All language subtitles for Midsomer Murders S13E01 The Sword of Guillaume

On a mission, are we?

-This town deserves
a better mayor.

Hey, Tom.
-Hello, Jenny.

Council meeting,
Barnaby?

Not like you.

-Mr. Dalgleish.
Lady Matilda!

Lovely day!

-I don't think so.

All right, darling?

HICKS:
What's he doing here?

Have you been opening
your stupid mouth?

That's Hugh Dalgleish
down there.

Do you know him?
-He called me a peasant once.

Did he? -Lady
Matilda' s not much better.

Thinks she owns
the whole village.

She does.

Jenny!

-Oh, lovely to see you.

Oh, Det Sgt Jones,
this is Mrs. Jenny Russell,

hotelier and member
of our Chamber of Commerce.

Hello.

-Hello.

Hello, people.

Wh!

-Have you spoken to him
about our right to roam?

Tell them to stay
off my land.

LUCY: See?
Threatening.

BARNABY: We have heard
your complaints, Ms. Terry.

Det Sgt Jones, here,

has the matter well
in hand.

HICKS: Thank you, Mary.

Trash.

HICKS: Right --
-Uh, I heard that.

Good morning, everyone.
-Knock it off.

First up today,
the Brighton agenda.

Hooray!

HICKS: Thank you,
Harry.

Now, I must emphasize

that this Brighton reunion
is not just an excuse

for a junket.

It's also a matter
of history and gratitude.

-Rubbish.

During the war, when they
were building Spitfires

on our doorstep, it was
the good people of Brighton

who said to us,
"Send us your young ones,

so they be not bombed
by the enemy."

Hear, hear!
-Absolute tosh!

And we celebrated
that union between our towns

until certain incidents

put a bit of a dampener
on the events.

They tried to murder us!

That's not true.

Anyway, in a spirit
of conciliation,

the Brighton council
have offered us the chance --

Here we go.

To purchase some inexpensive
land along the coast,

in order that we may build
some holiday cabins

for the less fortunate
of Causton.

WOMAN: Well said.
-MAN: Jolly good.

And I hope to finalize that deal
on our memorial trip.

Not a chance!
-All right, Matilda.

The people of that town
are barbarians.

They were barbarians when
my ancestors conquered them

and they are
barbarians still.

And, as head
of the Finance Committee,

I am refusing
to sign anything,

so there.

Be done with it.

WOMAN: Ugh!

MAN: Ah!

JONES: So much
for the mayor's deal.

BARNABY: Hmm.

Barnaby.

It's John.
-Oh, John!

Thanks very much
for calling back.

It's been far too long.
I got your email.

What can I do for you?
-This land deal

that's going down
between the two councils.

I checked it out.
It looks kosher.

It's a bit of soggy
council land.

It's only good
for temporary dwellings.

Why not use it for cabins
for your kiddies?

-Jones.

Our Mayor Hicks wouldn't get
out of bed in the morning

unless there was

some profitable
fiddle involved.

Which bridle path,
Mr. Terry?

This isn't personal,
is it, Tom?

No, no, no. This is
preventative detection.

Okay.
I'll dig a little deeper.

Right, okay.
-Thank you, John.

-I'll try and find him, sir.
-I'll be there in an hour.

Dalgleish
and the Terrys, again.

Well, you're just the man
to sort it out.

Sir.

Giles Shawcross.

Midsomer Parva.

Oh, God.
The Reverend Doom And Gloom.

Hello, Reverend!

What a lovely day.
I hope you're enjoying it.

Hello, Marcia.

Lady Bracknell home,
is she?

I believe Matilda's
expecting you.

Jolly good.

You be careful.

Don't crack a smile,
or anything.

You really are the devil's
work, aren't you?

Pas devant, old thing,
pas devant.

My son hasn't communicated,
in any acceptable way,

for many, many years.

Well, he will now,
won't he?

The king is dead.
Long live the king.

Ha ha ha.

And you have a conscript,
a volunteer, for this task?

Absolutely.

All we have to do is
come up with the catalyst.

I'll leave that to you,
shall I?

It's wrong.

My God
would say it's wrong.

Just as well you own
His church, then.

Even if you
can't afford His roof.

SHAWCROSS: It's
television, you know.

It's all ugly, violent people
screaming at each other.

Appalling role model,
hence, the vandalism

the threatening behavior,
the breakdown of society.

-Yes, I'm sure you're
absolutely right,

but to matters
more pressing.

-Oh, sorry.
Once I get going, you know.

Come through.
-Thank you.

SHAWCROSS: See?
Not very clear.

Do you think it's one
of those...hoodie chaps?

That's the wrong sort
of hood, Giles.

-Oh.

Have you got CCTV
inside the church?

-No, Matilda didn' t want people
spying on her at her devotions.

There have been four of these
now, pinned up out there.

Virtual death threats.
Very unpleasant.

This one, regarding
Hugh Dalgleish,

the property fellow, says he's
"in league with the devil."

Probably the mayor.

It was a joke, Giles.

Oh. Then,
there's this one,

accusing Lady Matilda
and Marcia

of having a "vile and
unnatural relationship".

That's
a bit of a stretch.

Ridiculous. Finally,
last night's letter,

claiming that Jenny Russell
from the hotel is

"The whore
of Babylon".

All of them saying these
people will be "cleansed,"

and signed with a cross,
a crucifix.

Or a sword.

That could be a sword,
couldn't it?

Yes, I suppose it could be.

You said there were four
of these letters.

The first one was
about me.

I threw it away.

I didn't realize it was
the first of a series.

What did it say?

Oh, nothing much,

just generally abusive
and threatening.

It probably came
from the bishop.

-So is there anyone you could,
you know, point the finger at,

any disturbed medievalists
in your flock?

No ideas at all.

LUCY: We were just exercising
our legal right to roam.

JONES: You mean,
winding him up, as usual.

TRENT: This has been a public
right-of-way since Norman times.

JONES: Okay, okay.

Whoa!

LUCY: It's like that
"Space Odyssey" thing.

[Richard Strauss' s
"Thus Spoke Zarathustra" plays ]

Bill, you know what?
This is so boring.

I'm trying to run
a business here!

Bill -- Bill, look,
I know where you are

and I know where
your little tart works.

Hey, Tom.

Jenny!

Yeah, and I'm coming
to get the pair of you.

Do you understand?
Yeah, you should be worried.

I'm bloody serious!

Oogh! Fifteen years,
to build this place up

and then he goes and blows it,
all for some little tart.

Yes, I heard.
-I'm going to go down there

on this council trip; I'm
going to kill the pair of them.

That's quite
understandable.

-I mean, how long does sex
take up in your life, Tom,

half an hour a week,

once a month?

Please, may I have
a cup of tea?

Very good, Tom,
very good.

"The whore of Babylon".

I might put it on my Web site.
Could crank up business a bit.

-Do you know anyone who's
got a grudge against you?

It could be any
of the women round here.

Since Bill left,
their grubby husbands

all try and park
their tanks on my lawn.

In fact, I'd be better off
if I ran this place

as a knocking shop.

You'd be
a wonderful madam.

Freebies
for coppers, of course.

Oh, how public-spirited.
In the meantime,

could you have a look through
your little black book,

see if there' s anyone you think
might dislike you enough

to write this stuff?

Tom.

Mm

Are you coming
to Brighton with us?

I'm in a bit of a mess.
I need a friend right now.

What sort of a mess?

-It's...personal.

That's not really
my area.

[Guns engine,
tires screech]

New boyfriend?

We need to talk.

Hi, Marcia.

You're pushing your luck,
aren't you?

If she doesn't see sense,
the whole town will suffer.

We have Richard
with us every day.

She can't just pretend
it didn't happen.

That was a long time ago,
for God's --

[Reloading,
cocking shotgun]

Oh, my God!

You've done it this time!
I'm going to go to the law!

[Reloading,
cocking shotgun]

Thank you,
Mr. Dalgleish;

thank you very much
for your cooperation.

BARNABY: No, that's all right;
I'll hold, thank you.

-He's put these
huge concrete blocks

across a public right-of-way
and refuses to move them.

Dalgleish bought up the street
the Terrys have their shop in

and he bunged up
the rent so much,

the Terrys started to become --
how shall I say? --

less scrupulous about
the stuff they were selling.

Well, maybe I should come on
this trip, keep an eye on them.

No, you shouldn't.
You should stay at home.

Hold the line.
Officer in charge.

Tom.
-Oh, John!

STEPHENS: Check that out.
-Listen, I really would like

to have a look at the land
in question, please,

and I would also like,
if you can get it for me,

a look at the file
on Richard William.

Call it
political leverage.

You know what Mum
always said?

Well, yes, your mum was right,
I am a total pain in the bum,

but I'm older
than you are, John,

and certainly wiser,
so hard luck.

Well, I'll bow
to your seniority.

I'll see what I can do.
-Thank you.

Yeah.

My cousin.

Ah, the William family,
they go back forever.

So does ours,
just not in a fat book.

So we're off to Brighton,
are we?

-Yes, we are.

All rock, candy floss,
and fun on the pier, whee-hee!

You'll see John.
-Yes, yeah, I will.

And Jenny Russell.

I'm sorry?

-At the tennis club,
the women were talking about

who they'd most like to be
stuck with on a desert island.

Most of them went for Kyle,
the organic butcher,

but Jenny Russell
chose you,

the organic policeman.

Oh.

So you just
watch yourself.

Oh.

-Yes, yes, I'm coming!

JOYCE: Good Lord.

I want Matilda arrested!
She just tried to kill me!

Shotgun!
Could've took me head off!

A tragic outcome.

Will be,
if you don't sort her.

Get her to see sense,
or I'll insist

on doing her
for attempted murder.

What you have to understand,
Barnaby, is historical context.

-I think the only thing
that I have to --

Marcia,
would you please stop

that damned noise?

So, William the Conqueror,
what do you know about him?

Uh, 1066,
Battle of Hastings.

-Oh, not just Hastings.

The French had to subjugate
all the people

along the South Coast
to cover their rear

and who do you think was
in charge of the mopping!

Sir Richard Guillaume.

-Well done!

Guillaume --
French for "William" --

my late husband's
direct ancestor

and a fine fellow who was
also quite ruthless,

as one has to be,
with barbarians.

Yes, if I could just um --

-His Sword of Guillaume,
as his weapon became known,

took many Anglo-Saxon lives and
came to symbolize everything

that the English hated
about the French, yes?

-Yes, I'm --
-So! Naturally, when,

20 years ago, my son, Richard,
a direct descendent

of this fine warrior,
appeared in Brighton,

scene of Guillaume's
greatest butchery,

the local natives conspired
to attack him,

leaving him as you see him now
and ending our family line.

Not white-on-white,
Marcia,

for goodness' sake!

Lady Matilda, can I
get this correct, please?

You're saying that
your son's injuries

were caused
by a revenge attack

for something that happened
almost a thousand years ago?

-Absolutely.

Your average Englishman
is a very primeval creature,

which is why I'm having none
of this "chummy-chummy,

let's make friends
with the murderers" nonsense.

What you need there

is some
Zephirine Drouhin.

Uh, Lady Matilda?

A random mugging, for his
watch and his wallet,

that's what was decided,
at the time.

-Fiddlesticks!
Revenge, Barnaby, revenge!

The police down there
got it all wrong.

-Well, as it happens I,
myself, was never happy

with the conclusions
of the Brighton officers.

It all seemed
a bit too pat, to me.

Hmm.

But, of course, as a junior
officer, which I was,

at the time, my opinion
carried but little weight.

I'd love to do some digging
for you, but, of course,

if the Brighton trip
doesn't happen --

-Are you trying
to co

Lady Matilda,
do you know

how many
firearms regulations

you contravened
yesterday?

-Goodness, you are.

I think we have
allied interests.

The Hicks man,

have you got him
in your sights?

Ahh.

All right?

Matilda!

So glad
you saw the light.

Hello, the Terrys.

All set?

-Yeah.
Thanks for setting it up.

Yeah. Thanks comes
with 50% of the profits.

Sorry.
I forgot my cassock.

MARCIA: If you could
just give me a hand.

Whoopsie daisy.

You'll catch a chill.

-Morning, Dave.

MARCIA: Careful.

You're not
on the list.

-Police liaison.

All set?

Sweet as.
You hardly need come.

Always stay near
my money.

And, Dave, if it
goes wrong this time,

it won't just be your wife
that gets shafted.

She didn't like you, you know!
My wife.

-I should hope not.

I'd hate
to have slept

with a total nutter.

Righty-ho!

Lovely
to see you all here.

We'll be taking a short
comfort break in Crawley,

in deference to
the pensioners' prostates,

and then it's on to Brighton
for shopping and sightseeing,

followed by tea and mayoral
reception at the Pavilion.

Now, remember, we are all
ambassadors for Causton

and I know
I can rely on --

Oh, do be quiet,
you tedious little man.

Driver, drive.

I've always had a bit of
a thing about Brighton.

It sort of says --

well, something
to everyone.

-Oh, yes.

When I was a boy,
I went on the ghost train.

Ah.

Learnt all about the fear
of God then, I can tell you.

Oh, well, we'll give that
a go, then, eh?

Hey, fancy a bit of fun
among the spooks, eh?

Have you ever been
really terrified?

-Not until now,
Giles.

Ugh!

A couple of years ago,
the governor

suspected Mayor Hicks
of a dodgy property deal,

so he' s kept this file on him
-- complaints, mainly --

wants me to search
for anything interesting.

-He's obsessed!

No, just sick of petty
corruption downtown.

And obsessed.

You're not really
going to

attack your husband,
are you, Jen?

-Nah, I'm just going to
give him an earful.

Everything all right,
your end?

Yes, fine.
What's the matter?

Oh, there's this bloke
who's decided to join us.

I mean, nothing serious;
I just don't want

any complications --
I thought you might be able

to get him out the way,
somehow.

Yeah!

HICKS: Right-ho,
everyone,

how about a nice,
bracing stroll

on the pier,
along the front,

or a bit of shopping
in the Lanes?

MARCIA: I'll just
get my coat.

HICKS: Remember:
on the coach by 12:00

for the short ride
to the reception!

Yes, lovely, isn't it?
Yeah, yeah.

A bit blustery, but we
don't mind that, do we?

Oh!

-Fun pier, I think.

You don't have to
strangle me.

-Oh, sorry, madam.

John!
-Tom.

How are you doing?
You're looking well.

I just had a call
from our lady mayoress,

asking if I might
show you the site.

How convenient.

Hop in.
-Thank you; thank you.

-And remember: he' s an old man,
so, take it easy.

TERRY: Don't worry.

Yeah, well done, girl.
Your bloke just took him off.

Yeah, just got to keep the balls
in the air a bit longer,

then, once the deal
goes through,

I thought we might pop down
to my Spanish place

for a bit of a celebrate.
Yeah.

TRENT: What number?

LUCY: Number three.

TRENT: Here we are.

Mr. Wakely?
-Yes.

Your daughter asked us
to drop by.

Who?

Your daughter,
madam mayor,

she sent us.

She's the mayor,
you know.

And she said
you had some things

you'd like to show us.

Have I?

May we come in?

Would you like
to come in?

Well, it's lovely.
Why is it so cheap?

-It floods.
The sea comes in down there.

Local conservationists
want to abandon

the sea defenses altogether,
so that the whole place

goes under and becomes
a wildlife reserve.

So where they going to build
these holiday chalets, then?

Along the high side,
I guess.

Couldn' t put any solid
buildings there -- they' d sink.

Uh-huh.

-I can't see his angle,
meself.

Is he up for reelection?

Maybe it's just
a vote-catching exercise.

BARNABY: Hmm.
Or maybe it isn't.

JOHN: Oh, I got you
the Richard William file.

-Good man.

SHAWCROSS: That ruined pier
says a thousand things.

Like what?

-Well, the futility
of man's efforts

at self-aggrandizement,
moral decline.

It says the pier
burnt down.

Good God, no wonder
the church is empty.

Now, go and find Marcia and
tell her I want a cup of tea.

This is the best one.

Basket-hilted
broadsword.

With a crest
and two scabbard mounts.

And an infantry officer's
battle dress sword,

made by Prosser
of Charing Cross in 1803.

Probably saw Waterloo.

Hmm, I bet it did.

What was it Christine
wanted me to do?

She wanted us
to have them

officially valued
for you.

For free.

Good idea.

You can never be
too careful.

TRENT: Dead right.

DOUGLAS: Tea.

SHAWCROSS: Excuse me.

Lady Matilda
would like a cup of tea.

JENNY:
It's just so sad.

So, let's cheer him up.

Um, ahem, I have to

get Matilda
a cup of tea.

I wonder if you
wouldn't mind

keeping an eye
on Richard for me.

JENNY: Of course.
-No problem.

Hello, Dicky boy.

MAN: One latte and one
cappuccino, then, please.

MARCIA:
One tea, please.

WOMAN: There we are.

This file's been altered,
after the initial interviews.

-How do you work
that out?

Well, these two pages, look.
See?

Different typeface,
different typewriters.

This page has been
retyped.

-It's a bit of a leap.

The SIO on this case --

-DCI Jim Harper.

I'd love to have a look at his
daybooks, written diaries.

He's retired; he's gone off
to the Costa del Coppers.

Has he?
Could you give him a ring?

Gran always said you were
a bit of a terrier.

Drink your tea.

Dear God.

-"Thank you, Marcia"
would've been nice.

Do you have faith,
Mr. Hicks?

Yeah, in meself.

-Oh, that's interesting,
you see, because --

Giles, I'm busy.
Yes, Dave.

-Oh, yes,
of course, busy.

Everyone's busy,
these days.

Fun fair for me, then.

Yes.

Something real.

-Just one more, George.

JENNY: Marcia!

Marcia! Quick, come here,
it's Richard! Quick!

I don't know
what the matter is.

-Richard. Richard!

Stop.
What's happened here?!

Better get him
another nappy.

You are despicable, man!

What?
-Truly despicable!

-It's all right, Richard.

It'll be fine.
-Bye-bye.

Come on.
It's all right.

Let's go do the
ghost train, then.

I don't want
to go anywhere with you.

I don't like you.

Nobody does, darling.
That's the joy of being me.

I'll go frighten
the ghosts on my own, then.

Didn' t Hicks' s cowboys screw
up the guv' s roof repairs?

Well, maybe that's what's
driving his tram on this one.

No, this is him,
doing his moral bit.

Oh.

Revenge is just
a byproduct.

Aah!

Aah!

HICKS: Right, everybody off.
That's it.

This way, George.

Weather's looking up,
Matilda,

so if you'd like to --
right.

Everyone, everyone, down.
That's about all of us.

That's it.

Mr. Mayor,
what a pleasure.

-Madam Mayor,
it's my pleasure.

Allow me to introduce you
to the members of our council --

Welcome to Brighton.
-And Chamber of Commerce.

Christine will be chairing
the proceedings.

-Giles, how was
the ghost train?

Oh, as always:

dark, godless,
and reassuringly hellish.

-That's our
local optimist.

Hey.

-Jenny!

What have you done
with Hugh Dalgleish?

-He's nothing
to do with me.

I'm going to go shopping.
Do you want to come buy a hat?

-What about
the reception?

Oh! Too boring.

And I have another agenda.
Do you remember?

-Hey, Jenny,
don't do anything silly.

That's Jenny.

She runs
a very nice hotel.

She' s going through a bad
patch, you know, private life.

MAN: I do like making my own
arrangements, but the choir --

MAN: Bells, gas masks.
This is the best.

Now, for instance, this is
a pretty extraordinary bit of --

SHAWCROSS: Really?

MAN: Oh, our eyes were popping
out like stalks -- Oh.

MAN: Over here, please.
Look this way.

Could you all just...?
Over here.

We should go.

JOHN: Your boy certainly
looks shifty enough.

BARNABY: And your girl,
is she all right?

Very nice.
Popular, too.

HICKS: Silence.
Silence, please.

Your host, her worship,
the mayor of Brighton.

WAKELY: Thank you,

Mr. Mayor.

I won't
keep you all long.

I just wanted to draw
your attention

to the program of events
and to say

how delighted we are
to revive the tradition

of the Causton-Brighton
reunion

and to see so many
of the youngsters here today.

Come along. Hotel.

I'm also

very happy to welcome

the Causton Chamber of Commerce
to our city,

and hope that the contacts
and friends they make here

will result
in further social

and economic exchanges
between our two communities.

So you all have
a splendid time

and, for those of you
who enjoy a good laugh,

we have our annual
comedy festival

at various venues --

I'm sorry,
ladies and gentlemen.

Is Det Chief Insp
Barnaby here?

We' ve had to close the pier.
In this town, that' s sacrilege.

It's a right bloody mess.

And he's not looking
too chipper, either.

-He's certainly
somewhat diminished.

Is this one
of your lot?

Yeah, that is -- was --
Hugh Dalgleish.

-That's his weekend,
right down the Swanee.

So, starting
with the obvious.

did this Dalgleish
have any enemies?

-God! John,
he had only enemies.

So he won't be missed?

-Heh, no. There'll be
dancing in the streets.

Log it as a shaving
accident, then.

Can I ask you
a few questions?

Barnaby.

This has got to be
contained.

This could screw up a very
good deal for our town.

Hicks, was Hugh Dalgleish
involved in your...deal?

Oh, come on.
As if!

This was legit
council business.

Then why was he here?

-Bit of a jolly, I suppose.
Him and Jenny Russell.

Really?

Not disappointed,
are you?

JOHN: Pathology's initial
says it looks like

a clean swipe
with a very sharp blade.

I'm rounding up all
our local Samurai nutters.

Did you bring
any crazies with you?

-Only the usual.

Where would you go
to buy a hat round here?

Yes.

It's lovely, madam,
really suits you.

-Jenny.

Ah, Tom! What do you think,
"My Fair Lady," or what?

Jenny, could I have
a word, please?

-Hmm, too tarty.

Jenny, sit you down.

This is Det Chief Insp
John Barnaby

from Brighton CID;
he's my cousin.

Oh, goodness me,
keeping it in the family.

Nice to meet you, John.

So what is it?

Hugh Dalgleish
has been killed.

Murdered.

On the pier.

Well, that's terrible.

What was your relationship
with Mr. Dalgleish?

I knew him.

Nothing more, Jenny?

No.

Well, not
for a long time.

Hang about.

I thought
I'd find you here!

I knew, if I waited
long enough, you'd turn up!

BILL:
What are you doing?

JENNY: You' ve ruined my
business and you' ve ruined my
life!

And, as for you, you should
find a man of your own.

Did he not tell you
that he was married?

BILL: Ah! Jen!

Come back.

Anyone you knew?

There you are, sir.

-Aha, yes!
Thank you.

Enjoy your meal.
-Very nice, Sarge.

Well, he' s off, having a jolly.
Why shouldn' t we have some fun?

The beauty
of the mobile phone --

take the office with you.

Cheers.
-Cheers.

I don't believe --

Sir.

Where the hell are you?

They said you'd gone out
to lunch, for God's sake!

Just popped out
for a sarnie, sir.

I can hear ducks.
Oh, no, no.

Jones, I've got
a murder down here.

Hugh Dalgleish:
decapitated.

Do I have your full
attention now?

Oh, right.

The Terrys -- see if they
got back, would you?

They seem to have disappeared
from down here.

Then go and talk
to Perkins at the bank

and, look, take no nonsense
from him, will you?

I want to know all about
Dalgleish's finances,

especially any dealings
he may have had

with Dave Hicks
and/or Jenny Russell.

Someone murdered
Hugh Dalgleish.

One lunch.

Sí, Jim Harper,
policía inglés.

Policía Brighton,
Inglaterra.

What?

Why didn't you tell me
you spoke English?

Yes, that's very funny.

Okay, listen to me:
you tell Jim Harper to call me,

DCI John Barnaby,
ASAP -- oh.

Have you got a pen?

-I'm sorry, detective,

but my hands are tied.

It's the basic principle
of the 1998 Act, I'm afraid.

Data must not be disclosed
to other parties

without the consent of the
individual whom it is about

and neither Mr. Hicks
nor Mr. Dalgleish

have informed me
of such consent.

Not that Mr. Dalgleish
is likely to be so doing,

under the circumstances.

Why do you bother,
Mr. Perkins?

I'm sorry?

This ridiculous
runaround,

every time we come to you
for information!

As I just stated,
the Act says --

The Act says, in clear
and massive print,

under Exceptions, Section 29:
"Data processed

for the prevention
or detection of crime,

the apprehension
or prosecution of offenders,

or the assessment
or collection of taxes

are exempt from the first
data protection principle."

You know it by heart.

Yeah, and a lot of other
basic statutes as well.

It saves time when dealing with
recalcitrant or obstructive

lawyers, accountants,
bank managers.

The law, Mr. Perkins,
is like the Bible:

you can always find one quote
to contradict another.

You really shouldn't talk
to me like that.

I haven't had
any lunch.

SHAWCROSS: I was going to
have the service here,

but I suppose I'm a bit
superfluous now, as usual.

-Hugh Dalgleish.

Look there, see?
1069.

The original chapel
on this site

was built by
Richard de Guillaume,

umpteenth great-grandfather
of our poor Richard.

Did Dalgleish
ever visit your church?

-Only recently,
to talk to Matilda.

What about?

-I don't know.

She was always on the lookout
for cash for the church.

You see, the original
Norman chapel

was burnt down
by the locals.

They hated the Normans,

especially
the Guillaume family.

It's all cyclical.

Goes around, comes around.

Goes around,
comes around.

No one learns.
No one cares.

-Jones.

Perkins at the bank said
Dalgleish had a mortgage

on Jenny Russell's hotel.

She was into him
for some serious money.

What about Dalgleish
and Hicks?

He says that certain
business accounts

can only be accessed
through head office.

Well, that's nonsense.
-I know.

Well, I need the information.
Think laterally.

Yes, sir.

What about the Terrys?
-Yeah, they're back home.

Well, I need to know
who they met,

why they took off
so quick,

and what was
in their holdall.

Will do.

Do you know anyone
at the bank?

Yes.

Good.

Mmm!

Tom, I left a message for Harper
in a bar in Fuengirola.

-Look over there.

Is that Richard William?

-Twenty years on, yeah.

Poor lad.

"Relationship"!

I do not have
relationships

with the likes
of Hugh Dalgleish.

-But, lately,
Lady Matilda,

you have been talking
to him, haven't you?

And that,

quite frequently.

From whom have you heard
this gossip?

A source.

As Giles well knows,

my church is in serious need
of expensive repairs.

Dalgleish had money;

I was trying
to extract some from him.

I could not stand
the man.

Any particular reason
for that?

Well, apart from
the fact that he was

the most ghastly parvenu,
he tried to have me removed

from the council,
my own council.

He didn't.

Why did he do that?

I got wind
of a dubious scheme

he was cooking up
with that Hicks creature.

What was the scheme?

Lady Matilda,
this is

Det Chief Insp John Barnaby
from Brighton CID.

He's the senior investigating
officer in this case.

Oh.

Are you all called Barnaby
in the police?

Well,
it makes life easier.

Well, I hope you people are
more competent, these days.

We do our best.

Hicks and Dalgleish
had acquired some land.

They were trying to push
a change-of-use

through the council so that
they could develop it.

And you stopped them?

I told Hicks that Dalgleish
was sleeping with his wife.

Everyone else knew.

I thought it was most unfair
he should be left in the dark.

It led

to a falling out between them,
a collapse of their scheme,

and, of course, the end
of the Hicks marriage.

Oh, right.

Now, don't be
censorious, Tom.

That land
is still home

to the bluebell
and the buttercup,

not the hideous
executive home.

Talk about a dinosaur.

-Yeah, we have one
in every village, John.

They deter social change.
-That one would deter evolution.

Hey, John!

That is it!

The deal, the scam.
She just said it.

The little --
He's trying it on again.

You know
that change

But that's floodplain down
there; you can't build on it.

Could we have a little chat
with your madam mayor?

-We do have a murder on,
you know?

Yes, I know we do,

and we're looking
for motives, aren't we?

Not just riding your mayor?
-No, no, no-no-no.

But everything is linked, John.
All rivers flow down to the sea.

-Oh, yes.

Let me lead, okay?

-Oh, yeah.
Your town.

Glad you noticed.

Good to be here, John.

We don' t seem to have much luck
with our Causton relationship.

Is there anything I can do
to help, Chief Inspector?

Mayor Hicks:
what do you know about him?

Well, he seems like a man
who gets things done.

A bit, um, a bit fly,
would you say?

I'm not sure
what you mean by that.

Mayor Hicks
has a bit of a name

for, um,
putting together deals.

Yes?

Yeah.

Deals which will benefit
Mayor Hicks slightly more

than they would benefit
the community at large.

Well, he has no criminal record.
I did check.

Why did you do that?

Why did you do that?

Common
business practice.

I wouldn't want the council
to get involved in something

that wasn't totally
above board.

-Whose idea --
Sorry, John.

Whose idea
was the land deal

between
the two councils?

I don't recall.

I met Mr. Hicks

at a local-government
symposium.

I rather think
he floated the idea

and I looked at what
we had on our books

that would accommodate his plans
for the holiday cabins.

I came up with
the Wandin Valley.

And, now, if you'll excuse
me, I am very busy.

Oh, right, of course;
thank you so much

for your valuable time,
Ms. Wakely.

Always a pleasure.

Not at all.

I know what
you're thinking.

I doubt it.

You're thinking
I'm a great, big wuss

who can't stand up
to women in authority.

No, I'm not; I'm sure
there's a very good reason

for your groveling
sycophancy.

And there it is.

Oh, look, there's
your little chum, too.

It's a northern thing --
know how to operate a ferret.

Ha ha.

-Looks like
they're having

a bit of a falling out.

Which means she either
doesn't know

what she's
let herself in for

or she's balling him out
for bringing us down on her.

Either way, she' s too smart
to go down with that sorry spiv.

I'll give her
a nudge tomorrow,

when she's had time
to sweat a bit.

Who is it?

Tom Barnaby.

Oh, well,
I knew you fancied him.

What do you want?

Well, I don't want you going
with anyone else,

that's for sure.

Oh, but it's all right for you
to screw around, is it?

Look, when you went bananas
out there today,

something in me
kind of woke up.

"That is my girl,"
I thought.

"What am I doing, Bill?"

I've left her.

I've told her
it's all over.

I want to come home
with you.

Just like that?

Why not?

What do you say?

[Rain falls,
thunder rumbles]

A sign.

Is that so much
to ask for?

A token
of your existence.

An acknowledgement
of mine.

No, of course not.

Because you don't exist,
do you?!

You're just not there.

Not for me,
not for anyone.

We invented you.

You only live
through us!

We are your witness.

Do you hear me?!

You're a figment of our
imagination, our need.

You didn't create us!

We created you!

HICKS: All aboard!
We're leaving now.

Last one on's a sissy!

-Hi, Giles.

God, you smell like
a brewer's mare.

Hey, are you all right?

Just a little,
for my nerves.

Well, sit by a window.

Hmm.

John!

I found Harper.

He faxed me his handwritten
notes, taken at the time.

You'll find
what you're after.

Thank you.

Chocks away!

JENNY: Wait for us!

Wait for us!

Good morning.
I'm sorry I'm late.

Um, this is

my husband, Bill,
who has decided that

he no longer wants
to live with his little tart,

but would like to come home
and live with his wife.

So what do we all think
about that, then?

Isn't that lovely?

No, I didn't
think so, either.

Ohh!

And if I ever see you
in Causton again,

I will chop
your bits off!

Righty-o,
ding-ding, let's go!

Ah!

Oh, go on,
give us a cuddle.

Now, don't tempt me.

MAN: Come on!

JONES:
What are you doing?

-Removing an illegal
obstruction.

It's not like Dalgleish
is going to object, is it?

STEPHENS: That's not
a very smart thing to say.

The man was a pest.

He deserved
to be culled.

Why did you leave Brighton
before being questioned?

We were busy.
Shop to run, back here.

JONES: So why go,
in the first place?

Business.

Our business.

How did you get back?

Hitched a ride
on a passing camel.

You aren't
helping yourselves.

And nor were you, when Dalgleish
was ruining our lives.

Det Chief Insp Barnaby
would like to know

what you had
in the holdall

you were carrying
to Brighton.

-Rhubarb.

Long sticks of rhubarb.

Listen,

messing me around is
a mistake you will regret.

No, it's a statement
of fact.

STEPHENS:
What did you say?

-Get on to our favorite
magistrate -- search warrant.

Six uniforms --
big blokes, big boots.

I'm sick of this.

PC: On the double
yellows, then.

PC: Looks like it's been
here a couple of days.

Ready to go, sir.

And they are at home.
-Hang on a minute.

Slow down. They' re not going to
go anywhere, just yet.

Now, George.
-Brighton Forensics phoned.

Apparently, The cutting edge
of the murder weapon

left traces of ferrous oxide
on the neck wound,

which would suggest some kind
of antique blade.

And what
do you make of that?

-Well, absolutely
no idea.

Well, that's very useful,
isn't it?

Well, actually,
it is useful.

Thank you, George!

Right, let's go!

Take this building.
Check out his van.

Go help the others
when you're finished.

BARNABY: Yes! With me.

JONES: You two, those buildings
we passed on the way in.

You two,
everything else.

Turn it over, boys!

PC: Down here.
Come on, quick!

TRENT:
What's all this about?

BARNABY: Oh, good morning.
May we come in? Thank you!

You cannot do this.

-Lucy, this is
a murder investigation.

You'd be surprised,
what we can do.

Guv!
-Yeah.

Jones!

Yes, sir.

-Whoo!

Oh, this is the bag
they had in Brighton.

What's that?
-Deliberately blunted.

Probably just ceremonial.
Certainly not a murder weapon.

But, of course, we don't
know that, for sure.

So, please, explain
how you come to be

in possession
of a murder weapon.

-That can't be.
Really.

Looks like it.

-They're antique swords.
We're antique dealers.

So why hide them?

They were stored,
not "hidden."

Where did you get them?

Off a bloke.

Let's spell this out
very clearly.

You've been bugging me
for months about Dalgleish.

You were in the vicinity
at the time of the murder.

You're in possession
of a possible murder weapon.

Why did you hide
the swords?

They were procured...
differently.

Come on,
spit it out.

An old man owned them.

JOHN: So you robbed him?
-No.

Dave Hicks.

Dave...Hicks?

It's always Dave Hicks!
Dave Hicks what?

-He put us on to 'em.

They belonged to that
woman mayor's dad.

-Please, go on.

Dave had been round
to the house

for meetings
with that Mrs. Mayor,

you know, sort of
off-limit meetings,

clocked the swords,
saw that the old bloke was

a little bit doolally,
reckoned,

if we nipped in there,
we could maybe persuade him

to sell the swords
cheaply.

Then we'd bung Dave
a percentage

of any profits
on resale.

Thank you.

-Right, let's go through
that again, shall we?

A little gem,
indeed, John.

I thought it might help you
with your nudge.

It certainly will.
I'll get right on it.

Cheers.

Stephens, what?

I got on to my friend
Sarah at the bank.

We do Pilates together.

She accessed
those accounts

the manager was being
a bit slow on.

A policewoman who can
circumvent the law.

Well done, you.

Well, now,
there's a surprise.

Or not.

Chief Inspector,
I really don't know

what you're talking about.

-Council agenda
for next month.

Upcoming business:

traffic, housing,
blah blah blah.

Then, right down here,
in "other business" --

probably come up
when everyone's tired

and just wants to go home --
a proposal to reinforce

sea defenses
in the Wandin Valley.

Proposer? Ooh, look,
her worship, the mayor.

So?

So, if you repair
the sea defenses,

that land will
no longer be floodprone.

Correct.

Making the land rocket
in value.

But we won't own it.

No, but your friend
Hicks will.

I don't see or like where
you're going with this.

I think you
should leave now.

You held meetings
with Mr. Hicks

at your father's house --
is that usual?

It was convenient.

And Hicks took a bit of a shine
to your Dad's antique swords.

Do you remember that?

Your poor, old dad
was robbed yesterday.

A couple of Hicks's mates
lifted his swords.

Apparently, Hicks
put them up to it.

Now, there's a thing.

How can I help you,
Chief Inspector?

BARNABY: £100,000?

Where'd you get this?

Hugh Dalgleish
gave you £100,000

two weeks
before he died.

-It was a loan
to the council.

Private finance
initiative

to help pay
for the Brighton land.

No, it wasn't, Mayor Hicks,
it was used for bungs

to vote for a scheme
to reinforce

the sea defenses
on your land.

And, now poor
Mr. Dalgleish is dead,

he won't be asking
for it back, will he?

And that, sir, to me,
spells motive for murder.

You're crazy.

I'll get back to you, sir.

And may I suggest,
Mr. Mayor,

you call your lawyer?

Christine?

Dave!

Barnaby's all over the
place. You got to kill the
trail.

Wipe everything.
Dump the hard drive.

Talk to your iffy mates.

Tell 'em to keep schtum,
otherwise,

I'll tell the whole world
I bribed 'em.

I go down,
they come with me.

Where does that
leave me?

Same as always --
a good, honest citizen

helping the police
whenever she can.

He wanted to take me
to Marbella.

He's all class.

Say night-night
to the family.

Grandpa William,

Great-grandpa William,
William of Normandy.

Night-night!

Up the stairs
to Bedfordshire.

William the Whig,
William of Parva,

William of everywhere
and everything.

SUE:
You are cheeky.

Night-night, John.
-Goodnight, Sue.

SHAWCROSS: Yeah.
Yes.

JOHN:
What's up with him?

Yes, I am very sorry.

I know you can't
forgive me, but...

Yes, I will.

Yes, I will.

Goodnight.

So, how was
your cousin?

John? Well, very good.
Right stuff.

And?

And what?

And how was
Jenny Russell?

Oh.

Not too good.

Things haven't been going,
um, too well for her.

-Well,
isn't she lucky,

to have friends who are
so supportive of her?

-Yes.
Yes, she is.

Yes.

Joyce --

Aaaaaaaah!

Aaaaah!

Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!

Want to move it
back, John?

Probably the same
murder weapon.

Definitely the same MO.
-MAN: Easy does it, Terry.

Okay, Bill,
let's hear it again.

This time, try a story we
might find vaguely credible.

I just dropped by

to pick up a few things
that were jointly owned.

Oh, yeah, like her jewelry
and cash?

-I don't know
how they got there.

Up.

-Open-and-shut,
is it?

I don't think so.

JONES: Okay,
mind your head.

Can you imagine the pain
of crucifixion?

Hours and hours
of agony, days.

Giles.

-I'm sorry.

I just find it all too --

-The anonymous letters.

You said the first one
was addressed to you,

but you threw it away.

Yes.

And, please, don't tell me
you can't remember,

because I still
won't believe you.

-It suggested

I was gay.

I'm not.

I'm not anything.

Some people are
sexual creatures;

some people aren't.

I have neither reaped
nor have I sown.

How long have you known
Richard William?

-I've been the unhappy rector
of this parish for...two years.

That doesn't answer
my question, does it?

What do you mean?

Was it pure coincidence
that you came here as rector

or were you driven here

by your sense
of guilt?

I was drawn here
by God.

You, sir, took your degree
in theology at Oxford.

You were
a contemporary

of Richard William
at Oxford.

Was I? Maybe.

-And you fell in love
with him there, didn't you?

SHAWCROSS: Love.

What is love?

Is God love?

And the attack
on Richard

in Brighton
20 years ago,

I've got the investigating
officer's notes on that.

When Lady Matilda
was mayor of Causton,

she took Richard
along with her

as her escort
on a Brighton trip

and you secretly met up
with him there, didn't you?

-Yes.

BARNABY: But you had
a falling out; you argued.

Am I right?

-Richard!
-No!

Richard.

He...fell.

-The police thought
it was a gaybashing,

but Lady Matilda would have
none of that that,

no such slur
on her family name,

so she bullied
a Brighton police officer

into falsifying
his findings.

Hmm. What were you
fighting about?

Richard said he'd fallen
in love with someone else.

Who?

He didn't say.

Oh. Write it all down,
Giles, everything.

The truth, this time.
Barnaby.

It's me.
-Ah, John.

I've got the tape.
Are you up for it?

Oh, yes.
Well done, you.

Look, I'll do the paperwork
and I'll see you there.

Take me about an hour.

So, what now?

Yes.

Yes, of course.

John!

Jones, this is Det Chief Insp
John Barnaby, Brighton CID.

He's my cousin.

Heard a lot
about you, sir.

I bet.

What now?
I'm getting sick of this.

-David Hicks,
we've come to arrest you.

Arrest?
What for?

Bribing
a council official.

What?!

-Conversation
between you

and Christine Wakely,
recorded yesterday.

We also have
all your emails.

Entrapment!

Det Sgt Jones,
would you care

to accompany the mayor
to the station?

Oh, turn the freaking
light off.

But he's no murderer.

-No.
Hasn't got the balls.

Are you sticking
around, John?

-No, I'll keep
working my end.

We'll have a proper drink
next time you come down.

-Oh, I look forward
to that.

And thank you, John;
thank you.

-Ugh!

Oh, Richard, I' m so sorry.
I' m just not very good at this.

Oh, Marcia!

Good afternoon.

How nice of you
to drop by.

Where have you been?
-Out.

Well, perhaps you could be
a little less enigmatic

and a fraction
more practical.

I have to attend
evensong.

BRACKNELL: Yes.

He likes soldiers dunked
in the yolk.

BRACKNELL:
These are lies!

Those people
would say anything

to blacken
our family name!

BARNABY: You knew
perfectly well that Richard

was not attacked,
leaving the library.

Actually, he was found
in a small park

on the outskirts
of Brighton,

a park where men
were known to go

to meet each other
for -- for --

for casual sex.

I had to protect

the family --
-Family name, yes, yes.

Look, listen,
I do understand that.

I believe

there is a link,
a connection,

between the murder victims
and certain anonymous notes

that were sent
to Giles Shawcross,

one of which suggests --

Yes, yes,
that Marcia and I have

an unnatural
relationship.

Giles told me
all about it.

Quite gleefully,
if you ask me.

Is it true?

Mr. Barnaby!

That is prurience,
not investigation.

Of course
it's not true!

I live in the big house
and have a village to run!

It's quite enough,
for any woman.

I as--
I assume equally arid.

She has
very few friends,

apart from those people
she meets in the gymnasium.

Oh, yes.

Obsessed with exercise.

Beneath
that mild exterior,

she's built like
a pit pony.

Lady Matilda,

do you know
who this is?

-Oh, one of Richard's

Oxford friends.

It's Giles Shawcross.

Giles?

The man who met
and attacked your Richard

in that park
in Brighton.

They were lovers.

No! Impossible.

Yeah, look at the chin,
the angle of the head.

It's Giles.

Oh, poor boy.

-Giles believed
that he was brought here

by a just,
if somewhat perverse, God,

to atone
for his youthful sins.

And Richard must've known
all about it

and unable to...
tell anyone.

Where is Marcia now?

Church.

I'd like to see her room,
please.

Upstairs,
third on the left.

-Thank you.

I must find Richard.

Richard...

Richard!

SHAWCROSS:
Thank you.

Thank you so much.

!

JONES: That is the Terrys,
winding me up.

We'll have to walk
from here.

BARNABY: Oh.

Ow!

I'm fine.

So Richard wasn't there?
-Didn't see him.

Well, maybe Richard's
got something to do with it.

-Oh, no, Jones, come on,
not in the real world.

Think about who was named
in those threatening letters.

Lady Matilda.
-Who was at home.

Reverend Giles,
Marcia.

-What is it connects them all,
one to another?

What are you doing?!

Not even the bellringers
stay for evensong.

Come in, do their bit,
then off to the pub.

-Can we get on with
the service, please?

What's the 1st Psalm?

Inheritance, Jones.
That's what connects them.

Look, Lady Matilda's
got a big estate --

it' s crumbling, yeah, but big
-- and a line that stretches
back

a thousand years, but it's all
going to come to an end,

in the shape of the wreck
that's Richard William.

MARCIA and SHAWCROSS:
"The Lord is my shepherd;

I shall not want.

He makes me to lie down
in green pastures:

he leadeth me
beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul:
he leadeth me

in the paths of righteousness
for his name's sake.

Yea, though I walk
through the valley

of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil".

JONES: You're kidding!
-I don't think so.

You think Dalgleish
was leaning on Jenny Russell

to marry Richard William?

Jenny Russell?!

Surely, Richard would be
incapable of --

-No, no, no, Jones,
not these days.

Perfectly possible, to extract
the sperm from Richard

and implant it
in a healthy female.

!

Yeah, who was deeply
in debt to Dalgleish.

-And you think Lady Matilda
went along with this?

Yeah, but I think
some other parties

were not quite
so willing.

And now,
a special prayer

for the dying,

for those
in our parish

about to face...
the final hurdle.

Stick to the proper order
of service, please.

Marcia Macintyre
devoted her entire life

to caring for Richard.

Now, Why would she do that,
do you think?

-She was in love with him.
-Yes, she was.

How did you get there?
-Nothing clever.

Searched her room.
Found her yearbook.

They were all
at Oxford together.

Marcia ousted Giles
from Richard's bed.

Giles crippled Richard.

-What a mess.

Yeah. Come on!

GILES: Lord have mercy.
Christ have mercy.

Lord have mercy.

Well, we know
what has to happen now.

Yes.

I'm ready.

Are you?

Thank you.

Thank you.

BARNABY: Marcia!

Put the sword down.
Giles, get out of here!

Stay where you are.

Give me the sword.

No! No.

"Vengeance is mine"
saith the Lord

and I will execute
vengeance in anger --

Jones, Jones.
-And fury upon the heathen,

such as they have never heard!

-SHAWCROSS: Aah!

Aagh!

Ah! Ahh. Ah.

Ah! Ahh.
-Jones!

My peace,
I give to you.

DS Jones.

Ambulance, Midsomer Parva
church, now!

Giles Shawcross --

his spinal cord' s been severed,
completely severed.

He's never
going to walk again.

I have been very much
at fault, Mr. Barnaby.

I don't think this is
about you, Matilda.

I only had
the one son.

And then Marcia
came along,

offering her services
as a carer.

I didn't know
she was --

No, well, she and Richard
had their little secret.

MARCIA: Is it
a light trim, sir?

Something
for the weekend?

BARNABY: For Marcia,
her whole life --

Who do we want
to look like today?

Was in the love
that she had for Richard --

Cary Grant, Clark Gable?
-And for her church.

She had no idea,
at the time,

of Richard's involvement
with Giles --

We'll look like our
oh-so-very-handsome self.

Until...until the new
rector turned up.

Hmm!

Mr. Shawcross,
there's one thing

we haven't actually
talked about,

which is the condition
of the roof.

No wonder Giles felt
he was in God's hands.

You were

gloriously oblivious,
weren't you?

But Marcia wasn't.

Quite.

I was never very good

at the subtleties
of this life, Mr. Barnaby.

And then Hugh Dalgleish
comes along,

with his extraordinary,
bizarre agenda.

It's very simple, Lady M:
I want land;

you want your precious
family line to continue.

I presume Dicky boy
still functions as a man.

I beg your pardon.

Ha. We take the seed
of his noble loins,

impregnate a suitable breeder
and join them legally.

BARNABY: And Marcia
heard it all.

I'm sure your pet rector
will do the deed.

And so,

betrayed, outraged,

terrified
of losing Richard,

she set about
eliminating everyone

involved in the scheme.

And what more suitably
biblical way to dispatch them

than with the fabled
Sword of Guillaume, hmm?

But, even
in her disturbed state,

Marcia maintained

a very high degree
of cunning,

by laying a false trail
of accusatory letters,

even one
maligning herself.

And she let her hooded alter ego
be recorded on CCTV,

and that opened

a whole avenue
of suspicions.

And then the revived
Causton-Brighton visit.

That presented her
with a perfect opportunity.

I mean, where else,
where better,

to begin her work,
than in the very place

where her lover
had been destroyed?

In Brighton,
she attached the sword

to the back of
Richard's wheelchair...

And then set out

to deliver her judgment
on Hugh Dalgleish.

Aah!

BARNABY: And then
she had to destroy

the proposed
breeding vessel

and Richard's
future wife,

Jenny Russell.

Jenny Russell.

And I'm guessing,
but you,

as co-instigator
of the scheme,

you'd have been next.

Oh, Marcia,
you poor woman.

Such demons.

Well,
things to be done.

Duties,
always duties.

You will excuse us?

Lady Matilda.

Come along, Richard.

People to visit,
gardens to tend.