Original subtitles

Dad, please!

Get out!

Get out!

Slow down! What are you doing?!

What are you doing?! Slow down!

Hello!

My name is Gerry Dawkins

and I am from Causton Social Services.

It is essential that I talk to you.

Hello?

You are entitled to various benefits, you know.

Meals on wheels, home help.

I'll leave you with some pamphlets and forms for you to fill in.

Thank you.

- Hello. - Gerry Dawkins.

- Causton Social Services. - And what do you want?

I'm investigating the circumstances of William and Mary Bingham.

- Do you know them? - They are my parents

and they do not need investigating. Thank you.

Yes, well, be that as it may,

when a person or persons within the council's care parameters

are not properly registered on the various databases...

Hey, you're not listening, are you?

Excuse me! We do have a zero tolerance policy

towards verbal and physical abuse.

Come back here, you're gonna need it.

Start paddling.

Oh, very smart. Do you really want them

smeared all over the local papers?

Selina, shut up. There's a doll.

- I am not a doll. - That was irony.

You couldn't even spell it.

Look, we have got to stop slagging each other off in front of people.

- Why? - Because we're a team.

That's what I told the selection committee.

No wonder they laughed.

Hello. My name's Gerry Dawkins.

That's Gerry with a "G", not a "J".

Are you the head artist in this colony?

Well, we don't actually do hierarchies here.

Oh, right. No.

Of course.

Artists.

Well, I'm from Causton Social Services.

I wondered if I could have a word with you all.

Come and see.

And how are you, Sykes? Come here, come here.

Has he been boring you to death?

How long have you been here?

Ten weeks. A whole term.

I knew you'd rearrange everything when you got here.

Well, at least you've got the kettle and the frying pan working.

I did.

And a clean collar.

Did you get the washing machine going or find another woman?

I bought a new shirt.

Soya sauce?

They've got a sushi bar.

Cool.

Much as we appreciate the freedom,

considered the right of any artistic community,

you must understand that we all share

the same social services.

So databases have to be current

or they are worthless.

I should therefore like you all

to fill in these forms I've brought with me.

Believe you me, we're all part of the system.

You can't beat the system, can you? Eh?

For goodness' sake!

I'm a council official!

I demand that you put me down immediately

or I shall be reporting you all to the authorities

as soon as I return!

Put me down!

We do have a zero tolerance to violence!

It's not as big as your last one.

Yeah, but I wasn't the head there.

- So, what have you got to do today? - Meet my department heads,

who will hate me because I'm an outsider.

You could retire. We could live off my earnings.

That's a brilliant idea: poverty and boredom at one stroke.

Right, I'll see you later.

I was going about my legitimate business, caring for our community,

and what happens? At the Binghams', I get manhandled.

At the artist community, well, as related.

Physical or verbal abuse cannot be tolerated.

Quite right, too, sir.

But I think being chucked in a duck pond

is a matter for our uniformed people.

They said, as death threats have been made, it was down to you.

Death threats?

Implied.

I mean, people who try willy-nilly to slip through the governmental net

are obviously dangerous per se.

You cannot opt out of the system, can you?

Why not?

- I'm sorry? - Why can't you opt out of the system?

Well, you just can't.

Mr Dawkins, we will investigate the matter and be in touch.

Right, well, good.

Thank you.

- We don't have time for time wasters. - Course we do, Jones.

We can't have abuse-mad anarchists running amok all over the place.

Tomorrow morning, first thing, artist's colony, then Binghams.

So, as my department heads,

I will be relying on you all from the word go.

Together we will take Causton to the top of the county league table

within two years.

Thank you, Mrs Barnaby.

And as deputy head, I would like to welcome you

- on behalf of all the staff. - How kind.

Of course, you will find that there are certain people

who are somewhat surprised

by the department parachuting in an outsider

to take over from the seasoned locals.

Josie, I totally agree with you.

The department is run by a bunch of irrational idiots,

but I guess we just have to cope and all pull together, don't you think?

Anyway, before we embark on our journey,

I would love for you all to come to my place for lunch

so we can really get to know each other,

and you can fill me in on all the local goss.

I won, I won.

- I let you win. - You did not!

Oh, isn't this wonderful? Can we just live here forever?

- Sounds like a plan. - So let's get on with it.

- All in good time. - Ben!

- What? I've got to watch my job. - But Daddy thinks you're great.

And Selina's only my stepmother, so she can go hang.

We can do whatever we like, whenever we like.

Look, I better get going. I've got a mare due in for Garrick Boy.

- What's he like? - Edgy.

I'll see you later.

You won't get away from me!

Hiya.

- Where's it all gone? What's she done? - My senior staff and I

bonded through an unpacking and homemaking experience.

Ah. How are they?

Ugh. Well, my deputy hates me.

She's a great bookkeeper but I may have to strangle her.

You are so bad.

The, uh, new bed's arrived.

Look at your watch and I'll kill you.

Stay.

- Paper, Mary? - Thank you, darling.

But I seem to have mislaid my spectacles.

Perhaps if you could just put it aside for me,

and then I'll get round to it later.

Right-o.

- Anything interesting? - Er, not a lot.

Jolly good.

Too much news is never a good thing.

Right. Absolutely right.

Say no more.

Say no more.

- Teeth? - Yes.

- Fingernails? - Don't push it, woman.

- Those for me? - From everyone at the station.

- To welcome your wife to Midsomer. - How lovely.

Sarah, this is Jones. Jones, my wife.

- Ma'am. - Sarah, please.

And I'm sure you weren't christened Jones.

- Ben. - Thank you, Ben.

- Would you like a coffee? - No, he wouldn't.

- We're working. - Well, drop by anytime, Ben.

- Thank you. - Thank you.

She didn't mean that, dropping by.

No, sir. Of course not.

Sense of humour. Delusions of grandeur.

They're here.

Inspector Barnaby.

- Mr Grace. - Adam, please.

- This is Maggie Viviani. - We knew your cousin.

Oh, good.

Please.

Back in the '60s, there was a guy called Bertie Morell.

He set this place up and then drank himself to death.

Mr Barnaby.

- So who runs it now? - Nominally, the trustee's solicitor,

that's Laurence Fletcher. But on a day-to-day basis,

Maggie and I just try and keep it afloat.

So, Gerry Dawkins.

Duck pond.

It's just the kids having a bit of fun. It's no big deal.

It was assault.

Yes. Inspector, could you please

convey our apologies to Mr Dawkins,

and tell him that if he wants us to fill in his forms,

he should send them to each person here individually,

and they will attend to them accordingly.

You mean chuck them in the bin.

Well, we don't tell each other what to do.

We are individuals, Mr Barnaby.

"We are individuals."

"We are a pack of plonkers."

- Not keen on artists, Jones? - Well, not the modern ones.

I mean, Jackson Pollock, paint dripping.

- What's all that about? - I don't know.

Maybe he had an intuition for the nature of chaotic motion

and was attempting a mathematical representation of that chaos.

Tell me about this Laurence Fletcher.

Uh, solicitor.

A bit tricky. Known locally as Loophole Larry.

Jones.

Hello, Mr Dawkins.

I have something important to relate

regarding our ongoing investigation.

- And what's that? - If you come to my office ASAP,

I'll tell you all about it.

Mr Dawkins, we do have other business to attend to.

- It is very important. - Right. Fine.

We'll be back at the station later this afternoon.

- You can drop by then. Okay? - But...

Bye-bye. Wants us to do house calls.

- You okay? - It's not right.

Nobody ever gets things right and precise.

I have to go out, meet someone.

- It's not in your diary. - Not everything is, Jane.

Three, two, one, drop.

Three, two, one, drop.

Don't play in the road.

- Poohsticks. - Sorry?

Winnie the Pooh. You each drop a stick into the water,

then run across the bridge to see whose stick comes out first

- on the other side. - And it's a good way to get run over.

Childhood, Jones. Hang on to the poetry.

Yes, sir.

- William? - I'm up here.

I think I heard the doorbell ring.

No, I doubt that, my dear.

- I think I did. - No. Not likely.

There. See?

Yes. Yes.

I see what you mean. But it wouldn't be for us.

Well, it's not Wednesday or anything, is it?

No, but it is our bell.

But not our business, darling. Not our business.

- Are you sure? - Absolutely.

Thank you, darling.

I'll be in my study.

See you for coffee and biscuits at 11:00.

What a truly wonderful idea.

What do we know about the Binghams?

They're said to be a bit reclusive.

Their two children

died way back in a tragic accident.

Youngest surviving daughter and her husband

run the stud farm part of the estate. He's running for local Euro MP,

so he must be bent.

Well, they're not replying.

We'll try the back.

Renovations are a bit behind.

Whoa. Hold it.

What's that?

That's a tripwire.

Watch this.

That's a distress flare. ls that legal?

A great burglar alarm.

Hello. What are you doing?

You've set off one of his fireworks. He hates that.

Hi, Verity. It's me.

Salsa classes. Remember?

Oh, Jonesy. Hi!

Where's your nice uniform?

I'm a detective now.

Shame.

We were hoping to see the Binghams.

No chance. The oldies never see anyone. They are so weird.

I've only met them once,

and my dad has been married to Selina for ten years.

We were also hoping to see your parents.

Sure. Why not?

Uh, Mrs Bitch, my wicked stepmother,

is in the covering shed with our stud manager, Ben Viviani.

Real hunk.

Two Bens.

And daddy is stamping around in a bad mood

because the local selection committee thinks he's a bit common, which of course he is.

And there's a stallion who's giving us all a terrible time because...

Verity. Too much information.

Sorry, sorry.

It's just what Ben says: "You talk too much."

My Ben, that is.

Is there any young woman round here you haven't dated?

Just looking for the right one.

How did you know Mrs Barnaby was right for you?

She told me.

Yeah.

See. That's the mare who's come to be covered by the stallion, Garrick Boy,

who's being a bit loony today.

- Why? - God knows.

They are so highly strung. Pure nerves and energy.

Slightest thing and they get in a total strop.

- What are you doing? - He won't go to her.

- Something's upset him. - What?

- I don't know. - Well, you should know.

He doesn't function, we drop a hundred grand.

Get your mother over here, get her to do her horse whispering stuff.

And get that hunk of animated pet food back on the job.

Who are you?

Oh, for crying out loud! I did not assault anyone.

I gently escorted him to his car

and asked him to get off our property.

And there were no threats of any kind of violence whatsoever.

- The man's a fantasist. - And we are quite capable

of looking after our own family members,

however bonkers they are.

- Excuse me. Those are my parents. - Yeah, well, they owe me big time.

I do all the work, I pay all the bills, I keep this place afloat.

But oh, no, nutty mummy and nutty daddy have to live in the big house.

Well, it is their home.

If they left there, they'd disintegrate.

Good! About time they did something worthwhile.

I'm sorry, Chief Inspector. It's been a trying day.

This is very simple. Let me see your parents,

so I can vouch for their well being to the Social,

and I'm sure all this will go away.

My parents will only communicate

through their solicitor, Laurence Fletcher. Go through him.

He will then write to my parents, then they will write back to him.

And they'll say no anyway.

Let's see if I can't help you focus on this problem.

Get Gerry Dawkins in to check up on your parents within two days

or it will become an official matter for the police.

Okay?

Jones.

Hiya.

Hi, Mum.

My darling boy! Come here.

Oh. And how are you?

I'm fine. I'm fine.

There's something wrong. I can hear it.

Oh, well, Garrick Boy is playing up,

and I was hoping you could come over and have a word.

- Yes, of course. - Thanks.

And?

Nothing. It's all cool.

Verity?

Yeah, she's great. Really. It's all good.

What?

Hey, guys. Let's play Poohsticks again.

Three, two, one, drop.

I bet mine's gonna come across first.

See it?

What's that?

What is it?

Gerry with a "G".

Over here!

Multiple facial and upper body wounds

and an indentation at the back of the skull.

What do you think?

Turned his canoe over, banged his head, unconscious,

dragged along the bottom until he drowned.

I'll do a full PM and call you.

There you go.

He wanted to talk to me and I fobbed him off.

And now he's dead.

Yes. Yes, he is.

- So, what would you have done? - Sorry?

Well, someone really irritates you, you put them on the back burner.

I mean, how was I supposed to know?

- Jones. - Yes, sir?

This circus, this death in the afternoon,

what is it not about?

It's not about me.

Ergo, therefore, in parallel. Hmm?

It's not about me either.

It's about mechanics, logistics, evidence,

and what sort of salad we make of those wonderful ingredients.

Fine, fine.

Make me feel better, then.

Oh, for God's sake, come on!

- Where the hell is your damn mother?! - I'm right here, Selina.

About time. This one's driving us insane

and costing us serious money.

He might not be so nervy if you stopped yelling at him.

And everyone else.

Yes, thank you. Just do your stuff and keep your lectures to yourself.

Hello, boy.

What's going on, then, hmm? Come on. Let's have a chat.

Just you and me. Nice and quiet. Come on.

Come on. Come on, boy.

Have people been shouting at you? Is that all it is?

He's calmer already.

So you're not feeling quite yourself? Hmm? Stand. Stand.

I'd like to see you up at the house later.

- Uh, Selina. - What?

I'm pretty busy today. I've got a couple of mares coming in later.

Ben, this is my business

and you are my employee.

I'll decide when you're busy.

Good boy. There you go.

- So, what's bugging him? - He's got a dental problem,

which is stopping him chewing properly.

His food isn't digesting and hence compacting in his gut,

giving him severe gripe, which puts him off his oats,

both literal and metaphorical.

He told you all that, did he?

Yes, he did.

Take it or leave it. I don't care.

I'll see you all soon. Bye, darling.

Thanks, Mum.

Why does she always smile at me? Why is she so nice?

- Maybe she likes you. - Ha! Unlikely.

Right, call the vet, then.

And I'll see you at 4:00. And don't be late.

- So Miss Morris... - Jane.

Jane.

You say he had a call before he called me.

Yes, and it got him a bit rattled.

He was going on about it being contrary to departmental procedures

for them to meet.

But he didn't say who it was or what they wanted.

No.

And you didn't hear whether it was a man or a woman?

- No. - Then he went canoeing.

He said he was going to meet someone but obviously he went canoeing.

Did he often go canoeing in the middle of the day?

I don't know. He always had that thing on top of his car.

He was often out and about checking up on people, so maybe he did.

How was he regarded in the department?

He was known as The Witchfinder General.

- Not too popular? - Universally disliked.

- Won't be missed by anyone. - That's a bit tough.

You asked me a question.

It would be a waste of time if I wasn't honest with you.

Not many people think like that.

- Are you married? - I'm not going out with you.

- I didn't ask you to. - But you would have.

I fit your search profile to a T.

Here's his diary. You see this afternoon?

MV and AG.

Maggie Viviani and Adam Grace, before you ask.

Thank you.

He also printed off a map of the moon.

I haven't a clue.

Would you like to ask me anything else?

No. No. I wouldn't dare.

- The moon? - Yeah. Seems weird.

You want to come in now? I have got a job to go to.

That's his stuff. His clothes peg, his helmet.

So he wouldn't ever have gone out in the wrong gear?

Not our Gerry with the "G".

A stickler for form, he is. Was.

Certainly wouldn't have gone on the water without his precious crash lid.

- Popular member of the club? - Not really. In fact, not at all.

Get up your nose like a rocket, he could.

Total pain.

Rest in peace, of course.

No, uh, no disrespect.

- Hey. - Right on time.

The vet's been.

He agreed with mum's diagnosis, so he's filed the tooth

and given the boy something to clear the bowel blockage.

Good.

Verity and Eddie are out for a couple of hours,

so we'd better get about our business.

Look, if it's okay,

I'd rather not.

Why would you rather not?

It's p-personal.

- Personal? - Yeah.

Ben, let me explain things to you.

I'm not interested in your personal life.

But as your employer, I am interested in you doing what I want when I want.

- Yeah, but... - No, no. No buts, Ben.

Just do as I ask and you'll go far.

Don't, and you won't.

I haven't a clue why he had our initials in his diary.

I mean, we didn't make an appointment with him.

Definitely not.

There's not much in public records about you people.

Us people?

Yes.

In some countries, they think that if you take their photos,

you're stealing their souls.

And maybe we feel that if you know too much about us,

you're capturing ours.

I think it's more about benefits than souls.

Where were you both earlier today?

I was checking out a barn

for our summer exhibition.

I went over to the Bingham place

to help my son with a fractious horse.

What do you do with horses?

I talk to them.

- What? - Horses...

Animals in general, like to talk to me.

What, like Doctor Doolittle?

Just because some things don't come in your coppers Little Book of Knowledge

doesn't mean you can mock them.

No, no. I'm genuinely interested.

Really. I have a dog that I talk to,

but it's pretty much a one-way thing.

Well, I've always had an empathy with animals, particularly horses.

I call it talking, but it's really just a sort of feeling

- I get from them. - And can you do it with people?

Oh, yes. That's easy.

Well, you, for instance, are reasonably content

with your lot in life.

Whereas your chum here is full of frustration

at the state of his.

But that's certainly common with unmarried men in their 30s.

If you talk to God, that's fine. God talks to you. Blah-de-blah.

- Ditto animals. - Open mind, Jones.

Murder is not the consequence of rational behaviour.

Now, Bingham's dodgy solicitor, where do I find him today?

Ah. Yearling sales. Him and Stanton.

So the Birtley filly out of that great winning mare

whose the down of six winners already from only seven faults of racing age.

At 8,000, I've got. At 8,000, I'm bid.

This filly's far too cheap, sir.

Barnaby, Fletcher. Fletcher, Barnaby.

- Heard a lot about you, Inspector. - And me you, Mr Fletcher.

Well, I've got to go and bid.

I've told Larry you want to see the old geezers.

And of course, I'd love to be able to help you,

but, urn, the Binghams are a really eccentric couple now,

and they tend to refuse any requests for meetings. I'm really sorry.

Mr Fletcher, I am investigating a murder

and I am going to talk to your clients right now.

This was just a courtesy meeting to inform you of my actions.

Inspector, this isn't the big city here.

In Midsomer, we do things differently.

A different pace, different emphasis.

We do things our way.

No, Mr Fletcher, when it comes to the law, we do things my way.

Call your clients now.

£19,000. On the right at £19,000 I've got.

You're out here and you're out there.

Well, that wasn't too painful, was it?

No, it was nice. Thank you.

Thank you.

Still, can't hang about.

They'll be back soon.

So, what am I gonna do about Verity?

Uh, how do you mean?

Well, she's flopping around like some spaniel puppy,

so she must be in love.

But as she hasn't told me who it is,

I can only presume it's some ghastly local inbred.

Really?

Anyway, I'm arranging for her to live in London for a while.

So with a bit of luck, she'll meet a nice cash machine banker

who'll cart her off into the sunset.

Don't touch it!

Selina.

Yes, Eddie. What do you want? I'm busy.

Oh, God. How boring.

Yes, all right. I'll deal with it. Bye.

That's all I bloody need, that policeman's coming over.

Oh, God. It's him already.

Ben, quick. Let him in.

Let him in!

Oh, hi.

- Ben, isn't it? - Yeah.

Oh. I was just doing some work in the bathroom.

Ah. Mrs Stanton around?

Hello, Inspector.

My husband said you were coming.

Ben, you can finish off later.

So, I gather you insist on seeing my parents.

With the death of Gerry Dawkins...

Oh, yes. Yes.

So, so sad. Such an interesting man.

I was hoping you might be able to accompany me

so that I don't alarm your parents.

I think it might be the other way round.

Come along, then.

Mummy, Daddy, open up! It's me.

You're wasting your time. They're totally doolally.

- William Bingham? - Yes.

Detective Chief Inspector John Barnaby.

Oh, yes.

We heard you were dropping by.

Oh, how jolly nice of you.

How do you do?

And how are you, darling girl?

How's that pony of yours, Topper?

He's been dead for 30 years, Daddy.

Really? Oh, how sad.

Oh, I am sorry.

Well, look. Do come on in.

Come in.

Mary's sliced the Battenberg

and put the kettle on for tea.

Or would you prefer something stronger?

Thou must be over the yard arm somewhere or other.

Tea would be fine.

You'll have to forgive the clutter. The cleaning lady's on hols

and Mary's not too au fait

with the old vacuum cleaner.

Oh, Jennifer, how good of you to come.

Selina, Mummy.

Oh, no, of course. And is this your husband?

This is John Barnaby, the new chief rozzer in Causton.

Oh, really? How nice.

Urn, and where were you before?

Brighton.

Mods and rockers. How nice.

Please, all of you, do sit down.

So, Chief Inspector,

I'm sure this wasn't entirely a social call.

Oh, you are so impatient, William.

A fellow at the Social Security department, Gerry Dawkins,

happened to mention to us that you haven't been taking the benefits

- to which you're entitled. - Dawkins.

No, I was in the army with a Dawkins.

Yorkshire chap.

Now, um, are you a milk-in-first man?

- I do hope so. - Thank you.

Milk in first would be fine.

I gather you suffered rather a tragic

family accident some years back.

Do you shoot? Or are you a hunting fellow?

Hmm. Or fishing?

Well, I like fishing.

It's been very nice meeting you, sir.

Anytime, anytime.

And Mrs Bingham, thank you for the tea.

You must come again. I would so like to talk further with you.

- I'd enjoy that. - Please.

Yes, yes. Please, let the poor man go now.

I warned you.

So, what did happen all those years ago?

I was only eight at the time.

My elder brother and sister were in a speeding car

that ended up in the river where they both drowned.

- I'm sorry. - Yes.

They were a lot older than me.

In fact, I think I was an afterthought or a mistake,

knowing those two old dope heads.

I'm sorry?

The sixties. Those two were into everything going.

They seem very, urn, traditional now.

That's not them. They got those old quaint duck characters

from watching the telly.

- Must have been a shock. - Yes, for all of us.

I adored my sister.

Whenever I fell off my pony, Jenny was always there hugging me,

kissing me, wiping away my tears

with a red spotted handkerchief.

- Did it affect you much? - Of course it did.

You don't get to be a bitch like me without good cause.

You haven't had any children together, then?

No, thank you.

Not after what happened to the children in our family.

Besides, Eddie's rubbish in bed,

so it probably wouldn't happen anyway.

Oh, what a beauty!

Excuse me.

Take her to the loose box. I want to have a look at her.

So, how did you get on with the nutters?

Mr and Mrs Bingham were very interesting.

Loafers, all the Binghams. Too much money, not enough graft.

Where did the money come from?

That was old Frank Bingham, way back.

He sold cheap, lousy food to the MoD for the soldiers in World War I.

Made a packet, then set up huge trust funds

they've all lived off ever since.

When do those trusts expire?

When those old loons pop their clogs.

Then Selina inherits the capital

and Eddie Stanton will be laughing all the way to Europe.

- Where were you earlier this afternoon? - Round and about.

Precisely.

I was, uh, with a friend

who I occasionally drop in on.

- You mean a woman. - Yes, of course a woman.

- Could I have her name, please? - No, you couldn't.

I'm a gentleman.

You come up with a charge, I'll answer it.

Meanwhile, toodle-pip.

Oh, Josephine.

John, this is Josephine Parker, my deputy head.

Miss Parker. I was just telling your wife

how wonderful it is to have all this new blood

running everything in Causton these days.

- Can we give you a lift, Miss Parker? - Oh, I'm fine.

Buses have always been good enough for me. Bye.

My new best friend.

William.

Oh, darling. You startled me.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I was just wondering if you'd done anything about dining tonight.

Oh, course.

Rang the Connaught. Had a word with Marcel.

He says that our quatre saisons with extra capers

will be here in two shakes of a vodka martini.

Oh, you are such a man of the world.

And you're a woman of grace and elegance.

We make a splendid couple.

- Quite the talk of the town. - Yes.

- What were you writing? - What?

Oh, nothing, nothing. Bit of this, bit of that.

Snippets of family history. Just trinkets, my love.

Not a vast amount of water in the lungs,

so the first impact as he rolled over

must have knocked him cold,

preventing any gulping of water.

The facial injuries are consistent with being severely bounced

upside down along the river bed.

What about this indentation in the back of the head?

Probably swirled around a bit. I don't know much about canoeing.

Well, in the first place, canoeists usually wear helmets,

and secondly,

they don't go canoeing in their office clothes.

As I say, it's a world I know very little about.

Maybe you should get out more.

I've been down the town hall, and there's no record of Maggie Viviani

prior to the birth of her son Ben.

So why isn't he called Ben Grace?

There's no record of any marriage, only Adam named as father.

- What do we know about him? - He's fully documented and legit.

Supposedly quite a good artist.

- So who's Viviani? - I don't know, sir.

- Did you ask Maggie? - I did.

She said her existence began with herself.

"Before me there was nothing of me."

And what did you say to that?

I told her she had three outstanding parking fines.

- Are you looking for something? - What gave you that idea?

Just a hunch.

I'm looking for case files from 35 years ago.

Anything over ten years old gets sent to the central files warehouse.

Which is where?

- Which is burnt down ten years ago. - I love this place.

If you want to know something from way back, you talk to the local gossips.

So who is the expert on Causton?

Nosey Parker. At the school.

- Real name Josie Parker but... - Yes, yes, I think I know her.

And Bingham country? Who would be the keeper of the gossip over there?

Probably my gran.

- Your gran. - Yeah.

Eddie Stanton claims to have a mistress.

Would your gran happen to know who that poor woman might be?

I'll check.

No, it's fine, Larry.

They were off the planet as usual. Yeah.

Barnaby went on his way none the wiser.

Yeah, yeah, we'll keep an eye on it.

Watching brief.

Nice one, son. Bye-bye.

- Wish I got a hundred grand a time. - We'd still be broke.

Oh, that's very nice. Very charming. Thank you so much.

- Uh, Daddy? - Yes, darling.

I have, um, something to tell you.

Yeah.

I want to get married.

No, I am getting married.

- Who to? - To someone of my own choosing.

And I don't intend to be sent to London

to be sold off to some boring banker.

Well, blimey, darling. That's a bit of a flanker.

So, uh, who is it? Oh, urn, Rupert...?

- No, Charles? - It's Ben.

- Ben... - Ben Viviani.

- What?! - I love him and he loves me.

- Yeah, but... - You want me to be happy, don't you?

- Of course. - And Ben is the best manager

you have ever had?

- I suppose. - So, what's the problem?

Urn, I dunno.

I was just thinking differently for my girl.

But, urn, if you love him.

What do you think, Selina?

You all right, doll?

So sciences have to be double periods

otherwise you waste too much time on the setups.

Oh, hello, darling. You remember Josie Parker, don't you?

Just the person I wanted to see.

So where were the Binghams' children going?

Well, no-one knew but they did have luggage,

quite a lot of luggage, so it wasn't just for a weekend.

How fascinating.

Of course, I only got it from my old Aunt Louisa,

but she got it from old Jonathan Frost,

who was the Binghams' family doctor.

But he intimated to Louisa

that there had been some sort of family row,

and that they were leaving home for good.

- What was the row about? - I don't know.

My Aunt Louisa died before she could pass on the full story.

Sorry. Frog.

Switch her on!

Selina! Oh, this is a nice surprise.

Do I detect a certain hostility in your body language?

Perhaps you'd like to tell me what the problem is

before you eviscerate me. I'd hate to die in ignorance.

Verity wants to marry your son.

- Is this not a cause for celebration? - No, it isn't.

Ben, your dear little son, is my lover.

Oh, my...

- Oh, my... - This wedding is not going to happen.

I just thought I'd tell you that.

Oh, Selina. You don't know what you've done.

One way or another, I am going to stop it.

So smile your way through that one.

- Selina. - What?

If you attempt to interfere, if you even think about it,

I will expose you.

Midsomer's own Mrs Robinson sexually harassing her employees.

You wouldn't do it. You're too nice.

I would and I'm not.

So I suggest you stop waving the kitchenware around,

accept the inevitable and pretend to be happy about it.

You can always find yourself another plaything.

George, I need records.

Ours went up in smoke, but people do not die in horrendous accidents

without medical reports being filed all over the place.

I'm not getting shirty, I'm getting efficient.

An investigation cannot function on gossip alone.

Good. Thank you. An obvious place to look.

I'll see you there at 11:00. Bye, George.

You gone off gossip?

I think it should occasionally be seasoned with hard facts.

You're not going to like this, then.

- What about her? - She's Eddie Stanton's fancy woman.

- Don't be ridiculous. - That's what I said but my Gran insisted.

Said she'd seen him going in there. Regularly. With her own eyes.

- How are her eyes? - Sharp as a ferret's.

Morning.

You found it.

I'm not saying they will be there, but if they still exist,

this is where you'll find them.

Very cavalier attitude towards records round here.

No wonder Gerry Dawkins was driven insane.

- I can't go down there myself. - What?

The dust. It gets on my lungs.

I suggest you use one of these.

- Can't you use one? - No, they're pretty useless.

Dr Williams to reception, please. Dr Williams.

Barnaby.

Mrs Bingham. How can I help you?

I want to tell you all about life

in Midsomer Parva.

I want you to come to tea.

This afternoon.

- I'd be delighted. - Four o'clock.

I'll be there. Bye, Mrs Bingham.

Found anything?

Mm. Coroner's report into the death of the young Binghams.

Robin and Jennifer.

Verdict, accidental death. What's interesting there?

- I don't know. - "Death". Singular.

Autopsy report on only one body: Robin's.

- Jennifer, open verdict. - Why?

Because Jennifer's body was never found.

Yeah, well, it's understandable.

No. No, it isn't.

Bodies do not disappear in a river

unless it's a wide estuary running out to sea.

Bodies bloat and float,

or divers find them wedged under tree roots.

They do not disappear

in small rivers.

I'm missing something. Something really obvious which is on the edge of my mind.

- We better have a case review, then. - Yes, yes.

Oh, dear! Thick as two planks.

Look! Hospital, doctors. Nosey Parker!

Of course I only got it from my old Aunt Louisa,

but she got it from old Jonathan Frost,

who was the Bingham's family doctor.

Jonathan Frost. Ring any local bells?

- From way back, yeah. - Good. Find out if he's still alive.

And if he is, see what you can get out of him re. the Bingham story.

What about patient confidentiality?

Jones, think laterally.

- That's what DCI Barnaby used to say. - Yes, yes, yes.

We got it from our uncle.

Uh, where will you be?

Checking out a scarlet woman.

- Give her my number. - That's your problem, Jones.

You come across as desperate.

Thanks for that, sir.

Mr Barnaby! ls anything wrong?

No, no. Just passing. Wondered if I could have a word?

Of course, I do understand.

What with you being new here.

Along with your wife.

I suppose you need someone to tell you what's been happening here

for the many, many years before you both arrived.

So how can I help you?

Well, it might be interesting if you told me a bit about yourself first.

Really?

Well, what would you like to know?

Urn, have you ever been married?

No.

- Had offers of course. - Of course. But no children.

I think the answer to that

is the natural corollary to your previous question.

Yes, of course.

But you know, modern times. Never can tell.

Maybe in your Brighton, but in Midsomer,

deputy head teachers do not have children out of wedlock.

Right. And how about, urn,

friends?

Mr Barnaby, exactly what are you asking here?

What is your relationship with Eddie Stanton?

And what business is that of yours?

I am a police officer investigating a murder.

Did Mr Stanton spend part of yesterday afternoon here with you?

Yes, he did.

He always comes round on Wednesday afternoons.

- Regular as clockwork. - I see.

I don't think you see at all.

No?

There is nothing untoward in our relationship.

Did he

suggest otherwise?

He implied you were his mistress.

Mistress! Me?

As if I'd have anything to do with such a common little oik.

So why was he here?

I am his book keeper.

- Book keeper. - Yes, I...

I keep track of his actual financial peregrinations,

which he then passes on to his accountant.

I suspect with his own colourful amendments.

He's on the fiddle?

He's the whole damn string section.

And now I suppose I'm compromised.

- You haven't done anything illegal. - But I hold a position of trust.

Here. Have these.

They're a present for you and your wife.

Welcome to Midsomer.

What you have to understand, Mr Barnaby, is the morality of the time.

I mean, our parents were really Edwardians.

Social evolution was delayed

by two world wars,

so when the young, us... Oh.

Eventually broke free, I suppose we did go a little wild,

crossed certain boundaries, defied the old gods

and replaced them with...

What did we replace them with?

Not a lot.

Nothing at all.

Ah, my babies, my children.

I am so very sorry.

I can't give you back your lost years,

your lost lives,

but maybe I can make some small amends.

Is that you, William?

Mr Barnaby?

Oh, who is it, please?

Oh, do speak out.

My eyesight isn't very good but my...

My hearing is excellent.

He is sitting over there by the river.

Dr Frost?

Yes?

That's all right, I've had breakfast.

Uh, doctor said that I'd picked up some passing virus.

- That's why I was sick. - Oh, right.

But I'm better now,

and I just want to congratulate you on your engagement.

Thank you.

And Ben...

welcome to the family.

Thanks.

Give me a kiss, then.

I hope you're both very happy.

Scary.

The river Styx, Mr Jones.

The river you cross on the way to Hades.

Very close, isn't it?

The younger Binghams, sir?

I can't tell you.

Doctor-patient confidentiality.

They are both dead, sir.

But their parents aren't.

The thing is, sir, it's very difficult to get

all the pieces of the jigsaw together

and work out where we are on this one.

The elder Binghams are a bit off the air these days.

Of course they are. Have been for years.

Not surprising after what they got up to.

Ah, the shooting fellow.

Ah, Mary's expecting you. Come in, come in.

Do you play cricket?

- I do, sir. - Excellent. I'll have a word with the skip.

Might be able to fit you in. Hm?

Look, just wanted to warn you that Mary's not quite as sharp

as she once was, so you'll have to take what she says

with a good pinch of salt. Hm?

- I'll bear that in mind, sir. - Mary! Mary!

Oh, she doesn't seem to be here.

Oh, I'll just go and chase her up.

She was here. Mary!

Mary!

Mary!

Okay, is she? All tickety boo?

I think maybe murder could transcend

your loyalty to dead patients, Doctor.

So you're rewriting our code of ethics now, are you?

Gerry Dawkins...

Dawkins was a pain in the arse!

You knew him?

He was here last week asking the same questions as you.

Okay, okay...

Let me put it this way.

If I go back to my governor with no information,

I could have a severe career dip.

Self interest. I love it!

Well, at least it's honest.

So why were the Bingham children leaving home?

I will proffer nothing,

but I will listen to speculation.

Okay, okay...

Uh, money scandal? Gambling debts?

Uh, drugs? Robin was dealing?

Uh, Jennifer. Jennifer was pregnant?

Who by?

Was it someone local?

You'd better answer the wretched thing, then.

What?!

Heart attack.

Excuse me? Mountain of newspapers falling on her?

Was not what she actually died from. Could've triggered it.

So an induced heart attack. Someone pushed the papers on top of her.

Or she pulled them herself. Accidents do happen, you know.

- So you keep telling me. - Yes, I kept telling her.

- I kept telling her. - What did you tell her, sir?

Well, just because you've got someone coming to tea,

doesn't mean you have to go mad with the tidying up.

She was very house proud, you see.

Yes, come on, Daddy, you come with us now.

She'll be all right.

Bit of a breather and she'll be right back on form.

- No, Mary's a good 'un. - Yes, come on.

Jones, where have you been?

I was on the verge of getting some vital information

when I was interrupted by my commanding officer.

So what did you learn before this interruption?

That Jennifer was pregnant and that's probably

why she was thrown out the family home.

Bit extreme.

And who was the father, and why was the son kicked out as well?

I don't know. Dr Frost went off in a huff when my phone went.

Maybe you should switch your phone off while you're doing interviews.

There was a directive to that effect about five years ago.

Pardon me for missing it!

What's this?

Map reference?

Somewhere in the middle of Borneo.

Little outside our parish.

Or, according to this, a sequence of places in space.

Precede the map refs with the word "moon".

Whoa. Jackpot.

Moon crater names and that reference

is a crater called "Bingham".

They've got a moon crater named after them?

No. After Hiram J. Bingham.

"An American explorer who discovered

the Inca capital of Machu Picchu in 1911."

I don't get it.

It's a link between two deaths so there must be something.

Check the rest of the crater names.

There's hundreds of them.

Try these first. I'm going to see your Dr Frost.

"You failed, Jones, so I'm going to have to do it for you."

"Thanks, Superman, what would we do without you?"

- How long ago? - Within the hour.

I'm sorry. Did you tell him I was coming?

I went to tell him but he had already passed.

He had a visitor earlier. One of yours, I believe.

Then he went for a lie down after lunch and slipped gently away.

Not a bad way to go.

Thing is, doctor,

I have this idea that could stitch this one together,

and I have a funny feeling you know what I'm talking about.

Being a meticulous sort of person,

I hope you wrote it all down for me.

Could save a lot of time.

No, no, no, no, no, no. I'm sorry, I've had enough of all this.

No more questions, no more bollocks. I'm calling my lawyer.

Good. I wanted to see Mr Fletcher again.

What's happening?

Yeah, Larry. Yeah, get yourself over here.

You got it. The new boy.

- He's on his way. - Good.

- Hello, everyone. - What's she doing here?

God knows, Selina. What are any of us doing here?

You are all helping the police with their enquiries.

- Oh, no, we're not. - Eddie, do shut up.

- Just get on with it, Inspector. - Thank you.

Ms Viviani, Mr Grace, good afternoon.

Good afternoon. What do you want?

We know why you fail to appear

on many governmental databases.

Amaze me.

Because Viviani is not your real name.

Give that man a prize.

Jones.

Viviani is the name of a crater on the moon,

named after Vincenzo Viviani, a pupil of Galileo.

Well, ain't that interesting.

And the adjoining crater?

Is called "Bingham".

Now, there's a coincidence.

Two proximate families here on earth with the same names

as two neighbouring craters, somewhat more distant.

Excuse me, my brain is hurting. What is this crap?

- Where is your father? - I don't know.

Talking to the fairies somewhere, up at the big house. Who cares?

- Jones. - Sir.

What is going on?

Let me outline a possible sequence of events that would get us all to this,

our current map reference.

1975.

Young Jennifer Bingham is being banished from the family home for being pregnant.

What are you doing?

But her brother, Robin Bingham, drives too fast,

and the car plunges into the river.

Yes, and my brother and sister are both killed,

and my life starts going down the toilet. So what's new?

Quite a lot, actually.

Robin doesn't have a chance. He's unconscious. He drowns.

But Jennifer is a fighter.

She survives.

She makes her choice.

She crosses the river.

And on the other side,

a strong young man welcomes her to a new life.

Adam takes her back to the artists' colony

where he looks after her.

And, in due course,

she has her child, whom she calls "Ben".

Jennifer Bingham becomes Maggie,

and adopts the surname "Viviani"

because she loves astronomy

and because she knows her moon craters.

Viviani, next to Bingham.

You're Jenny? My sister Jenny?

Sorry, kid.

But I loved you.

I loved you.

Oh, my God! Oh, my God!

Why didn't you tell me you were still alive?

Because you would have wanted to know everything.

What everything? What else can there be?

It was the shame, wasn't it?

That was what made you hide away.

What shame?

Robin, your big brother, was also expelled from the Bingham Camelot.

Why was that?

- Come on. Tell me. Why? - Work it out, child.

Well, after the 60's, nobody got chucked out

for being unmarried and pregnant.

But getting pregnant by your brother...

Well, even for our pothead parents, that was a bit beyond the pale.

- Brother. - I love this family.

Oh, my God! Oh, my God!

And you still had plans, didn't you, Maggie?

What plans?

Well, you might have lost the farm

but maybe Ben could win it back for you.

You taught him all you knew about horses,

you insinuated him into his job here,

and no doubt encouraged his courtship of Verity so that one day,

if they married, the Bingham estate might revert to its rightful heirs.

- Mum? - No! That's...

Well, maybe a bit. Subconsciously.

A mother being ambitious for her child. What's so wrong with that?

Hi, everyone. How's it all going?

You shut up. Keep digging, Barnaby.

Then up pops Gerry Dawkins

who has discovered Maggie's true identity.

I have something important to relate

regarding our ongoing investigation.

Just a minute, Sherlock.

I had nothing to do with that.

Then poor Mary Bingham decides it's time

she unburdened herself of the truth.

She asked to talk to me.

You must come again. I would so like to talk further with you.

- I'd enjoy that. - Please.

Yes, yes. Thank you. Let the poor man go now.

- Well, I didn't know that. - No.

No, you didn't. But someone did.

- Me? - If your mother told the whole story,

how would that affect your standing in the community?

The hunt, the golf club? Could be a lot of doors closing.

- But, I didn't... - But you didn't know the full story.

That was obvious from your behaviour just now.

No. No. Right. I didn't know anything.

If I may step in here as the family's legal representative...

And the trustee of the Bingham estate.

Yes.

Nice little earner that one? I bet it is.

So long as no-one looks too closely at how you and Eddie here

handle the finances of his wife's estate.

What? What's he talking about?

Uh, nothing, doll. Nothing.

I had a chat

with Josie Parker

and the local tax office.

- Look, I would like to say... - Better if you don't say...

Would you shut up?

This has nothing to do with anything.

Just false accounting, is it? Milking the estate?

Something you'd keep quiet at any cost.

No, no, no. Look, whatever that is,

I haven't done anything. Anything.

Well, not murder.

One penny out of place and you are so dead. And you.

Excuse me, but where does all this leave Ben and me?

Uh, you're fine. Press on with your own lives.

But aren't we sort of relatives or something?

There are no blood ties.

It's not like you're first cousins

or uncles or aunts or anything.

You all right, doll?

Come here, come here, come here, come here.

Come on. Such a brave girl.

I've found Bingham, sir. You'd better come. Quickly.

Don't cry now, be a brave girl.

No more tears. It's all right.

Hello, William.

What ho?

Ah, it's the shooting fellow, isn't it?

What are you doing up there?

Well, you know.

A little nearer my god to thee.

Would you mind coming down, please?

Well, I would, actually.

You see, I've got this thingummy up here.

And what's that, William?

Well, I may have told you, I think...

- I was in the army, you know? - Yes.

Not for long. I was one of the last to do national service.

But they did teach a chap to do one useful thing.

And what was that?

Well, how to make big bangs.

And bomb thingies.

- Really? - Yes.

With stuff you could get from the local chemists.

You know bit of sulphur, potassium permanganate,

magnesium strip.

Easy peasy.

Yeah, I blew up a squash court once.

And is that what you've got there?

No, no, no, no.

- I'm not silly, you know. - Good.

No. This is just the detonating device.

Yes, the little bomb's up there in the rafters. See?

In the custard cream tin.

Oh, God.

You can't get them anymore. Good biscuit tins.

- Back stairs. - He's really flipped this time.

Mr Stanton, keep everyone well back and call the emergency services.

I've got a shotgun if you want to bring him down.

Go.

Everybody back beyond the drive.

He's got a bloody bomb in there.

Oh, my...

Daddy! Daddy!

So, William,

what's the plan?

Mary's dead, isn't she?

Yes, I'm afraid so.

Yes, I knew it at the time, of course.

But it wasn't sort of going in.

Anyway, no fun without the old stick,

so I thought I might go and join her up there.

And what makes you think you'll be going "up there"?

Well, why shouldn't I?

Because I think your God probably knows what you did.

What did I do?

You committed two murders, William.

- Did I? - I think so.

And why did I do that?

Guilt, William.

Deep, coruscating, soul-destroying guilt

at your behaviour as young parents.

You and your wife epitomised the free spirit of the age.

It was all "get out there, have fun, do drugs, do sex, do anything.

No taboos."

Yes. The revolution. We were the revolution.

We were up there on the barricades.

Marat we're marching on.

Aux armes, citoyens.

Formez vos bataillons...

William. William!

What? What?

What happened?

I don't know.

You taught your children all about free love, didn't you?

"Do what you like, kids. It's cool."

No, no.

But then Jennifer got pregnant to her own brother

and the train hit the buffers, didn't it?

The party was well and truly over.

You woke up, the smoke cleared,

you looked around you.

And what did you and Mary say?

You said, "We have sinned.

Dear God, how we have sinned."

Oh, yes.

Yes, we had sinned.

So then you had to cast the devils out.

You had to banish your children.

Oh, the God of Abraham.

Sacrificing Isaac.

His child.

Our children.

So then you withdrew from this life

to start a life of atonement.

William. William...

How did you know your daughter was still alive?

The horses.

Jennifer always had a way with horses.

We heard rumours from across the river.

Then one day,

she came here with her son.

It was 20 years later, but we knew it was her

and her son.

No, her nephew.

No, her son.

And your grandson.

Yes.

So when Ben came to work next door,

you also saw the chance

of him one day taking over the estate,

and maybe helping you and Mary inch towards redemption.

- Dawkins! - What?

Gerry Dawkins comes sniffing round.

He even calls you to tell you that he has

some earth-shattering news for you regarding your daughter.

- Right? - Yes.

You ask him to meet you at the boatsheds.

You force him into his canoe,

and hit him in the back of his head.

Then you push him out into the river

where he quickly overturns.

Irritating man. Busybody. He had to go.

And I'm afraid I do too now.

No, wait! You can't go yet.

You haven't finished your confession.

You don't get absolution without telling all.

What happened next, William?

Nothing! Nothing!

Your dear wife.

Mary wanted redemption too.

I want to tell you all about life

in Midsomer Parva.

Your wife wanted to confess to me, didn't she?

I want you to come for tea. Four o'clock.

But you couldn't have that, could you?

You wanted to do it your way.

You had to stop Mary.

No, I was just sending her on ahead.

- And I'm sorry. - No!

But I'm afraid I must join her.

Jones!

Do not move.

I'm okay, I'm okay.

- Pizza boxes. I love 'em. - Just stay completely still.

Come on.

Well...

Oh, no.

I'm sorry, William,

you have to face the judges temporal before those eternal.

Thank you.

Oh, it's so nice of you all to drop by.

Have you come far?

Thanks, darling.

Just pop it over there.

Second honeymoon over, is it?

Yup. Back to weekends only.

It is the weekend.

Well, except this weekend.

Term starts on Monday. I am on a mission.

Oh. Right.

What'll happen to your recluse?

Unfit to plead. Indefinite custody.

How's things with your deputy?

She's retiring.

Really? Any particular reason?

- Not that she'd tell me. - Oh, well.

Probably for the best.

She said she bumped into you the other day.

Oh, yes.

Do you have anything to tell me?

No.