Original subtitles

Come on, Ferdy! Get a wriggle on!

Okay.

That was three caprese salads and one ginger scallops!

Amy, let me look at those.

Service!

Table 5 says the lamb was underdone.

Well, tell them they're wrong.

Ready to go!

Excuse me, sir.

Sir?

Where is my ravioli?!

Three pressed duck and pomegranate salads coming up.

Check on, Chef.

Check on, Chef!

Amy? Your father's here.

Go and find out what he wants.

Nope. Too busy.

Come on, Ferdy. Get a move on.

Check on, Chef.

Okay!

Three classic cocktails, one herbed chicken, and a venison.

- Yes, Chef. - Yes, Chef.

Good evening, Martin.

This is an unexpected pleasure.

I'm afraid this table is reserved,

but I'll get another one set up for you right away.

I thought I'd look in and see how you're doing.

Very nicely, it seems.

Have you decided what you'd like to eat?

I have a hankering for truffles.

I'm afraid we don't have truffles on the menu.

Really?

I'm surprised.

Olly here has a nose for them, you know.

Well, if you've no truffles, I'll be off.

Don't really fancy anything else.

This is for you.

What is it?

Business matter.

It'll come as a bit of a shock, I'm afraid.

Come on, Olly.

Come on! Good boy.

Good boy. Come.

Nick. Leave those and get up here.

Morels!

Isn't that Martin Strickland's land?

So?

Don't be such a wimp. And come and help me.

Darling?

Could you, pass me that cushion?

Thank you.

And the, footstool.

What happened to "I'm not ill"?

So you were listening.

Fair enough. I will try to stop fussing.

Hey, boy. Do you like your new bowl?

Apparently not.

He hardly ate anything yesterday either.

Maybe he's ordered a takeaway.

There's a body in the woods over at Midsomer Wyvern, sir.

Hello, Sykesy.

How you doing, boy?

Hello, Charlie.

How is your lovely landlady?

Already at the crime scene.

You're up bright and early.

I thought you were on maternity leave.

My first day today, and I've loads...

You're meant to be taking it easy.

Yes, darling. Of course.

Keep an eye on her, Sykes. And eat your breakfast.

He's off his food.

See you.

Local farmer by the name of Martin Strickland.

A woman who lives nearby found the body tied to the tree

and called it in at 6:23 a.m.

At 7:05 there was another call, anonymous,

from a phone box in Causton.

The victim's wallet and mobile were still in his pockets.

I'll check his calls once the phone's been processed.

Footprints. Two different sets.

Look quite fresh.

See they make casts.

Initial thoughts, Kate?

He died sometime between midnight and 2:00 a.m.

No sign of head injury.

I won't be able to say whether he's been shot

until I get him back on the slab.

But most of his chest and stomach are gone.

Not to get too technical about it.

I'd say he's been eaten by something.

Before or after death?

Before, unfortunately.

Maybe a big cat.

There are meant to be dozens roaming wild all over the place.

Pumas, mostly.

Does your book of urban myths also say

that pumas are good at tying knots?

This is murder.

Sir.

Come on, guys. Half an hour till service.

Okay. Where's my crayfish?

Five minutes, Chef.

Ferdy, how long for that lettuce.

Well, you said be thorough.

Nick.

It's split.

No, it's not.

Start again.

Shall I do the rillettes, Chef, since Nick's going to be behind?

Yes. Thank you, Amy.

Morning, all.

It's your friendly local butcher,

with all the choicest cuts and juiciest gossip.

Stephanie.

Let's see what you've got.

Are you sure this beef's been hung for long enough?

Strung it up myself 28 days ago.

It's not the Belted Galloway I asked for, though, is it?

Boss said to tell you he won't be able to get his hands

on any of that until next week at the earliest.

Well, if I find out the Riverside Inn's got Galloway

on the menu before that, there'll be trouble.

You know we wouldn't do that to our best customer.

Sign here, please.

Ferdy?!

Ta.

Get this meat in the chiller.

Did she believe you about the beef?

Yeah. But I can't keep this up much longer, Johnny.

Last time, I promise.

And thanks, Stephanie. You're a star.

Over there, I think.

Yes?

Lizzy Thornfield?

Yes.

May we come in?

What were you doing out in the woods

so early this morning, Ms. Thornfield?

Collecting firewood.

Before anyone was around to stop you?

You recognized Martin Strickland straightaway.

How well did you know him?

Better than I wanted to.

You disliked him? Why?

Arrogant landowners aren't my type.

Did you hear anything unusual in the woods last night?

There were some gunshots around midnight.

I assumed it was poachers.

Wild oats and ginseng.

Very good for your libido.

Do you want me to come with you to see Mrs. Strickland?

No.

You stay here until forensics are ready

to release the victim's phone.

I guess it only takes one of us to break bad news.

Look what's just arrived.

"Wild Harvest."

"This year's must-have book

from one of Britain's most exciting chefs.

Destined to become an instant classic."

Let me take a look.

I'm still not sure about the cover.

It's fabulous. Hello, bestseller list.

It looks amazing.

Cool.

I'm sure the author will be happy to sign them for you.

Yeah. Well, later.

Come on, now, everyone. Back to work!

Come on! There's service in 10 minutes!

Tout suite!

Come on, kids! Come on!

An animal attack?

That doesn't make sense.

We're still trying to establish exactly what happened,

but I'm afraid there's not much doubt

that your husband was murdered.

Do you have any idea what he might have been doing

out in the woods so late at night?

I would say taking Olly for a walk,

but he brought him back about 10:00.

And then went out again?

Didn't that strike you as odd?

Not particularly.

We have problems with poachers.

And it's only a couple of nights since the truffles were stolen.

Truffles?

About £10,000 worth, Martin said,

all dug up overnight.

Did he report it?

I assume so.

And this morning, weren't you alarmed

when you realized your husband hadn't come home?

I didn't realize.

Although come to think of it, Olly was whining to go out.

Martin very often slept in the spare room.

We keep very different hours, and he snores.

Used to snore.

Had Mr. Strickland fallen out with anyone lately?

Probably.

He usually had.

There was something going on with the restaurant people,

I believe.

Which restaurant would that be?

Wyvern House.

Used to be the family home once upon a time.

We still own the freehold.

What was the dispute about?

I really don't know.

Do you have any children, Mrs. Strickland?

No.

Martin does have a daughter from his first marriage.

She works at Wyvern House, as it happens.

I suppose I really ought to call the poor girl.

Well done, everybody.

Really well done.

Nick, the scallops for Table 2

were cooked for 15 seconds too long.

Amy, you mangled a perfectly good partridge breast,

and your créme anglaise was runny.

But generally excellent work.

Sorry.

Camilla. What do you want?

What?

And let me know when you've traced the number.

Thanks.

What's up, Charlie boy?

Martin Strickland's last phone call

was to an agricultural supplies company.

So? He's a farmer.

The call was placed at 11:13 at night.

What do you farm here?

Beef cattle mostly.

And Martin runs some commercial shoots up in the woods...

Pheasant, deer, wild boar.

That kind of thing.

Camilla, do you know where Martin is?

I've not seen him all morning.

Martin's dead, Jamie.

My God. That's terrible.

Sorry, sir. You are?

Jamie Weston.

Jamie worked for Martin.

Well, for me now, I suppose.

Excuse me.

Nelson?

Sir, Strickland's phone lists his last call

as an agricultural supplies company.

But it turns out

the number actually belongs to an Angela Linklater,

landlady of the village pub.

Make mine a half.

Yes, sir.

Angela Linklater?

That's me.

Come to do a spot check on my pumps and barrels, have you?

Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby, Causton C.I.D.

This is D.S. Nelson.

Could you tell me the nature of the phone call you received

from Martin Strickland just after 11:00 last night?

Why do you want to know?

Because Mr. Strickland was found murdered early this morning.

God.

No.

Urn...

The phone call?

Urn, he just rang to say good night.

Sorry.

I take it your relationship with Mr. Strickland

was, a close one?

Nothing serious, but we'd been seeing each other for a while.

Your number was stored in his phone

as "agricultural suppliers."

Was that to keep it hidden from his wife?

Shall we?

I didn't know he'd done that.

But I suppose so, yes.

When did you last see him?

Urn, he came in for a drink last night around 9:00.

He wanted to spend the night,

but I was shattered, so I said no.

How often did he stay at yours?

Couple of times a week.

So surely Mrs. Strickland must have suspected something.

Of course she did.

She came in here a couple of months ago

and told me to stay away from her husband

or she'd be back with a shotgun.

What did you say?

I told her she needed to talk to her husband

before she started shooting people.

And do you know if she did?

Talk to her husband, that is.

I doubt it.

The last thing Camilla wanted was a divorce.

I mean, where would she keep her horse?

Sorry.

Do you mind telling us your movements last night

after Mr. Strickland left?

Urn, I was in the bar till 11:00, urn, then clearing up.

Martin called,

I suppose hoping I'd changed my mind, and then I went to bed.

You live on the premises?

Alone?

With my son.

Was he at home last night?

Ferdy works at his father's place, Wyvern House.

He doesn't usually get back till gone midnight.

Wyvern House is Ruth Cameron's restaurant, isn't it?

She's married to Johnny, my ex.

Don't worry. It's all very civilized.

Are we safe now, do you think?

Unless Martin shared his plan with his wife.

A dreadful thing to happen, of course.

Though it couldn't have happened to a nastier man.

No.

Johnny?

If you know something you're not telling me...

You'd better look at this.

He died of multiple penetrating injuries,

but no sign of gunshot or knife wounds.

The torso's a mess.

Bite marks and saliva everywhere.

Nasty.

He'd ingested a hefty dose of valerian

as well as a fair bit of alcohol.

Valerian?

A natural sleeping remedy.

But here's the really strange part.

The torso was smeared with a viscous substance

before the attack.

I've sent samples off for testing,

but I am pretty sure it's truffle oil.

That's crazy.

They use pigs to hunt for truffles on the Continent,

don't they?

Yes, they do.

You think Martin Strickland was eaten by a pig?

Not a Pig...

An ancient relative... a wild boar.

Camilla Strickland said there are some in the woods.

So Martin Strickland is drugged and tied to a tree,

possibly at gunpoint, then daubed with an oil

the killer knows will prove irresistible

to a large, omnivorous wild animal

and abandoned to his fate.

Hard to think of a more horrible way to die.

Come in.

Tea?

No, thanks.

When did it happen?

Early hours of this morning, the police think.

I called you as soon as I knew.

I'm very sorry, Amy.

He was very fond of you, you know, in spite of everything.

Yes.

And, of course, you'll always be welcome here.

Dear. You don't know, do you?

Know what?

Dad left everything to me.

Anything on this morning's anonymous call?

An adult male.

Probably holding his nose.

But I could have told you that.

What's next?

A visit to the farm.

The cartridges we found in the wood...

What's the betting they match one of their shotguns?

Head over and start the search at Jamie Weston's cottage.

Take Phillips with you.

I'll go and see...

You two.

I'm sorry, Camilla, but you're not going to find anything.

Are you Amy Strickland?

Yes. Are you the police?

Why don't you go and have a chat with Detective Sergeant Nelson?

Now, Mrs. Strickland, why don't you tell me what's going on?

Why didn't you go and speak to your father

when he came into the restaurant last night?

I wish I had now, of course.

But I was busy.

Were you and he close?

Very, when I was a little girl, and again when my mother died.

Then he married Camilla.

And that put a strain on your relationship?

Yes.

But I think he was starting to realize

that she was only interested in his money.

Sorry. I probably shouldn't have said that.

Did you and Mr. Strickland never discuss his will?

No.

I trusted him to do the right thing.

Big mistake.

He always doted on that girl,

despite the way she treated us both.

They barely spoke for years,

except when Amy wanted some money.

But they'd been getting on better lately?

And your relationship with your husband?

Any recent disagreements?

No. Or at least no more than usual.

But you knew about his affair with Angela Linklater,

didn't you?

You should have told me about that, you know.

I was trying to preserve a little dignity.

James Weston?

We have a warrant to search these premises.

Standard 12-bore.

Many people round here got them.

When were they last fired?

Urn, I went out Sunday, after rabbits.

Nothing seems to be missing.

If you say so.

I thought you said he was eaten, not shot.

Several shotgun cartridges were found near the body.

Is there another key to this cupboard

besides the one we found on your husband's key ring?

I really have no idea.

Good book?

You don't catch me reading books about meat in my free time,

do you?

You know, I swear you dream about food.

What's wrong?

This.

She's stolen all my recipes, Steph.

Amy.

We didn't expect you back today.

I didn't want to leave you in the lurch.

You're mad.

I'd have taken the week off.

I'm sure.

Ferdy.

You sure you don't want one, mate?

Sure. Thanks.

Rough day.

I need to get back.

After what she's done to you?

If you won't quit, at least take the night off.

I can't, especially not with Amy gone.

Are you gonna be Ruth Cameron's lapdog all your life?

Let the man make his own decisions, Steph.

Not until I can trust him to make the right ones.

She's always been like this.

Another kid was nasty to me in the playground,

my little sister would beat him up.

He won't say anything to her about it.

I know he won't.

Hey, um... the police came.

They took the shotguns.

Where the hell have you been?

I didn't think you would notice whether I was here or not,

since, according to this, I don't exist.

What's wrong?

Nothing important.

Just the fact that most of the recipes in here

are actually mine.

Terrine of three wild roots with juniper berries.

I made that first.

The juniper berries were my idea.

Blackberry dumplings with lavender and rosewater ice.

"My beloved granny's recipe."

I'm not your granny.

You can't talk to Ruth like that.

Stay out of this, Amy.

Game pie with whiskey jelly.

"I often make this at home for a relaxed lunch with friends."

You don't have any friends.

You have an inflated idea of your own importance, Nick.

These are my recipes, Ruth...

Dishes I devised, worked on, and perfected.

And you've stolen them from me!

I taught you everything you know.

And don't you forget it.

I have acknowledged your contribution.

"Grateful thanks to my husband, Johnny,

and my wonderful team at Wyvern House."

I'm overwhelmed.

How many books do you think your name would sell?

How many people would come to Wyvern House

to eat Nick Iver's food?

There is only one star in this kitchen,

and it is me, not you.

And if you don't like it, you can get out!

And don't come back!

Traitor!

Ferdy, get me a broom.

No, no, no, no, no. Don't touch it.

Aah!

Let me see that.

Get off me.

You can't let Nick get away with this.

I know you two go back a long way, but he's dangerous.

That looks nasty.

Occupational hazard.

What do you want?

This is D.C.I. Barnaby from Causton C.I.D.

I'm D.S. Nelson.

We need to have a word.

Is your husband about, Ms. Cameron?

I understand Mr. Strickland owned Wyvern House

and you leased the building from him.

That's right.

And you've been here now...

Just over two years.

How was your relationship with Mr. Strickland?

The usual wrangles between landlord and tenant

about who was responsible for what,

but, no major problems.

Do you really need me?

Only we're short-staffed in the kitchen.

If you wouldn't mind staying for a few minutes, Ms. Cameron.

I'm curious about the truffles that were stolen

from Martin Strickland's land.

What about them?

A gourmet restaurant that prides itself on using local produce.

Did you consider buying them?

Martin did approach me, but his prices were far too high.

Why did Mr. Strickland come here last night,

then leave without eating?

He hadn't booked, and we were full.

He had a drink, we exchanged pleasantries, and he left.

Did you speak to him, Ms. Cameron?

No.

I'm not the kind of chef

that spends half their night in the dining room,

glad-handing guests.

What time did you finish work yesterday?

About half 12:00.

Were you the last person to leave?

Apart from Ruth and my dad. I had to do all the clearing up.

- And what'd you do then? - I went home.

Played Zombie Cannibal for a bit and went to bed.

I haven't tried Zombie Cannibal yet.

Is it any good?

Did you know about your mother's relationship

with Martin Strickland, Ferdy?

Everybody knew.

- How did you feel about it? - I thought it was pathetic.

- Why is that, then? - They're both old.

You'll be their age one day, mate.

And if I am, I won't carry on like that.

Like what?

Stopping other people from sleeping

just to prove they can still get it on.

Did you feel that Martin was trying to replace your dad?

He would never replace my dad.

I hated Martin.

He might have a cushy number working for his dad,

but Ferdy Linklater has got a fiery temper.

Have you let a suspect get under your skin?

You think he's a suspect?

Everyone's a suspect at this stage.

None of the women in Martin Strickland's life

seem to care very much that he's dead.

Check them all out.

And see what you can find in Strickland's paperwork

that relates to Wyvern House.

There's something Johnny Linklater isn't telling us.

He's been sinking gin and tonics

like there's no tomorrow.

Yeah, I know, Stephanie.

But somebody's got to get him home.

Okay.

But I want him out within the next half an hour.

Does the name Lizzy or Elizabeth Thornfield ring any bells?

Sort of person who might have been on a magazine cover

a long time ago?

Um, there was a Beth Thornfield who was a model...

In the late '60s, maybe?

I'm impressed you remember.

I don't remember.

I taught a module on British popular culture in the 1960s

to the A-level history group last year.

So my childhood is history now.

How interesting.

I'll take you for a walk later.

He's been for three already today.

He's still not eaten anything, though,

even though I gave him his favorite.

Maybe we should take him to the vet.

Here. Take this.

Wild celery.

Do you really do this every day?

Always.

And you'll have to get used to it

now there's no Nick to come with me.

At this time in the morning?

Sir.

I've been going through Martin Strickland's stuff.

Two days before he died, he had a meeting in Causton with "N.I."

Any idea who N.I. is?

My money's on the sous chef at Wyvern House, Nick Iver.

And another thing.

A mocked-up press release for New Wyvern House,

proprietor... Martin Strickland.

Back to the restaurant?

Not yet.

First we're going on a truffle hunt.

Do you have a moment?

Of course.

How are you feeling, Amy?

Do you need some time off after all?

No.

The thing is, my father left everything to me.

Really?

Well, congratulations, if that doesn't seem too crass.

So I suppose that makes me your landlady.

But that's not what I wanted to talk about.

I'm going to have money soon... Quite a lot of it.

And I want to invest in Wyvern House.

I see.

I was thinking, we could, expand the business...

Run courses, develop a merchandising arm, maybe.

The restaurant's wonderful, of course,

but it could be so much more.

It's a generous offer, certainly.

What would you want in return?

A partnership.

Business and creative.

The kitchen is Ruth's domain.

I know I have a lot to learn.

But I have ideas, too, and I think together...

I'll talk to Ruth.

But we mustn't rush into any important decisions.

I hope you both give this some serious thought.

That there is where the truffles were growing.

£10,000 worth, Mrs. Strickland said.

So Martin claimed, which is madness, if you ask me.

I mean, they're just mushrooms, basically, aren't they?

What's that doing there?

Looks like a bat box.

That's funny. I never noticed that before.

Nelson.

How long have you worked on the farm, Mr. Weston?

Just over four years.

And how did you get on with Martin Strickland?

Bit of a control freak, but he was okay,

long as you didn't let him get to you.

Lizzy Thornfield didn't like him much, did she?

No.

Well, the pair of them, they, they had history.

What happened?

Her dog got caught in a trap Martin had set for the foxes.

Poor thing had to be put down.

Course, Lizzy came 'round to the farm,

called Martin every name under the sun.

Said...

Said what?

Nothing important.

She threatened revenge?

It were just talk.

It's a security camera.

Neat piles, Ferdy, so that the cover shows well.

Not like that.

Do I have to do this?

Yes.

How many books do you think you can sell

at an event like this... 10, 15?

Every little helps.

Can I go now?

Yes, and start prepping the vegetables for service.

Amy will tell you what to do.

How's Amy coping with her promotion?

Temporary promotion.

We'll see.

She's got to do everything on her own today.

She, she came to see me earlier.

She wants to invest in the restaurant...

in return for a partnership.

Business and creative.

Who does she think she is?

That jumped-up little madam.

I thought that would be your reactlon.

Do ex-wives get a discount?

Angela.

I'm so sorry about Martin.

Yes indeed.

Hello.

Urn...

Would you mind signing this for me, please?

- For my daughter, Rachel. - How you bearing up?

If there's anything I can do...

Stop oozing sympathy, Johnny.

I liked Martin, and it was a terrible shock,

but it's not gonna break my heart.

Right.

That's the spirit.

What?

I had some last week, and they were lovely.

Thank you.

Martin had a security camera hidden in a tree.

You idiot.

How did you not know?

Okay. There we go.

Thank you.

Anything special you'd like me to write inside?

"In loving memory of Max Thornfield."

Lizzy.

Quite the celebrity these days, aren't you, Ruth?

What would all your admirers think if they knew the truth?

There is nothing to know.

You killed my son.

I call that something.

Could I have a copy for my Dennis, please?

Dennis?

Yes, please.

Hi. Everything okay?

Hello, darling. Yes. Taking it nice and easy.

You really don't need to ring me quite so often.

I'm fine.

Actually, I was calling to check on Sykes.

- Is he eating anything yet? - No. I'm afraid not.

I took him to the vet.

There's nothing physically wrong with him.

The vet says he seems to think he might be depressed.

Depressed?

I know. I'm really worried about him.

Well, try not to worry. We'll work it out.

By the way, you got me thinking about Beth Thornfield,

so I looked her up.

She was a real glamour girl.

Mixed with pop stars. Lived the high life.

And then she, gave it all up in her 20s,

when she had a child.

Thank you for that.

Now stop whatever it is you're really doing

and put your feet up.

How'd the book signing go?

It's done, thank goodness.

I never knew there were so many villagers.

Sold 42 copies.

I told you it would be worth it.

So, Amy, are we on schedule?

Yeah.

Cold starters and puddings are done,

salads and dressings are prepped,

and the sauces are ready to go.

Okay. How long for the soup?

- Five minutes. - Have you tasted it?

Did you follow the recipe exactly?

Yes.

Well, there shouldn't be a problem.

Amy'?

Amy'?

Johnny!

Somebody! Do something!

I'm sorry that you've been, kept waiting, everyone.

There's been an incident in the kitchen,

and, urn, I'm afraid you won't be getting any lunch today.

Kitchens are really hazardous places.

One bite of a death cap and you're a goner.

Rhubarb leaves will kill you, too, even faster than foxgloves.

Is there any evidence

that Amy Strickland had eaten rhubarb leaves or foxgloves?

No.

But, she tasted this soup just before she died.

Wild celery and mushroom.

Was it poison, Kate?

Obviously I can't say for sure yet, but I think so.

That rictus grin... I've read about it before.

It's symptomatic of poisoning.

Can't you answer that, for God's sake?

It'll just be another bloody journalist.

Oi. What are you doing?

Ms. Cameron, please.

Field mushrooms.

Agaricus campestris.

They're quite similar to Amanita virosa,

the destroying angel.

Looking at these, doesn't seem to be anything wrong with them.

Of course there isn't.

I picked them myself yesterday.

A... Are you assuming it was one of us?

Not necessarily.

I understand the, suppliers' entrance

is left unlocked during the day.

And the kitchen is always deserted around 11:15

for staff lunch.

Did Amy prepare all the ingredients for the soup

herself?

No.

Ferdy prepped for her... at least I told him to.

I just took the stuff from the chiller room,

where you said it would be.

Did the mushrooms all look the same to you?

Some of them weren't darker than others, for instance, or bigger?

No. They all looked the same.

And the other ingredients?

Chopped some stalks.

Wild celery.

I picked it myself this morning from the riverbank.

Otherwise, onion and sweet potato, from the store,

and chicken stock.

Would Amy have left the pot unattended at any stage?

Probably. It doesn't need constant watching.

And we're so short-staffed.

I fired my sous chef yesterday.

Nick Iver?

Why did you do that?

Professional differences.

Is this the wild celery that was left over?

Yeah.

Let me take a look at that.

That's not the plant I picked this morning.

As I thought.

Oenanthe crocata.

Hemlock water dropwort.

"Perhaps the most poisonous plant native to Great Britain."

The leaves smell characteristically of celery

or parsley.

The roots are the most toxic part of the plant.

The roots are pale yellow

and composed of five or more fleshy tubers.

They are also known by the name dead man's fingers."

Ferdy.

Do you want to tell me what these are?

They're not mine.

Okay.

So when we test the bag, we won't find your fingerprints?

There's a website, with pictures.

They tell you which ones are poisonous

and which ones get you high.

I haven't hurt anyone.

Mrs. Strickland.

I'm sorry. I'm just...

Why is someone targeting us like this?

That's what we're trying to find out.

Can you tell me where you were this morning, please?

Out riding.

Did you meet anyone?

Jamie saw me leave, and... I met one or two people.

But no one I knew.

Yesterday, when you found out about the will,

you were clearly very angry.

Now that Amy's dead, the entire estate comes to you.

Did you know that?

Yes. And what of it?

I haven't been to Wyvern House

since my wedding anniversary over a year ago.

I disliked my stepdaughter.

And you're right...

I was absolutely furious about the will.

But that doesn't mean I killed Amy.

- Thanks, love. - Cheers.

What are you doing home so early?

Have you been sacked?

No.

Amy's dead, so they closed the restaurant.

What do you mean, Amy's dead?

As in not alive anymore.

Ferdy!

Poisoned soup. I was there.

It was pretty horrible, actually.

Hi. I'm looking for Stephanie Weston.

She's in the back.

- Can I go through? - Not a problem.

Got any nice marrow bones?

Only I know a dog who'd really appreciate one.

I'm D.S. Nelson.

I was looking for Nick Iver.

Maybe he's still in the flat.

I haven't seen him since this morning.

What time was that?

Just after 8:00.

He was still asleep.

He had quite a lot to drink last night.

My brother and I had to fetch him home from the pub.

Upset at being fired, was he?

He's worked for Ruth since he was a teenager.

What time did he get home the night before last?

Do you remember?

About 11:00, as usual.

Maybe a bit earlier.

And where is your flat?

I'll show you.

I can't believe Amy's dead.

I mean, was it something to do with her dad?

We don't know yet.

The night Martin Strickland died,

Stephanie thinks you got home from the restaurant about 11:00.

Is that right?

Nick?

Yeah. That's right.

And you say you haven't been out at all today?

No.

Were you and Amy friends?

Not really.

Amy didn't like taking orders from Ruth, let alone me.

But when you work in a kitchen with somebody,

you have to get along.

Amy would have been looking to move up into your job, then?

I'm sure she was, but she'd have been disappointed.

She wasn't ready to be a sous chef.

Ruth knew that.

Is Ruth okay?

You're concerned about her feelings

even though she just sacked you?

Me and Ruth go back a long way.

She didn't just give me a job.

She took me in when I was having a really bad time.

And whatever she's done since, I owe her.

Midsomer Wyvern must feel like the back of beyond.

It's a long way from Hackney.

Two days before he died, Martin Strickland

was due to meet someone with the initials N.I.

at a café in Causton.

Would that have been you?

Hello.

I had to get out for a bit. You don't mind, do you?

Of course not.

Can I get you anything?

Pint of whiskey?

With an orange juice on the side.

It's awful, Angie.

I saw that poor girl die.

I'm sorry.

The police can't think you had anything to do with it.

Who knows what they think?

And there's other stuff going on.

What do you mean?

I shouldn't come moaning to you.

I don't mind.

Turns out running a restaurant is harder than I thought...

And a lot more expensive.

And now this.

You don't seriously think you'll have to close?

It's possible.

And if that happens...

I think Ruth will leave me.

Still, got to keep soldiering on.

Detective Sergeant Nelson called earlier.

Has Ferdy told you about the magic mushrooms?

I thought hemlock acted slowly.

Didn't Socrates converse with his executioners

as the poison paralyzed his body from the feet up?

That was poison hemlock... different family.

Hemlock water dropwort is an umbellifer.

It contains high levels of oenanthotoxin,

which acts on the central nervous system,

causing seizures and respiratory failure.

Easy to find in the wild?

It likes damp environments... Meadows, riverbanks.

I've asked for an environmental report,

but I'd be surprised if none were found growing

within a five-mile radius of Midsomer Wyvern.

Nick Iver would have had plenty of time to nip into the larder

while everyone was at lunch.

But his girlfriend has given him an alibi

for the night of Martin's murder.

Who's the girlfriend?

A butcher called Stephanie Weston...

Jamie Weston's sister.

I hope you got something nice for supper

after you finished interviewing her.

Yeah. Lamb cutlets. I thought we could do it with some...

Fascinating though your domestic arrangements are,

what did you find out about Nick Iver's meeting

with Martin Strickland?

Nick says Martin offered him the top spot at Wyvern House

but he said no.

Which we can't prove or disprove now that Strickland's dead.

Would be unusual, though, wouldn't it...

To murder someone because they offered you a job?

What are you doing, love?

Nothing.

When are we gonna reopen, Johnny?

If I can't cook, I am gonna go mad.

Where did you get that, a dinosaur pit?

It's a gift from Nelson.

Well, that was kind of him.

I've been doing some research,

and I think Sykes is exhibiting classic signs of anxiety

in the face of family change.

Well, we can't exactly turn back now, can we?

We'll just have to show him

that he is still a valued member of this family.

Is that the new one?

Any good?

Excellent, as long as you've got five hours a day

to devote to cooking your dinner.

God. Is this the fatal recipe?

"Wild celery and mushroom soup is one of my signature dishes.

Even when the kitchen is busy

and I have a hundred and one other things to do,

I always try to make this one myself."

Well, lucky for her she didn't make it today.

I think you're right.

The poison wasn't meant for Amy.

It was Ruth Cameron that was supposed to die.

If you're right about Ruth being the intended victim,

the killer's gonna try again.

That's what I'm afraid of.

We should start by finding out what the connection is

between Ruth and Martin Strickland.

The obvious one is the restaurant,

but there might be others.

Also we need to know

whether Wyvern House is in financial trouble.

- Check everything. - I'll get on it.

Is this still Strickland's laptop

you're trying to get into?

The CCTV footage must be in here.

You don't think it's time you handed it over to the tech guys?

They'll take forever.

I'll get there.

I'm in.

Urn, the truffles were stolen

on the night of the 10th, weren't they?

That's right.

Strickland's been here before.

And our thief is...

Phillips, you come with us.

Rest of you stay here, yeah?

The hidden camera...

in the woods.

We've been having cash-flow problems.

The suppliers were pressing for payment.

When I found out about the truffles,

well, it seemed too good an opportunity to pass up.

It was sheer stupidity.

I-I see that now.

It was theft, Mr. Linklater.

Yes.

It's always struck me as odd

that Mr. Strickland didn't report the crime.

Was that out of the goodness of his heart, do you think?

He was blackmailing me.

Threatening to expose me unless I agreed to break the lease

and let him take over the restaurant.

With Nick Iver in charge in the kitchen?

How much does Ms. Cameron know about all this?

She knows there's a problem about the lease,

but she doesn't know about the truffles.

You and Ms. Cameron married what, three years ago?

How long had you known each other then?

Eighteen months or so.

And when did your first marriage break up?

Long before.

Eight years.

My fault.

When I left the Army, I started drinking too much.

And now?

I haven't touched a drop in more than four years.

Is this a second marriage for Ms. Cameron, too?

No. Married to the job until she met me.

The scarring on your wife's, urn, left arm...

How did she get that?

Car crash, 20 years ago.

Drunken boyfriend at the wheel.

He died. Ruth was lucky to get out alive.

Ms. Cameron is vital to the success of Wyvern House,

isn't she?

Without her, there'd be no restaurant.

It's as simple as that.

There's a large insurance policy on her life, presumably.

Sergeant Nelson, I'd like you to arrest Mr. Linklater

and take him down to the station.

Charge him with theft.

Get a statement from him.

I am calling a lawyer.

Who told you that Johnny took the truffles?

It's rubbish!

Someone is out to hurt the restaurant, hurt me.

No one told us your husband took the truffles, Ms. Cameron.

We have hard evidence.

But I'm afraid you're right... Someone is trying to hurt you.

Fatal car crash.

About 1992.

Teenage driver.

Thanks.

It's all right. I'm on hold.

National Archives.

Has Johnny been processed?

And sent home, tail between his legs.

I want you to look into his Army career

and find out everything you can about Nick Iver.

He's from Hackney. I've got a mate stationed there.

If Nick is as fond of Ruth as he claims,

why was he even talking to Strickland?

Hello.

Yes. Thank you.

That's very helpful.

Could you give me the exact date and place of death, please?

I have an idea.

A new variation of watercress mousseline.

I can't quite get the consistency right.

I-I think I have to reduce...

Ruth, stop it.

Stop what?

Jabbering on about watercress mousse when...

Mousseline, not mousse.

For God's sake.

We might be about to lose everything.

And whose fault is that?

Mine, I know.

And I can't tell you how sorry I am.

But you're not helping.

You're a thief.

I'm not a thief!

I stole Strickland's bloody truffles

because I was desperate.

The Laithams bill was overdue, and I did a deal with them.

You run your side of things so brilliantly,

never falter, never ask for help.

I didn't want to admit what a fool I'd been.

So you're a coward, too.

If we lose Wyvern House because of you, Johnny, I...

Good morning, Ms. Thornfield.

I'd like to talk to you about valerian.

Having trouble sleeping, Inspector?

If I were, could you sell me some?

Valerian tea, yes.

Have you sold any recently?

Not for some weeks.

I'd remember, because I have to tell people

not to prepare it with boiling water.

Are there any other local sources of supply?

Well, most health food shops sell capsules,

and the herb itself is easy enough to grow.

Is there something else I can help you with, gentlemen?

That first morning,

when you told us that Martin Strickland wasn't your type...

I'm wondering why you didn't tell us about your dog.

A man was dead.

Fond as I was of Bailey,

it hardly seemed to be the right moment to be talking about him.

But you understand my concern.

You're suggesting that I killed a man

because his actions led to the death of my dog?

Do you think I'm insane?

And I didn't even know Amy Strickland.

But you know Ruth Cameron.

What of it?

It's not Ruth who's dead.

Perhaps it was meant to be.

I see.

How much do you know about what happened to my son?

Max was killed 22 years ago,

when the car he was driving crashed.

There was a high level of alcohol in his blood.

Ruth Cameron was in the passenger seat

and escaped with comparatively minor injuries.

That's the official version.

But I believe that Ruth was driving.

I agree.

Why?

When the car hit the tree,

the impact was on the left, the passenger side.

It doesn't make sense that the driver died

but the only damage to the passenger

was an injured left arm.

I-it was Ruth's car, you know.

A little convertible.

She wouldn't let anyone else drive, ever.

Max hadn't even passed his test.

You think she pulled Max over to the driving seat

after the accident,

even though her arm was badly injured?

If Ruth had been drinking as well,

she would have been desperate.

You said nothing to the police at the time?

I was the dead boy's mother.

They didn't... They... They wouldn't take me seriously.

Will you try to reopen the case?

Ruining Ruth's life won't bring Max back.

They tell you time is a great healer, but...

that's a lie.

When you lose someone you love... really, truly love...

the pain never goes away.

We all set for tonight?

Yes, but we need to be very careful.

- Why were the charges dropped? - This is D.C.I. Barnaby,

- Causton C.I.D. - Okay. I see.

I'm chasing a ballistics report.

- Right. - Request number MC4723DX82.

Okay. And when did this happen?

Could you call me back, please?

Or better still, send me the report.

Thanks. Look, I owe you.

Sir, we need to reinterview one of our suspects.

Nick Iver was arrested when he was 16...

Over a stabbing.

Thank you for coming in, Mr. Iver.

Did I have a choice?

For the moment, yeah.

Take a seat.

Yesterday you told Sergeant Nelson

that you'd quarreled with Ruth Cameron over her book.

You threw a jug at her,

and, not entirely unreasonably, she sacked you.

That's right.

There was more to it than that, wasn't there?

You had been talking to Martin Strickland

about taking over the restaurant.

Ruth never mentioned that.

Anyway, I told you... I turned him down.

Can we go back to the recipes for a moment?

Quite a lot of them have little personal stories attached

about what they mean to Ruth.

Did she make those up?

Most of them, yeah.

So when she says she always tries to make

the wild celery and mushroom soup herself...

is that a lie?

No. That bit's true.

You were very angry with Ruth Cameron, weren't you?

Of course I was, but what's this got to do with...

God. You think I tried to poison Ruth?

Did you?

No. I adore Ruth.

And I'm not a killer.

But that's only a matter of luck, isn't it, Mr. Iver?

If that knife had gone just a fraction deeper,

your stepfather would be dead.

I was 16.

My stepfather never liked me, and I hated him.

And one day he was going on and on,

telling me only sissies liked cooking,

calling me terrible names,

and I lost it and I went for him.

Unfortunately, I had a kitchen knife in my hand at the time.

The charges were dropped

after your stepfather changed his story.

Why did he do that?

My mother persuaded him to say it was an accident.

He agreed, as long as I cleared out and never came back.

Does Ruth know about this? Does Stephanie?

No.

How did Martin Strickland find out?

He had a private investigator check me out

before he approached me.

A routine business precaution, he said.

Was he threatening to tell people the true story

if you didn't?

Yes.

A motive for murder, wouldn't you say?

Yeah, and he'd have deserved it.

But I didn't kill him or Amy.

And I'd never hurt Ruth.

Hello?

Calm down.

I can't understand what you're saying.

Wait there.

I'm coming.

You don't think Nick did it, then?

Nick Iver has a motive for both killings.

But his girlfriend's given him an alibi for the first one,

and we have no concrete evidence against him in either case.

And it doesn't fit.

I mean, he clearly has a-a violent temper,

but these were carefully planned, cold-blooded murders.

Very different from throwing a jug

or even stabbing someone in the heat of the moment.

Not that I'm saying it's okay to throw things at your boss,

you understand.

Not even this?

I played with the 999 recording.

Remember this?

There's a dead body in the woods

on the Strickland land...

Listen.

There's a dead body in the woods

on the Strickland land, about 300 yards from the old cottage.

Jamie Weston.

Sounds like him, doesn't it?

Good work, Nelson.

I suggest you go and see what he has to say about it.

And ask him why ballistics think

that three of the shotgun cartridges

found in the vicinity of Martin Strickland's body

came from one of his guns.

What's the betting he wears a size 10 shoe?

But who does the size 7 belong to?

That's the question.

Honestly, Johnny.

She's probably just gone for a walk or something.

She was in the kitchen, cooking, experimenting.

Now she's just abandoned everything.

We'd had a row.

You and I used to row all the time.

- You've tried calling her? - Straight to voice-mail.

Well, I think you're panicking.

Why don't you go and make us a cup of tea?

All right.

Lizzy?

Please.

You deserve to know the truth.

I know the truth.

Well, I-I came to say I'm sorry.

Please go.

I loved him too, Lizzy!

Funny the way things turn out, isn't it?

I never thought you'd come back to Midsomer Wyvern,

and here we are, having a cup of tea together,

like an old married couple.

I must go.

Ruth will be back.

Just remember, you've got a lot of groveling to do.

I suggest flowers.

I'm sorry.

What for?

For being so vile to you.

You'd just had the worst few hours of your life,

and I was prattling on about mousseline.

It's what I do.

I-I bury myself in work so I don't have to deal with life.

That's not true.

It is.

Or it was.

Until I met you, I didn't have a life outside the kitchen.

I love you, Johnny, and I don't care what you've done.

Well, as long as you haven't murdered anyone.

I haven't.

I promise.

All right.

Is that the lot?

Just one more.

Sir, Jamie Weston is off-loading gear at the pub...

With a possible Wellie size 7.

Stay where you are.

I'll meet you there in half an hour.

Is this a good sign?

You know I said Sykes was displaying

classic signs of anxiety?

Yes.

Well, apparently children can also behave the same way

in the buildup to a new baby.

They actually want to play the parent role.

So I, bought him a present.

Sykes?

That is completely bonkers.

But it seems to have worked.

What time do you want to eat?

Later, if it's okay with you.

I'm going to the pub with Nelson.

On. Right.

That's how it's going to be from now on, is it?

I stay here with the dog and the baby

whilst you go boozing with your mates.

No.

Sykes is welcome to come to the pub with me whenever he wants.

Feeling fit?

Evening.

There you go, Frank.

Cheap at twice the price.

Next up, a beautiful saddle of venison.

Now, who'll start me off at £20 for a lovely bit of Bambi?

£2.50!

Ted. Shut up.

Don't take the mick, Ted.

- £20. - Thank you.

Glad somebody knows a prime bit of meat when she sees it.

- £21. - £22.

Any advance on £22?

Going once. Going twice.

Not going anywhere at all.

So you were poaching for deer

and just fell across a body?

And then we fired at the boar,

but we were both so shaken, we didn't hit it.

Just scared it away.

Why didn't you report finding the body immediately

instead of waiting till the morning?

The poor bugger was beyond help.

Any fool could see that.

We just needed some time to calm down

and decide what to do for the best.

You should have come forward and told us all this.

We don't hang poachers anymore.

We'd both have lost our jobs, though.

Amy Strickland might still be alive.

You'll be prosecuted over the poaching

and tonight's illegal auction.

You can think yourselves lucky if you're not facing charges

of withholding evidence in a murder inquiry.

Right. You can go.

Not you, Ms. Weston.

You told me that on the night of Martin Strickland's murder,

Nick Iver was home from work by 11:00.

But you don't know where he was, do you?

Because you were out in the woods with your brother.

I couldn't tell you that, though, could I?

And I know Nick didn't do it.

After a day like this, I need a gin.

Damn it, I'm gonna have one too.

Johnny, no.

No.

Ms. Linklater.

All done?

Not quite.

You realize that in allowing your premises to be used

for the sale of stolen property,

you have committed a criminal offense?

What harm was it doing anyone?

You'll be hearing from us in due course

about tonight's proceedings.

Suit yourself, Mr. Barnaby.

Good night.

You okay?

I need some air.

- Come on. - What?

- Do you fancy a dance? - Ruth.

Come on. Let's go to the garden.

Come on. I'll race you.

Come on!

Come on!

Hey. Come here. Stop. Stop.

Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop.

Ruth.

Sloe gin.

The residue in the glass that they found

looks like the liquid in the bottle.

Johnny was supposed to be on the wagon.

Must have slipped off last night.

Dust for prints,

though I doubt we'll find anything that shouldn't be here.

The bottle could have been switched

or tampered with days ago.

Weeks, even.

No, no.

After Amy was killed, I came in here to fetch Ruth

to look at the mushrooms, and she had a drink in her hand.

It... It was the same color as this.

I saw her take a swig.

That's something.

And when did your first marriage break up?

Long before. Married to the job.

Martin very often slept in the spare room.

We keep very different hours.

I adore Ruth.

Don't worry. It's all very civilized.

They tell you that time is a great healer,

but it's a lie.

Yes.

What?

Something Lizzy Thornfield said.

Hello.

Gin and tonic, please.

I can do you one of these.

This is a pub, isn't it?

I want a proper drink.

You again?

What do you want?

Tell us what the poison was, Nick.

Can you two leave now, please?

What poison?

The one you used last night on Ruth Cameron

- and Johnny Linklater. - Not Johnny.

I don't know what you're talking about.

Johnny's still alive... just.

But we need to know what the poison was.

- I don't understand. - Please, Nick.

While there's still time to give an antidote.

No. You've got it all wrong.

We know your alibi

for the night of Martin Strickland's death was false.

Stephanie said you were at home with her,

but she was out in the woods with her brother.

I never asked her to lie for me.

Amy's death was a mistake. We know that.

And you didn't mean for Johnny to die either.

- So help us to save him. - I would if I could.

But I don't know what the poison was.

Nick Iver, you will be taken to Causton police station,

where you will be charged with the murders

of Martin Strickland, Amy Strickland...

It was belladonna!

Deadly nightshade... in the gin.

Phone the hospital. You've got to tell them.

It wasn't meant for Johnny, was it?

I know you could never hurt Johnny,

because you killed Martin to protect him.

Was Martin already unconscious from the valerian

before you tied him to the tree?

No.

He thought it was a game.

He was going to destroy Johnny.

He actually boasted to me about it.

He thought I'd be pleased.

Martin didn't understand, did he?

You have to phone the hospital. Tell them.

You still loved Johnny, all these years after he left you.

He didn't leave me!

Ruth stole him!

No, she didn't.

You and Dad split up years before he met Ruth.

It wasn't her fault.

- And what about Amy? - Stay out of this.

You know nothing about love,

and I don't suppose you ever will.

I had nothing against Amy.

She just got in the way.

And the kitchen is always deserted around 11:15

for staff lunch.

Did you follow the recipe exactly?

Yes.

Amy?

She was 20 years old, and she's dead.

So you tried again.

This time you thought you'd make certain of your target

by poisoning Ruth's bottle of sloe gin.

But you didn't know that that night

Johnny would start drinking again.

You have to save him.

Why aren't you phoning the hospital?

Would you have killed Johnny, too, I wonder,

when you realized he didn't love you anymore?

He does love me.

We would have been happy.

He's already dead, isn't he?

You tricked me.

Dad.

I don't understand.

Lizzy Thornfield found us last night

and knew it was deadly nightshade from the smell.

She saved our lives.

I'm sorry we couldn't tell you earlier, Ferdy.

Thank you, Nick.

That can't have been easy for you.

What was it Lizzy said that made you realize?

"When you lose someone you truly love, the pain never goes away."

You know, we thought this case was about money

of anger of revenge,

but it was about something much more dangerous... love.

Kate got the report back

on Ferdy's magic mushrooms, by the way.

They weren't the hallucinogenic kind.

He could smoke them, eat them on toast, cook them in an omelet.

They'd have had no effect.

Not so magic after all, then.