. Inkpen.

- Further back, I have not sat further back

in my entire life.

- Mrs. Inkpen's humility is the greatest of the many gifts

she has passed to her descendants.

- Mother.

(dramatic music)

- Ladies and gentlemen if I could just call

this meeting to order.

The vicar sends apologies for absence and peaceful blessings

to all but we do welcome particularly this evening,

Mrs. Elspeth-Inkpen Thomas and thank her

for agreeing to take part in what promises

to be a lively discussion.

Though I'm quite sure that in the words

of the Memorial Garden itself common sense and tolerance

will inform our debate.

Who will speak first?

- Jane Bennett, daughter of Gerald Bennett

who created the Memorial Garden to dig up

that beautiful place which gives pleasure

and sense of community to so many

and replace it with a commercial tea shop

is an act of unspeakable vandalism.

(applause)

And I should just like to ask Mrs. Inkpen-Thomas

by what right she takes back

and destroys what was freely given

to this village by my father?

(applause)

(applause)

- Mrs. Millard, members of the Village Committee,

Mrs. Bennett asks by what right.

Well, the simple answer is the right of ownership.

When her father sold Inkpen Manor

back to the Inkpens five years ago

there were no caveats, no exclusions.

Legally the Memorial Garden is our property.

All Mr. Bennett did apart from create it

was to grant right of access to the villagers.

All we're doing is withdrawing that right.

And frankly what we Inkpens choose to do in that respect

is the business of nobody in this hall tonight.

I mean, really if the village

really wants a naff memorial garden,

let it build one somewhere else.

- I bet you can't wait to turn this into a tea shop,

being on Mummy's side and everything.

- Was your father particularly nice then Fliss?

Is that you meant, I know mine's a mystery

but yours, Mum's husband--

- Nice, good god no.

He ran off and left us aeons ago

way before we pitched up here.

It's an Inkpen tradition choosing lousy men.

Of course, you'll probably end up with Prince Charming.

- But he must have provided,

I mean how could you afford to keep all this?

- To regain our heritage, riches to rags to riches again.

It's a fairy story darling.

Did you buy this?

- Yes, at the shop.

- We've been so remiss with your education Hillary.

Would you like to know what I really meant?

- Order, order, order!

- What are you doing here?

- Got the short straw sir.

Uniform covering their backs, asked CID

to check out the Widger-Inkpen situation.

Which one's Widger anyhow?

(crashes)

- What is it?

Is it about me?

- Possibly and possibly not.

Oh what's the matter, don't you want to know?

- No, I don't.

I don't like you when you're like this.

- Oh.

(dramatic instrumental music)

(cries)

- Well you weren't much help.

- I kept quiet didn't I?

- Meaning?

- Meaning, I think you're wrong,

you don't have to antagonise the whole village like this.

- Oh we care about village opinion now do we?

- Don't be stupid.

- Or maybe you're just keeping all your options open?

- What options?

- Well there must be somebody in the village

you haven't slept with yet.

- Troy. - Sir.

- You go back inside try to find out what those lads

were on would you?

- Don't turn away when I'm speaking to you.

Where are you going?

- Back to the garden, I'm a gardener remember?

- Dirt, dirt, so much dirt.

(dramatic music)

- Heel.

Heel.

(dog barks)

Crispin.

(dog barks)

Crispin.

- There it is got it.

Penstemon White Bedder height 70 centimetres

spread 60.

(phone rings)

They'd look terrific in that far corner.

- Hello.

- I might have to chop off a bit of the lawn.

You wouldn't mind would you?

- Troy. - Morning sir.

- How we getting along?

- Secured the scene, haven't had time for much else

but I'd say a heavy blow to the head

with a blunt instrument.

She's been dead overnight, stiff as a board

and covered in snails and there's a possible

bit of forensic, it's not much but oh I haven't touched it.

If you look closely there's a tiny black mark,

ink maybe, is it writing?

The end scribble of a signature even,

as it's in a corner.

- Well done Troy.

- There's nothing else.

- Who found her?

- Crispin. - Crispin?

- He's a black Labrador.

- I've been struggling with my conscious

as every good Christian must

and there is something else I should tell you,

one doesn't like to tell tales, especially as a result

of what one has quite inadvertently overheard.

But last night after the meeting.

- Where are you going? - Back to the garden,

I'm a gardener remember?

- I asked where are you going?

And he said back to the garden,

those were his exact words.

- Did you follow him? - Follow him?

- Do you know for certain if he went straight to the garden

there and then?

- I do not follow men.

- Excuse me, it's Mr. Bolt isn't it?

- Yeah.

- Detective Sergeant Troy.

- Insecticide, organic.

- Insecticide, sir, how's it kill them, alcohol poisoning?

Could I ask when you last saw Miss Felicity Inkpen sir?

- What alive, sorry of course alive,

last evening about 10 to eight,

just before I left for the village meeting.

- Not after the meeting then?

- No, no definitely not.

I went straight home, up the lane.

- Not to the Memorial Garden, not back to the garden at all.

- No.

- You were heard to say that back to the garden.

- I was annoyed about the meeting

and I was simply making a point, I'm a gardener,

nothing more.

- Just a gardener, not a ladies men then sir?

- And you and your daughter Felicity,

you were on good terms?

- Who says otherwise?

She was a dear and beautiful daughter,

she was her mother's child and I've loved her more

than I have loved anyone else in this whole horrible world.

(cries)

- It's Hillary, isn't it?

- I've been waiting for it.

- Last night Fliss came and found you.

Could I ask you why?

- Just to torment me, it was her favourite pastime.

- Oh you didn't get on?

- No.

- That must have been difficult living and working

under the same roof.

- Fliss didn't work.

She tried modelling and acting without any luck.

Well they're hard to get into aren't they?

So she just hung about here bored out of her skull.

- Do you know of any other people felt the same way

about her as you do?

I mean, did she torment anyone else?

- Everyone, really it was her thing,

a kind of attention seeking I suppose.

- But anyone specific?

- Mum, Daniel, Rodney Widger.

- Oh the shotgun man.

- I'm sorry, Fliss and I didn't like each other

but it's not very nice talking about her like this.

- Sir!

- Excuse me.

I'm Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby.

Your granddaughter has been murdered.

So you understand that we have to make certain inquiries.

May I just ask you when did you last see Felicity,

was it before you went to the Village Hall or afterwards.

I know that you left the meeting early.

- I find your manner and your insinuations

extremely offensive.

- And I have to say that I'm not entirely overwhelmed

by the courtesy of your reply.

- Do you really imagine I'm not devastated

by my granddaughter's death.

Endangered species such as ours

do not reduce their numbers from within.

Have you not the wit to look elsewhere

when there is a madman with a shotgun

just across the lane and a young woman

with an unhealthy emotional attachment to her father

half a mile up it?

- A madman with a shotgun's presumably Widger.

Who's the girl with the unhealthy attachment?

- Get in the car, I'll show you.

- Morning. - Morning.

- [Desmond] Bit of a bugger last night.

- Yes, yes, murder's never very pleasant.

- I was talking about the meeting.

- Mr. Cox did you go straight home last night

after the meeting.

- No, I went for a pint over at Mallow.

- Who with?

- Charles King, he lives opposite the Village Hall

if you need to check.

- Oh we do, Mr. Cox we do on everyone.

- I was being facetious you know about the murder.

It's just there won't be many at the funeral.

- So I am a suspect.

- You made an impassioned speech,

you left the meeting early.

- And I have nothing but contempt for the whole Inkpen clan

but why should I kill Fliss, Elspeth's the one

destroying Dad's garden.

- Except that will now stop, I shall imagine

for the time being at least.

Jane I do appreciate how upset you might--

- Do you, do you really?

That garden was my father's life for 20 years.

It was him who made it what it is today

not the Inkpens, now he's just too ill and tired to fight.

I have to be his champion and I will be.

- You like gardening?

It's become quite fashionable with the young I believe.

Don't have to be a botanist like my Jane.

- I watch it on TV sometimes when there's no football.

- Oh I like football, saw the game last night.

- What live?

- Oh yes, never miss a live match.

- Anyone with you?

- Yes, Jane came in at halftime

but I prefer to watch on my own,

stops me from getting ticked off from being too excited.

- Do you know a man called Rodney Widger, Mr. Bennett?

I believe you used to be neighbours.

- Yes, yes, in my former life as I call it.

He was an intemperate man,

you never knew when he was gonna fly off the handle next.

We didn't have a lot to do with him.

- We being you and your daughter.

- Well no my wife, Cynthia.

Jane was away at the university then.

She's done ever so well, she's got an MSC you know?

- You were saying about Rodney Widger.

- Oh yes, I'm afraid Cynthia used to goad him deliberately.

She could be quite wicked sometimes you know.

I expect he was quite relieved when she went.

- Went. - Oh yes.

I reported her as a missing person of course

but I'm sure she was getting fed up

for taking second place to antirrhinums.

- Why are you putting Dad through all that again?

- I'm sorry I was just asking Mr. Bennett

about your ex-neighbor, Rodney Widger.

Do you see anything of him nowadays?

- Only when he walks past with his shotgun.

- Goes culling vermins he puts it.

Foxes, rabbits, pigeons.

Most gardeners would make do with a bit of netting,

Rodney's solution with pests is to kill them.

- The simple reason I left the meeting early

was I need to the loo urgently.

I've had a touch of cystitis.

- Prostate.

- I have not got a prostate.

I came home, straight home, answered the call of nature

and then watched the second half of the football.

- But you don't deny you'd had an altercation earlier

in the day.

- Had an altercation with a motor car

and I've been bailed to appear before the magistrates.

I've been threatened with removal of my shotgun

and I bitterly resent being harassed in this way

when all I've ever done is try to preserve my property.

- Aren't there any toilets at the Village Hall?

If you were desperate.

- Oh for God's sake, she doesn't unlock them, all right?

The Millard woman she doesn't like the idea of me,

she doesn't like the idea of men full stop.

- Can you tell us anything about Cynthia Bennett?

Used to live at the Inkpen Manor.

- We know where she used to live thank you.

Only we're reviewing our missing persons files.

- Excuse me I need to loo urgently.

- What's that all about sir,

Cynthia Bennett missing persons?

- I was waiting for you to throw that in Troy.

You said it, Cynthia was apparently a thorn in Widger's side

just like the Inkpen girl.

- Oh will you stop blubbing.

She brought it on herself.

You both brought everything on yourselves.

Cavorting with Daniel, insulting Widger,

raising two fingers to the entire village

when you're not raising your skirts that is.

- You heartless old bitch.

- Mum, Mum, she doesn't mean it.

- I mean every syllable.

Is this how our 500 years are to end,

like an episode in some sordid television soap opera.

You have about as noblesse oblige

as a fish wife in a brothel.

- I'm leaving!

(dramatic music)

- Mum.

- I've just heard.

Elspeth I'm most dreadfully sorry.

- Thank you Richard, thank you.

Well if anybody wants me or your grandmother drops dead

I'll be at the vicarage.

- I don't think we've ever met, I'm Richard Deverell.

- Hillary, I'd like some tea.

- Susan, I need a room for the night.

- No, if you're digging up the lawn,

big bits, small bits, it's all fine by me.

Now I really just phoned to say I don't know--

Well I don't know when I'm going to be home.

Right, and you.

Oh I'll speak to you later, bye.

- Tell him.

- Pumpey?

- Yes, pumpey, it's sort of like Scrumpy only--

- Lethal.

- Better, a subtle blend of apple and potato

with tincture of garlic.

So where's the still or reactor or whatever?

- Got rid of it last night after the meeting.

- So you were here?

- Well not in the Memorial Garden,

I didn't go near the Memorial Garden,

I didn't see anyone.

- But you didn't go straight home, you lied Mr. Bolt.

- Well what would you do if you thought

you'd killed someone.

I mean, the boys, I thought they might have,

if they'd gone into a coma or their livers are packed up

or I'm talking about the boys.

- Don't leave the village Mr. Bolt.

- And stay off the pumpey.

- What I can't understand sir is what the women see in him.

He's got dirt under his fingernails.

- Mrs. Inkpen, I'm sorry to trouble you again,

I was hoping to see your daughter.

- She's not here.

- Oh may I inquire where--

- At the vicarage, tea and sympathy.

- Oh fine.

While I'm here I wonder do you recall Felicity

receiving a letter in the last couple of days?

- A letter, Felicity, that seems highly improbable.

She only ever communicated by mobile phone.

- To the vicarage?

- No it'll keep.

I've seen enough Inkpens for one day.

Anyway we'll see if the lab comes up

with something on that scrap of paper.

- So what now then?

- I'm checking alibis.

- Desmond's absolutely right, we went straight from the hall

to the Crooked Billet.

Took Janet.

- Janet?

- This old girl.

- You married Mr. King.

- Oh relentlessly.

- Miss Inkpen, Fliss she had something of a reputation yeah?

- A reputation rather than a track record,

I think you'll find a tease not an actual go'er

or so I've heard.

- So you weren't intimately acquainted.

- I'm afraid not, he said with feeling,

if you're looking for a crime passionnel

you're sniffing up entirely the wrong trouser leg.

- Oh, beg your pardon Mrs. Millard. Mrs. Inkpen-Thomas.

Very sorry indeed to hear about--

- Are you, are you really?

- Could I have an extra loaf

if you have one on board please, Desmond?

Mrs. Inkpen-Thomas is staying the night

and a jar of pesto sauce.

I'm must tempt the poor thing to eat something this evening

and I know it's her favourite.

- I'll drop one by later.

- Cynthia Bennett simply got in a taxi and went.

The taxi driver confirms picking her up

at Inkpen Manor and then taking her to a hotel in Causton.

She was seen entering the hotel.

- But we don't know who she met there

or where she went when she left do we?

- No so she's still officially a missing person

but we do know that she left home of her own accord

and there was no sign of foul play at the hotel.

- So the sensible conclusion Troy is that she

simply left him.

She was an unfaithful wife and she left her husband.

- Yes, so what was Rodney Widger so fidgety about then.

He may or may not had rows with Cynthia

when she lived at Inkpen Manor.

He may even had had his eye on her.

But there really is no evidence in the file

to make us suspicious, is there?

- No, no.

- So why go and hide in the loo with his prostate?

- God knows.

It's the lab report on the paper.

- Already.

- Scraping from beneath the victim's fingernails

match the scrap of paper found on the scene

which suggests that the letter was torn from her gasp

doesn't it Troy?

(laughs)

- What's the matter with you?

Seen a ghost?

- No I--

- The dead don't walk, Hillary, they stay dead.

- Yes, of course, I just didn't know who could be

out there at this time of night.

- It was me doing what somebody else should have done.

Did you feed Felicity's horse?

No, nor did your mother, nor the gardener.

Poor brute would starve to death left to the rest of you.

- Another chamomile tea? - No, no thank you.

- Still nothing to eat?

Really you should, a little pasta, making some for myself.

- No, really.

- No, well it is rather late,

perhaps up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire would best.

- Have they been here?

- Who?

- The police Charles, the police.

- Of course.

- What did you say?

- Nothing at all dear boy, nothing at all.

- You may think this incredibly insensitive

and inopportune Elspeth but it is sometimes therapeutic

at such moments to talk well talk about something

entirely mundane, the York slabs.

- York slabs.

- Those already lifted

and removed from the Memorial Garden.

Do you have plans for them?

- I can't say I do Susan, no.

- Only I'd gladly take a few just a tiny few, of course,

off your hands for use here at the vicarage.

The Inkpens have always been such generous benefactors

to our church and they would the slabs, that is

be in a very real sense a permanent reminder of Fliss.

- Help yourself.

- Thank you so much.

- Do make yourself comfy.

You know where the facilities are don't you?

- Sorry?

- The smallest room?

- Oh yes of course, would it be possible to have a bath?

- Well of course.

I've put the geyser on especially for you.

I shall be at church.

I find it the most beneficial night cap.

I shall pray for Fliss.

- Thank you.

Dear god.

- Just stay calm dear boy,

there's really nothing to worry about.

(dramatic music)

(door shuts)

Oh.

Ugh.

God, all yours Crispin.

Yes, my thoughts entirely.

(coughs and gasps)

Oh god, oh god, oh god!

(breathes heavy and gasps)

(chokes)

- Father?

- Morning Mr. Bennett.

- Oh.

- No Jane?

- Gone to Causton.

- Oh, do you need a hand with those?

- Thank you.

- I hope you don't mind but I wanted to ask you

about your wife.

- Mr. Bolt, I'm looking for Elspeth.

- She's still at the vicarage as far as I know.

- Thank you very much.

- Any progress?

- We are pursuing several lines of inquiry, Mr. Bolt.

- Complete and utter surprise.

It wasn't until the following morning I realised

all her clothes had gone.

Well Jay and I put two and two together then.

- All her clothes are gone.

- Yes, Cynthia had her own room in the manor house

at that stage.

'Cause her wardrobe and chest were quite empty.

She'd removed herself completely from my life.

- Mr. Barnaby, Mr. Barnaby, I'm rather concerned,

I can't rouse Mrs. Inkpen-Thomas.

- Mrs. Inkpen-Thomas, hello?

(knocks)

Elspeth.

(crashes)

(screams)

- All these will be a blaze of colour in a few week's time.

You really must come and have a look.

- I'm oh so sorry Mr. Bennett, I'm gonna have to go now.

- Oh yes, of course, right.

Thank you so much for all your help.

(phone rings)

- Troy.

- If I wasn't such a deeply religious person,

I'd think I was bringing some kind of curse on the Inkpens.

Two of them I found dead in a space of 24 hours.

And suicide whilst in my care.

- The door was locked, key on the inside.

- Must my feelings be trampled on instantly.

I have now lost a daughter as well as a granddaughter

within 24 hours.

- I'm not trying to trample on anybody's feelings,

Mrs. Inkpen but nevertheless.

- Suicide is quite impossible, unthinkable for an Inkpen.

- Nevertheless your daughter did seem deeply upset

by Felicity's murder.

The fact that she felt that she felt the need to

retreat from the family home.

- A theatrical gesture.

Elspeth was all show and no substance,

you have no audience once you are dead.

- Gran?

- Will you please leave us Hillary.

I can't bare being called Gran.

- You will appreciate Mrs. Inkpen

despite what you felt about Elspeth.

Well until the cause of death is established,

suicide can't be ruled out

and in the circumstances.

- Circumstances?

- Well your granddaughter's murder

having occurred just immediately before.

- You're suggesting Elspheth killed Felicity

and took her own life in a fit of remorse.

- But it's got to be a possibility.

- No, especially not suicide.

- Then what's your view, two murders in two days,

both Inkpens.

- Well, if your looking for common denominator,

they both have been entangled with Daniel Bolt.

If you didn't already know that.

- Would it would be true to say

that you were ambivalent

about Elspeth's money making schemes?

- No I wasn't ambivalent at all, I thought them shameful.

- Then why didn't you stop them it's your garden.

- Unfortunately not.

I made Inkpen Manor over to Elspeth some time ago

to avoid inheritance tax.

Well you've made history

you've heard an Inkpen admit a mistake.

- With Elspeth and Fliss both dead, Hillary inherits.

- Yeah, depending on the will.

It's a bit drastic isn't it, to murder your own mother

when you know you'll inherit anyway?

- Perhaps she couldn't wait for Elspeth to get old.

Perhaps she needs her inheritance in a hurry.

- Possibly but then again perhaps Naomi

was just directing me up the garden path.

She said herself she's no fool.

Anyway I don't get the impression

there's a lot else left in the family vault

for Hillary to get her hands on.

- You don't need a lot else if you've

just come into two and a half millions worth of property.

- So you're going with that then, Hillary prime suspect.

- No, I'm just saying if she does inherit,

she's got a motive.

- She does or she doesn't, she could be next on the list.

We're down to one and a half Inkpens Troy and counting.

- She was one of nature's own.

- And where were you when she died,

last night midnight on?

- Up a tree.

- Some strange Midsommer ritual is this?

- No.

- All right, which tree.

- In the woods.

- And no one with you?

- No.

- So what exactly were you doing up this tree?

- Waiting for a badger.

There's a set in the woods next to Rodney Widger's place.

If you're lucky the mother brings her cubs out.

I watch with night glasses, keep a safe distance.

I don't want Rodney getting wind of them

otherwise he'll be out there with his spade

and his mustard gas.

- Any of these badgers put in an appearance?

- No, but Rodney did.

- That's bloody nonsense I was in all evening

and all night.

Wasn't I Marie?

- No you weren't.

- Mr. Widger I have to tell you you were observed

leaving home at 11:25 p.m. and returning at 12:35 a.m.

- Who by, the dumb nosy neighbours?

That had nothing to do with Elspeth Inkpen.

- Then what did it have to do with?

- Can we discuss this elsewhere?

- Certainly.

- I knew it, I knew it.

- Did you Troy, good.

- I didn't tell you where I was

when you called me this morning.

- No you didn't.

- I went back to Gerald Bennett,

there's a contradiction in the evidence.

Well not a contradiction exactly.

- Hey, hey, hey Troy you take it slowly.

- Yes, sorry, the taxi driver's statement

and the missing person's file

says he collected Cynthia from Inkpen Manor

and she only had a shoulder bag.

- Yes.

- Well this morning Gerald Bennett told me

that when he and his daughter looked the next day,

Cynthia's entire wardrobe had gone.

Well you can't get an entire wardrobe

in a shoulder bag can you?

- No you can't.

But I'm not sure how far

this gets us a propos Mr. Widger, are you?

- Why no sir, not exactly.

- Well you have until this afternoon to find out.

- I've been expecting a visit long before now.

- Yes, sorry sir we were rather overtaken by events.

- Elspeth, well it seems to me Mr. Barnaby

that ruling out suicide as one must.

- Must one, Mr. Deverell?

- An Inkpen will no more do away with themselves

than would a Deverell.

- So your view is that Elspeth and Felicity were killed

for the same simple reason, the Inkpen's desecration

of the Memorial Garden.

- Are you giving the remaining two protection?

Naomi and the young girl?

Violence begets violence as I'm sure

you're professionally aware.

And if there is a lunatic at large, well.

- If there's a lunatic at large, Mr. Deverell,

no one is safe.

Not an apposite entrance I assure you.

Allow me to introduce my son, Richard, Bishop Richard.

Though he rarely does me the honour as dressing as such.

- How do you do? - How do you do?

- A chief inspector no less Richard,

investigating the demise of the Inkpens.

- Yes, I feel I should visit again, only having made

an identical call just yesterday.

I feel as entirely inadequate.

- You knew Elspeth Inkpen well?

- From childhood.

I find it impossible to believe she could be murdered

over a few rosebushes and a sundial.

- You underestimate the good people of Midsommer

Deverell Richard.

But then you underestimate everyone.

- As a matter of routine I'm obliged to ask your whereabouts

last night approximately half an hour

either side of midnight.

- Where I always am at that time.

Here in this chair.

(gasps)

- You look just as pretty as any flower

in the garden Hillary.

I don't know why I've never told you before.

You're even prettier now you're sad.

You just need someone to help you unfold, blossom.

But that neck, such a tender stalk.

(dramatic music)

- Why did you lie Father?

To the police, you weren't here at midnight last night.

- Wasn't I?

- You didn't get home till one.

- Well I'm an old man Richard,

I'm allowed a lapse in memory.

- Where had you been?

- Visiting at Badger's Drift. (laughs)

Was it really one o'clock.

Well, well, and where had you been,

if impertinent questions are the order of the day?

- I've been taking the air.

- For so long?

- I've a lot to think about.

- Well Mr. Widger perhaps now you'd care to tell us

where you went last night.

- I went to visit a friend on the other end of the village.

Charles King.

- And he'll verify this will he?

- He damn well better we're in this together.

- In what?

- I went to warn him about you, the police

about your interests in Cynthia Bennett.

Not that we've did anything wrong, not to her,

to to anybody, it's just that we didn't give

an entirely full account.

Well didn't give any account at all in fact five years ago.

- You know something about the disappearance

of Cynthia Bennett.

- No, no, no, nothing at all, it was nothing to do with us.

- Mr. Widger please.

- Cynthia was a very friendly lady.

We had our ups and downs, mostly over noise.

She liked a lot of noisy, modern music did Cynthia.

She certainly knew how to get round a chap,

especially in the last couple of years they lived there.

She got a bit bored you see.

Like I said she was a very friendly lady.

She invited Charles and me to meet her

at the Deverell Arms Hotel in Causton.

She booked a room.

They don't take a lot of notice there,

she arrived by taxi and we spent the afternoon

and the evening together.

- The three of you.

- Yeah.

After dark we drove back to the Midsomer Deverell,

the three of us in Charles' car.

Dropped Cynthia off at the manor and then we went

back to his place for a night cap.

Then I walked home.

The following day Cynthia was reported missing.

Charles and I came to the decision that there was nothing

to be gained by coming forward.

What was the point in clouding the issue

by publicising our afternoon's entertainment?

- Did it never occur to you Mr. King

that your silence prevented a proper search

being carried out for Mrs. Bennett.

That assumptions were made that wouldn't have been made

if you'd come forward.

- Shh, please wives do ears you know,

even if they have nothing between them.

It was sport, Sergeant, pure sport.

Well not entirely pure but nothing more I assure you.

In fact I experienced a deep sense of loss

when Cynthia vanished.

Rather like losing a favourite golf club.

- So George, not pills, not booze, not needles

and no wound.

So now you're going to say you can't tell me anything

until you get the toxicology report, am I right?

- Au contrair.

- Let me tell you, don't believe this is suicide.

The lab found traces of olive oil and herbs

on the bedroom key.

- Oh yes, pesto sauce there's lots of that in there,

to disguise the taste which is apparently foul.

- Taste of what?

Did Mrs. Inkpen-Thomas eat anything while she was here,

Mrs. Millard.

- Oh, no, no, she didn't, she wouldn't,

I did offer of course.

- But there was a dish, a bowl from the same set as that.

- Was there I didn't notice.

Look, please while are you dismantling my kitchen.

- Mrs. Millard, Mrs. Millard we are far from convinced

that Mrs. Inkpen-Thomas killed herself.

She swallowed toxic substance prepared in the kitchen

and then mixed with ordinary food.

- No, surely not here under my roof.

- Is it possible she could have filled the bowl herself

from something she cooked here or

with something from your larder.

- Well possible while I was at church

but I don't have a kitchen full of poisons.

- Was there anyone else in the church?

- What at that time of night.

In this Godless country of ours

we have enough trouble filling the pews on a Sunday morning.

- Did you lock the vicarage doors, Mrs. Millard

when you went to church after Mrs. Inkpen-Thomas

had gone upstairs?

- No I never lock the doors.

It's a point of Christian principle.

- So it is possible that someone who knew the house,

knew that Mrs. Inkpen Thomas was here

could have gained entry while you were elsewhere?

- Well, yes possible.

- The dog, wouldn't the dog have reacted to an intruder.

- Crispen has a very positive attitude

to all humanity.

- And your husband, the vicar, he's been gone

for how long is it now?

- Four days.

- When do you expect him back?

- I don't know the day after tomorrow, why?

- What does he think of the Inkpens

and the commercial exploitation of the village?

- He looks for the best in everyone.

- Even adulterers, female adulterers?

- Jezebels, oh yes, he'd especially try to help them.

- And what is your view on such women, Mrs. Millard?

- I firmly believe in the sanctity of marriage

and that adultery is a sin.

An old-fashioned word that Mr. Barnaby

but perhaps the world would be a better place

if your people were prepared to fight sin

when and where they find it.

One can take appeasement only so far.

- There you are.

- Tom, you're home very early.

You've caught me digging up rather too much of your lawn.

- Yeah, I'm still working actually.

Do you have pictures in those plant encyclopaedias of yours?

- Yes, why what are you looking up?

- A for aconite.

- What do you think you're doing?

- Mrs. Inkpen. - Well?

- I am conducting a murder investigation Mrs. Inkpen,

that is what I am doing.

These plants have you picked any of them recently?

- Of course I haven't.

One doesn't need Monkshood in the house

when one one has plenty of roses.

- Monkshood, so you know the common name,

do you also know these plants are among the most toxic

that we grow in this country?

- Your interest is professional?

- No it's practical.

- So if you don't put them in the house in vases,

what do you do with them?

- We leave them alone.

- Well you should know Mr. Bolt, being the gardener.

You eat the roots of this Troy, cooked or raw

and you're a goner.

And this was crudely done.

George Bullard could still see bits in the stomach contents.

Someone's tried very hard to make it look

like a suicide but the bedroom key

has got food on it.

And my scenario is that they force fed

to Elspeth this stuff, put the key back in the lock

before they climbed out through the window

leaving her to die horribly

and she would have died horribly.

Aconite doesn't provide a painless exit.

So we're looking for someone who really, really hated her

but who Troy, who?

And will they kill again?

We need a breakthrough.

- Allow me sir.

See this stone laid 18th of June 1996 by Gerald Bennett.

Cynthia Bennett disappeared on the 11th

just a week before.

So if you'd been very indiscreet,

if you regarded the woman you've been playing away with

as a tart and cared more for your social standing

than her life and had murdered her

then what better place to bury her.

- They're digging a hole.

- Who are? - The police.

- Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those

who trespass against us.

Forgive those sins that destroy our peace on earth,

murder, adultery.

(dramatic music)

- I'm so sorry to disturb you Mrs. Millard,

Dad sent these for the church.

(dramatic music)

- What are they looking for?

- I really don't know but I don't want to watch.

I'm going for a walk, would you like to come?

But soon, eh?

(dramatic music)

- Sir.

- Cynthia, Troy, Troy?

- You can't know it's Cynthia.

- We'll know by tomorrow Mr. Widger,

the skull has a full set of teeth.

So I'll tell you what I think.

I think that after five years you've finally told the truth.

But not the whole truth.

Yes you and Charles King brought Cynthia

back to Inkpen Manor but no you didn't drop her off,

you dropped her in a hole.

You were scared your afternoon's entertainment

wouldn't remain a secret.

Cynthia would blab and being pillars of the community

you wouldn't want that, so you killed her.

- The police are pursuing their inquiries with pick axes.

I appreciate your coming Richard,

one can only hope you don't feel obliged

to make a third visit.

- It hardly seems appropriate to mention it

but I shall be leaving that the weekend.

My latest pilgrimage to Rome.

- I wish you better fortune this time.

And I'm sure Elspeth would have done the same.

- I shall like to think so.

- What the hell are playing at Troy?

- Filling out Widgers.

- Yes and?

- Well he denies murder of course,

but there's still Charles.

- There's still the next of kin to be informed, Troy

to make an identification even.

- I'm sorry sir, I was out of order procedurally.

- Yeah, I'm just wondering if we're not out of order

in a more dangerous way.

Have we missed the blindingly obvious?

- Which is?

- Gerald Bennett.

- Gerald Bennett, he couldn't have knocked Fliss on the head

or climbed through a casement window.

- Granted, he's not always been as frail as he is today.

He is Cynthia's wronged husband

and if he did kill her no one, no one

had a better opportunity to bury her.

- Jane? - Hi.

- Sorry darling, I needed a nap.

- Cup of tea? - Oh yes, please.

- I should go.

Goodbye Hillary, I hope we meet again.

(knocks)

- Mr. Bennett, Mr. Bennett?

Mr. Bennett?

(dramatic music)

- Sorry you're dead.

And you, you were quite lovely, such rare beauty.

And you simply flowered yourself to death, didn't you?

Such exuberance.

But little Aquilegia such sweet old-fashioned charm

just as beautiful as your showy, glitzy sister.

- Nothing, no one seems to have seen her

since yesterday evening.

It could have been King sir, the other party

in the hotel room.

He would have time after I spoke to him.

- No, no Troy.

There's a daughter here who loved her father

very, very much.

A daughter who's face is everywhere.

A daughter who spoke passionately, vehemently

against digging up the Memorial Garden.

Gotta find Jane Bennett.

- I've thought you've gone to Rome without telling me.

- Just Causton. - To the bank.

- There was a phone call.

Father we need to talk about money.

- How do you rate your chances this time, Richard?

Election to the sacred college?

- I don't know, obviously I'm in the running

but it's a long process.

- Certain things do matter though,

conduct, behaviour, those found wanting

are going to be weeded out.

You know how much it would mean to me

for you to become a cardinal?

You the last Deverell being the first ever in 500 years

to rise so high.

- Father it's not the be all and end all.

- Isn't it?

- It's the only thing I stay alive for.

- Father, the bank.

- Saw Hillary did you, when you paid your respects

to the manor?

- Yes I saw Hillary.

- What did you think?

How did she strike you?

- I knew where she was going you see

and I had a good idea who she was meeting.

It wasn't so much that she was carrying on,

it was the fact she and they and all the others

were before them took such pleasure

in Dad not realising.

The smirking, snickering and making fun behind his back,

I just couldn't take anymore.

(hollers)

So I waited for her to come back from Causton

and strangled her with a pair of tights.

She was drunk and I'm quite strong.

(dramatic music)

I'd already planned what to do with her.

I rather liked the idea that when the memorial garden

was finished people would walk all over her

liked she'd walked all over Dad.

So, then I cleared her things and hid them in my car.

And took them to the dump the next day.

I knew Widger and King wouldn't come forward

when we reported her missing.

The downside was that Dad actually did miss her.

His health was already deteriorating anyway

and the manor just suddenly seemed to big.

The cottage was right for him, though he's been happy there.

- Until the Inkpens started digging up the past.

- If he discovered what my mother was really like,

it would have broken his heart.

He didn't have much time left anyway,

better to finish it gently without the truth.

He was such an innocent, I couldn't bare him to lose

that right at the end.

- But it's still a murder Miss Bennett

and you have to understand that

giving your very clear reason

for not wanting the Memorial Garden dug up,

you are now the prime suspect in the deaths

of Felicity Inkpen and her mother.

- What I have done, I've done for my father,

I'm not a homicidal maniac.

I hated my mother, not the Inkpens.

But others hated them.

- Don't build up your hopes,

not while there is still three of them left.

Merciless bloodsuckers.

- Bloodsuckers, that's an odd expression

in the context of what was going on at Inkpen Manor.

- She could be winding us up sir.

She was desperate to stop the digging

and murdering Inkpens was a way of doing it.

Plus, she's young and fit, she knows the vicarage

and she knows about plants.

- If it was just desperation Troy,

why kill Elspeth so, so horribly.

Why not just strangle her or bash her over the head.

Elspeth suffered, there was real, real hate in them.

- Or stark raving madness.

- Yeah, possibly but hate Troy or greed are more common.

Oh this is from the solicitor, Elspeth's will.

- No don't tell me the Gardener's Benevolent Society.

- There is no money but the house is left jointly

to Hillary and Fliss and Daniel Bolt the gardener.

- I don't understand why you

keep shying away from me Hillary?

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

this man that made love to my sister and my mother

and now they're both dead.

But if you're honest, don't you agree

there's something about death

that makes you want to reaffirm life?

Well you shouldn't deny that instinct.

Nature doesn't, nature does just what it likes

because nature knows what's best, instinctively.

The lilium speciosum doesn't mourn,

it just turns it's delicate neck to the sun.

(dramatic music)

- Accidentally I was looking for your father, sir

and is he at home?

- No, no he isn't but do come in please.

Do you know who I am?

- Mr. Richard Deverell, Bishop Richard Deverell.

- I've just found out who I am.

I am, was the lover of Elspeth Inkpen.

No, no, I knew that of course.

I'm the father of her illegitimate child.

I did not know that.

Hillary Inkpen is my daughter.

And my father, my damnable father has--

- Where is Mr. Deverell please sir?

- Gone to see her, Naomi Inkpen

to deliver his latest tribute.

She must have cash it seems.

She must have real money in her hands

and it must be placed there by him.

The price is humiliation as well as money.

- The price of what?

- Her forbearance until I'm elected cardinal.

Rome the Vatican.

You know my father funded the Inkpen's repurchase

of their rightful family home?

It may seem a small enough indiscretion

in the modern world to have fathered a child

but my father is convinced otherwise.

And convinced that the Vatican would share his view.

He's right and he's desperate

that I should succeed this time.

If you need proof, read the letter.

- [Woman] My dear Augustus an ecclesiastical bird

has told me that Richard, your Richard has high hopes

of at least fulfilling the Deverell dream.

We Inkpen's will hear nothing said against him

providing of course that you honour your obligations

to your friends.

In which respect with the recent arrival of Hillary

in our midst, we're now in possession

of what might be described as the walking DNA proof,

yours in anticipation.

- Mr. Bolt, Mr. Bolt?

(phone ringing)

- Sir?

- Troy Augustus Deverell is heading for Inkpen Manor,

stop him, don't let him get near Naomi.

I'll be with you in a few minutes.

(dramatic music)

- Excuse me?

- Not now Mr. Widger.

- I've been burglered.

- Not interested.

- You damn well will be.

- Augustus, such old world punctuality.

- Mrs. Inkpen?

Mrs. Inkpen?

- She's not in the garden.

(dramatic music)

(gun fires)

- All right Gran, smell the blood, you like the blood,

don't you?

The bit of DNA proof as it says in the letter.

I was stupid enough to think I was wanted here.

Not loved, never hope for that not from you,

anyway but I wasn't even wanted, was I, was I?

Not even by Mum, not wanted for myself, just used,

just turned to advantage.

Oh yes, look away, what did the three of you do?

Get it out and gloat over it once a week.

Why else keep a copy in the house?

Fliss laughed so much when she told me.

When she read that out.

- Fliss was a stupid little bitch.

- Dead little bitch now.

She opened my eyes, so I opened my head.

But she's the only one of you I killed in anger.

I took pleasure over Mom,

I stuffed her bloody garden right down her throat

and I'm going to make a mess of you

because you don't like mess.

Everything must be just so, mustn't it?

On the outside, well I don't want you going to hell

looking tidy.

(gun fires)

(cries)

(slow orchestra music)

(dramatic music)

- Mrs. Millard?

- Sergeant Troy.

- Chief Inspector Barnaby thought

we ought to let you know

that we shan't be needing your kitchen utensils anymore.

- Poor Hillary. - Yes.

- And poor Jane Bennett.

It's most troubling to one's conscience

that some crimes seem entirely justified.

Jane is one of them.

I've always felt as I've told Mr. Barnaby,

adultery is one of the most despicable

of all human activities.

- Nice patio, new?

- Very.

I find hard work an aid to prayer

and there has been so much to pray about recently.

- And still no vicar?

- Good evening.

- Arthur this is Sergeant Troy.

- How do you do?

- Hello?

- Would you care to join us for tea

and a ecumenical debrief?

- No thank you, it's a relief,

I mean, a pleasure to meet you vicar.

I best be off.

Bye Crispin.

(dramatic music)

- As well as the White Bedder

I brought you a few Pennington Gems.

- Oh that's very kind of you Daniel.

- Bear in mind the White Bedder is vigorous

and very erect.

So make sure you put it where you want it,

otherwise it's likely to overshadow lesser plants.

- Yes I see.

- I'll be quite happy to come back

and make sure everything's nicely--

- Bedded in.

- Oh, Mr. Barnaby.

Right, well I'll be off then.

(dramatic music)

- I was going to offer him a drink.

- I think he has some propagating to do elsewhere.

Come on, I'll make you one.

Is there any lawn left to sit on?

(dramatic music)