10x03 - King's Crystal

[bunniefuu]

There's absolutely no doubt at all,

it's perfectly in order to - this
one, too -

fund it through a second bank.

Thank you.

Don't we have to be nearby? Leave
that to me.

Also, how do you feel about these
two? What do you think about that?

PHONE RINGS

Charles King. It's Hilary.

Hilary, my dear. How are you? Fine.

Alan, it's Hilary.

Thank you.

Darling. You have news? Yes. The
Arts Council grant's been approved.

The theatre can re-open. Brilliant!
Yes, wonderful.

Ian's down from Cambridge.
Well done, Dad! I'll pick you up at
Heathrow tomorrow.

Can't wait to see you. How's it been
out there?

Charles and Peter Baxter have done
all the business. I've just been a
tourist.

I'm letting them get on with it.
I'll tell you about it tomorrow.
Safe journey!

Bye!

Well, we've saved the theatre!

Good.

Let's hope we've saved the business
as well.

SCREECH OF TYRES

END-OF-SHIFT SIREN BLOWS

Look at this, then!

What's that? I don't believe it!

Come on!

Jack, take a look at this!

Jack! What?

Boys, come and have a look at this!

What the hell's that?

Wouldn't you just know it?

HORN BLARES

HORN BLASTS ANGRILY

What's all this, then, Mr King?

I don't like your tone, Tewson. No
more than I like yours, Baxter.

We're trying to raise capital to
save your jobs.

Alan King would never have done
this. He's not even in his grave
yet.

I think I know what my brother's
wishes were, Jack.

I'll see you at the funeral, I hope.

Oh, you will!

POUNDS HORN

(WORKER) Go on! Get lost!

Are you family?

A friend of Ian's, Alan King's son.

Where's Ian? I don't know.

Now, bride and groom, best man...

Peter, on my right.

Have you seen Ian?

He's round the back, mooning about
with his nancy boyfriend.

Dad! What?!

Ignore him, Hilary.

Now, everyone this way!

Say, "One, two, three!"

You're wanted.

Sorry.

I'm not grinning in some cheesy
photograph.

Give it a rest, Ian.

Dead just six months

and she's coupling up with his
brother!

It's disgusting! That is so unfair.

Is this fair?

To my father? Does she care?

Hilary was devastated when your
father d*ed.

If you'd stayed around, you'd
have known.

She wanted me out of the way, back
at university.

Charles supported her through it
all, Ian.

He was here for her.

He loves her. That's fine, then (!)

Let's all move on. Here's to the
happy couple!

She's entitled to her happiness!

But she needs you.

Please don't push her away.

You're pushing everyone away, Ian.

People are leaving.

Ian, is this what your dad would
really want?

No, my father...

He'd most likely say, "Good luck,
Hils. Go for it. Make your fun
happen."

So?

How can we put a smile on your face?

By not going to this bloody
reception.

OK, so we give it a miss.

Come on, let's get hammered. Get
down the club.

This is Midsomer. There's only
Cawston.

"Only"? Nowhere better!

Every hour is happy hour in Cawston!

Beautiful dress, Soph.

Oh, thanks!

You haven't forgotten Tuesday?

Oh. I can't make it. I'm sorry.

We'll do it another time, OK?

Sorry!

Everybody! Ready?

I've got to say, she's very fit!

And she knows it.

How embarrassing!

Don't tell me you fancy her?

Wrong gender, love.

But she definitely fancies you!

This I do not believe!

How dare you come here? Just making
a point.

Today of all days!

We're not going anywhere, Baxter.
We're not gonna sit at home like
dumbbells!

Clear off, all of you. Go on, clear
off!

Not until you see us right!

Get off!

ANGRY SHOUTING

Just go!

You will pay for this!

DISGRUNTLED MURMURINGS

What's this about the pensions
money?

Vanished. Like snow off a roof.

Slipped quietly into your family's
pockets.

I promise I know nothing about this.

You're going to hear about it loud
and long. In the meantime,

go and swill your champagne. And
remember, we bought it for you!

Ian.

Come on.

HORN BLARES, PROTESTORS SHOUT

All three Gifford brothers stood in
the dock smirking.

And?

Judge Lloyd starts. Ten years,
twelve years, ten.

A great result. Yes!

Yes!

Ow!

All right, sir?

Paper cut?

Oh, dear!

Oh, it's from Cully.

She's playing at the old open-air
theatre, you know.

They've just re-opened it and this
is their first production.

Would you stick that up on the
notice board?

I find Shakespeare a bit hard-going,
to be honest, sir.

A bit of a snore. Yeah, well,

four hours on a stone seat in the
open air is hard going.

Four hours?!

Unfortunately, Jones,

brevity was never the soul of
Shakespeare's wit.

Yeah! Sentences longer than Judge
Lloyd's!

Oh, perfect! Just the right shade.

How much do I owe you?

Don't be silly! Hi, Soph!

Would you join us for lunch? Ian's
working down in the water meadows.

No, thanks.

Give him my love. I will.

And his to you, I'm sure.

Ciao!

Did you see Ian while I was away?

No.

He's not returning my calls.

It's like there was never anything
between us.

No, I can't reach him, either.

I think it may be...

He's still grieving for his father's
death.

And my marriage.

He's so angry with me, Sophie.

So angry.

Here in the worshipful lodge of the
vale of Midsomer,

I hereby do most solemnly promise

and swear

that I will always hail...

the secret arts' heart.

The master's rehearsing the third
degree and cannot be interrupted.

Don't be ridiculous! You cannot
enter the temple in a state of
undress!

Out of my way!

m*rder and treason...

KERFUFFLE

Sorry, Worshipful Master!

Charles, we need to speak.

Could you wait without, please,
James?

Tewson has been pouring poison into
the receivers' ears. They're
querying the accounts.

It's a receiver's job. Routine,
Peter, that's all.

Charlie, if those figures come
unwrapped, we are liable!

You're the accountant!

If this is you wriggling, forget it.
You signed the accounts.

They're asking some very difficult
questions.

I'm sure we'll find the answers, as
long as you don't panic.

I'll sort out Tewson.

Now, go home and get a grip!

Cully, love! Give me that.

Thanks.

What have you got in here? Costumes
for the play.

Can't somebody do that for
you? Wardrobe people?

It's not a West End job, Dad!

It's 200 quid a week and wash your
own frocks!

We're actors. We do it for love.

Certainly not for the money!

For sale? He wasn't bluffing, then.

Doesn't look like it.

You can't do this, Dad! I go away
for a couple...

It's my house. I'll sell it when I
see fit!

I'm not moving!

What happened? Who did this? Who do
you think did it?

The mob from the factory, I expect.

I'm not staying here to get any more
windows smashed. I've had enough.

And me, what am I supposed to do?

Grow up and look after yourself for
a change!

Soph, are you all right? I'm fine,
James.

Thanks for the lift. OK.

You are not welcome here, either.

CREAKING

What are you doing here?

HORN BLARES

Idiot!

About five minutes ago.

Lying in the stream.

Yes, I do.

His name is Baxter.

Peter Baxter.

He's down there.

Seen anything? No.

Tom!

The lungs are full of water, but
it's not a straightforward drowning.

Was he held under? There's a s*ab
wound,

entry between the sixth and seventh
rib.

It's collapsed the lung and left a
sucking wound that's drawn in water.

w*apon? Nothing so far.

Time of death? Sometime last night.
I'll know better later, hopefully.

Thank you.

The victim's name is Peter Baxter.

That's his car.

So he came here to meet someone.
Yeah.

Or brought someone down here, maybe.
He lives nearby, according to Mrs
King.

She found him. I see her.

Right. You carry on here. Sir.

Mrs King?

I'm Chief Inspector Barnaby from
Cawston CID.

I've given my statement to this
young woman. I'd like to go home
now.

Yes, of course. I was just
wondering how well did you know
Mr Baxter?

Peter was chief accountant at my
husband's firm, King's Crystal.

Look, I was collecting flowers this
morning

and there he was in the stream.

He's got a daughter, Sophie.

I'd like to be the one to tell her
what's happened.

That's all right. We'll handle that.

Right. OK, thank you. That's it. You
can go now.

But would you mind leaving that
Kn*fe with me, please?

As long as I get it back.

Thinking of buying, sir?

Not without robbing a bank.

Can I help you?

Miss Baxter? Miss Sophie Baxter?

Yes.

I'm Detective Chief Inspector
Barnaby. This is DS Jones,

from Cawston CID.

May we come in?

Sorry about the mess.

Miss Baxter...

I'm very sorry to have to tell you
that Mr Baxter, your father,

was found dead this morning.

We're also treating it as a m*rder.

Miss Baxter, when did you last see
your father?

Um... yesterday.

Here.

We had an awful row. It was about
the house.

About selling the house? Yes.

I suppose he's just pushed someone
too far.

Any idea who?

No.

I know there's been business
worries. To do with King's Crystal?

I remember there was a lot of bad
press about its closure.

When I tried to talk to him, he just
said I was spoiling his drink.

So he'd made enemies?

My father didn't know how to make
friends.

KNOCKING

Sorry, Soph.

Oh, James!

These are the police.

I just heard.

Come on.

Well, we'll leave you two to talk.
Mr...?

Taylor.

James Taylor.

SHE SOBS

I'm not sorry he's dead. Don't say
such things, Ian.

Why are you being so hateful to
everyone? Am I?

It's about me and Charles, isn't it?

I know it's difficult, but can't you
just respect... Respect?

I loved your father as much as you
did, Ian. Alan was...

You hardly had time to
change the sheets before you were
screwing his brother!

Ian!

Keep a civil tongue in your head!
Since when do you give me orders?

Stop it, Ian. Don't... Don't what?

You married him. I didn't.

Ian!

Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby.
Charles King. How do you do?

Detective Sergeant Jones.

How do you do?

Dreadful news about Peter.

Shall we go inside?

Was he in any way responsible for
the company's bankruptcy?

The firm was past its sell-by date.
We're starting afresh in Shanghai.

King's Crystal is going to
be made in China?

In 20 years' time, everything will
be. One has to move with the times.

Can I get you a drink? No. No, thank
you.

Mr King, we suspect that Mr Baxter
was m*rder*d.

m*rder*d?!

By whom?

I understand he made enemies when
King's Crystal was closed down.

We did receive threats, yes.

Were they verbal? Letters? What were
they?

They were demonstrations.

Demonstrations - you mean workers at
the factory?

Yes, a chap called Tewson was the
ringleader. Jack Tewson.

Peter wouldn't go out of his way to
be popular,

but he was fair and on the
square with everybody.

I lost a friend and a brilliant
accountant.

Alan King - that would be Charles
King's elder brother.

He owned half of King's Crystal with
Charles.

Alan was always a sleeping partner.

"Teacher of drama." Would that be at
Cawston comprehensive?

I believe so. Yes, I remember him. A
lovely man.

It was he who first introduced Cully
to the stage.

This stone will be laid at the
theatre.

He raised most of the money to
reopen it.

Charles King and Peter Baxter were
in some money trouble

over King's Crystal. That right?

There's been talk, yes.

Mr Taylor, were you there when the
big row erupted between Sophie and
her father yesterday?

Yes, I drove her home. She got upset
about him selling the house.

Are you and Sophie close?

Used to be, yes.

Baxter put the blocks on it.

He wanted to match her with Ian
King, her class of person.

He thought I was chasing a meal
ticket.

Accountants! Money's all they see in
everything.

They're saying round the village he
drowned, right? No, he was stabbed.

Stabbed?

Now, I get it!

You're wasting your time looking at
me.

Right, George.

That's good.

Are they still searching?

Right. Thank you.

That's Bullard. The m*rder w*apon
was a sharp implement eight inches
long.

Still no sign of it.

Charles King, sir.

He's Mr Clean. Not even a speeding
ticket.

Director of several companies.
Spotless credit check.

He's divorced and recently
remarried. And he's a Mason.

Ah. You spotted the handshake?
Yes, I did.

I think I should tell you I was once
a member of the Masons.

Were you? Yes, sir, Cawston Lodge.

Thought it might help with my
promotion.

You never know. Policemen, Masons.

There's always the perception of
divided loyalty.

But your Masonic membership may come
in useful on this one.

If it takes us there, fine by me.

I've invited Sophie for dinner.

She shouldn't be on her own after
what's happened.

That'll be nice.

Maybe you'd like to join us.

No, thanks.

Dave and I are busy.

Ian, please!

I can't take much more of you being
like this.

How would you like me to be?

I'd like my son back.

That's what I want.

Do you hate me so much?

Don't take it to heart, Hilary.

Will you be staying much longer?

For as long as Ian wants me to.

If that's all right.

This is ?2,000. Or we can do
something simple for 500.

It only goes up in flames, anyway.

Whatever.

You take care of it.

And what about you, Soph?

Will you let me take care of you?
Oh, James.

Now he's gone, there's nothing
standing between us.

I love you. You know that. James,
please don't.

Not here.

Not now!

Please don't.

It's Ian, isn't it?

You're still burning a candle for
him. Is Ian on your doorstep asking
you what you need?

Is he the one taking care of you?
No. I am. James, I appreciate
everything you've done.

It's just...

I'm sorry.

It's amazing, that.

I bought my gran a piece of King's
Crystal for her ruby wedding. She's
still got it.

I thought this place had been closed
down.

It has. We're just completing an
order for the receivers.

Oh, listen to that.

Dead silence.

Full of machines, once.

Making stained glass, art glass.

Blowing shops all along the back.

Near to 100 worked here. Craftsmen
and women.

All gone now.

I suppose you're here about Baxter.

Come with me. There's something you
ought to see.

I can't pretend I was too sorry to
hear about Baxter.

Did you thr*aten him, Mr Tewson?

We had words from time to time.

This is Baxter's office.

This is normally kept locked
but we were broken into last night.

Seems they were looking for
something. Looking for something?

Looking for what, Mr Tewson? I don't
know.

Evidence, perhaps? Money's
disappeared.

Our redundancy pay, our pensions.
Where were you last night?

I was at home, alone, drinking. I've
been doing a lot of that these days.

Got any ideas who might have done
this?

I don't know. It could be Alan
King's son, Ian.

He inherited part of the company.

But Baxter and his uncle are keeping
him in the dark about it. Perhaps he
came to look.

You know Ian well enough to think he
might do such a thing?

I know he's not a happy boy.

Go on, Mr Tewson.

His mother, the merry widow, married
his Uncle Charles.

I know he's very upset about that.

OK. Thank you, Mr Tewson.

Thank you.

Fine.

I'm doing a PhD in biology.

The insect life of Midsomer's water
meadows.

We are investigating the death of
Peter Baxter.

I've not seen him for days.

I saw Mr Baxter last night.

I was out posting a letter. He
nearly wiped me up with his car.

What time was this, Mr...? Monroe.
David Monroe.

Must have been about elevenish.
Where were you at that time?

I'd gone for a walk.

You didn't go to the King's Crystal
factory? No.

I've not been there since Dad d*ed.

Your dad left you part of the family
business, I understand.

He left me shares, yes.

Were you involved with Mr Baxter and
your uncle

in the closure of that factory?

No. If my father had been alive,
he'd never have allowed it to
happen.

The rot set in after he d*ed. What
do you mean, "the rot"?

You mean corrupt practice on the
part of Charles King and Peter
Baxter?

Those two were as close as the
fingers on your hand.

Not a scrap of conscience between
them.

And your mother, Hilary? What was
her involvement with the company?

Who knows? All my life I thought I
knew my mother.

Whoever she is, she hides it well.

Hides what?

I thought she loved my father.

And then she goes and...

Ian... So you'd met Mr Baxter
before, had you?

Since you recognised him last night.

Yes, a few times.

Nasty puffball of a man.

He used to call me "the nancy-boy".

I'm sorry he d*ed how he did, but...
Well, maybe the gods are happy.

MOBILE RINGS

Yeah?

Ah!

Good.

Be there in a couple of minutes.

They've found the m*rder w*apon.

Sir!

Tom!

That's an ornamental dagger of some
sort.

It's a Masonic ceremonial dagger.
Is it? Yeah.

See the symbol there? Set square and
compass.

What's these letters?

J-O-B.

16-12-02.

J-O-B.

Someone's initials and a date?

Possibly.

How many of your father's books do
you want to keep?

Secrets of Ancient China?

Oxfam.

My father's Masonic regalia.

Ah. One of the secret squirrels, was
he?

It fits the entry wound

and there's a DNA match to Baxter.

There's a piece missing from the tip
of the blade. Fresh break.

The Kn*fe may have hit a rib, but
the fragment's not turned up.

Anything else? Hilary King's pruning
Kn*fe.

Clean. No connection.

So that's it from me.

Thank you, George. Thank you.

Fraud Squad says King's Crystal
looks a bit iffy.

Several paper companies shuffling
money about.

Any sign of Baxter's cap yet?

No, sir, we're still looking.

J-O-B.

Peter Baxter was an accountant,
wasn't he?

He could have been a Mason.

But these are not his initials.

So maybe he was stabbed by another
member of the brotherhood.

I've got it!

Sorry, sir!

J-O-B. It stands for Jahweh Osiris
Baal.

They're the ineffable trinity of
Masonic gods.

Are they? Yes.

So these are not the initials of a
particular member?

No.

But Charles King is certainly one of
the cloth, isn't he?

Maybe he found out Baxter had his
fingers in the till.

Could well be. Want me to do some
digging, sir?

Yes, I do. The Masons may not be a
secret society

but they are certainly a society
with secrets.

There's a Sergeant Jones to see you.

Show him in.

Good afternoon. Sorry to disturb
you, Mr King,

but I think you may be able to help
me if we can speak on the square.

Can I show you this?

We believe it was used to k*ll Mr
Baxter.

Ever seen it before?

I have seen many like it.

It's a poignard, a replica of our
ceremonial dagger.

Every apprentice in the Midsomer
Lodges receives one

on being entered.

As you'll be aware.

Yes, but I've never seen one with a
date stamped on it before.

Here. 16th of the 12th 02.

No, our lodge uses a simple code.

The numbers are letters of the
alphabet.

16 is P.

12 is L.

2 is B.

P.L.B.

Peter Leonard Baxter.

This was Peter's.

So where would he have kept this?

He was a little cavalier about
matters Masonic.

Often it would be in his briefcase.

He used it sometimes in his office
as a paper Kn*fe.

Thank you. It's been very helpful.

And you're a little rusty about
matters Masonic.

Our lodge meeting is the
second Thursday of the month.

Visitors always welcome.

Thanks.

Better get my apron ironed!

Hello, Ian.

Looking for me?

No, no. Just out for a walk.

Is Cully Barnaby your daughter?

The actress playing Ophelia? Yes,
she is.

It was your father raised the money
to re-open the theatre, wasn't it?

One of my dad's dreams.
After he d*ed, I wanted to see the
project through.

I thought you were a biologist?
I am.

But since I found myself standing in
for my father,

I took advantage of the situation.

I chose Hamlet as the first
production.

For my mother.

Her favourite?

No, I just thought it would do her
good to see it.

Must go. I've got some business to
do.

Bye.

There's rue for you. And here's some
for me.

You must wear your rue with a
difference.

There's a daisy.

I would give you some violets, but
they withered all when my father
d*ed.

They say he made a good end.

OK, thank you, Cully, love.

Hold it there. Take a
break, everybody.

Next call, Hamlet!

Cully. Yes?

Delicious. Very nice. But a bit too
winsome, perhaps.

Forget the acting. Just a bit more
unstable.

OK.

Right, Hamlet. We'll have another go
at To Be Or Not To Be.

And listen. The man is 28 years old,
not 16.

So less hormonal and much more
metaphysical.

He's a hard man to please.

The man couldn't direct traffic!

The wound shows an angle of entry
something like that.

So Baxter could have k*lled himself.
And then dropped it in the stream?

It's possible. What about the
missing fragment from the blade?

It's definitely not in the body.

This is not adding up, is it?

Baxter left no note.

He was selling his house. He was
moving on, not k*lling himself.

And there were no prints on that
dagger.

He was wearing driving gloves. Yes,
but he used it as a paper Kn*fe.

So the handle was obviously wiped
clean. Of course.

Baxter was m*rder*d.

Jones, I want you to take up Charles
King's invitation to his lodge.

Sir. Keep an eye on him and see who
else has taken vows at the Vale of
Midsomer Chapter.

It's a hanging offence to betray the
Brothers' secrets, sir.

Got a problem with that? No. I'll
survive. I hope!

ECHOING VOICES:
'Come on! Lift it!

'A batch of 15.

'Keep a look out.

'I need two more.'

What's this about?

I was just remembering how it was
when I was a kid.

It's gone, Ian. We can't change
yesterday.

No.

I wanted to say to you, Charles,

I know I've been a top-class pain in
the past few months.

You certainly have.

I wanted to apologise.

I was very close to my father. I
loved him too, Ian.

I felt angry that all this had come
to nothing.

No, it hasn't. We're finished here,
but we'll be expanding abroad.

I can show you the plans.

I'm not a businessman.

Nor was Alan, but when we were in
China he could see for himself.

He understood why we had to make the
change.

And I'm sure his best wish

would be that you could be as
passionate about the future as he
was.

Maybe we should talk about it.

I'd prefer that to the verbal
battering I've been getting.

Sorry.

I have to say I've been worried
about you.

My head's been in a bell for God
knows how long.

This is all very sudden. What's
happened?

I don't know.

I woke up this morning and something
had lifted.

I felt released.

Ian, I have no heir.

No son.

I'd like nothing better than that
you and I should be family.

I'd like that too.

It's what Dad would have wanted.

Ah! Hello, what have we here?

Off to stick up some play bills.

Are you? Now, Joyce, you do know
that strictly speaking,

fly-posting is illegal.

Oh, have a day off, Dad! We've got
to publicise the show.

Did you stick up the one I sent to
the station? Yes, but that
was in the police canteen.

Good. Here, take a few more.

Put them up in some of your regular
watering holes.

Cully, Joyce, I really do think...
Tom, it's hardly the crime of the
century.

Well, on your own heads be it.

Oh! Scary!

WATERFOWL QUACK

KEYPAD BLEEPS

MOBILE RINGS

David?

Where's lunch?

Bye!

Hey!
g*nsh*t

Let go!

Let go!

What's happening? He was aiming at
you.

Rot! I was after rabbits!
That's not how it looked to me!

Give him his g*n, David!

Give me the g*n.

It's Jack, isn't it?

Jack Tewson.

That's right. We met outside the
church. At the wedding.

I remember seeing you blowing glass.

As a kid, when my father brought me
round the factory.

Fantastic!

Yeah?

I worked for 30 years for your
family.

A lifetime's apprenticeship.

Then they walked off and left
me potless.

Believe me, "fantastic" is not the
word.

The company's gone bust, friend. It
happens.

So does fraud, embezzlement,
thieving.

Not my father.

We all thought that.

But I bet he's left you your share,
hasn't he?

He might have been hunting rabbits,
but he had you in his sights.

He had been drinking. Maybe he was
tempted.

Maybe he has reason if the company
ripped him off.

Whatever, you're not responsible.
Neither was my father.

Craftsmen like Tewson were his
people. He admired them.

He felt responsible for them.

And so do I.

Our Masonic temple is fashioned of
living souls.

And each entered apprentice shall
wear this apron.

This is his body of mortality,

his veil of flesh and blood
clothing his inner soul.

His badge of innocence and purity

given to all by the great architect
of the universe.

This apron shall he wear

as we wear these, our gloves of
white,

for we have each washed our hands in
innocence.

THREE LOUD KNOCKS

Who seeks entrance?

A poor candidate in a state of
darkness,

hoodwinked and slipshod, seeks
entrance.

Let him be entered.

I receive you at point of Kn*fe
pressed to your naked breast

to teach you, as this is a t*rture
to your flesh,

so would it be to your conscience

if you ever fail to keep a brother
Mason's secrets inviolable.

You will pledge ever to conceal

never to reveal

all secrets - m*rder and treason
excepted.

I knew them when they were lads.

Worked for me here in their school
holidays.

Chalk and cheese. How's that?

Charles had a business head on him
even then.

Practical.

Alan was on another planet.

Oh, look who's here! It's you, is
it, eh?

Finally found your way down here,
have you? Mr Tewson, please!

That Baxter was a thief.

If you shook hands with him, you had
to count your fingers.

I wasn't upset when I heard what had
happened. Change the record, Tewson.

That mate of yours, Ian. He's
probably had his cut already.

They're all the same. They all piss
in the same pot.

Good evening, Mr Tewson.

Oh, it's God's detective. Who k*lled
Baxter? Solved it yet, Sherlock?

Let's have you, Jack. Finish up.

I've finished. I did my last day's
work today.

I'm now on the dole.

On the old jam roll.

Well, roll yourself home.

Are you any further on, Mr Barnaby?

David, these things take a little
time, you know.

I take it you've met Mr Tewson
before.

With a r*fle, yes.

He was taking a pot-sh*t at Ian. A
pot-sh*t?

Where was this?

Above the water meadows. Ian was
working there.

Tewson claimed he was sh**ting at
rabbits. I'm not so sure.

To complete the business in hand,

to our fellow Mason, newly entered
as apprentice to this lodge,

let the blessing of light be
restored.

Congratulations.

(JONES) 'Guess who the new initiate
was. Ian King.'

Ian King has joined the lodge?

Ian King? He seemed very keen to
ingratiate himself with his
stepfather.

I think he's got ambitions.

Maybe Baxter got in his way.

Hey. Update from the Fraud Squad.

Apparently, our Mr Baxter was a very
creative accountant.

See page three. Uniform had
something on him too, sir.

He reported a brick through his
window the day before he d*ed.

My guess is Jack Tewson and Rentamob
from the factory.

Yeah. Baxter's solicitor tells me
he's left a very substantial estate

with sums as yet undisclosed in
offshore accounts.

Oh, James Taylor was there last
night too, so he's a member.

Think he could have k*lled Baxter?
So Sophie could get the money?

It's possible, isn't it?

Maybe he thought if he got rid of
Baxter

they could all live happily
ever after.

Hilary?

Hilary?

Oh, God, Ian!

Oh, you made my heart skip!

Let me listen. Let me hear it. Ian,
stop it. Don't be silly!

Silly? I'm sorry.

Maybe it's Midsomer Madness!

May I be philosophical with you for
a moment?

I've concluded that
life is an effort that deserves a
better course.

Sorry? I'm ditching my PhD. Big left
turn. Bye-bye Biology.

Why? What for?

Money! What everyone wants.

Are you mocking me? No, it's true.
Ask who wants to be a millionaire,
and half the world phones up.

You're pissed!

I swear I'm stone cold sober.

I remember you, Sophie.

Fresh and bright-eyed.

I remember you, too, Ian.

Tell me.

Was it lust at first sight?

Don't suppose you're feeling frisky,
are you?

You are mocking me! See, no sense of
humour.

There are reasons why some people
are alone.

James was right! You're a spoilt
brat!

How dare you make fun of me?

Hey! What's going on? I don't care
if I never see you again!

Ian? I'm just saving her from
herself.

You never can tell with women, can
you?

And if you can, you probably
shouldn't, right?

What are you playing at?

I've joined the Masons.

Why? Like father, like son?

I'm getting close to the truth.
About what?

You mean Baxter?

You know who k*lled Sophie's father?

Yes.

Who?

The less you know about it, the
better.

I want us to try to sort out our
outstanding difficulties.

You want to smooth things over, eh?

There were some monies due to your
members, Jack.

Peter Baxter did a complete audit
shortly before he d*ed.

Sucked more figures out of his
thumb, did he?

I'm prepared to accept there might
be some inequity in the way Peter
dealt with the accounts.

You can say that again.

We might be able to find some funds
to compensate you.

Perhaps only a percentage - say, ten
pence in the pound.

Don't insult us, Mr King!

At least have a look at the offer,
Jack.

Take it away. Discuss it.

Before I do, there's something I
want you to read.

Where did you get these? Dropped
onto my mat, sent anonymously.

They must have been stolen from the
office.

If they're stolen, we'd better call
the police.

Let me go over these.

Then perhaps we can meet again. I'll
meet you in court.

I'm trying to sort this mess out,
Jack.

So am I.

Ian and I met at university two
years ago. We're good friends.

Just good friends?

I've nothing to hide.

I'd like it to be more than that,
but Ian's not inclined.

You told me that you have some
information.

I haven't, but I think Ian has.

He told me he knows who k*lled Peter
Baxter.

Who?

He won't give me a name.

I tried, but he stonewalled.

Ian's head's been in bits ever since
his father d*ed.

I'm worried he's in danger.

Could you arrange with him to meet
on your own?

Somewhere quiet, like here?

That's another thing. He says he's
given all of this the elbow.

David, wherever he agrees to meet
you,

let me know. I'll join you.
Maybe between the two of us

we can persuade him to tell us
exactly what he does know.

It matches exactly the piece that
was missing from the dagger, sir.

Where was it found? At the King's
Crystal office that was ransacked.

Forensics found it,

jammed in one of the drawer locks.

Charles King said Peter Baxter often
used this dagger in his office.

Yeah. So someone gets in and uses it
on the drawer.

Sounds about right, but doesn't tell
us who.

No, but it does tell us that whoever
ransacked that office

was probably also Baxter's k*ller.

Sophie!

Sophie!

I don't believe you, Ian!

How can you say such a thing?

Everything all right?

Yes, Charles, just a tiff.

Mother and son thing.

Back in a sec. I'll give you a hand
hanging those up.

I thought things were fine. He was
on great form at the lodge meeting.

What happened?

Ian has told me something awful.

About Peter Baxter's death.

He's not here?

No, not yet.

I arranged to pick him up.

He didn't show. I can't find him
anywhere.

I'm worried about Sophie, too.
Sophie Baxter? Yes. Are you?

MOBILE RINGS

Excuse me.

Barnaby.

Oh.

Um, listen, you stay there. I'll be
with you as soon as I can.

Has he shown up? Yes. Yes, he has.

Thank God for that. Where?

You'd better come with me. You
first.

You stay there.

Charles King found him hanging from
a beam.

He managed to get him down,

but according to him, Ian was
already dead.

Where's Bullard? On his way.

There's no sign of a struggle,

so my first thoughts are su1c1de.

Could be. But David Monroe told me
he thought Ian was in danger

from whoever k*lled Peter Baxter.

Monroe set up that meeting with you.

Maybe to alibi himself for the time
of Ian King's death.

What would be his motive?

Unrequited love?
He leans that way, doesn't he?

But why, why would David Monroe k*ll
Baxter?

Pass.

The other thing is the rope.

It's a cable term. A what?

A cable term. It's used in Masonic
ceremonies

to lead in initiates.

David Monroe also told me that
Sophie has disappeared.

Go round the house and check.

And since Charles King found the
body,

I'll start with him.

OK?

Mr King?

My wife is in deep shock.

She's taken a sleeping tablet.

I'll speak to her later.

I've told Sergeant Jones everything
I know about what happened.

I feel pretty bloody about this,
Barnaby.

Hilary and I realised that Ian was
becoming more and more unstable.

I'm not a psychiatrist,

but I do know Ian was deeply
unhappy.

I told you he was in danger. I
warned you.

There's a k*ller out there. I warned
you!

Police!

Sophie!

He taught me drama in my sixth form.

He should have been a professional
director.

We could have done with him on this.

"Get thee to a nunnery", next. See
what shape that's in, shall we?

Cully, how do we get our moody Dane
to shape up?

He needs encouragement, Harold.

Not just endless put-downs.

I've tried. It's just not working.

I ask for existential despair
and he comes on like a singer
in a boy band!

And now, to cap it all, Polonius has
got laryngitis.

What? Can we get a stand-in?

I'm afraid you're looking at him,
love.

Oh.

Nothing, yet.

Not a sign.

Left her mobile.

ANSWERPHONE BLEEPS

Miss Baxter, you have one message.

'Miss Baxter, Midsomer Dental here.

You missed your appointment
yesterday. Phone to rebook.'

Several missed calls from James
Taylor.

You don't think that sack could have
been used to carry her, sir?

Take Higgins with you. Bring James
Taylor in.

Ask him if he'd like to help us with
our enquiries. Don't take no for an
answer.

Thank you.

There we go.

Now, James.

Could you tell us, please,

about that black sack you were seen
removing from Honey Tree House,
yesterday?

Sophie asked me to take her father's
clothes to the Oxfam.

A witness said it looked heavy.

Yeah. Clothes and books. It was
heavy.

Where is it now?

I left it outside the shop in
Cawston last night.

They'll be there. Unless someone's
stole them.

Did Sophie give you no indication
where she'd gone?

She's got a friend up north
somewhere. Fiona something.

When it comes to trouble with Ian
King, I'm not the best shoulder for
her to cry on.

She knows my feelings.

What feelings, Mr Taylor?

Jealousy? Hostility?

She rejected you in favour of him,
yes?

You could say that, yeah.

Did you make contact with Ian King
after she'd gone?

No.

I thought this was about Sophie.

James, two people have d*ed.

And Sophie is missing.

I wouldn't harm Sophie for the
world!

Look, I admit I loathed Baxter
and I despised Ian King.

You assisted at Ian's initiation,
didn't you?

Led him into the temple by the
noose.

The kind of noose that hung him.

Neither his blood nor Baxter's is on
my conscience.

You may think the craft just a load
of rituals,

but to me, it's a state of grace.

Built on respect for the living
souls of all true brothers.

I think he's telling the truth.

Guilty or not, he gave me the evil
eye, sir.

Got a proper Mason's warning off
him.

It's Bullard's preliminary report on
Ian King.

He'd been heavily sedated.
Barbiturates.

So not a su1c1de.

We need to talk to Hilary King.

Mrs King.

I'm sorry to disturb you. Your
husband told us you were up here.

One of my husbands, Mr Barnaby.

Yes. Mrs King...

..did Ian ever speak to you about
who k*lled Mr Baxter?

What do you mean?

He spoke to his friend, David
Monroe, about it. He seemed upset.

His father's death hit Ian hard.

They were so alike.

Passionate, sensitive,

sometimes a little crazy, both of
them.

Did you get the impression Ian was
becoming more disturbed, lately?

He was very upset about my marriage.

He did all he could to dissuade me.

Perhaps there was some method in his
madness.

But recently he'd seemed to accept
Charles.

He'd even begun to take an interest
in the business.

I can't believe what he's done.

Mrs King,

I have to tell you that we suspect
Ian's death was not self-inflicted.

In fact, we believe that Ian was
m*rder*d.

What?!

He'd been heavily sedated some time
before he was found.

No!

No!

Now, Mrs King... No!

Oh, no!

I'm sorry. I can't believe...

Oh, God! No!

ANGUISHED SOBBING

What if Sophie's run, sir?

Both killings could be down to her.

She could have stabbed Baxter.

And hoisted him onto that beam?

Maybe her with somebody else?

Oi! Hang on!

Young man! Come here.

Can I see?

Where did you find this? In the
bushes, over there.

We didn't nick it. No, you're not in
any trouble.

But I think we know who owns this.

I'll hang on to it, if I may.

That's ours! Finders keepers.

Off you go, the pair of you.

David Monroe says he saw Peter
Baxter drive past him the night he
d*ed.

He recognised him by the car and the
cap he was wearing.

Yeah.

So what's it doing here?

It could have blown off. It's an
open-topped car.

Thank you, Rupert.

Thank you, sir.

If it had blown off passing the
green,

then David Monroe couldn't have seen
the driver wearing it

by the post box half a mile beyond
here.

That's true. What if someone else
was wearing the cap to make him look
like Baxter?

I mean, the Kn*fe, the fragment in
the drawer lock,

what if that night Baxter had
disturbed that someone else

searching the offices? And
he turned the Kn*fe on Baxter?

Yeah.

So what Monroe actually saw

was Baxter's k*ller driving his car
and wearing his cap

which he later threw into the
bushes.

Then what? He drives to the water
meadows.

Baxter's dead by this time, in the
back seat, boot, whatever.

He dumps the body, dumps the Kn*fe,
leaves the car.

So how did the cap end up in the
bushes?

Well, I'm thinking that he runs away
from the car, adrenaline pumping,

but as he crosses the green, he
realises he's still got the cap on.

So he tosses it into the bushes.

Works for me.

All we need is the "who".

Tell me.

Talk to me. What is it? Leave me
alone.

We've both lost someone we loved.

Oh, how can you say that?

How can you compare?

He was my only son!

Ever since you...

I think you'd better go.
I want you to know that...

JUST GO NOW, PLEASE!

Hilary...

Hilary?

What's happening?

She wants me to leave. I guess I
should.

I'll be back for the funeral. Stay
as long as you wish.

You've been a rock to Ian. I'm so
grateful.

Tom!

I've been waiting in the car for ten
minutes.

I'm sorry. We can't be late for
Cully's opening night!

No. I was just turning something
over in my mind.

Come on.

Come on! Coming! Coming.

THEATRE BELL RINGS

New job, eh?

Just a bit of cash in hand.

Ian King organised it for me before
he...

That was very decent of him.

I... I think I got him wrong.

He is far gone.

Far gone.

Truly in my youth I suffered much
extremity for love very much like
this.

What do you read, my lord?

Words.

Words.

Words.

What is the matter, my lord? Between
who? The matter that you read.

Slanders, sir.

Though this be madness, yet there is
method in it.

HIS WORDS ECHO IN BARNABY'S HEAD

Perhaps there was some method in his
madness.

HER WORDS ECHO

'm*rder, '

though it hath no tongue will speak
with most miraculous organ.

I'll have these players play
something like the m*rder of my
father...

HIS WORDS ECHO

The play's the thing wherein I'll
catch the conscience of the king.

'The conscience of the king.'

Of the king... The king... The king.

I say we will have no more marriage!

Those that are married already
all but one shall live.

The rest shall keep as they are.

Tom!

Cully's on.

Oh, what a noble mind is here
o'erthrown.

The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's
eye, tongue, sword.

The expectancy and rose of the fair
state.

Tom! Excuse me.

And the mould of... Excuse me!

Oh, woe is me to have seen what I
have seen.

Where are we going? Belt up and I'll
tell you.

Ian King chose Hamlet as the opening
production

especially for his mother to see.
His mother? Yeah.

Rub her nose in the fact she'd
married her husband's brother.

I don't follow, sir. Hamlet's father
was m*rder*d.

And Alan King d*ed on a business
trip to China with his brother,
Charles.

But that was an accident. According
to the paperwork it was.

But what if Charles k*lled Alan
King, Ian found out about it

and Charles had to shut him up?

m*rder*d him? Yeah.

If I'm right, then Hilary King could
be in some danger here.

Come on! Come on!

David, is Mrs King in?

Er, no.

She left about ten minutes ago.
She's taken Charles to hospital.

What happened? He started feeling
ill, groggy.

I helped put him in the car. Is
something wrong?

Which hospital? I don't know.

Stay here. If they come back, call
me, yes?

Sure.

Thank you. There's no record of
Charles being brought to any A&E.

But they've got a trace on his
mobile close to Midsomer Magna.

That's the factory - King's Crystal.

Mrs King?

Mrs King.

Drop the dagger.

No. No, Mrs King...

Please, put the Kn*fe down.

Put the Kn*fe down.

HE GROANS

So... Charles began to feel ill.

I'd ground some sleeping tablets
into his food.

I persuaded him to go to the
hospital.

Instead you took him to the factory.

Yes.

You also took this dagger with you.

Was it your intention to k*ll
Charles?

Yes.

Why?

Because...

..he k*lled my son.

It wasn't you? You didn't sedate Ian
in exactly the same way before you
k*lled him?

I loved my son.

Charles is your husband. Yes.

I wish to God I'd...

My marriage to him made Ian so
angry. So hostile.

It poisoned everything.

Mrs King, your first husband, Alan.

He d*ed during a visit to China,
didn't he?

His death was accidental - a car
crash, yeah?

So Charles claimed.

But I'm convinced now Charles k*lled
Alan.

That he lied, deceived me.

All to get control of the company.

And when Ian...

When Ian found out... How did Ian
find out?

He was clearing out his father's
study.

He told me he'd found a sketchbook
amongst Alan's things.

A sketchbook? Yes. Alan had one with
him always.

He had one with him in China.

Ian came to me and said he had
something awful to tell me.

If only I'd believed him!

He would still be alive!

BITTER SOBBING

Shall we take a break?

Sophie Baxter, sir. Missing persons
have tracked down a relative

who's suggested a possible location
they're following up. Good.

So you believe Mrs King?

Think Charles k*lled his brother and
Ian to get control of the company?

Something made her believe it enough
to want to k*ll her own husband.

What if she'd k*lled her first
husband as well?

She marries Charles, kills her son,
she gets control of the company.

Yeah.

But how could she k*ll Alan King?
He was in China, she was here.

And why would she want to k*ll Peter
Baxter?

He was a fly in the ointment? Or he
knew too much?

She was the one who discovered the
body.

If Alan King had a sketchbook in
China,

the Great Wall and stuff,

that would have been returned
with the rest of his belongings.

'Hello, Ian.'

'Looking for me? No, just out for a
walk.'

Ah!

Found it?

Oh.

"Charles and Peter Baxter are
stripping the company's assets,

"setting up accounts in the Caymans

"with some Chinese consortium.

"Whole thing stinks!"

My brother was delightful, but
completely out of touch with
reality.

It was the market that broke King's
Crystal,

not any malfeasance on my part.

Did you k*ll him?

I loved my brother.

You need to know Hilary.

She's hard as nails.

Gets what she wants. The rest is
window-dressing.

She's as unstable as Ian was.

Ian found that sketchbook later.

That confirmed his suspicions.

You and Baxter had defrauded the
company.

Ian had gone to the offices of
King's Crystal

searching for proof.

The evidence that Peter Baxter
himself had come to destroy.

DAGGER CLATTERS

What are you doing here?

Ian, what are you doing here?

Just tell me.

Peter!

Let go! Tell me what you're doing
here!

Peter, stop it! What are you looking
for?

Peter! What are you looking...

COMMOTION

SOUNDS OF STRUGGLE

'And during a struggle, Peter Baxter
was accidentally stabbed.

'Then Ian panicked.

'He bundled the body into the boot
of the car.

'He put on Baxter's cap and drove
down to the water meadow.'

If all that's true, then Baxter's
death has nothing to do with me.

Where were you when Ian d*ed?

I was at a Masonic charity do.
Then came home.

And your wife?

Hilary was in bed, pretending sleep.

I noticed the light was on in her
barn

and found Ian there, already dead.

Hilary's told us of a conversation
you and she had in the barn

earlier that day.

Back in a sec. I'll give you a hand
hanging those up.

Ian has told me something awful.

About Peter Baxter's death.

'Ian had indeed told her something
awful.

'He told her that he had k*lled
Peter Baxter.'

And more than that, Hilary said that
Ian had told her

that he believed that you had k*lled
his father, Alan.

That was her fatal mistake,
wasn't it?

Because once you heard that, you
knew Ian had to be silenced

because he was right, wasn't he?

You did k*ll Alan King.

It was an accident.

A car crash.

Look, I'm the one who's the victim
here.

It's me she tried to k*ll. Only
after I told her Ian's death was not
su1c1de.

'Then she knew that everything Ian
had told her was true.

'And that you had silenced him.'

Hilary?

'Then, of course, she wanted
revenge.'

So that's the line she's been
spinning you.

Is that all, or have you got
anything more vague?

That is what happened, Mr King.

You haven't a shred of evidence for
any of your fanciful allegations.

I want my lawyer.

Hilary?

I was looking for Hilary.

The police are holding her and
Charles. Why?

I don't know. What happened to you?

Where have you been?

I couldn't take it any more. I had
to go and see a friend in the north.

Poor Ian!

It's just so... I still can't
believe it.

Last time I saw him, I hated him.

I can't bear that. All that crazy
behaviour,

things he said, he was trying to
protect you.

Protect me? From the whole mess in
his head. He couldn't bear it.

If it's any comfort, I know he loved
you.

Really loved you.

You loved him, too, didn't you?

How are bookings for the play, then?

Fine, thanks.

Cully...

I apologise for leaving like that.
It was a work matter.

Something very important.

Of course. More important than my
work, I'm sure.

You completely ruined my entire
performance, Dad.

I'm sorry.

Can I give you a lift? No, thanks.

I'll walk. Do a line run. Don't want
to dry again.

Thanks, Mum.

Leave it, Tom.

She's very stressed.

Well, she's not alone in that.

Do you want a drink? No, thanks.

What is happening? Can you tell me?

Yes. I have a wife and a husband
each accusing the other of m*rder.

Very little evidence,

beside my own gut feelings.

Any witnesses? No. Only victims.

No help there, then.

Unless...

What?

Unless there's a silent witness

that could tell us exactly what
happened.

Sophie Baxter's turned up in the
village. Has she?

Oh, thank God for that.

You can give her a good telling off
for leaving the scene of a police
investigation.

Big call, sir, digging him up.

But if I'm right, I'm sure his widow
will forgive us.

The Consulate papers that were flown
back with Alan King's body

say that he d*ed as a result of a
car crash and subsequent burn-out.

But were they right?

I thought so, until I examined the
contents of his stomach.

I found significant quantities of
finely-ground glass.

Glass? It's a new one on me, too.

So I dug out the books and there it
was.

A rare form of poisoning particular
to China.

So Alan King was poisoned by Charles
and that caused him to crash.

Are you sure?

Mm-hmm.

He would have been dead within 20
minutes.

And then I'll take you to a custody
suite where you'll be formally
charged

with the murders of Ian King and
Alan King.

Nonsense!

That is not true!

Oh, Mr King.

Truth is what a jury will believe.

I'm sure they'll be convinced you
are as guilty as we know you are.

You're gonna have to admit it, Mr
King.

To me,

to the court

and to yourself.

Don't cut your finger again, sir.

I've got something for you.

It's the one I got when I joined the
lodge.

Oh, thank you!

No use to me now. The brotherhood
have me down as a traitor.

They slice out traitors' tongues

and bury them at low-tide, I
believe!

I appreciated your trust over the
Masons' thing.

Trust, Jones, is something hard to
win, easy to lose

and never to be taken lightly.

William Shakespeare, sir?

No. Thomas Barnaby.