All language subtitles for Midsomer Murders S13E02 The Made-to-Measure Murders

Bleeding me dry.

You're bleeding me dry!

You hear me?

Ah! Ah!

Help!

Help!

Help!

Morris Bingham was in the shop
yesterday, Mum.

He was asking after you.

Hey.

Don't you know what today is?

No.
What?

It's two years today
since your father passed away.

So show some respect.

Okay.
Okay.

Time we were opening the shop,
anyway.

Drop me off at the church,
would you?

MAN: Somebody told me

that the vicar's started
to hear confession.

YOUNG MAN:
Confession?

That's a Catholic thing,
isn't it, Uncle Matthew?

MATTHEW: It's not unheard of
in the C. of E., but I'm sure

your mother wouldn't have
anything to do with it.

Would you, Sonia?

I wouldn't confess the time
of day to Archie Moreland.

That is enough, Luke.

The vicar has been a great
comfort to me since your f--

since your father died.

I'm sorry, Mum.

I'm sorry.

Morning, Beatrice.

BEATRICE: Morning.

Where's Sonia?

We dropped her off
at the church.

What in God's name is that?

You said I could dress
one of the windows.

But it -- it's horrible!

BEATRICE: We sold three pairs
of those jeans

last week,
at 150 quid each.

£150, for jeans that are
already worn out?

I just --

I just don't get it.

MAN: The peace of God, which
passeth all understanding,

keep hearts and minds in the
knowledge and love of God

and of his only son,
Jesus Christ, our Lord.

And the blessing of God
Almighty, the Father,

the Son, and the Holy Ghost

be amongst us
and remain with us always.

Amen.

Amen.

Mrs. Woodley?

I'm sorry, Father.

You must trust in God
to give you strength

so that you can embrace life
again.

That's what Gerald would have
wanted, I'm sure.

It's these terrible feelings
of guilt.

You were a good and loving
wife.

You have nothing
to feel guilty about.

Oh, but I have.

Sonia, you know
that I can offer you

the sacrament of Confession
if you wish.

It's difficult, Father.

The truth is --

WOMAN: Oh!

Sorry.

Sorry, just sorting out
the prayer books.

It's all right, Mrs. Minchin.

Carry on, Mrs. Woodley.

No. Thank you.
It's all right.

I have to get back to the shop,
anyway.

Thank you.

Wendy, will you be at home
this evening?

Yes, of course, dear.
Why?

I must talk to you.

Sonia, love, are you all right?

Well, no.
Not really.

I'll see you later.

Morning, Sonia.
Morning, Luke.

Morning, Morris.

Morning, Mr. Bingham.

How many times?

It's Morris.
Please.

Your mother' s a
stubborn woman.

Tell me about it.

It's two years ago today
since Dad -- you know.

Ah.

No sign of my tweed, I suppose?

Afraid not, Morris.
Next week, maybe.

Morning, Mrs. Barnaby.

Morning, Luke.

I was wondering if Matthew
could do an alteration for me.

He's in the workshop,
if you'd like to go through.

I don't believe
I've had the pleasure.

Morris Bingham.

I'm Joyce Barnaby.

Lovely to meet a new face.

I' ve been living in Milton
Cross for five years,

and the natives
still aren't talking to me.

Isn't that right, Sonia?

See what I mean?

Allow me to escort you through
to the nerve center, Joyce.

Thank you.

I own the garden center
on the Causton Road

and a couple of properties
in the village --

not exactly an empire,
but we're working on it.

Ah.
Here we are.

The holy of holies.

The inner sanctum.

Morning, Matthew.

Morning, Beatrice.

Morning, Morris.

Mrs. Barnaby!

What can we do for you?

I found this in the vintage
shop in Causton.

It was only 20 quid.

But it's a bit big for me.

What do you think?

BEATRICE: It's a great coat.
Perfect coloring for you.

Oh!
Fantastic material.

Ah.

That's the Milton check.

For use by family and tenants
only.

Excuse me while I tug
my forelock.

His own check!
Gosh.

But he's not the only one.

Feast your eyes on this.

The Bingham tweed,
designed by yours truly.

We're awaiting delivery
of the first batch.

It's, um --

It's --

It's very striking.

For my use only.

But I shall be honored,
dear lady, to grant you

special license to wear
the Bingham tweed.

How kind.

This is more your sort of
thing, Mrs. Barnaby.

I found it in the basement.

Must be 70 or 80 years old.

It's absolutely gorgeous.

We could make you
a lovely topcoat.

Double breasted, maybe?

My husband would have kittens.

Well, this might be
your last chance, Mrs. Barnaby.

Our lease is about to run out,

and we may not be able
to renew it.

Matthew,
Mr. Milton's here.

Speak of the devil!

Milton!

Come in, Mr. Milton.

Matthew here was telling us
about his lease.

Morris -- please.

You' re not really going to
boot them out, are you?

Not if I can help it, no.

The Milton Estate is a business
like any other, Morris.

You should understand that.

I don't think we've met.

Ah, Joyce, allow me to
introduce

Edward Milton, lord and master
of all he surveys.

How do you do?

How do you do?

Except me, of course.

And you, come to think of it!

Joyce lives in Causton.

Ah!

I thought I hadn't seen you
in church.

You probably
go to St. Botolph's.

Lovely church.

Lovely vicar.

Quarter of an inch
off the sleeves?

Yes, at least.

We're not
regular churchgoers.

Come to St. Chad's one
Sunday.

Ticket pocket, Mr. Milton?

No.
No, thank you, Matthew.

We've a thriving
congregation.

She's a non-believer.
Leave her alone.

Here, Milton.

What do you think about this?

The Bingham Tweed!

Not bad, eh?

Makes yours look a tad dreary,
don't you think?

I hope you' re not going to
shoot in that, Morris.

You' ll scare the birds to
death.

MAN: Get off!

Matthew -- come quickly.

What the hell's going on?

Hey! Hey!

Hey, hey!

MAN: Get off!

Hey, hey!

Come on.

He was trying to nick
some trainers.

I was having a look,
that's all!

You were trying to steal them!

That's enough, Gary.

GARY: I just wanted
to try them on, that's all!

You were going to run out
of the shop with them!

Matthew, call the police.

Let's not be too hasty.

Gary's father works for me
on the Home farm.

Doesn't his mother work

for you, Matthew?

Katie does some sewing
for me, yes.

Well!

I think we can deal with this
without involving the police.

It' s not the first time that
he has caused trouble in here.

Let's exercise a little
Christian charity, shall we?

Give the lad a chance.

Whatever you say, Mr. Milton.

All right, but I won' t have
him in the shop again.

That's fair enough,
Mrs. Woodley.

And I'll have a word
with his parents.

All right.

Gary, you can go.

Thanks, Mr. Milton.

MILTON: Now, thank you
for your patience.

I' ll make sure he doesn' t
cause any more trouble.

Any decision on our lease yet,
Mr. Milton?

Soon, Matthew, soon.

I'll see you all in church
on Sunday.

JOYCE: Well, in fact,
he owns the whole village,

bar the house that
this Bingham chap lives in.

So when he asked them
to let the boy go,

well, naturally,
they all went along with it.

Self-policing.
I'm all for that.

It's a bit feudal, isn't
it?

The lord of the manor
dispensing justice and so on?

Matthew Woodley
showed me a lovely tweed.

BARNABY: Mm?

Offered to make me an overcoat.

Make you a coat?

That sounds horribly expensive.

Anyway, what's wrong
with the coat you've got?

I quite like that coat.

I bet you can't even remember
what color it is.

I can.
It's brown.

Blue.

Browny-blue.

It's gray.

And it's almost as knackered
as this shirt.

Well, browny-blue, gray --
it's the same thing.

That's me done for the day.

I'll be home later.

Hello, Katie.

I'm so sorry
about what happened with Gary.

It won't happen again.

Well, t had better not, because
next time I' ll kill him.

MATTHEW: All right, Luke.

It's okay.

But I'd prefer it if he stayed
away from the shop from now on.

I'll make sure he does.

Matthew, I hate to ask,
but is there any work for me?

There' s a suit needs
finishing.

You could take it now.

Fantastic.

Thanks.

Trevor.

Take yourself off to the pub.

I want to talk to Sonia.

Ah --

Okay.

What is it, Sonia, love?

I don't know where to begin.

MATTHEW: Sonia?

Go and start the car.

Sonia?

I wish you'd talk to me.

I can't.

If it's about Gerald --

Gerald was my brother.

I know what he was like.

He was a bully.

His time had come,
and there was nothing

that you or I or anybody
could do to help him.

Anyway, it's not just Gerald.

What is it, then?

I don't understand.

I don't want to talk about
it.

I'd do anything to help you,
Sonia.

Anything to make you happy.

We're going to be late
for church.

We acknowledge and bewail
our manifold sins

and wickedness, which we,
from time to time,

have most grievously committed

by thought, word, and deed
against Thy divine majesty,

provoking most justly

Thy indignation and wrath
against us.

We earnestly repent

and are heartily sorry for
these, our misdoings.

The remembrance of them
is grievous unto us.

The burden of them
is intolerable.

The body of Christ.

Amen.

The body of Christ.

Amen.

The body of Christ.

Amen.

The body of Christ.

I can't --

Oh!

Hello.

That was lovely.

Good.

Hello.

Morning, Derek.
Katie.

Hello, Gary.
Behaving yourself?

Yeah.

Good.

Mrs. Woodley.

Why didn't you take
Communion?

I think I'm ready
to talk to you now, Father.

Very well.
Come to me after Evensong.

MORRIS: Not still mourning that
brute of a husband, is she?

If it were me, I'd be dancing
cartwheels on his grave.

Well, I'm off to meet
Beatrice at the pub.

Do you fancy a pint,
Uncle Matthew?

No, thanks,
I'm off to the Sopers'

to see if Katie's finished
that suit.

See you later, then.
See you, Mum.

Did I hear you say you were

going to meet the vicar
this evening?

What if I am?

Sonia, please be careful
what you say.

Matthew, whatever's said
in Confession is confidential.

Confession?

For crying out loud,
what's got into you?

I know you only go to church

because you want to keep in
with Edward Milton.

I don't want us to lose
the shop!

Well, I go because I believe.

And my conscience is not clear,
Matthew.

Same again?

Um, no, thanks.

I'm tired.
I think I'll go home.

Well, I'll come with you.

Not tonight, Luke.

Please, Bea.

They're doing my head in
at home.

I told you, I'm tired.

Well, what sort of relationship
is this, anyway?

The kind where I don't have
to spend the night with you

if I don't feel like it.

Evening, Derek.

Is Katie in?

She's gone out.

She was finishing a suit for
me.

I don't suppose you'd know
if it's ready?

Couldn't say, Matthew.
Sorry.

Are you all right?

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Just, you know, thinking about
the redundancies.

Any news on the lease?

No.

Like you, just waiting.

Ah, well.

Took a hefty blow to the head,

then stabbed in the back,
probably in that order.

We won't know for sure
till later.

Time of death?

Between 9:00 and midnight
last night, I'd say.

What do you think, sir?

A mugging gone wrong?

It could be.
No credit cards.

On the other hand,
a £50 note there.

Who found her?

The vicar, sir, he's waiting
for you in the vestry.

Well, when we' ve finished
here.

The victim's name
is Sonia Woodley.

She lives here in Milton Cross.

-She's a widow.

She lives with her son
and brother-in-law.

I expected Mrs. Woodley
last night after Evensong.

I waited for an hour, and then
I walked home to the rectory.

I must have walked right by
her.

And you found the --
found the body this morning?

Yes, I --

on my way to open the church
for morning prayers.

You say you were expecting
Mrs. Woodley?

Yes, I was.
Yes.

May I ask what for?

Mrs. Woodley had expressed
a desire

to make a private confession.

Confession?
Aren't you C. of E. here?

The sacrament of confession
is part of the Anglican faith.

You' re High Church, aren' t
you?

I thought I smelled incense.

We observe some
of the traditional forms

of worship, yes.

When Mrs. Woodley didn' t turn
up last night, were you
concerned?

No, to be honest, no.

It wouldn't have been
the first time.

She was -- well,
how shall I put it?

She was somewhat conflicted
about the whole thing.

Any idea what was on her mind,
sir?

No.

Not really, no.

Her husband died two years ago.

I don't think it would be
betraying her trust

if I was to say that she took
his death very badly.

Well, that is understandable,

but why would that involve
making a confession?

Grieving is a complicated
business, Inspector.

Sir.

Inspector Barnaby
and Sergeant Jones?

Yes, sir.

Edward Milton.

I've heard, um,
good things about you

from Colin, the Chief
Constable.

This is a terrible business.

I knew Mrs. Woodley well.

Did you, sir?

Yes, she was a tenant of mine.

A tenant?

Yes, I, I own the Milton
Estate, which includes the
village.

And, well, the church,
actually.

We're a tight-knit community.

This will hit us hard.

So if there's anything
I can do to help --

Well, thank you for that, sir.

We'll bear that in mind.
Thank you.

Ah -- while you're there,

when did you last see
Mrs. Woodley?

In church yesterday morning.

It's funny, she was --

She was what, sir?

She seemed out of sorts.

She came to the altar rail
but didn't take Communion.

I'm sure it was nothing.

Oh.
Well, thank you for that.

He owns the church?

And the village?

Don't be envious, Jones.

Right, it's next-of-kin time,
I'm afraid.

MATTHEW: I went to the Sopers'
to check if Katie

had finished this suit for me,

then I went to the shop and I
did some paperwork for an hour,

and then I came back here.

I assumed Sonia
was already in bed.

She always went to bed
around 10:00.

Um, I was in the pub.

Um, had a few drinks,
left about 10:00.

Like Uncle Matthew, I just
thought Mum had already

gone to bed.

I believe Mrs. Woodley was
on her way to see the vicar.

Uh --
she might have been.

The vicar said she wanted
to make a confession.

Sonia wasn't interested
in all that High Church stuff.

Oh, well, was she, um, upset

or depressed about anything
yesterday?

We were told she didn't
take Communion.

Who told you that?

Mr. Milton.

Sonia's husband,
my brother Gerald,

died two years ago.

It was the anniversary of his
death the day before yesterday.

She was upset.

It's a difficult time
for all of us --

That's why she was
going to church.

The vicar was helping her
through a bad patch.

It was nothing to do
with confessions.

Yes, of course.
I'm sorry.

BEATRICE: Matthew?

Luke?

I went to the shop,
but it was closed.

Someone told me about Sonia.
I can't believe it!

Sorry, you are...?

Uh, Beatrice Daniels.

I'm an apprentice tailor
at Woodley & Woodley.

Woodley & Woodley,
the clothes shop?

Bespoke tailors, actually.

Yes, my wife,
she's a customer there.

Mrs. Barnaby?
Of course. I know her.

Haven't you just had a run-in
with some shoplifters?

Yeah, Gary Soper.

MATTHEW: It was nothing.

A local troublemaker.

Mr. Milton was in the shop.

He helped us sort it all out.

Did he?
That was very good of him.

I should have gone to the
church with her!

They weren't telling us
everything, though, were they?

Well, they're in shock,
you know.

Well, something's not right.

The vicar says she was
going to confess.

They say she wasn't.

Well, that's religion for
you, Jones.

Brings out the irrational
in people.

See what you can find out

about this local scapegrace
Gary Soper, would you?

This village is weird.

Jones --
they're all weird.

JOYCE: Sonia Woodley?

Yes, she was beaten
around the head

and then stabbed to death,

in the graveyard, no less.

How awful.

Joyce, tell me about the
scuffle

you witnessed at the Woodleys'
the other day.

Ah, you're interested now.

Indeed I am.

I was in the workshop
at the time.

We heard a commotion

and went into the shop,
and there was

Luke Woodley, wrestling
on the floor with this youth.

What happened then?

Well, I think they must've
had trouble with this boy
before,

because Sonia was all for
calling the police.

But Milton talked them
out of it.

The boy's father works for
him or something.

Milton owns the freehold

for the shop, and the lease
is running out,

so they're keen to keep him
sweet, I suppose.

Okay, well, thank you,
thank you, Joyce, for that.

This is positively the last
time I' m repairing this shirt.

Oh, come on.

There's tons of wear in that.

Perhaps you'd better go easy,
Uncle Matthew.

I'll be all right.

You don't look it.

I'm worried about
what your mother

might have said to the vicar.

Mum won't have said anything.

Anyway, she's --

she's gone now.

I loved her.

I know, Uncle Matthew.

But don't go soft on me.

Don' t go pouring your heart
out to anyone,

like the vicar, or Barnaby.

Okay?

A map!

Excellent.

This bloke Milton
owns half the county.

There's Milton House,
four or five farms,

the park, the village,

not to mention the mausoleum
and the Ice House.

Ice House?

God forbid the G & T's
should get warm, eh?

Sonia Woodley's walk
to the church

would have taken
about ten minutes, I reckon.

Luke walked to the pub here.

That's no more than
five minutes.

Matthew took the car.

He drove to
the Sopers' cottage here,

then to the shop, here,
or so he says.

Has Gary Soper
got a record with us?

No, never been in trouble
with the police.

Has he not?

Look, go and have a chat
with the Sopers.

See if there's
any kind of history

between them and the Woodleys.

I'll go to the pub,

see who was in that night.

Strangers would stand out a
mile in a village like that.

I'll go and talk to Matthew
and Luke again.

Barnaby.

Yes, George.

On my way.

The blow to the head was heavy,

but it was the stab wound
that killed her.

Hell of a wound, too.

Punctured her right lung
from behind.

Hmm.
Big knife?

I' m not so sure it was a
knife, Tom.

Whatever it was, it was
pointed, yes, but, ah,
heavy-duty,

more like a tool of some kind.

I've seen something similar
before,

and I can't remember when.

I' ll have to trawl the
archives.

What about the blow to the
head?

A smooth, rounded object,

almost certainly manmade.

Do you think there were
two of them?

One struck her,
and the other one stabbed her?

I don't know.

It's possible.

Funny old village, Milton
Cross.

The wife' s sister goes to
church there sometimes.

She likes all the rigmarole
they go in for.

"They put on a good show,"
she says.

One orange juice.

Party on, eh?

So.

Sonia Woodley.

I, uh --
A lovely, lovely lady.

Um, the whole village
is devastated.

Did you know her well?

Well enough.

We'd see her in church
on Sunday.

This has got to be the most

God-fearing village
in the county.

Well, Mr. Milton treats his
tenants pretty fair and square.

But yes, it does help
if you show your face

in church every now and again.

Did Sonia come to the pub?

You must be joking.

None of the Woodleys
came in here,

at least not until Gerald
popped his clogs, at any rate.

Disapproved of pubs, did he?

Oh, no, he disapproved of
spending, more like.

He had them working all hours
in that shop and paid ' em
peanuts.

I mean, Luke was still on
pocket money when Gerald keeled
over.

So how come he didn't just
up sticks and leave?

Well, he wanted to look after
his mum, I suppose.

Look after his mum?
How do you mean?

He was a big bloke, Gerald,
and he had a terrible temper.

That's all you need to know.

So Luke comes in here now?

Yeah.
Now and then.

He was in on Sunday night,
wasn't he?

Yep, came in with Beatrice.

Any strangers in that night?

No. No.
Very quiet, it was.

And he left when?

About 9:00.

9:00?

Yeah.

You sure?

Yeah.

A couple of minutes
after Beatrice.

And they didn' t leave
together?

Lovers' tiff.
You know.

They're engaged, aren't
they?

So Lukey-boy
keeps telling everyone.

But when he says it, she has
this look on her face.

Having second thoughts,
if you ask me.

Oh, really?

Uh-huh.

Barnaby.

According to the landlord,
Luke Woodley left the pub

at 9:00 on Sunday evening,
not 10:00.

9:00?

Well, I' m at the Woodleys'
now. I' ll double-check.

Let's not fixate
on the Woodleys, all right?

There are other avenues
to explore.

Have you talked to the Sopers?

I'm on my way there now.

What do you want?

Another little chat,
please, Luke.

I was hoping to talk
to your uncle as well.

Luke?

Sorry.

Um, Uncle Matthew' s in the
shop.

The shop's still open?

No.

He's in the workshop,
finishing an order.

Keeping busy. It's his way of
coping with --

Beatrice is helping him.

I'm not a tailor.

Are you not, so you didn't
follow

in your father's footsteps?

You're joking, aren't you?

Stuck all day in the back room,
sewing?

No, I'm much happier
in the shop.

Well, fathers --
they can be difficult.

What was yours like?

Hmm!
Difficult.

But you got on all right?

Yeah, we did,

in the end, but you know,
fathers and sons.

It's complicated stuff.

Yeah, complicated.

That's the word.

Luke, what time did you say you
left the pub on Sunday night?

About 10:00.

You sure it wasn't earlier?

I don't know, do I?

I wasn't paying that much
attention to the time.

No.
Okay, thank you.

Um --
your mum,

Luke -- did she have
any credit cards?

Dad wouldn't let us have
plastic.

Too tempting.

When he died, we asked Mum
if she wanted us

to get her one, but she said
she was used to doing without.

She asked me to get her 50 quid
out the bank, though.

I thought maybe she wanted
to buy herself something,

but she didn't,
she just kept it in her purse.

And it was still there.

So it doesn't look
like a mugging, then?

No, it does not.

BEATRICE: Or how about this?

It's a silk, linen, and
mohair mix.

Fantastic handle.

How do you mean?

The texture.

Feel it.

Wow.
Yeah.

I see what you mean.

We're closed!

JONES: This is going to sound
stupid, but --

What?

Well, I' ve always wanted a
suit like the one Cary Grant
wore

in "North by Northwest."

BEATRICE:
Oh, yeah, great suit.

And this would be perfect.

Jones?

I was just, um, you know --

Yes, I do know.

Mr. Woodley, I would like
to ask you

a couple of questions, please.

Do you mind if I carry on
with this?

No, you do that.

Ooh!
Did you make this?

Yes.

It's lovely.

The vicar is very particular.

Of course, Mr. Milton
foots the bill.

The embroidery was mostly done

by Katie Soper
and Wendy Minchin.

Terrific seamstresses.

You won't get better
in Savile Row.

Actually, it was the Sopers
I wanted to talk to you about.

What about them?

Uh, I was wondering
if Mrs. Woodley

had had any trouble with young
Gary Soper before last week.

Hmm?

Trouble?

I think the inspector wants
to know if Mrs. Woodley

had a problem with Gary Soper.

No more than anybody else
in the village.

Sir?

This cloth,
where did it come from?

Ah.

That' s a lovely 18-ounce
tweed, handwoven in Scotland

before the war.

I swear my father had a suit
in this material.

I wouldn't be surprised.

I can remember how it smelled
when he' d been out in the
rain.

BEATRICE:
You should have one too, then.

A proper bespoke job,
Inspector.

Bespoke?
Oh, no. No.

No, I've got plenty
of suits, thank you.

Are they all like this?

Hmm?

Why, what, what's wrong
with this?

Oh, nothing, it's just, well,

maybe peaked lapels would suit
you better.

And you need a little more
structure across the shoulders.

The sleeves are too long.

You want to flash a bit
of shirt cuff, don't you?

And you need a higher waist

and a little more taper
in the trousers, perhaps.

But, I mean, apart from that,
it's um, great.

We'd do you a very sensible
price, Inspector.

Think it over.

Here.

If you want to know about
Sonia's state of mind,

you should talk
to Wendy Minchin.

She was probably Sonia's
best friend in the village.

She might have an explanation.

An explanation of what?

Gerald was a monster --
no other word --

he treated Sonia appallingly.

But two years on,
and she was still grieving.

If anything,
it was getting worse.

There was nothing we could do
or say to help,

and believe me,
we tried everything.

Thanks for your time.

Yeah, thanks.

Bye, Ben.

"Bye, Ben"?

What?

This is a murder investigation,
Jones.

And instead of being out there
doing the job,

I find you fondling cashmere
in a back room.

The Sopers were out.

Derek Soper works at Home Farm.

Go find him.

I'm going to talk
to Wendy Minchin.

Anyway, it wasn't cashmere,
it was a silk--

Go!

Mr. Barnaby.

Thank you.

This is Mr. Barnaby, Trevor.

He wants to talk to me
about Sonia.

Why don't you go
and make us some coffee?

I know when I'm not wanted.

Thank you.

Don't mind Trevor.

He works in the Milton Estate
office.

They don't like us talking
to outsiders.

Ah.
This is a tied cottage, is it?

Yes.

That's why we have to mind
our Ps and Qs around here.

You knew Sonia Woodley
very well, didn't you?

Yes, she was a good friend.

And how had she seemed to you,
uh, recently?

She was --

not herself.

And she hadn't been herself,
had she,

uh, since her husband's
death?

That man!

The way he treated her
was criminal!

Now, Mrs. Minchin,

was there anything else, apart
from her husband' s death,

which might have been
troubling her?

Well, I'll tell you something
that's been troubling me.

Make of it what you will.

The day it happened,
Sonia phoned me.

She was in a terrible state.

Gerald had collapsed
in the garden.

He was a sick man, you know.

He'd already had
two heart attacks.

"I don't know what to do,"
she said.

"Pull yourself together,
woman," I said.

"Phone for an ambulance!"

"It's all right," she said,
"Luke has phoned for one."

I asked her if she wanted me
to go round.

No, she said, she'd manage.

Well, there's only one road
in the village,

and an ambulance
going to the Woodleys'

would have to pass here.

Well, I waited,

and I waited.

And an ambulance came --
eventually.

Eventually?

Yes, an hour and a half later.

I never asked Sonia
why it took so long.

But something
must have happened.

Aw!

Mr. Soper?

Mr. Soper!

Detective Sergeant Jones.

I know who you are.

I want a word about Gary.

Yeah.
Of course you do.

Anything happens in this
village, it's down to Gary.

Look, he had a run-in
with Sonia Woodley

a couple of days
before she died.

You saying he killed
Sonia Woodley?

No.

But I have to ask questions.

It's my job.

Yeah, okay.

Here.

Thanks.

So, where was he
the night Sonia died?

At home with me,
watching the football.

And Mrs. Soper?

In Causton.

She works bar
a couple of nights a week.

We need the extras to get by.

Not much money in farm work,
I suppose.

Yeah, you could say that.

Mr. Milton's thinking
of laying a few of us off,

which means I'm going to lose
the cottage as well.

Which means you are in deep --

whatever this is.

Yeah.

And of course Gary goes
to school in Causton,

where all his mates are showing
off the latest trainers,

which cost
half a week's wages.

MILTON: The temptations
of the modern world!

How can we protect ourselves,
never mind our children?

I assume you' re making
inquiries about Gary, Sergeant.

That's right.

Well, I've known Gary
all my life.

He's made a few mistakes,
but which of us hasn't?

"Remember not the sins
of my youth," eh?

I'm sure Gary will turn out
all right in the end.

Mr. Milton's always been

very supportive.

Have you finished here,
Sergeant?

Yeah.

Come up to the house.

We'll get you cleaned up.

You don't have to
do this, really.

MILTON: "Teach us,
my God and King,

in all things Thee to see,

and what I do in anything,
to do it as for Thee."

All the same --

It's no trouble.

The Bible teaches us that there
is much satisfaction

to be had
in a job well done,

no matter how menial.

I hear that some
of your estate workers

may not have a job at all soon.

These are difficult times.

I'm working as hard as I can
to preserve the estate.

My employees must fulfill
their side of the bargain.

Which is...?

Hard work,
honesty, loyalty.

And turning up at church
on Sundays?

MRS. MILTON: Edward?

Inspector Barnaby is here.

Ah, good.

Come in and sit down.
Have some tea.

Ah, no, thank you.
Not for me.

Jones?

I'm waiting for my shoes.

How is the investigation going,
Mr. Barnaby?

The investigation? Oh, we' re
making progress, sir.

Excellent.

I hope you won't take it
amiss

if I offer you a word
of caution.

Caution, about what?

Milton Cross
is a proper village.

Everyone knows everybody else.

We work together,
and we worship together.

That's the way we like it.

But there is a downside.

And what would
that downside be?

Ill-informed gossip.

A human failing.

Hmm.

Do you have any particular
gossip in mind, sir?

Oh, please, you know,
anything that helps.

You may have heard
tittle-tattle about the
Woodleys,

and the late Gerald Woodley
in particular.

Could you be more specific?

About the way he treated
his family.

He had an authoritarian streak,
it's true,

but he was a Christian
and a good man at heart.

There are rumors in the village

about the circumstances
surrounding his death.

-Unfounded rumors.

Treat them with a pinch of
salt, Mr. Barnaby.

The same goes for talk
about Gerald's meanness.

Grossly exaggerated, I'm
sure.

He was a prudent man, and his
family will reap the benefits.

How so?

Gerald left a considerable sum
in trust for Sonia.

Well into six figures,
I believe.

And now that poor Sonia
is no longer with us,

I suppose Luke and Matthew
will inherit, hmm?

Thank you, Mrs. Milton.

The ambulance didn't come
for an hour and half?

No, according to Mrs. Minchin.

So what were they up to
for an hour and a half?

Gerald Woodley had had, what,
two heart attacks?

I bet there wasn't
even a post-mortem.

Now, we don' t know that,
Jones.

Luke and Matthew did for Gerald
somehow or other,

and Sonia Woodley knew about
it.

Guilty conscience, that's why
she wanted to confess.

You' re saying that Luke
Woodley killed his own mother.

No, no, I'm not buying that.

Luke and Matthew!

One bangs her on the head,
the other stabs her.

They shut her up about Gerald,
and they inherit the trust
fund.

It's win-win.

Well, if you're right,

we' re investigating two
murders.

It's your call, sir.

We need a court order

to check the timings
of those phone calls.

It's done.

Hmm.

You don't think it makes me
look a little broad in the
beam?

No, not at all, vicar.

If anything,
it makes you look taller.

Oh, really?

Do you really think so?

Not that appearances are
the thing here.

Of course not.

Sorry, vicar.

-No, no, Morris.

You're right on the dot.

Thank you, Matthew.

MORRIS: And then there's
lust.

Lust, Morris?

Yes, there's a very pretty
little house on the bypass

with three acres
and a planning permission.

I can't get it out of my
head.

By this authority
committed to me,

I absolve thee
from all thy sins,

in the name of the Father,
and of the Son,

and of the Holy Ghost.

Amen.

Let us pray.

O most merciful God,

who, according to the multitude
of Thy mercies,

dost so put away the sins of
all those who truly repent.

Amen.

Oh.
I almost forgot.

I was asked to give you this

by someone who wishes
to remain anonymous.

What is it?

I haven't the faintest idea.
She said --

the anonymous person said
you'd know what to do with
it.

Good night.

Ah!

Throat's been cut so deep,
it's almost severed the head.

And he sustained
a blow to the head,

similar to the Woodley woman.

Hmm.

Yeah, you said that there was
something familiar

about the stab wound that
killed Mrs. Woodley.

I haven't figured it out yet,

Tom, I'll let you know
as soon as I have.

But there's something odd
about this, too.

What?

Normally when a throat's
been cut,

you can tell whether
the incision was made

right to left or vice versa.

But this looks like both.

Both?

Yeah.
Doesn't make sense, does it?

Sir, think
you'd better see this.

Looks like they took the keys
off the vicar,

then came back here
to see what they could nick.

Yeah? Then why didn' t they
nick the computer?

Or the cash?

This is just like
Sonia Woodley's bag, innit?

How?

Well, they were certainly
after something.

BARNABY: Mr. Bingham?

Detective Chief Inspector
Barnaby.

You wanted to see me.

Yes, we' re lighting candles
for the vicar and Sonia
Woodley.

Do you mind?

No, please.

I was here last night,
to see the vicar.

I might have been the last
person to see him alive.

Apart from the murderer,
that is.

What time was this?

8:00.

I come once a week, to confess.

To confess?

It's funny --
when I moved here,

I only started coming to church
because everyone else did.

To fit in, you know?

And it was a chance
to see Sonia, of course.

I thought,
after a decent interval,

she might, you know,

give me a chance to --

Well --

she wasn't interested,
sad to say.

So I started coming to see
old Moreland now and then.

Not that I had much to confess.

Used to make things up,
just to keep him amused.

But I found it very calming.

And last night?

The day Sonia was --

Well, she gave me a letter.

I assume it was a letter.

It was something in an
envelope, anyway.

I was to give it to the vicar.

I wasn't to tell him
who it was from.

And I wasn't to tell a soul
about it.

She made me promise.

Well, you should've told
us, Mr. Bingham.

I know.

But to tell you the truth,
what with all the goings on,

I forgot about it
until last night.

So you gave the letter
to the vicar last night?

Yes.

He was as puzzled as I was.

And then I went home.

Did you see anyone else?

No.

You could ask Matthew.
He might've seen something.

Matthew Woodley
was here last night?

Yes, he was in the vestry,

kitting out the vicar
in a new chasuble.

The vicar did like
his glad rags, bless
his soul.

He was a good bloke, the vicar.

God moves in mysterious ways.

He certainly does.

Mr. Bingham, thank you
very much.

The letter.

Matthew and Luke were looking
for the letter.

Hmm.

And what do you think
was in the letter, Jones?

The truth
about what happened to --

The truth about what happened
to Gerald Woodley.

Sonia couldn't bring herself
to tell the vicar face to face,

so she wrote a letter instead.

But why give it
to Morris Bingham?

He' d know who wrote the
letter, wouldn' t he?

She wasn' t behaving
rationally.

She was at the end
of her tether.

Everyone says so.

All right, we'll talk to them
tomorrow.

Pick 'em up early,
take them to the nick.

No, no, no, no.
Let's keep this...

informal.

Why, sir?

Because --
because I have a hunch

we might not want to pursue
this line of inquiry.

What?

My father?

You want to talk
about my father?

Jones, would you
put that away, please?

Yes, Luke, we want to talk
to you about the --

the circumstances surrounding
your father's death.

It was two years ago!

He died of a heart attack!

How about finding out
who killed my mother?

That's exactly
what we're trying to do.

If you could just tell us
what happened

the day your father died,
please.

My father collapsed while he
was working in the garden.

Uncle Matthew and I
were at the shop.

Mum was in a panic,
so she rang us.

I called an ambulance,

then Uncle Matthew and I
came straight home.

And Dad was --

Dad was dead.

And then the ambulance came.

That's it, okay?

How come Mrs. Woodley
didn't call an ambulance?

She was --

She was scared.

She wasn't thinking straight.

So you called an ambulance
immediately?

Yes, of course.

From the shop?

Obviously.

According to our records,
there was no call

to the emergency services
from the shop.

Well, the records are wrong,
then.

Someone called them from here,
though.

At 4:00.

An hour after Mrs. Woodley
called you at the shop.

And an hour after your father
collapsed.

Now, Luke,
how do you explain that?

Were you waiting for him to
die?

MATTHEW:
I'm going to answer this.

Uncle Matthew --

No, I'm sorry, Luke.

We weren't waiting
for him to die.

We were praying for him to
die.

I made sure he was dead.

Then I called for an ambulance.

But you didn't know
about Sonia's phone call

to Wendy Minchin.

Not at that time, no.

Sonia told us about it
afterwards.

He beat her, you know.

And Luke.

He hit her that afternoon.

That was the last straw,
as far as I was concerned.

We all felt remorse afterwards.

She could never cope
with what we'd done.

Is that why she wrote
the letter?

What letter?

We think she wrote a letter to
the vicar, about what happened.

A letter?

No, I don't know anything
about a letter.

The thing I realized,
after Gerald had died,

was that she still loved him.

There's no accounting
for the human heart, is there?

What are we going to do
about them?

Not a lot.

They didn't kill Sonia
Woodley or the Reverend
Moreland.

What about Gerald Woodley?

Later.

Couldn' t figure it out at
first.

It looked as if the throat had
been slashed twice,

first one way
and then the other.

But the wounds were inflicted
simultaneously.

"How can this be?"
I asked myself.

Two knives wielded by
an ambidextrous assassin?

And how did you
answer yourself, George?

Ah!

Well, remember when I said
that something was familiar

about the stab wound
that killed Sonia Woodley?

Yes, I do remember you saying.

I looked it up on the records,
and bingo!

Badger's Drift, 2005.

Look, you'll have to refresh
my jaded memory here.

The gardener who refused
to cut down

his giant hedge,
remember?

And was killed
with his own garden shears.

Exactly!

Closed for the stab
and open for the throat.

So the murderer
used garden shears?

No.
No, not garden shears --

tailor's shears.

Tailor's shears,
now they can be quite hefty.

So the handle would do
for the blow to the head.

So you've got stun and stab!

Or in the case of the poor old
padre, stun and snip.

MATTHEW:
These are mine.

And these
are Beatrice's.

And those?

Mine,

before I packed it in.

And that's the lot?

Yes.

No, it's not.

Where are Dad's?

Dad's?

Well, Gerald's shears.

They belonged to our father.

They're usually hanging
up there.

Big, old, heavy things.

I could barely lift them.

Well, when did you last
see them?

God knows.

No idea.

MATTHEW:
I used them to cut

the canvas linings
for the vicar's new chasuble.

That would be about a month
ago.

His new what?

Chasuble.

It's a kind of, uh,

like a --
like a poncho.

I was working on it in the
vestry the night he died.

He asked me to put a special
pocket in it

for his mobile phone.

A pocket?

A special pocket?

Eureka.

Ah, there it is!

Gotcha!

"My darling,
I am at our special place.

There is someone with you.

I suppose it is her,
whoever she is.

How can you do this to me?

She will never love you
as much as I do.

It's torture,
not being able to talk,

so I will come here again
on Thursday at the usual time.

Please, please, please,
we must talk.

You can't just throw me away
like a piece of rubbish.

I love you, my darling."

It's a rejected lover.

A rejected illicit lover.

Sonia Woodley?

Maybe that's why

she was
in such a state.

It wasn't guilt
because of Gerald's death.

It was an unhappy love affair.

But did Sonia write this
letter,

or was she the recipient?

Neither rings true,
to be honest.

No, they don't.

And in any case,
why give it to the vicar?

If the murder weapon turns out
to be Gerald's shears,

that makes the Woodleys
suspects again, doesn' t it?

Ah, they wouldn' t be so
stupid, would they?

No, I think someone is trying
to frame the Woodleys.

Someone who knows there was
something dodgy

about Gerald's death.

Hmm. That means everybody
in the village.

I' ll tell you one thing,
Jones.

Whoever did write that letter
could be in serious danger.

"I will come here again on
Thursday, at the usual time."

I wonder where
that special place is.

God, she's never
got her phone on.

Well, wherever it is, Jones,
we'd better find it quick.

Tomorrow is Thursday.

Joyce.

Oh!
Hello, what are you doing here?

I do wish you' d keep your
phone on, once an a while.

Oh, I'm sorry,
I keep forgetting.

I would' ve made more
sandwiches if I' d known you
were coming.

I want to talk to you
about the Woodleys.

Ah, that's why you're here.
Could you move?

You're blocking my view.

When you were at the Woodleys,
did you ever notice

a large pair of tailor' s
shears hanging on the wall?

Yes.

Were they there that day?

I think so.

The inner sanctum,
holy of holies.

Yes, they were Gerald's,
I believe.

Tell me what happened.

But I've already told you.

Yes, I know you've
already told me.

Tell me again, please.

I was in the workshop.

Matthew was there,

and that nice Beatrice girl.

Then there was the cheeky
chappie in the dazzling tweeds.

BARNABY: Morris Bingham.

That's the one.

And the Lord of the Manor
bloke.

Makes yours look a
tad dreary, don 't
you think?

I hope you're not going
to shoot in that, Morris.

You'll scare the birds
to death.

Matthew, come quickly!

JOYCE: And then we all rushed
into the shop

to see what was happening.

Matthew was first, then Sonia
--

Oi! What the hell's
going on?

Then Beatrice
and Morris Bingham --

Hey! Get off!
Get off!

Then me.

BARNABY: Who was last
out of the workshop?

Actually, now you come
to mention it --

That's enough, Gary.

Edward Milton, by a good
minute.

And did you notice anything
unusual about him?

He'd taken his jacket off.
I thought that was a bit odd.

What jacket?

The one they were
making for him.

And why was that odd?

Well, they hadn't finished
the fitting.

So he came out of the workshop
in his shirtsleeves.

Yes.

Oh, that's a pity.

And he was carrying his coat,

one of those waxed country
things.

It was sort of folded up,
under his arm.

BARNABY: Under his arm?

That' s good, that' s very
good.

Very good, that.

Really?

Oh, so's that.
That, that's very nice.

Thank you, Joyce.
That's very useful.

He had his coat under his arm.
So what?

Held tightly, under his arm.

Okay.

He was hiding something, Jones.

Mrs. Barnaby is absolutely
certain that those shears

were still hanging on the wall
that day.

And Edward Milton was the last
to leave the workshop.

You think Milton
took the shears?

Do you remember
how he dropped hints

about Gerald Woodley's death?

You see how clever that was?

Telling us to ignore the rumors

while making sure
we were aware of them.

Yeah, and making sure
how we knew

about the money in trust
for Sonia.

Yeah.
How about this?

Edward Milton, lord
of the manor, has an affair.

He tries to end it,
but the rejected party

is having none of that, so she
writes a desperate letter.

Which somehow or other ended up
in Sonia Woodley's possession.

Yeah, so he kills Sonia
with her husband's shears.

Why?
To, to implicate the Woodleys?

I don't know. But he didn't
find the letter.

Because she'd given it
to the vicar.

No, actually, she'd given it
to Morris Bingham.

Wendy Minchin
was her best friend.

Why didn't she give her
the letter?

Well, maybe she did.

And maybe Wendy Minchin
didn't want to know about it.

I mean, look, her husband
works in the Estate's office,

and they wouldn' t want to get
the wrong side of Edward
Milton.

I see.

Whereas Morris Bingham
is a free man.

Exactly right.

I bet Wendy Minchin knows
about that letter.

I bet she does, too.

If Milton wanted to incriminate
the Woodleys,

how come we haven't found
the shears yet?

Well, maybe he plans
to use them again.

What do you want?

It's Inspector Barnaby.

Yes, I know who you are.
What do you want?

Please, may we come in?

No, I'm very busy.
I can't talk to you now.

Have you seen this before,
Mrs. Minchin?

Go away!
Please!

Do you recognize
the handwriting?

It's nothing to do with me!

My husband could lose his job.

We could lose our house.

Mrs. Minchin, somebody's life
is in danger.

Now, could you please, please
tell us who wrote this letter?

It was Katie!
Now go away!

Katie Soper?

Yes.

Right, I'll pick up Milton.

You go find Katie Soper.

Ah, haven't got a car.

It's only a couple of minutes
to the Sopers'.

Get some back-up.

I'm sorry, he's always
forgetting

to turn his mobile on.

I could phone the Estate
office.

They might know where he is.

Yes, yes.
I would appreciate that.

Such a big estate, it' s hard
to keep track of him.

Yes, I'm sure.

Hello.
It's Mrs. Milton.

Do you know Mr. Milton's
whereabouts?

Thank you, I'll hold.

"My darling,
I am at our special place.

There is someone with you.

I suppose it is her,
whoever she is.

Oh!

Jones.

BARNABY:
Did you find Katie Soper?

No.

Where are you, Jones?

On the farm.

Get yourself to the Ice House.

What?

The Ice House.
West end of the woods.

The what?

In the woods!
The Ice House is in the woods!

And move yourself.

All right.

Flipping hell.

Katie.

Katie, I told you
never to come here again.

Come on.

Oh, I've missed you so much.

We've got to stop this,
Katie.

Why?

Because it's a sin.

I love you.

Is that a sin?

It's a sin in God's eyes,

and we must pray
for God's forgiveness.

Kneel.

I've done my duty.

Your husband's job is safe.

Your family is safe.

Be content.

How can I be content
when I'm not with you?

Dear Lord, look down upon
these, Thy servants,

who have grievously sinned
against you

in thought and in deed.

The west end of the wood.

Yeah, right!

[Mozart's "Requiem" playing
in distance]

Forgive us, Lord.

We have indulged shamefully
in the pleasures of the flesh.

Open Thine eye of mercy

upon these,
Thy miserable servants.

Renew --

renew in us

whatsoever
hath been destroyed --

by the fraud and malice
of the devil.

[Mozart's "Requiem"
playing in distance]

You shouldn't have written
the letter, Katie.

I told you.

Never write anything down.

Hello!

Jones!

JONES: It's locked.

Thanks.

MILTON:
In the name of the Father --

and of the Son --

and of the Holy --

Stop!

Got him?

Yes.

Ah!
Ah!

Oh, Edward!

We were praying!

Were you?

Well, we' ve got a little
prayer of our own.

Haven't we, Jones?

Edward Milton, I' m arresting
you on suspicion of murder.

You do not have to say
anything, but it may harm your
defense

if you do not mention when
questioned --

Eddie?

Oh.

Welcome to the prayer meeting.

...if you do not mention
when questioned

something which you later
rely on in court.

Anything you do say
may be used as evidence.

Amen.

Go on.

Ah, yes, um --

Katie Soper wrote that letter,

and she left it
at the Ice House.

Edward Milton put that letter
into his trouser pocket,

but he forgot
to take it out again

when he took the trousers down
the Woodleys' for alteration.

And Sonia Woodley
found it.

Did Sonia realize
what the letter was about?

Yes, she did, indeed.

Edward had been carrying on
with the village women

for donkey's years,
like his father before him

and his father before him.

Women whose families depended
on the estate for their
livelihood.

What are you going to do
about the Woodleys?

What do you mean, do?

What about them
waiting for an hour

before they called an
ambulance?

Gerald Woodley died
of a heart attack.

Impossible to prove otherwise.

So, what's it like, working
in the back room, Luke?

It's great.

MATTHEW:
He's picking it up a treat.

Now, I've given you a single
vent, Mr. Barnaby.

I hope that's all right.

Oh, yes, a single vent
with that tweed, certainly.

What are you having, Jones?

Oh, no vent.

No vent?
Really?

I watched "North by Northwest"
again last night to make sure.

That's right.
No vent in Cary Grant's suit.

That's looking good, sir.

Oh, you think so?

Yeah.

I might go for something
in tweed, when I'm older.

Will you be wanting a ticket
pocket, Mr. Barnaby?

Like, uh,
Mr. Bingham here?

Of course he wants
a ticket pocket.

I don't know.

I wish I could remember
what my father had.

Hello, Joyce!

Oh, Tom, how could you?

That's my tweed!

Well, I'm very sorry,
Mrs. Barnaby,

but it is now my tweed.

Anyway, the only question is,

should I go for a ticket
pocket?

What do you reckon?

Yes or no?