All language subtitles for ADalziel Pascoe S02E02 - Deadheads.VHSRip.DivX.English

♪ I beg your pardon

♪ I never promised you a rose garden
Along with the sunshine

♪ There's got to be a little rain
sometime

♪ When you take, you gotta give
So live and let live... ♪

Uncle Eddie did that.
It's deadheading.

Uncle Eddie said you cut off the
deadheads so young flowers can grow.

At least SOMETHING interests you.

Would you like to try?

Yes, please, Auntie.

Where the leaf joins the stem, there's a
tiny bud. That's the bud we want to grow.

A clean cut... Don't let the petals
fall on the ground.

Some people prefer to use secateurs,
but there's a risk of crushing.

Be careful. It's very sharp.

Patrick!

Mum!

Daddy!

Patrick! School time!

I'll be late, Daddy!

Coming!

Hello, Mavis. How's your Albert?
Fine, thank you. Oh, good.

Give him my regards, won't you? OK.

What's up? You look like you slept
under a hedge. A rhododendron bush.

Your sexual aberrations
are YOUR business.

Waiting for housebreakers who failed to keep their
appointment. Can't rely on criminals these days.

What're you doing now?
Finishing my coffee,

writing a report on a wasted night,
then sleep.

Add to that - seeing Dick Elgood.

Who's Dick Elgood? Came up
from nowt. Sharp. Influential.

Not short of a bob. A lad. He's had more
women than you've had rhododendron bushes.

And I owe him a favour. YOU owe him
the favour and I have to see him?

I said you're good, so do your best.

Thank you.

What I'm going to say is libellous. I won't admit to
saying it outside this room. My word against yours.

He said you were good.

Sorry. I didn't get any sleep
last night. Those were the days!

Would you like to share
this libellous statement?

...Well, there's this feller
in our company,

and I think...
I think he's killing people.

People? Like, more than one? Yes.

Can you give me names? No, and shut
the book. I told you - I'm not here.

Bearing in mind you're not here, what does your
company do? The big feller didn't tell you?

No. Ever noticed the name "Elgood"
on your journey through life?

Hang on. It's... Washbasins, baths,
water closets and urinals.

I must've... Must've relieved
yourself all over me many a time.

I suppose so. People come and go,
but waste products are ETERNAL.

Urine and excreta to you -
bread and butter to me.

Of course, we were taken over
in the '80s. We're now part of ICE.

ICE? Industrial Ceramics of Europe.
I'm head of the UK division.

But the name still stands.

Did you know there's a gents in
Huddersfield that's a listed building?

I'll visit it
next time I'm in Huddersfield.

I'll keep my book closed
if you tell me who this "killer" is.

Alderman...

Patrick Alderman.

When will you have your car back?
Probably the day after tomorrow.

What's this?

No opting out!
Opt-out equals cop-out!

No opting out!
Opt-out equals cop-out!

No opting out! Opt-out
equals cop-out! No opting out...

Will you be all right?

Of course. I could run you home.

No, I'm going into town later.
I'll run you.

I'll take a bus.
I've never been on a bus.

According to Mr Elgood, he opened
the door and it came crashing down.

On top of him? He jumped out of the
way. But it did this to his car.

You an expert on door tampering? No.

...But I know a man who is.

Look as if you need a lift.

Thanks, but I'm going into town.
So am I. You were...

...Demonstrating against bourgeois
values taking over the school.

I'm a woman of principle.
- I know about that. My father was a clergyman.

I'm not proud. Get in.
- ... All right.

He's a lovely little boy.

Girl. In blue?
I don't believe in stereotyping.

Rose.

My husband grows roses.
I grew this one.

Do you fancy a coffee?
- All right.

So Dick Elgood's finally flipped,
has he? It's a point of view.

Tell me the story.
I'm a good judge of lunatics.

Friday morning,
Elgood and Alderman had a row.

Friday evening,
Elgood gets a shock from that lamp.

You've had it checked?
Frayed wires. Normal wear and tear.

Saturday, Elgood goes to his garage
and the door comes crashing down.

You checked that? Wear and tear.

You surprise me. But these incidents reminded
Elgood of two suspicious deaths at the company.

Brian Dixon. Crushed to death by a table
lamp? Car accident after a Christmas party.

No other vehicle involved, icy road, alcohol over the
limit. Elgood says Alderman was plying him with drink.

The other was Timothy Eagles.
Electrocuted by calculator?

Had a heart attack in the washroom he shares with
Alderman. Did he replace his tablets with Smarties?

I'm simply reporting what your
friend told me, sir. Any motive?

Alderman wants to be the chairman. He's working
his way through the ranks. By killing them?

This is daft even for Yorkshire.
Suggestions?

Forget it.
Concentrate on these housebreakers.

Sir, I have another suggestion. Good lad...
Why can't you be like Sergeant Wield?

Monday morning, there was trouble
in the multistorey. Cars vandalised.

But one of them belonged to Mrs Daphne
Alderman, Rosemont House, Garfield -

the alleged homocidal maniac's wife.

Seems like a good excuse to call.
Have a look at him.

It's a bit shifty. Isn't that
in line with our policy? Precisely.

What do they put in this? Everything here is full
of sugar, caffeine, cholesterol and animal fat.

You're consorting with the enemy within.
Why shouldn't schools opt out?

So the ruling classes can keep the best?
You ARE an enemy within.

Mrs Pascoe! How are you?

Fine, thank you.

This is Police Cadet Sanjay Singh.
This is Mrs Pascoe, DI Pascoe's wife.

Nice to meet you.

Are you happy in your work?

I'll be the link with the ethnic
community, but I'm on traffic now.

Some tea and a lecture on the rush
hour. Nice to see you, Mrs Pascoe.

Bonny bairn. But that's as expected.

Well! Mrs Pascoe!

What?

An enemy within? With a husband
part of the state apparatus?

You're a smart lady, lady.
I went to a good fee-paying school.

I've got a job of my own,
a life of my own,

and my husband's an honest cop.

What's yours?
Patrick's an accountant with ICE.

With what?
ICE - the bathroom people.

Or ICE plc, to be precise.

I bet they've got
a hell of a logo as well.

Tennis club? Young Conservatives?

Mandy Burton. She runs a stall.
Mandy of Mandy's Nick-Nacks?

Her husband worked with Patrick.
Worked? He died four years ago.

She seems quite young.
So was he. He fell off a ladder.

What time did you park your car? 9.15. I dropped
my daughter off at school, then went shopping.

And you returned to your car
at 3 o'clock?

Yes. The police were already there.
- Were you laden with shopping?

Very little.
Just browsing. Market, library...

When you parked your car,
did you see anyone hanging about?

Hello, darling! These gentlemen
are from the police.

Detective Sergeant Wield.
Police Cadet Singh. Hello. Hello.

Forgive my butting in, but vandals don't get up early
and lie in wait. Isn't it more of an impulse thing?

Sorry, sir. This may seem boring.
Can I play on the swing?

I'll push you once we're finished.
I want HIM to push me.

I really don't...
- I don't mind. I've got sisters.

I'm brilliant with kids.

Have you finished, Sergeant?
- ... Yes.

Thank you, Mrs Alderman.
If you've things to do...

I have to feed my family.
- I'll admire the roses.

Oh, are you interested in flowers?

It's my ambition to have a garden
instead of a window box.

I warn you, Sergeant, my husband
is an enthusiast and an evangelist.

I'll show you around.

It's the only way to keep control.
Do you do all the gardening?

In my great-uncle Eddie's day,
there was a full-time gardener -

Old Caldicott. Times change. Now, we have Young
Caldicott who calls himself a gardening consultant,

and comes here in a shiny van in accordance
with a contract. But only I touch the roses.

They're the centre of my life.

One day,
I hope to create my very own.

And your work? Plenty of room round
the edges to earn a decent living.

Why should crude economic reality hinder a man
from growing into the fullness of his own nature?

...Quite so.

That's a fine-looking instrument.

It belonged to my uncle Eddie.

...But it was my great aunt
who showed me how to use it.

Removing dying blooms
is a sad but necessary task.

A lover of roses prefers to use
the quickest and kindest instrument.

Any joy, Sarge?

He's getting me miniatures
for my window box.

Am I allowed to talk?
- As long as I'm not compelled to listen.

That Mrs Alderman - yesterday,
she was with Mr Pascoe's wife.

Fascinating

She couldn't have been browsing in the
library on Monday. It's shut on Mondays.

'And he's gone.'

I need to know whether you're seriously
investigating Patrick Alderman.

Because you've got another coffee
date with Daphne Alderman? Tomorrow.

Two deaths - one drunk driver, one heart attack.
Both cremated, so there's not a shred of evidence.

So you're not investigating him?
The Fat Controller thinks it's daft.

Good. "But there could be summat in yon greenhouse.
So keep an eye on things while I'm away, sunbeam."

Where's he going? London...

An international conference on
community policing. God help London.

"Smart-arse Yanks come to tell us how to do our job,
with videos of LA riots to prove they're clever."

But if he thinks there's
"summat in yon greenhouse",

that means you ARE investigating
Patrick Alderman. Exactly.

On the one hand, I am. On the other
hand, I'm not. Straightforward.

It's how the fat man operates. If it turns out as
daft as we think, I'LL be the one to look an idiot.

In amongst this HIGHLY professional
investigation,

has anybody mentioned a man called
Burton? Married to Liz Taylor

It's only girly gossip, but Chris
Burton was an accountant at Elgood's.

He fell off a ladder
and Patrick Alderman got his job.

Would you like MY job?

I have a job - a struggling novelist.

Normal wear and tear.
That was the expert view.

And the garage door? Likewise.

Fair enough.
I'm a pillock. Let's forget it.

You're withdrawing your complaint?
I never officially made one.

And Chris Burton? What about him?

He fell off a ladder. Alderman got his job. It's
as easy to sabotage a ladder as a garage door.

I've done my duty by my old mate,
Andy Dalziel. I've given him a laugh.

You too, I dare say. Let's leave it.
It's your complaint, Mr Elgood.

And there is NO complaint. Noted.

Is this the family album? Oh, yeah.
Works outings, when we had them.

There's someone here
called Alderman.

Yeah. Patrick's great-uncle Eddie.

He was to balance sheets what
Freddie Trueman was to fast bowling.

He could have been a millionaire.
Happier with his roses.

Another rose fancier.

Excuse me. Can I help you?

No, thanks.
...Yes. Tell me about the rose.

It's called Blue Moon.

Blue moon means improbability.

We all need improbability in life.
Don't we?

The thing is having the courage
to accept it. Yes?

It symbolises improbability.
It symbolises you're round the bend.

That's what comes of hanging about a bog factory.
What did Dick Elgood say? Drop the inquiry.

So drop it.
What about Chris Burton?

He fell off a ladder. It happens
all the time. No... it doesn't.

Don't start quoting statistics!

Alderman was unemployed. Elgood gave him a
part-time job cos his great-uncle had been a mate.

Burton dies. They need an accountant.
The inquest said accidental death.

The man went for a BURTON.

Yes? Sir. It's about Alderman.

Has he given you a rose? No,
but he's getting me some miniatures.

Single malt?
Flowers for my window box.

Give me strength... What is it?
A report on my visit to the house.

Go on, then - report on your visit.
Then we can close the inquiry.

Sir, he seems more interested in
his roses than he is in his family.

Many men are more interested in dogs and darts
than in their families. Doesn't make them killers.

He's not so much interested -
more like passionate.

I watched him deadheading the roses.
It was like watching a painter.

Have you checked he's got a licence for
his secateurs He uses a pruning knife.

A non SECATEUR.

I dare say he's got weedkiller too!

I suppose YOUR theory is he blew some of it up Burton's
trouser leg, causing him to fall off his ladder.

We have something more interesting. He
changed his name when he inherited the house.

Why? Was he called Shufflebottom?
No, Highsmith.

After his father? No, his mother.

Did she fall off a ladder as well? Penelope
Highsmith - alive and well in London SW1.

...Penny Highsmith?

You know her?
Very little escapes my attention.

What would you like us to do next?

Something useful for preference.
House break-in. Community policing.

Save Alderman for your window box.
Leave that file on me desk.

Come on. Come on. Come on.

Classy joint.

Is this your first visit?
You knew where to find the ladies'.

I'm a hypocrite! It proves I've joined
the middle classes. Welcome aboard.

We had the police round at our house.
Did you know?

...Peter mentioned cars being
vandalised and follow-up enquiries.

It seemed a bit over the top
for a scratch to the paintwork.

Does he tell you everything?
Don't understand the question, Miss.

About his work?
He's bound by the Official Secrets Act.

Most of it's either confidential
or boring.

Isn't it the same with you?
What do you mean?

Accountants have confidentiality too,
don't they?

It's not a problem for Patrick.
Nature didn't make him a chatterbox.

How did you meet?
- Daddy was Archdeacon of St Mark's in Little Leven, outside Harrogate.

The firm Patrick was working for used to do
the church accounts - at a discount, naturally.

I was in the sixth form and somehow he always
turned up to check the books in the holidays.

You know the sort of thing.
- Mm. What a big girl you've grown into. May I carry your satchel?

Oh, no.
Patrick's not like that at all.

...He's an innocent.

And then my father died.

The church killed him. Overwork?

A bit of it fell on him... What?!

He was inspecting the belfry and a stone
fell off and cracked his skull... Amen.

Wait till you dig the back story.

Writers' jargon.
You wouldn't understand.

They wanted to get engaged.
The family said no.

Then her father dies and Daphne gets
the money. But the clergy are poor.

The money was from her mother's side.
...I don't like to ask.

What happened to her mother? She died when
Daphne was 13, but that was a proper illness.

I checked. You're working well.

BABY CRIES

A woman's work is NEVER done.

What are you doing?

She was dreaming, so
I'm showing her the moon. The moon?

When Coleridge's infant son was
dreaming, he'd show him the moon.

Coleridge?

If only you could tell me
what you were dreaming about.

Bloody hell, it's PC Gunga Din.

Now, lads. I wondered when you'd get
here. What are you doing here?

It's a stakeout.

Place is swarming with CID
and security cameras.

So save the vandalism.
We don't do vandalism.

Don't worry.
We're not bothered about vandalism.

What it is, is a car-stealing ring.
Were you here last Monday? Why?

Woman on her own, driving
a green Polo, parked here about 9.15.

What about her?

A bit tasty. D'you reckon?
The feller thought so.

She met a feller?
- Yeah. He was waiting for her. She was gasping for it.

Can you describe him?
I can describe the car. Go on.

What's in it for me? All suspicion
of vandalism won't go on file.

We don't do vandalism.

She got into this bloke's car -
a maroon Jaguar XJ Sport.

Yes!

Detective Inspector Pascoe,
Wetherton CID.

I'm enquiring after a Mr Patrick
Alderman who used to work for you.

...That sounds perfect. Can you
give me Mr Capstick's number?

Yeah... That's great. Cheers.

I'm going to Harrogate. To take the waters?
To see if Alderman's taking ours.

I need to talk to someone.
- Talk to him.

Which of my many embezzlements
over the last 50 years

do you wish to discuss?

Not yours, Mr Capstick.
Patrick Alderman's.

Oh! Patrick. You have, of course,
spoken with him about this matter?

...No, I haven't,
as a matter of fact.

I only met him once. Very briefly.

And yet, to me, whom you've not met at all, you're
quite willing to broach the subject without preamble.

I'd only do this to protect someone less able
to protect himself than Patrick Alderman.

...Or HERSELF.

...Quite so.

Very well...

Patrick joined the firm in 1988...

or perhaps '89.

I liked him.

He was quiet, respectful...

likeable once you got beneath
the surface. He planted those roses.

I know about the roses. Linear descendants of
a strain of his great-uncle Edward's roses.

If you liked him so much,
why did he leave?

That... was Mrs McNeil.

A sweet old lady.
A widow of substance.

She took a fancy to Patrick.

Insisted he look after
her investments.

...She used to give him presents -

thick sweaters... pair of galoshes.

Galoshes? She worried about him
going out in the cold weather.

Despite her best efforts,
he caught a flu virus.

When he was off work,
she phoned with a query...

..and I had to seek the answer
in her files. And you found...?

Approximately two thirds
of her money had been...

I'D use the word misappropriated.
YOU would say... Stolen.

Technically... as it turned out.

Before the matter could come
to a head... Mrs McNeil died.

Same flu virus.
She was a very old lady.

And when the lawyers examined
the will... I wonder if I can guess.

Mrs McNeil had no close relatives.

A few token legacies to charities -
dogs and cats, mostly.

The residue was to Patrick Alderman
of Rosemont.

He'd been stealing from himself.
So no action was taken?

No official action.

I naturally asked for
and received his resignation.

The way we do things in the professions.
Did I... help you at all?

Thank you. A great deal...

I think.

I do hope none of this hurts Patrick.
Very little seems to hurt him, Mr Capstick.

What do we see on the screen?

Superficially, a street riot. But if we look
at a deeper level, we see a hostile interface

between socio-ethnic groupings
within the community nexus.

These groups have two goals.
One, to break the law.

The other, to uphold the law.

The question you, as law enforcement
officers, must address,

is how you can impact in a proactive way
upon this apparently intractable interface.

Excuse me.

You may refer to diagrams...

May I help you, sir? I need to
interface with some nicotine, and fast.

I'm afraid this is a non-smoking building,
sir. I'm going outside. I may be some time.

Penny?

Penny Highsmith, is it?

Andy Dalziel!
Everyone says I'm unforgettable.

No, I can read a name badge.

Detective Superintendent. Sorry.
Down here for a conference.

Is it on hanging around
on street corners?

Community policing.

I fancied a walk and a cup of tea.
You live here? It's my front door.

...Do, uh... metropolitan
sophisticates have kettles?

Still a cheeky sod.

Yeah. I've got a kettle.

You've weathered well, love.

Still in prime condition. You sound
like a builder, checking for dry rot.

It's a compliment.
It's a fair few years since...

Since you nearly had your evil way
with me at the rugby club dance.

I thought YOU were having
your evil way with ME. Anyroad...

I'm glad you remembered. A trauma
like that isn't easily forgotten.

Was it traumatic? It was your beeper going off
at the crucial moment that was the traumatic bit.

Do you ever come north?

We've, em,
extended the changing rooms.

Once in a while, to see Patrick.

But he's big enough
to look after himself. Good.

I wish I was.

OK... Concentrate. The story so far.

We have six people who died over a 23-year period.
Patrick Alderman benefited from each death.

I'll try a theory. You tell me I'm
talking cobblers. Aunt Florence...

Patrick was only 10...
11 years old?

He was pruning roses with her when she died.
- "Time for bed", said Florence

Knock it off. Sorry.

The prosecution case -

Florence died intestate. Patrick's mother
inherited the lot. She then shared it with him.

The defence case is that Florence Alderman was a sick
woman - still convalescing from an earlier attack.

...Right, moving on...

Reverend Oliver Somerton, killed
by a coping stone which fell on him.

Daphne Somerton, now Mrs Patrick
Alderman, inherited 60 grand.

There was no witnesses.
The coroner said accidental death.

Wasn't Patrick at work in Harrogate?

No. He'd taken the day off
to attend to Mr Capstick's roses.

The church is five minutes' away.
And on a sudden impulse,

Patrick sprints to the church like Linford
Christie, climbs to the top like Tenzing,

dislodges a lump of stone weighing
a couple of hundredweight like...

Popeye Like Popeye.

He does all that, still on the same sudden
impulse, and manages to hit a vicar?

Sorry,
but that one's got to be down to God.

Now, Mrs McNeil. He embezzles
her money, he gets found out.

Just before the noxious substance
hits the fan, she dies of pneumonia.

She was 78 years old.

How did he do it?
Sneeze through her keyhole?

No. Forget it. Cut to Burton.

HE could be a contender.

Chris Burton fell off a ladder.
Alderman got his job.

I've checked the coroner's report.

And?
Well, he died between 2.30 and 3.30.

They had decorators in,
painting the house.

He slipped home to see how they were
doing. Where were the decorators?

It had rained earlier on, so they
went to an inside job across town.

How do we know the time of death?

Mrs Burton went out at 2.30, leaving the
house empty. Came back at 3.30. There he was.

On the patio.
It's a mistake having a patio.

Mrs Burton's called Mandy.
TWO mistakes.

Runs a stall in the market -
Mandy's Nick-Nacks.

I'll talk to her.
Browse through her nick-nacks.

Mm!
The fat man's still here in spirit.

Dixon? Eagles?

Non-runners.

Organising a drunk driver and a heart attack's
about as easy as dropping a church on a clergyman.

Or dropping an up-and-over door on someone? Dick
Elgood. Elgood's car is a maroon Jaguar XJ Sport.

What about it? Monday morning, Daphne
Alderman parks her car in the multistorey,

climbs into a maroon Jaguar XJ Sport,

and... well... we can only guess
what happened after that.

We're talking... assignations?

It doesn't sound like browsing
the shops and library...

especially if the library's closed.

Oi! Gunga!
Show a bit of respect.

What's up?
Is it another stakeout?

No, better than that, Mick.
Not allowed to say. Why?

Listen, when you said that about us being
off the hook for vandalism, was that right?

Why do you think I said it?
Jonty says all police are liars.

He's good lad, but he's a villain.
Runs in the family. His dad's inside.

His brother has just gone down.
That'll be it. They're a man short.

That'll be what, then?
A job's coming up. Jonty's on it.

What job?
Nicking stuff from a big house.

There are hundreds in Yorkshire.
This one's Rosemont.

I didn't tell you that.
How d'you know?

Jonty said they'd pay me for helping with the
lifting. Don't. Say you're washing your hair.

Mrs Pascoe!

What happened to you this morning?

What happened to YOU when
you married into the police force?

Usual thing - had my picture taken with pretty
flowers, went on honeymoon, masses of sex...

Oh, shut up.
Just trying to answer the question, ma'am.

Did you know when you took me under your little left
wing, YOUR husband was investigating MY husband?

That's not a simple question and you know it.
- Yes or no?

First, I gave you a lift that day
because it was chucking it down.

Second, I didn't take you under "my little left wing",
though it's a good line and I might use it later.

I talked to you and,
goddammit, I liked you.

Thank you.

It's true.

And yes,
Peter does talk about his work

and some of it's disgusting,
but he is NOT a disgusting person.

Do you talk to him about us?
- Yes, obviously.

In detail?

I met Daphne. We had coffee.

I preached at her about human rights and we argued about
public schools, we had another coffee, we went home.

Nothing very inflammatory there.

Anyway, how did YOU find out?
What about?

About the investigation. They're
supposed to be discreet enquiries.

I heard from Dick Elgood.

I-I told him about the sergeant
coming to the house,

asking weird, irrelevant questions
about the vandalism in the car park.

He told me he made a silly complaint about Patrick
to the police, and how, later, he'd withdrawn it.

But the investigations
have gone further, haven't they?

I believe so. But why or how,
I have no idea. Believe me.

I'm trying to believe you, Ellie.

But hang on a minute. I have the brain of
a weak and feeble woman, so please explain

why did you tell Dick Elgood about the
vandalism in the car park? You don't know?

You really don't know, do you?
- I haven't a clue.

...I parked the car,

got into Dick's car,

and we spent the day together.

You mean "spent the day together" as
in waves crashing on the seashore?

Isn't he a bit old?

Pushing 60...

but in good working order.

You're sure he said Rosemont?
He's not clever enough to make it up.

They'll do the job when they're away.
Sorry, I am drowning in your syntax.

Sir? He means the thieves will do the
job while the inhabitants are away.

Superintendent Dalziel on the phone.
Sling your hook. This is for adults.

How's the conference?

...
- He seems to have decided they're a bunch of dedicated self-abusers. - What a surprise

Listen, sunbeam, I've been thinking
about our serial killer.

...Anything to relieve the boredom.
Chris Burton's the man to work on.

He falls off his ladder and Mandy Burton
gets a prime spot at the marketplace.

With the marketplace,
we're talking Yorkshire mafia.

...They even do funny handshakes with their
feet. And another thing, I'm missing you buggers.

I'd never have thought it possible. ...Right. Back at
the weekend. Get it sorted by then, eh?.. Good lad.

I am a policeman.

This is where he fell, Inspector.
This is the exact spot.

...Cheers.

Cheers. Oh, I'm sorry.
You mustn't think I'm callous, Peter.

All right if I call you Peter?
You're too good-looking to be an inspector.

It was four years ago. I'm well over
the grieving process. Good.

Now, about Mr Burton. Has somebody
been making naughty phone calls?

Or is it the insurance company?
It's just routine, Mrs Burton.

Oh, Mandy. If you can't be frank,
you might as well be friendly.

Well, I'll be frank.

Chris was a sweet fellow, but he hit 40, same time
as I did, and that was that. He turned middle-aged.

And he went running up a ladder on
a wet afternoon? I wouldn't do that.

...Cos you're young. Your bourgeois, middle-aged
man is convinced the workmen are cheating on him.

He climbs the ladder to check.

Did your husband ever socialise with his colleagues
from work? Mr Elgood, Mr Eagles, Mr Alderman?

You DO know a lot! Let me think,
uh... A long time ago...

Dick Elgood. He was friendly, but
still the boss. Know what I mean?

I know exactly what you mean. And we went out
to dinner with the Eagles a couple of times.

That other one... Patrick Alderman. Chris
didn't reckon much on him at all. Why not?

Because his job had been fixed for
him. Chris didn't agree with fixes.

He was a very moral man -
my late husband.

I'm probably going to meet
your friend Daphne.

Mm. I'm meeting her
tomorrow definitely, so there!

Why are you going to meet her probably? We've
had a tip-off Rosemont's going to be done.

We'll guard their valuables while they're
away. AND have a nose round the house?

What, have a poke around their dark
and dusty corners?.. Absolutely not.

But we've had word of a hint of a
rumour about Daphne and Dick Elgood.

Assignations, no less.
Another bored housewife.

What do YOU know about bored housewives? I've
seen documentaries about them on Channel 4.

I thought I'd seen the last of you,
young man.

Once a line of enquiry is started,
we're legally obliged to pursue it,

till we can prove no crime's been committed. Even
if it means setting your own wife to spy on people?

You'll have to explain that, Mr Elgood.
You're telling me it's a coincidence?

I speak to you one day about Patrick Alderman and
the next day your wife gives Daphne Alderman a lift.

And it's all coffee and girl talk.
Don't go any further, Mr Elgood.

I'll tell you what we know and can prove
if necessary. What is there to prove?

That the day before you came to see me, you met Daphne
Alderman in the car park. You drove off together.

She returned five hours later.

Your wife told you this?
Police enquiries revealed it.

If you accuse my wife one more time, I might forget
our age difference and smack you on the nose!

All right. I met Daphne Alderman.
I'm not denying it.

But my private life's MY business,
isn't it? Even in this town.

You meet a woman, and the day after
say her husband tried to kill you...

Pull the other one, son! Patrick
Alderman as the jealous husband?!

Why not? Because all he cares about
is his bloody roses.

He'd kill for THEM. Not for Daphne.

But I shouldn't have said those
things about your wife. I'm sorry.

Apology accepted.

Right, well, then, perhaps
I can now get on with my day's work.

...I hoped that you might be able to enlighten me about
the nature of your relationship with Mandy Burton.

Andy "sodding" Dalziel.
He trained you well, didn't he?

So he tells me.

Miss Dominic?
'Yes, Mr Elgood.'

Can I have two cups of coffee,
please, love?

What's wrong with the coffee lounge?
It's bugged.

Special Branch?
WI. Even worse!

And I want to talk to you
about Dick Elgood and me,

about Patrick and me, about you
and me... about you and Peter.

We might need a bigger park.
I'm not joking. Nor am I.

Plum brandy.

It leaves no odour on the breath.

You're right. I was having a thing
with Mandy Burton.

Well, you've seen her.

Do you blame me? She's a lass
with a very healthy appetite.

Too much for poor old Chris.

Why did he fall off the ladder?

I'd a business lunch at the White Rose - me and Chris,
Tim Eagles, Patrick Alderman, some Council chaps.

After the lunch, I went into the bar
for a top-up and there was Mandy.

She was keen for me to see her new
bathroom suite, which we'd supplied.

Naturally.

She drove me to the house and, well...

..we went to bed.

We were recharging our batteries
when we thought we heard something.

See what it is.

Mandy went over, drew the curtains...

and there was Chris on the ladder.

He sees his wife stark naked
and his boss ditto in the background.

He fell off the ladder.

Bingo.

Then what happens?
Panic stations - her and me both.

We got dressed and went downstairs.

'He was dead - no question.'

Now, don't get me wrong, Pascoe.
This may sound callous,

but he really wasn't a likeable man.
We felt sorry, but...

Shaken, not stirred.

Nobody was about. I hid in the boot of
the car and Mandy drove me to town.

Go on! What are you doing?! Go on!

She got back and discovered the body.

All as reported at the inquest.
Exactly.

No crime committed,
no crime intended.

Just a bit of, well, diplomatic
rearrangement of the facts.

The moment you failed to call
the police, it was a criminal act.

Mrs Burton purgered herself
at the inquest.

It's not purgery if it's an inquest.

An inquest is a court of law.

What about the market stall? Was it
a trade-off? Price of her silence?

No, it was something to keep her
busy. YOU know what it's like.

Wheels within wheels. Small town.

Would you like to put all this
in a written statement, Mr Elgood?

Like hell. Now, listen, there are some very
important negotiations going on here next week.

THAT sort of caper does not go down
well with our European partners.

How about a bit of discretion?
I'll discuss it with Mr Dalziel.

Andy Dalziel? Discretion?

You know what it's like.
Wheels within wheels. Small town.

He was attentive, amusing, gentle,
interested, old-fashioned courteous,

and, yes, old as well. And please don't preach
about father figures. I wouldn't dream of it.

I probably drank too much
and he's very clever.

I didn't realise
I was being seduced until...

Until you were seduced.
Oh, Sir Jasper.

But if Dick Elgood is amusing,
gentle, and all those other things,

does that mean Patrick isn't?

It's hard to describe Patrick.
Don't feel obliged.

No, I need to make sense of it.

Imagine you're on holiday,
in Greece or Italy,

you've had some wine
and all is right with the world,

Patrick's like that all the time.

It doesn't sound like a problem.

He stays like that even when there ARE problems.
The kids are ill, the bills are mounting up...

YOU have bills?
I don't know what he spends it on.

Your son's education
at that socially divisive school...

Oh, shut up.
Only trying to be helpful.

The house is ridiculously big, costs a fortune
to run, even when it's falling to bits.

So he and Dick
are having a boardroom battle.

I'm not experienced
in boardroom battles.

The firm's part of a conglomerate so
they reorganise themselves at times.

They're creating this new post -
Chief Executive, Western Europe.

Golly! Bigger even than Yorkshire!

Does it pay well? Mega.
Dick and Patrick are both chasing the job.

Um... exactly which bits of all this
am I allowed to discuss with Peter?

This has been a grand evening.
Thank you, Penny.

That's very gracious.
You've almost allayed my suspicions.

What's there
to be suspicious about?

You just happened to be passing
my place the other day,

and I wondered, "Is this
a coincidence?" Fate, you mean.

Written in the stars.

Not fate - ambush! Written in the CID
handbook. I'd do that if I was investigating.

What's there to investigate
about you?

Pure as the driven snow.

So how's that lad of yours?
What's he up to now?

He's on the board at ICE.
The bog people?

I know them. Dick Elgood's
a mate from the rugby club.

So young Patrick's a credit
to his mother, is he?

Doesn't surprise me.
Stop grovelling.

I'm not! Can't have been easy for
you, bringing him up on your own.

Didn't have single parents in them
days. It was all tarts and bastards.

You know how to talk to a girl, Andy.

No, I don't.
I'm well out of practice.

Why didn't you marry the father?
None of your damned business.

Quite correct. None of my business.

But whoever he is, or was, he's a blaggard
for dropping you in it in the first place,

and a fool for not marrying you when he'd
the chance. I didn't give him the chance.

Oh... I'm sure you had good reasons.

So... what else would you like
to know about my private life?

Well, since we're on the subject...
I thought I was joking.

Hear me out, then you decide.

When your Auntie Flo dropped dead
in the rose bushes,

and you and Patrick got the lot -

house, money, garden and so on -

I heard something in the rugby club.
What did you hear in the rugby club?

I heard, and it was no more than
saloon bar chat, you understand,

with a piss artist of a solicitor,

I did hear that Auntie Flo
didn't want you to inherit.

Some talk of leaving it all
to a bunch of missionaries.

And when she died,
there was no sign of a will.

You fat, hypocritical, overweight,
devious bastard!

Looks like we'll not be bothering
with coffee, sunbeam.

Good night.

You forgot this!

You might need it to wallop someone.

There's no need to check. I'VE paid.

What are you doing? I'm walking you
home. There's no need.

If I take a woman out,
two things happen -

I pick up the tab
and I see her home.

It's called good manners
where I'm from.

This is my front door. No, it isn't.
This is EVERYBODY'S front door.

Besides,
did you leave the light on?

I can't remember.

I had better check inside. Why?

Well, this is London. They're all
thieves and villains down here.

You're talking crap, Andy. All right.

I'm a bit lonely
and a long way from home.

And have you got any single malt? I'd like to
get rid of the taste of that red wine. Me too.

Add that to your list.
Next time you take a girl out,

order a decent bottle of wine.
You should've said. I'm saying now!

Bloody hell! Are you all right? No.

Should we call the police? I AM the
police. You're hurt. Is it broken?

I've had my nose broken more times
than you've sent the wine back.

I'll call in. Give a description
of the feller and his car.

It's only for the look of it.

It IS the Met. They couldn't
catch a cold in a wet November.

Have a look around.
See if owt's missing.

...Oh, don't forget the single malt.

I helped myself.

So, uh...

what was he looking for?

I dunno. There's nothing missing.

Not that there's anything much
worth stealing.

But, uh... he'd been searching.

Yes. Everything's been moved,
but it's all very neat and tidy.

A professional. Excuse me
You're making yourself at home!

I'm not leaving you here
on your own after what's happened.

I hate unfinished business,
don't you?

'Appen so.

Only THIS time,
I can take me socks off.

Darling,
what are you doing in London?

...No. Not at all.

It would be great to see you.

Bye!

Who was that? The Met?

They've apprehended a suspect.
No, that was Patrick.

Patrick?

He's in London.
So I said he could stay.

So the best thing that you can do
is to take up thy trousers and walk.

Patrick.

That's nice. You're early.

Where's Diana?
Gone to play at Mary's.

These are for you.

YOU have been buying flowers
from a shop? Don't be silly.

Read the label.

"Type - hybrid T.

"Variety - Daphne Alderman."

You bred a rose
and named it after me?

I said I was going to.

I remember.

You said it on our wedding day, but
I thought it was just romantic talk.

I always mean what I say.
It's taken longer than I thought.

It had to be perfect.
That's why I was in London.

It has to be officially approved by the Royal
Society. I wish... You'll be in every garden centre.

And I saw a publisher. I showed him all the notes I've
kept and they want me to write a book about roses.

Imagine. A hundred times better than being managing
director of the UK branch of an EC conglomerate.

...What do you wish? I wish you'd
shared more of this with me.

I would have done,
but it might not have worked.

I wouldn't want to share failure
with you.

I can't bear failure.

Thank you for my rose.

What do you reckon?
A security nightmare.

Are we expecting anyone?
Yes. The police.

Oh, God!

Mr Pascoe! Mr Wield!
Nice to see you again.

We need to know when you're going and a
list of people who know you're going away.

We'll check the alarm and the whereabouts of your
valuables. The only valuables are in the garden.

We should divide and rule. Sorry? Daphne'll show you
round. I'll give Mr Wield our travel arrangements.

Good... And I might have solved
your window box problem.

This is what the estate agents
would call the master bedroom.

I envy you this view.

You have a very pretty garden
where you live.

Have you been to our house? Didn't you know? I went
round to have a row with Ellie. And you can still walk?

I wasn't very good at it. I suppose
I like her too much. Me too.

It can be a problem... Well, don't
you want to know what it was about?

What? The row that never happened.

Only if it's likely to assist the
police with their current enquiries.

Which current enquiries?
Make me an offer.

Patrick no longer has any reason
to be jealous of Dick Elgood,

and Dick Elgood no longer has any
reason to be frightened of Patrick.

Good.

No more boardroom battles.
He's invented an award-winning rose.

Game over. He told me.

And he's given me
half his bloody greenhouse.

Oh, aye.

You can be proud of yourself, lad.

Mr Pascoe, Mr Wield, running around at your
behest on a Saturday morning... Well done.

Now, sling your hook. Sir.

You're still here.
I'd like to ask a favour, sir.

Oh, aye? Sir, if there's going to be a stakeout
at Rosemont on account of my information,

I wonder if I could maybe...
Fancy a bit of action?

I thought the experience...
I'll tell you about the experience.

Either you'll sit on your arse
all night wi' nowt to show for it,

or the villains will come, there'll be aggro and
blood - yours likely - and at the end of it all,

you'll meet your old school mate.
What's his name? Jonty Marsh.

You'll end up as Judas Iscariot on top of all
your other problems. Still fancy it? Yes, sir.

All right. Try this.

Worst case scenario.
You end up like these two.

Welcome back.
Did you have an accident? Don't ask.

You... disappear.

Sir.

Right, in the matter
of Mr Patrick Alderman,

are we arresting or protecting him?
Protecting him.

I thought you'd have it all sorted.
We have. There's no case against Alderman.

Yeah, there's the old lady's money and we MIGHT
get Dick Elgood and Mandy Burton on perjury...

Embezzlers and perjurers? Mickey Mouse stuff!
I want dead bodies! Evidence.

We've got neither.

CID office.

...Yes. A Mr Masson to see you.
See? ONE of us is still trying.

I'm on me way. He's on his way.

Masson. Solicitor, isn't he? Yeah.

Bent? Soon will be.

Mr Masson! Mr Dalziel.
Thank you for coming.

I won't keep you.
Come through to my office.

On your way to golf? Well observed, Superintendent.
It's bound to rain. I've done you a favour.

Regard this
as an off-the-record continuation

of a drunken conversation we had
in the rugby club many years ago.

Drunken's the only sort
of conversation

I ever had with you in the rugby club. Yes. But
we only ever had one about Eddie and Flo Alderman.

...What about them? Eddie died
intestate. Flo got the lot.

Flo died intestate. Penny Highsmith got the
lot, and split it down the middle with Patrick.

...Yes.

Well, you told me, as far as I can
recall through the drunken haze,

that Flo didn't want anything
to go to Penny or to Patrick.

There was talk. But if she made
a new will, I never saw it.

And such a will was never found.
Who was Patrick Alderman's father?

No comment.

Was it Uncle Eddie?
I said no comment.

Thank you, Mr Masson.

Enjoy your golf.

How did it go?
- That's all about his money situation.

The interesting bit is the mother.
She went for a meal with some fat geezer.

I looked round the flat. Found the birth
certificate, confirmed she was the mother.

I found this. Are you interested in the last
will and testament of Florence Alderman?

Very much so. Would she miss it?
- Looked like she'd forgotten it.

Any problems? They came home early, so I
had to slap the geezer a couple of times.

But no sweat. I didn't feel a thing.
Here's my charges.

As we agreed - cash only.

If you'd like to sign the receipt.

It won't go through the books.
This is Yorkshire, remember.

A pleasure doing business with you,
Mr Elgood. Mm.

Oh! Daphne, it's me.

Is Patrick there?

Hello?.. Hi, Daphne.
...Yeah, well, I'm just...

Tomorrow?.. A what?

A what? Barbecue. At Dick Elgood's
place? Some sort of celebration.

You're invited as well. There's
a swimming pool. I hate swimming.

That stuff in the water ruins
me hair. What shampoo do you use?

Ladies and gentlemen, thank you.

You're probably wondering why I've rounded up the
usual suspects. This is a celebration. Yesterday,

I was officially confirmed as being the new
chief executive of ICE in Western Europe...

..at an appropriate remuneration.

So drink as much as you like.
I can afford it now.

At the same board meeting, my good and loyal
friend Patrick was confirmed as my number two...

at a somewhat less
COMMENSURATE remuneration.

That means not as much, Andy.

Having said that, let's put it on the record that
any little local difficulties or misunderstandings

are strictly in the past.

Right, partner? Yes, I'm very happy
to drink to that. Terrific.

So eat, drink and be merry. Tomorrow,
your throat'll be like a gravel pit.

I want to take a picture.
- Certainly, love.

Lovely.

What do you reckon to that, then?
A public relations exercise.

Dick's happy cos he's won his boardroom battle.
Why's Patrick so happy? Nobody likes coming second.

He's invented a rose. Men don't
invent roses. God invents roses.

And single malt. No.
My Scottish ancestors invented this.

So what do you think of our host?

He reminds me of a carpet salesman.

A very good one, but...
Lucky we're friends.

How is everything with Patrick?

Everything's fine.
I do mean EVERYTHING.

Well, you're the expert.
How do I make my garden grow?

Well, it's difficult soil in this area. And
you've got wasps and other insects that need...

Yeah, yeah. Fine.

Well, I've... bought some stuff.

You really shouldn't leave this lying around
with children playing nearby. It's lethal!

Haven't you got a shed? No.

...I've got a loft in here.

Would that make you happy?

Here.

Come on!

Are you happy now?

...I'm always happy.

I was hoping you might have
something for me.

Oh! Thank you for reminding me.
You'll find that it's a photocopy.

The original's in my office safe.
Listen. You might hear it ticking.

I don't know who you got to get it,
but my mother could have got hurt.

I think your mother's well able
to take care of herself.

Where's the chief executive
of Euro Closets? I need a refill.

Sorry, Andy... All right, then?

I'm missing my wife. Excuse me.

Funny lad, that one. Mm, but
harmless. Nice spot you've got here.

Yeah. I swim every morning first
thing, then I'm fit for anything.

It'd make a good love nest.
You have my number.

That would cause a bit of talk, eh?
You like this country air, do you?

I sleep like a baby. Me an' all.
Got a clear conscience.

Most of my enemies are locked up.
What's to trouble MY sleep, Dick?

You can have these. They're marked.
Thanks. So you're leaving early?

We're bringing our son home from
school. We'll be away a few nights.

We'll be very careful, sir. Isn't
all this "sir" business silly?

Especially with our ladies
so friendly? And our lords.

All right, Peter?
All right by me, Patrick.

So what happened to the nose, then?

It was a virus.
But I'll have him one day. Cheers.

Cheers.

What time is it?

Half six.

Are you bored?
No. No. It's brilliant.

I'll ask you again
in 20 years time.

Tea's on in the kitchen.

The alarm? Switched off.
We can sup tea undetected.

Our first intruder.

I just walked in. Your security's shot at.
Some lunatic turned the alarm off.

Yeah... They'll be here at seven.
Seven?

I'll put my pension on it... It's a self-portrait -
a feller's desk. Like that Dutchman with the bad ear.

Van Gogh.
Didn't he have short legs?

...What have you learned?

He loves his wife, his family, also
his mother and the late Uncle Eddie.

And he's got a lot of unpaid bills.

And he likes roses. Ellie thinks
he's an obsessive neurotic.

Explain. Someone who'll stop at
nothing in pursuit of his ambition,

and trebles the effort
when he's forgotten the point.

Patrick Alderman and Dick Elgood -
two of a kind.

Bad losers, both.

Your friend Patrick'll not be
pleased when he gets back. Why?

Blowing a gale last night.
Look at the mess. Milord. Sorry?

The name of the rose.
Milord. That's appropriate.

Who for? Me? Patrick.

I prefer his mother.

Mind your own business.
I'm a consenting adult.

Come on. Let's catch some thieves.

You still suspect Patrick?
We need bodies, Peter.

It's only the gardeners. Caldicotts.
Been in the family for generations.

And Jonty Marsh's brother
helps them out sometimes.

Upstairs.

Three men to sweep up a few leaves?

That's Jonty and his brother. One to
sweep leaves, two to clear out the house.

And one to fix the burglar alarm.

Jonty went on a scheme to learn
about electrics. He's brilliant.

So are you.
You'll come to a bad end.

Sorry, Arthur. In the car!
Oh, is that how it's done?

Come on, lad. Let's be having you.

Black bastard!

Ambulance!

Morning, son.

We've finished your grapes.

How are you feeling?
- A bit dopey... Did we get 'em?

What a professional. We got them.
And YOU dropped me right in it,

allowing a cadet to mix
with CID riffraff...

and get walloped in the process.

Because of you, I've got to fill in
forms. Sorry, sir.

Come for some grapes?
It's Dick Elgood.

What? Found dead in his pool.

Well, YOU wanted a body.

He didn't turn up for a meeting
this morning.

They sent someone round. Natural causes?
Heart attack? Sexual overload?

Not that simple. What a surprise.

The first doctor to see him thought
something was odd about the body.

Our man seems to confirm it.
Confirm what?

That Elgood was in contact with
a chemical reagent before he died -

something like parathion or dieldrin.
You mean insecticide... Insecticide.

A bag like these was in the water tank. Seems it
fell off the shelf. Did it fall or was it pushed?

The overnight gales came whistling through this window.
It blows shut, making the bag to fall in the water.

It's just a matter of time before the stuff leaks
out. Forensics found a hell of a lethal cocktail.

We know he swam every morning.
He has a swim, then a shower...

There you are.

First bobby on the scene
found the shower still on.

That stuff would cause muscular
spasms, breathing difficulties.

Chucks himself in the pool to wash it off and
drowns. Get the picture? Not very pretty.

Patrick wouldn't poison the
water tank while we were all here.

So he sneaked back later. He didn't.
We went to Rosemont for a drink.

Of course. Friend of the family.

So he used a long pole. Sent
a message on the Internet. I dunno!

Come on. As a friend of the family,
is he a mass murderer?

He loves his wife, he loves
his kids, he loves his roses.

Lucrezia Borgia, Attila the Hun, Vlad the Impaler
- all loved roses AND gave generously on flag days.

Maybe he's got a good arrangement
with God. Put that in your report.

Don't worry.
No-one will ever read it.

OK.

What are you doing, Dad?
It's called...

deadheading.

Subtitles by Marie Campbell
BBC Scotland -