Original subtitles

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?