13x03 - Blood on the Saddle

[bunniefuu]

Help!

Help me!

He's m*rder*d Danny!

Help! Help!

(CACKLING)

And a prize for the lady!

There you go, my love.
Thank you.

Well done. Unlucky, sir.

Step this way, sir.

Yeah...the sights on my g*n were out
of true.

Oh, bad luck.
Obviously, not on yours.

I don't know. I had my eyes closed.

Hello? Miss Lennox?

Faye Lennox?

(CAR ENGINE)

Malko!

Malko!

(FIRES)

(TYRES SQUEALING)

(CACKLING)

Try your luck.

Oh, well, never mind. Better luck
next time.

OK, now, Joyce, I think the trick
is...

(SHRIEKS)

Oh, is there a trick?

Here you go. Try your best. Dunk the
witch.

Oh. Hey, hey...

There you go.
One for you...

JOYCE: I'd named those bears.

(HORSES NEIGHING)

(HORN)

(ENGINE ROARING)

(HORN)

(CRUNCH)
(GASPS)

Madman!

No!

(DIALLING)

Is that a g*n in your holster, or
are you just pleased to see me?

As long as no-one else does.
Oh, Jack, we're hardly a secret.

It's a small community, and I'm
still a married man.

Hmm, though not for long.
Did you speak to the solicitor?

Made an appointment.
It's all in hand - don't worry.

The Ford Florey Wild West Club.

You're just a bunch of big kids,
aren't you? Bang!

Never point a g*n at anyone.
You're not telling me it's loaded?

Blanks.

Give you a nasty headache, though.

Ride 'em, cowboy.

TANNOY: The tombola draw is being
made in five minutes...

..so it's your last chance to buy
tickets, if you're quick.

She's a handsome woman.
But then, you know that.

Faye Lennox is my farm manager.
Sure, sure.

Course she is. (CHUCKLES)

I was hoping to have a word with her
today.

About some wasteland on your lower
acres. Matter of who owns it.

It's Fincher land. Always has been.
Well, now, you say YOU own it.

Silas Burbage says HE owns it.

Now, I don't care who owns it.
I just wanna buy it.

Forget it, Malko. Oh, come on, now,
Fincher. The land's no good to you.

Or for cattle or crops.
But if you do own it, I'll make you
fair price.

Oh, yeah? What with?
I've got the money - don't you fret.

You're a fool, man.

One way or another, I'm having that
land.

Ready for High Noon at Ford Florey,
Jack?

Adam, if it was your father facing
me and this was real, I wouldn't
hesitate.

Yes, and I'm sure he'd say the same
about you.

Look, it's none of my business.

As I understand it, Dad just wants
the best price for his land.

It's not his land!

It's mine.

Huh!

Malko, if I find you, you're a dead
man.

Fergal Jenner, my private lawman.
Have you made any progress?

So far, Jack, no.

The local archive is a cross between
a rats' nest and a teenager's
bedroom.

Maybe the papers on the swamp were
never drawn up.

And if that's the case?
Well, you and Silas Burbage might as
well do pistols at dawn.

It could come to that.

Someone mentioned that Jude Langham
is a fund of local knowledge.

It's no good asking Jude for an
impartial view. He's got a grudge
against the Finchers.

So I gather.

Memories stay long in Ford Florey.

And hatred runs deep.

Who are you? Butch Cassidy or the
Sundance Kid?

The side of law and order, Fergal.

Same as you.

# THEME FROM 'THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN'

(g*nshots)

(COMPETITORS SHOUTING)

(GASPS) Oh, I'm so sorry!

Oh... Oh, dear. I tripped on
something. I am sorry.

His big feet.

Not the best introduction,
I'm afraid. I'm Susan Fincher.

Joyce Barnaby.
Tom Barnaby, husband.

And his feet. Thank you.
Is it ruined?

No, no, no. It's fine.

(APPLAUSE)

Well, what's going to happen next?

Well, I think my husband is about to
get sh*t.

(g*nshots)

(APPLAUSE)

(MOBILE PHONE RINGING)

Jones.

Yeah, one of my officers called in a
car registration.

Leo Fincher, Home Farm.

OK. Any...

Nine points? OK, thanks.

Leo Fincher? It seems you're a bit
of a menace.

Like your dad.

Mr Langham? Jude Langham.
Fergal Jenner. I'm...

I know. You're the solicitor who's
after the truth about Burbage Swamp.

You call it Burbage Swamp?
So it is.

Any proof? That's for me to know and
you to find out.

And how would I go about that?
Well, you're a professional man.

So, you'll have heard - everything
comes at a price.

(BELL CHIMING SLOWLY)

(WESTERN-STYLE FILM MUSIC)

(AMERICAN ACCENT) Your call, Mr
Bonney.

(AMERICAN ACCENT) Whenever you're
ready, Marshal.

Ah, it was great in those days.
No cautions, no ASBOs, no community
service.

Just sh**t them dead on Main Street.

(g*nsh*t)
(CHEERING)

MAN: Well done!

Jack?

He's alive.
(GROANS)

Made too good a job of falling,
I think.

Must have banged my head.

Gave you a fright, I expect!

Stage blood. Sticky stuff.

It's all right, fellers. I'm OK.

No, no. You were unconscious for a
minute. Let them have a look at you.

No, I'm fine.

Sorry to disappoint you, my dear.

Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby,
Causton CID.

Ah, so I'm probably disappointing
you, too, Chief Inspector.

Fake blood, blanks, no corpses.

Ah, no, I'm very much off duty,
Mr...?

Fincher. Jack Fincher.
Howdy!

No, I'm just here to enjoy the
Fayre. A corpse is not on the agenda.

And I am enjoying it - the Wild West
Show.

Do it every year.
Give displays round the county, too.

And we put on a good show. Look out!

(DRAMATIC FILM MUSIC)

(g*nshots)

(SHOUTING)

Is he all right?
Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Banged his head. He was out for a
while, but he'll be fine.

Made it much more realistic.

Well, perhaps next time they'll use
real b*ll*ts(!)

Wouldn't that be dangerous?

Sir...
Jones!

Oh, hi, Ben.
Hi.

Any news on the sh**ting?
Oh, yes, sir.

I thought I'd take the opportunity
to talk to Mr Fincher.

Oh, business and pleasure.
Not really.

Some madman took out my wing mirror
on the way here.

Catch him?
Got a number-plate check.

Leo Fincher, Home Farm.

His car's in the car park, with a
shotgun on the seat.

The Finchers, eh?
A family with a liking for g*ns.

MAN: OK, roll up! Dunk the witch.

(CHEERING)

(g*nsh*t)

(CHEERING)

She's been sh*t.
That's about all I can say for now.

Except that whoever sh*t her was a
pretty good marksman.

Took her straight through the heart.

Faye? Oh, my God! Faye!

No, no, no, no.

It's a crime scene.

The body is evidence, I'm afraid.

I'm sorry. Do you know her?

Er...Faye Lennox.
She's my farm manager.

What happened?

Well, all we know at the moment is
that she was sh*t.

sh*t? That's impossible! How?

Well, I suppose someone at the Fayre
had a g*n.

Would you stay here for a minute?
Got a couple of questions I want to
ask you.

Jones. It seems a number of people
volunteered for the witch.
They were taking it in turns.

She should have been replaced ten
minutes before she was sh*t by one
Mary Morgan, interestingly.

Why's that interesting?
She was the one who reported the
incident yesterday.

Where is she?
Hasn't shown up, apparently.

Well, the sh*t must have been
audible.

Only, there was a bank raid being
staged in the main arena.

More noise than the gunfight at the
OK Corral,

which means he knew exactly when it
was going to happen and could pick
his moment.

George, what was the trajectory?

The b*llet entered left of the
sternum,

did the fatal damage to the heart
and exited under the ribcage.

So, given the angle and the
sightline,

the marksman was somewhere elevated.

Up there, for instance.

Do we believe that?
Probably not.

But er...you go first.

Direct line of fire.

It's g*n oil, that. Fresh g*n oil.

Means the w*apon isn't much used.

Do you think that scrape was caused
by the g*n?

Could be.

Well, our man certainly thought it
through, didn't he?

Vantage point.

g*nf*re from the arena to cover the
sh*t.

And a quick exit.

OK. Time to ask some more questions.

Off you go.

Oh, my God! They told me...
Someone told me... What happened?

Er...it would help if you took your
mask off.

I was meant to be in the ducking
stool.

It was my turn, but I was late.

I started off on time,

but I hadn't gone more than 50 yards
when the car broke down.
I had a puncture.

You!

m*rder*r! m*rder*r!

He walked into my cottage and sh*t
Danny in front of me. m*rder*r!

What Mr Fincher did was certainly
illegal. Not m*rder, though.

What action did we take?

Mrs Morgan called in a homicide at
18:50.

We put an APB out on Jack Fincher.

Deployed an ARV and full SOCO team.

And when they arrived,
they discovered that the victim was
your dog.

He said that Danny had been worrying
his cattle.

Danny had been reported on a number
of occasions.

Jack Fincher took the law into his
own hands.

Mrs Morgan,
how well did you know Faye Lennox?

Not well.

I knew she was having it off with
Jack Fincher.

Was she?
They made no secret of it.

That man always expects to get what
he wants. The Swamp, for instance.

The Swamp?
Piece of land up by Home Farm.

Wasteland, really.
Boggy. Wants draining.
No-one's ever done the job.

Why not?
Because Jack Fincher says it's his,

and Silas Burbage says the same.
Its been in dispute for years.

Sarge, there's trouble at the Last
Chance Saloon.

There would be, yes. Excuse me.

All right. All right. All right.
Break it up! Break it up.

OK! Police! That's enough!
Going at it hammer and tongs!

Good job you left your g*n in the
car.

Right, gentlemen.
What are you fighting about?

Ask him. Ask the toerag!

Enough. He'd been phoning her ten
times a day.

Phoning who?
Faye.

He knew about her and my dad.
Everyone knew.

He thought that some cash in hand
might get her to talk Dad into
selling him the Swamp.

Faye would never have done that.
She loved me.

She didn't love you.

She loved your money, you old fool.

Susan loved you.

Watch your mouth, boy.

Come near me again, and you'll
regret it.

That goes for the whole Fincher
family.

Who's that other fella?
That's Dan Malko.

Some travellers are camped on some
wasteland close to Ford Florey
Green.

Too close, as far as the locals are
concerned.

Malko seems to be their spokesman.
Right. Go and talk to him.

In the meantime, I think I'd better
go and have another chat with Jack
Fincher.

Where can I find Dan Malko?

(BARKING)

Detective Sergeant Jones, Causton
CID.

I'm looking for Dan Malko.

You found me.

Am I right for Home Farm?

You would be, if I let you cross my
land.

Better way - back to the road, go a
mile. You'll see a sign.

I'm sorry - I thought this was
Fincher land.

(CHUCKLES)

You and Jack Fincher both.

It's not. It's mine.

Ah. Then you must be Silas Burbage.
Yeah?

That's me.

And this is the Swamp, is it?

Who are you?
Oh...

I'm Detective Chief Inspector
Barnaby, Causton CID.

Fincher sent you, did he?
No, no, he did not.

But, look, if this isn't your land
and you're fencing it off,

that is an illegal act, Mr Burbage.

It's mine.

I know fine and well it's mine.
So does everyone else round here.

Oh, yeah, Fincher's got some
solicitor feller checking the land
deeds,

trying to stake his claim.

(CHUCKLES)

All he'll find is proof that it
belongs to me.

Huh?

Yes, I want to buy that land.

Travellers don't want to travel all
the time, Mr Jones.

We need somewhere permanent - send
the kids to school, make a living.

Land doesn't come cheap.
Where will you get the money?

Investments.

These people have trades.

They work.

And they pass some of the money to
me. I invest it.

I don't have a trade, Mr Jones.

I have a profession.
I'm an accountant.

That's right - some of us did get to
go to school.

So, we got the money and we come by
it legally.

You know. Same as bankers.

Your problem is, Jack Fincher won't
sell.

Did you try to bribe Faye Lennox?

No.

I thought she might talk Fincher
round,

if this solicitor finds proof
the land's his.

That's all.
Didn't do anything illegal.

Course, there are those saying it's
Burbage land.

Man called Jude Langham - his family
lived on the Fincher farm for years.
Talk to him.

You're covering both possibilities?

I want the land.
(PHONE RINGING)

I don't give a damn who sells it to
me.

Hold on.

Is that all?
For the time being.

Have you got a permit for that?

You think it'd be sitting there
if I didn't?

Go on.

(ANGRILY) No, we already agreed the
price!

If you thr*aten me again, there'll
be another death in Ford Florey!

So, that's the next move, is it?
Hit the bottle.

What is it to you?

You know what you're like when
you've been drinking.

She's dead.

Faye is dead.

This helps.

What would you care?
You're glad to be rid of her.

That's a dreadful thing to say!
You always hated her.

Faye was a gold-digger.
Leo thought so, too.

Don't think I'm gonna let you lay
your hands on my money, or the farm.

You're forgetting something.

I'm still married to you.

It's not just a will Fergal's
drawing up. It's a petition for
divorce.

Good. Why did it take you so long?

You could have left any time you
wanted. Not empty-handed.

I'm going to take you for everything
you've got.

(GASPS)

No. No. No! That's enough!

(CHOKING)

He would have k*lled me!

Mr Fincher, what I've just seen
constitutes a criminal as*ault.

If your wife wants to press
charges...

She won't. She just wants paying
off.

What do you mean by that?
Private matter.

Sir, a m*rder has just been
committed.

Nothing is private.

Especially about your relationship
with Faye Lennox. I...

Silas Burbage is fencing the swamp.
What?

He's out there now with some
farm-hand, fencing it off.

Right. If he wants a w*r, that's
what he'll get!

Don't touch that!

If what Silas Burbage is doing
proves illegal,
then he'll be held to account,

and if you do anything stupid, the
same thing applies.

In either case, the law will deal
with it.

Usual, please, Fred.

Thanks.

He's been drinking.

Look, I don't know who k*lled her,
but whoever it was...

Did us a favour?
Is that what you were going to say?

I wouldn't put it quite like that.
But we both thought she was after
Jack's money.

If anyone could have talked Jack
into selling the swamp, it would
have been Faye.

No, he never would have sold.
But why not? The land's barren.

But it's OUR land, Susan. Fincher
land.

You've just never understood that.
No, and I never will.

I've got an errand to run.

Oi! Who are you pushing?

Oi! Toerag. Who are you pushing?

(YELLS) You want a w*r, Burbage?

Happy to oblige!

(SCREAMS)

(SCREAMING)

Mrs Fincher...

He was found by a farm worker.

He had nothing to do with this at
all.

One of Silas Burbage's men?
No.

Our time of death is estimated at
between eight and eleven yesterday
evening.

This miserable little patch of land!

Tom...
Excuse me.

Whoever did this to him was
something of an expert.

The rope was tight round his ankles.

Now, if he'd been dragged by his
neck - decapitation.

Round the body, and he'd be dragged
head-first.

Not nice, but a chance to escape,
perhaps. But round the ankles - no
escape.

And he would have suffered before he
d*ed.

Sir...

Up there.

Silas Burbage or Dan Malko.

Which?

I went to the pub. Susan was there.
We talked for a bit and then she
left.

One of the travellers started a
ruck. Police came.

I gave my statement and then I went
home.

You really think that I m*rder*d my
own father?

So, you came straight home? Yes.
And your father wasn't here?

He'd been drinking all day.
I assumed he'd gone to bed.

What did you do?
I went to bed myself.

It's not much of an alibi, is it?
No, it isn't.

Tell me about the relationship
between your father and your
step-mother.

Ask Susan.
I'm asking you.

They'd been at odds for a while.
That's a polite way of putting it.

Jack had come to dislike me.

I don't know what I did to make that
happen.

So, why didn't you end it?

I could have left, but he'd decided
I should get nothing.

No money, no property.

While we were still married, I had a
claim.

You don't need me for this, do you?

I'm so sorry, Leo.

Sure. I know.

Silas Burbage or Dan Malko?

Well, it's a theory.

Burbage wants to sell the land.
Malko wants to buy it.

Jack Fincher was the stumbling
block.

There's a local man, Jude Langham.
He seems to know all about the swamp
and who owns it.

Well, you'd better go and talk to
Jude Langham.

Meantime, I'll go up to Sternhill
Farm and see Silas Burbage.

(BARKING)

Silas...

I started without you.

So, things are a little different
now, with Jack Fincher dead.

Dead?

You mean m*rder*d.

But it's an ill wind...
No.

No, he has a son and a wife.

They'll likely contend the swamp.

Now, Fincher set that solicitor up
to find the land deeds.

Still, that won't do them any
favours, will it? As we know.

Good. And we have a deal.

Everything being equal.

Except, we haven't set the price
yet.

Well, I'll pay what the land's
worth.

That's what we agreed. We shook on
it.

Ah! Traveller's law, is it?

The honour of the traveller? (SPITS)

Something like that, yeah.

Well, there's the law of the
Burbages to be taken into
consideration, too.

Which states that...

the seller sets the price.

You're a crook, Burbage!

Oh...

That's rich, coming from you.

You people have been robbing decent
folk for years.

We've got an agreement. Yes.

That doesn't make you my
blood-brother. Hm?

(DOOR CLOSES)

(GROWLS)

(HAMMERING)

Mr Langham?

Jude Langham?
That's me.

I'm Detective Sergeant Jones,
Causton CID.

That's a beautiful piece of work.

In honour of my father. It'll go in
St Mary's.

He was church warden there.

Has stained glass always been your
trade?

I started out a carpenter. A local
man had a glass workshop. He taught
me.

It's not a trade. It's an art.

Your family have lived in Ford
Florey for a long time, haven't
they?

We can trace five generations.
Probably go back further.

And you used to live on the Fincher
farm?

Ahh...

(SIGHS) That's what you've come
about. The Swamp.

Yeah. I'm told you believe the land
belongs to Silas Burbage.

I don't believe. I know.
You have proof of it?

Always spoken of as Burbage land.

No-one ever said different.

That's all the proof I need.

Jack Fincher wouldn't agree.

Don't speak that man's name here.

Jack Fincher k*lled my father.

Sorry?

We were friends, when we were kids,
Jack Fincher and me.

My family lived in a cottage on his
land. Always had done.

My father, when he was a boy. His
father before him.

Then, when he married that woman,
she got him to throw us out.

My dad was 84 years old.

You had tenant's rights, surely?

Well, never a proper agreement.

Only a handshake between my
grandfather and his.

Well, a handshake means a lot round
here, Mr Jones. Used to, anyway.

Well, squatter's rights, then.
My father was a proud man.

He wouldn't stay where he wasn't
wanted.

We packed up. We got out.
Council house.

We got there. He took to his bed,
turned his face to the wall...

Within a month he were dead.

Jack Fincher was m*rder*d last
night.

I know.

Mary Morgan told me.

It's bad luck to speak ill of the
dead, I know,

but where Jack Fincher's concerned,

I'll take the risk.

OK. Thank you.

(CAR ENGINE STARTS)

Jude Langham here. I think I've got
something you want.

Good morning!

Morning.

I'm looking for Silas Burbage.

Not here, I'm afraid.
I'm Adam Burbage, his son.

Oh, yes. Billy the Kid.

(CHUCKLES) Now, have you any idea
where your father might be?

Well, out on the farm somewhere,
I suppose.

You suppose?

Sorry - I remember your face, but...

Oh, yeah. Sorry. I beg your pardon.

I'm Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby
from Causton CID.

Ah, well, you see, I don't live
here, Mr Barnaby. Or work here. I'm
not a farmer.

You're not?
No, I'm an optician.

I work in the village.

But I am a member of the Ford Florey
Wild West Society.

Founder member, in fact. We stable
some of the horses here.

I'm just doing my bit.

Well, perhaps you could speak to him.

Tell him he can phone me on any of
these numbers.

Leave a message.
Is this about Jack Fincher?

Yeah, in part.

They weren't the best of friends.
Yeah. I know that.

But my father would never k*ll a
man.

It's not in his nature.

You can't imagine how many times I've
heard that, sir.

Thank you.

(MOBILE PHONE RINGING)

Hello?

No, you've got the wrong Burbage.

No, that's the number of my
consulting room. The call's been
automatically forwarded. What...

She's late. That's not like her, is
it? Never mind. She'll be along
directly.

(CLATTERING)

(CLATTERING CONTINUES)

(SCREAMS)

(GROANS)

Jude! Oh, Jude! Oh, my God!

What happened? What happened?

(GROANS) Mary...

Behind the chimney...

Behind the chimney.

(TEARFULLY) Oh, my God!

We weren't the best of friends, but
I'm sorry he's dead.

Not the best of friends? You were
sworn enemies.

You're not suggesting I had
something to do...?

Oh, no, Silas. Of course not.

You're a fool, but I don't think
you're a murderous fool.

Even so, I expect the police will
pay you a visit,

if they haven't already.

I'm not hard to find.

Do you want a drink?
Mm. Vodka and tonic.

Double, if that's OK.

I think I can afford it.

Large vodka and tonic.

You spoke to them, though? The
police.

Of course.

And then there was...
What's her name?

Faye. Faye Lennox.

That's right.

Bad business all round.

You know he was...giving her one?

I did know that, Silas. Yes.

So...what is it you want?

Aside from a large vodka.

You're in trouble.
Am I?

Sternhill Farm is failing. You need
capital.

That's my business.
It could be mine.

You know Jack engaged a solicitor

to search for the deeds to the
Swamp?

Yeah, and those papers'll prove my
ownership.

Just suppose Jenner finds the
papers,

and they prove that the swamp
belongs to Jack Fincher.

I'm his widow.

I inherit.

Oh, right.

So, if it turns out to be your land,
you sell it to the travellers.

And if it can't be decided one way
or the other...

..I might be looking for a business
partner.

Who called you out?
Good evening.

He's not dead?
Well, she thought he was.

He took a hell of a whack to the
head.

Will he be all right?
Permanent damage, you mean?

Too soon to tell, but I don't think
so, no.

His mobile, sir. The last three
calls look interesting.

Leo Fincher, Dan Malko and Adam
Burbage.

Sir...
Yeah.

The place has been ransacked, but it
doesn't look like a robbery.

His wallet's untouched.

And who found him?
Mary Morgan.

Oh, the woman whose dog was sh*t?

Yeah.

Mrs Morgan?

I'm Detective Chief Inspector
Barnaby, from Causton CID.

May I ask you, please, why you were
calling on Mr Langham?

I was bringing Jude his dinner.
His dinner? Why?

Jude's on his own. He works very
hard.

Sometimes he forgets to eat.

We look out for one another.

Tell me what happened.

The only thing he said was...'Back
of the chimney.'

Pardon?

'Back of the chimney.' That's what
he said.

Look, is there anything else you
want me for? I'd like to get to the
hospital.

Yes, that'll be fine. Someone's taken
your details?

I do hope he's all right.

Please, God.

Back of the chimney.
Yeah.

Go on.

No, can't see anything.
Well, there might be a ledge.

Have a feel about.

(CLATTERING)

Ah.

Well, there is something, but I
can't quite...

(GROANS)

Oh, no, Jones. I don't think that's
what we're looking for.

Sir, they've found something in the
workshop.

(COUGHS)

George. What's that?

Could be Jude Langham's.

It's more likely Langham pulled it
from the neck of his attacker.

What's that? A sort of hieroglyph?

Kabbalah? Not sure.

Something a Romany might wear,
perhaps.

Oh...I'll take that.

Thank you.

By the way, Tom, I got the forensic
report

on the b*llet that k*lled Faye
Lennox. Very odd.

In what way? Well, given the range
and accuracy, it had to be a r*fle,

and you'd expect a .33 calibre,
but it was a 44-40.

What's that? Exactly. We don't come
across them in the UK.

And I was talking to somebody in the
g*n squad,

and apparently, the first example of
that load

was the 44-40 WCF.

The letters stand for Winchester
Centre Fire,

otherwise known as the Winchester
'73.

The g*n that won the West.

Well, thank you, George.

George found this in Jude Langham's
workshop. Could be from the attacker.

No, don't get your sooty fingers on
it. Just look.

Well, what is it? Gypsy charm?
We'll ask Dan Malko.

Well, after I've had a shower, sir.
Oh, no time for that.

Mrs Barnaby keeps wet-wipes in the
glove compartment. Help yourself.

(DOOR SQUEAKS)

Hello, Susan.
(GASPS)

I almost passed out, you moron!

Sorry - I should have told you I'd
be here. Yes.

And perhaps you'd like to tell me
WHY you're here, and how you got in,

and who gave you leave to help
yourself to the whisky.

Well, in no particular order:

Key. Over the lintel, as many people
know.

Whisky. A bit of a liberty, I agree,
but it is only the blended.

Reason for visit: to see Leo, who
asked me to call.

So, here I am, but he is not.

What did he want to talk to you
about?

The search for the deeds, I imagine.
What else?

All right if I have another?

Why is it taking so long?

Well, documents get misplaced, you
know.

Filed under a variant name,
transferred,

wrongly categorised.

We need to get it settled.
Of course you do.

With Jack gone, the inheritance and
so forth is vital. I agree.

Especially since you're keen to
sell, I imagine, and Leo would k*ll
to prevent it.

Figure of speech. Sorry.

Fergal, I know Jack was intending to
change his will.

Do you?
To favour Faye.

Did he talk to you about it?

I could never understand Jack, you
know.

A woman like you as his wife, and he
looked elsewhere.

A woman like you...

..to take to his bed.

That trailer there, sir.

Right. We'll do Dan Malko first.

Then we'll go and find Leo Fincher.

Er...Detective Chief Inspector
Barnaby...

No, no, no. Let me. Let me.

(JONES WHISPERING)

That was very impressive.

What did you say?

'Do you want to buy some lucky white
heather?'

(DOGS BARKING)

Mr Malko.
Mr Barnaby.

Mr Malko, a man was seriously
assaulted earlier this evening.

Jude Langham.

And your name was on his
dialled-calls list.

He did call me, yeah.
What did he say?

I didn't speak to him. He left a
message.

Which said what?
Asked me to call him.

And did you?
I just said: we never spoke.

If someone gets battered, travellers
are the first call. It never

I resent that remark, sir.

Several people are on that list. We
shall be talking to them all.
There is no prejudice.

There's always prejudice.

Mr Malko, I understand you're trying
to buy the swamp land to help your
people,

and I do applaud that.

But two murders have been committed,
and there are questions to be asked.

About this. Take a look at that.

What do you want to know? Does that
symbol mean anything to you?

Yeah.

It's the ancient Romany symbol...

..for bullshit.

Did Jack change his will?

No, my darling. He didn't.

And will the deeds be found? Will
they favour you?

The thing about these old
documents...

They're notoriously ambiguous and
open to interpretation.

And if the documents are found,
I'm sure I could guarantee

that they'd prove whatever you want
them to prove.

In return for...?
Well, in return for...

..a piece of the profits.

And...a piece of you.

(GROANS)

(GROANS)

You're gonna regret that, you bitch!

(CAR ENGINE)

Some other time.

Who's that?
Fergal Jenner. Solicitor.

And what was he soliciting?

I want to talk to your step-son, if
he's here, please.

He's not, I'm afraid. I've no idea
where Leo is.

Look, are you driving back into Ford
Florey?

I will be, yeah.
Could you give me a lift?

I'll get a room at the pub.

Home Farm doesn't seem much like
home just at the moment.

OK, fine.
Give me five minutes.

Thanks. I'll send someone for my car
in the morning.

I expect it's a bit feeble, but,
with what's been happening and
Fergal...

No, no, no. You're quite right.
Take care.

Oh, Mrs Fincher, before you go...

I wonder: do you recognise this?

Where did you find it?

You do recognise it?

It's the astrological sign for Leo.

Leo Fincher's - yeah?

He wears it all the time.

Thank you.

Good morning.
Be with you in a minute.

Mr Barnaby.
Mr Burbage.

I'm told that you are the expert on
the Wild West.

Wild West isn't a term I'd use.

Is it not?
Early American history.

Ah, yes, of course. Well, I'm sorry.

But you are the archivist of the
society, are you not?

Yes. When was the last time you had
an eye test, Mr Barnaby?

An eye test?
You were looking at the test card...

..and squinting.

Ah, yeah, but I think my eyesight's
pretty good.

Let's see.

Can you read the fifth line of the
chart, please?

Z, H, N, E, V.

You told me that you were a founder
member of the...

Of the Society, yes.

I've always been interested.

The true history of the American
frontier

is very different from the fanciful
Hollywood version of things.

Sixth line.

H, S, B, U, er...F, D?

For example...?

For example, one of my favourite
characters - Henry McCarty.

Henry McCarty? I don't think I've
heard of him.

Yes, you have. Also known as William
H Bonney.

Oh, Billy the Kid.

The role you took in the sh**t-out
with Jack Fincher.

That's right.

Yeah, and your families have been
feudin' for ever, haven't they?

Don't read anything into it, Mr
Barnaby.

My father's disputes are none of my
business.

Tell me, Mr Burbage - what is this
fascination with the Old West, then?

Life's dull. Don't you think?

One thing after another. Then you
die.

A bit of romance.

A bit of adventure.

A bit of fantasy, if you like.

Why not?

Sixth line.

Er...H, Z, R, U, P, D.

Tell me - what do you know about the
Winchester Centre Fire r*fle?

Winchester '73 - so-called because
that was its year of manufacture.

And does the Ford Florey Wild West
Society

own any of these Winchesters?

Oh, good Lord, no.

No, the g*n's a real collector's
piece. Costs a fortune.

We use stage g*ns.

Now, is the circle in the red
stronger...

..or in the green?

Mr Langham?

I'll get you a coffee and a paper.

Just the coffee. I've had enough bad
news.

Did you find him?

Not yet, no.
He smashed it up.

He smashed my dad's memorial window.

Can you give me any kind of
description?

He was wearing one of those
balaclavas,

where you only see the eyes.

Tall? Short? Heavy? Slim?
Did he say anything?

It all happened so fast.

It's gone.

The window's destroyed.

When I were a younger man, I'd have
broken his bones.

I believe you.

Oh, by the way, we looked behind the
chimney, like you said. Very
interesting.

I said?

To Mrs Morgan.

Oh, well, right.

You know everything, then, don't
you?

What made you think of hiding it
there?

Good a place as any.

Went there once. Long time ago.

Best holiday of my life.

I wonder if anyone's ever made it to
the top.

I wonder.

Can you look straight ahead at that
spot?

Are you making any progress?

I hear Jude Langham was att*cked, on
top of everything else.

Well, we're following up some
interesting leads.

(SOFTLY) Is it safe?

Sorry?

Is it safe?

Is what...?
Is it safe?

You know - to walk the streets at
night.

People must be worried.

Well, it's not Dodge City, Mr
Burbage.

Tell me.

Why is your father so eager to sell
the Swamp?

Farming isn't what it was.

He's run up some debts.

Selling that acreage would solve the
problem.

So, he's anxious to have proof of
ownership, is he?

He'll get it.

Now, you're presbyopic, astigmatic,

and have a slight tendency to
red-green colour-blindness.

Otherwise...no problem.

Mr Jones...

You saw, didn't you? Earlier.
You saw me kissing him?

Mrs Morgan, you got a flat tyre.

Otherwise, it would have been you on
the ducking stool.

I see what you're thinking, but no,
I called.

I said I'd be late and that Faye
would have to be the witch
until I got there.

People knew.

Look, I've got to get back.

I've got his dinner to cook. He
can't bear hospital food.

LANGHAM: 'Went there once. Long time
ago.

Best holiday of my life.

I wonder if anyone's ever made it to
the top.'

Chimney Rock.

Here I am, Jude, my love...

Leo Fincher was sh*t. George Bullard
puts time of death between eight and
nine-thirty last night.

When was he tied to the horse?

Well, his hair and clothes were damp.
There was rain last night, but it's
been dry ever since.

The horse roamed all night with a
corpse on its back? Yeah.

Mr Barnaby, it was something and
nothing. You know?

Susan Fincher and I are old friends.

Frankly, I'd had a bit too much to
drink.

After which, you got into your car
and drove away?

Yes.

Not a night to remember, perhaps.

You're looking for proof of
ownership.

This could be it.
A-ha.

It's an agreement between Caleb
Burbage and Noah Fincher, the
grandfathers.

But it's not a legal document, I'm
afraid.

If anything, it suggests the land
was in dispute back then.

The search continues. In fact, I'm
off to the archive right now.

After you left Home Farm last
night...

Went home. Went to bed.

Anyone to vouch for that?

Sadly, no.

Threatening behaviour. Inappropriate
sexual conduct. Drunk in charge.

If you go on like this, sir, you
might find yourself in need of a
solicitor.

A good solicitor.

Obviously, Jude Langham thought it
was proof and that he'd get a good
price for it.

So, he phoned Dan Malko and Leo
Fincher.

Play one off against the other.

Someone thought it was a dangerous
document, or he wouldn't have been
att*cked.

And if it did favour the Burbage
claim,

then the likeliest suspect would be
Leo Fincher.

Who isn't exactly available for
questioning. Oh...

Just the man.

Right. You go and talk to Jenner's
neighbours.

See if they remember him getting back
last night.

In the meantime...I'll treat myself
to a lunch-time pint.

Very nice.

You want the land, don't you? Right.
You know what to do about it.

Someone wants a word. I'll leave you
to it.

Mr Burbage...

You're a difficult fellow to track
down, aren't you?

I run a farm.

It involves more than sitting behind
a desk, fiddling crime figures.

Thank you. Actually, it's crime
figures I want to talk to you about.
Listen.

There have been three violent deaths
in Ford Florey in the last two days.

Where were you when those deaths
occurred?

I've lived on my own since my wife
passed on. I haven't got a working
clock or a television.

I get up with the sun.
I go to bed when I feel tired.

If you told me when those people
d*ed, I wouldn't be able to tell you
where I was or what I was doing.

You stable some of the Wild West
Society's ponies and horses up at
your farm, don't you?

Are you a member of that society?

Used to be.

Better rider than any of 'em.

Quicker on the draw, too. Bang!

(CHUCKLES)

Why did you leave?

Being near to Fincher with a g*n
gave me too many ideas.

He's gone. No-one knows where he is.

I'm sorry - what are you talking
about?

Jude. His bed was empty. No-one
knows where he is.

He's gone!

Malko!
(DOGS BARKING)

Malko...

It's gone. The police have found it.

I know. They showed it to Fergal
Jenner.

And er...it's worthless.

So, if you thought you were sitting
on a nest-egg, Langham...

..you'd better think again.

(CHUCKLES)

(SIGHS)

What are you doing here?

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)

(GROANS)
Are you all right?

I don't know what happened.
You shouldn't be driving.

No. All right. I'm so sorry.

I was going out to the farm to get a
change of clothes.

Well, better leave it for a while,
eh?

I will. Yes.

(SIREN)

Well, he hasn't been dead long.

The archivist says she gave him the
references half an hour ago.

That sounds about right.
20 minutes, at the most.

Pages torn out.
Yeah. All from the C section.

None from the B, none from the F.

But whose name begins with C?
No-one we know.

That is a Bowie Kn*fe.

And the b*llet that k*lled Leo
Fincher...

44-40 load.

There's been a strong lead to the
Wild West Society all through this.

Too strong, perhaps.

Did your friends from the g*n squad
say that the 44-40 shell

could only be fired from a Winchester
r*fle?

No, no. It can be used on various
sn*per r*fles.

Even a 44 handgun.

A handgun?
Yeah.

Mr Malko!

I was just arriving.
Or just leaving.

Fergal Jenner has been m*rder*d.

Happened an hour ago.

Oh, that's great(!)
That's just wonderful.

And of course, it'll be the gyppo(!)
It'll be the Didicoy!

I didn't say that.

You knew Jenner was at the archive?
He phoned me.

Said he'd found the deeds to the
Swamp.

I'd already made him an offer, but
he wanted more.

Did he say who the deeds favoured?
It's Burbage land.

The deeds were put under C for Caleb.

The grandfather's first name.

In the outset, I had a deal with
Silas.

If the deeds showed it was Burbage
land,

we'd pay Jenner's price, so the land
could be sold on to me.

If not, Jenner would fake a document
favouring Silas for the same price.

Only problem - his price kept going
up.

I could pay a fair whack, but I
ain't got that kind of money.

Neither had Silas Burbage.
No.

But it's his land, anyway, and
Jenner's dead.

So, you'll do a deal with Silas?

Looks that way, yeah.

Job done.

(HENS CLUCKING)

Hey, hey!

Whoa!

Don't tell me. Wet-wipes in the
glove compartment.

(SIGN SQUEAKING)

(FRONT DOOR OPENS)

(FOOTSTEPS CLIMBING STAIRS)

(FOOTSTEPS DEPARTING)

This marmalade is thick-cut.

That's the sort you like.

Why do you buy thick-cut?

You prefer it.

Hand-delivered.

Feels like there's a lipstick in it.

Thank you. I prefer thin-cut.

No, you don't.

More lethal than lipstick.

But not always.

'Aces and eights.'

Dead man's hand.

(PHONE RINGING)

Hi.

No, listen. I'm going away for a
while.

I think it's better that way.

Yes, of course I'm coming back.
Yes, of course.

'Of course I'm coming back.'

She's checked out and gone home.
Hop in.

See this?

Who'd want to k*ll Susan Fincher?
Lipstick, Jones.

It's sometimes more lethal than a
b*llet.

Where are you going, Mrs Fincher?
As far away as I can get.

With Faye dead, then Jack, and
Leo...

Now Fergal Jenner.

Someone's got a list. There's a good
chance my name's reached the top.

Yes, you could be right...
(g*nsh*t)

Inside. Run! Inside!

(g*nsh*t) At Home Farm, under fire.
Immediate assistance required!

(GLASS SHATTERING)

ARV, g*n squad... Just deploy
whoever you can, as fast as you can!

(GLASS SHATTERING)

(HORSE NEIGHING)

(g*nsh*t)

Send her out!

Send the woman out!

That's Adam Burbage out there, isn't
it? Billy the Kid.

Send her out, and the rest of you
can go!

I think he wants to talk to you(!)

Talk? He wants to k*ll me!

(GLASS SHATTERING)

If I go out there, I'm dead.

Yeah, I know, because you were
running out on him, weren't you?

How long before the cavalry get here?

They say 15 minutes.
Oh, rapid response, is it(?)

What can we defend ourselves with?

Nothing.
Well, look about!

You stood to gain most, didn't you,
eh?

You'd get the farm, with all the
other claimants dead.

(g*nshots)

(GLASS SHATTERING)

ADAM: Send the woman out!

You couldn't be the k*ller, could
you?

Because for every m*rder, you had an
alibi.

Send her out! Send the woman out!

And how perfect those alibis were,
eh?

When Faye Lennox was being sh*t, you
were dropping an ice-cream into my
wife's lap. Unforgettable.

So, you couldn't be the one who sh*t
Faye Lennox.

But your accomplice - he could do the
job for you, couldn't he?

'Plenty of time for him to get round
from the sh**t-out in Main Street to
the helter-skelter.'

(g*nsh*t)

How long did he say?
For help to arrive?

15 minutes. Could be half an hour.

(g*nsh*t)

But you didn't have an alibi when
Jude Langham was att*cked, did you?

'But then, Leo did that. It was
nothing to do with you.'

SUSAN: 'I knew it had to be him -
the way Leo and Jack talked about
Fincher land,

as if it were a gift from God.'

And the Finchers don't take kindly
to being threatened.

(g*nsh*t)
(GROANS)

Send her out! For God's sake, do
something! He's mad.

Nothing.

Just Fincher's g*ns from the Wild
West show.

Well, take a couple of pot sh*ts at
him.

They're blanks.

Well, WE know that, but HE doesn't.

(g*nshots)

OK. So, he thinks you're a lousy
sh*t.

You or me, Wyatt.

You or me.

What did you offer him? Money?

Or something more than that?

Hey? Yes, it was, wasn't it?

And now he's in love with you.

SUSAN: 'One thing led to another.

I just thought he was an attractive
man who might be some use to me.

I didn't realise how disturbed he
was.

He had a collection of Western g*ns.

Winchester, Colt 45, Buntline.

All authentic.'

'And you saw a way of making those
mad little dramas in his head work
to your advantage.'

'I told him, with Faye out of the
way, and Jack and Leo, I'd inherit
the farm.

I'd sell up and we'd go away
somewhere.'

Go where? Deadwood?

Dodge City.

ADAM: Send her out, or I'll come and
get her!

(GLASS SHATTERING)

BARNABY: He's lost in a fantasy-land,
that man.

William H Bonney.

Billy the Kid.

'They're not murders to him, are
they?

They're like little movies, with him
as the hero.'

(CACKLING)
(NEIGHING)

SUSAN: 'A movie, you said. Like a
movie.

And it was.
I was directing. He was the star.

(g*nsh*t)

(SCRAPING)

'And with Faye out of the way,
you would inherit.

But first, Jack had to die.'

(YELLS) You want a w*r, Burbage?

Happy to oblige!

(SCREAMS)

'And you could organise your alibis,
while Adam acted out his cowboy
fantasies.'

(LAUGHING)

Who are you - Jesse James?

(AMERICAN ACCENT) No. Billy the Kid.

(HORSE WHINNIES)

'But Fergal Jenner was an entirely
different proposition.

He'd actually found real evidence
that the Swamp was indeed Burbage
land.'

You were wrong. So wrong.

(LAUGHS) So, you'd better start
thinking about naming a price.

'You could have paid for a fake
document,

but you'd have to depend on Jenner
keeping his mouth shut.

And once a blackmailer, always a
blackmailer.'

What are you doing here?

And all those people had to die, so
you could inherit a farm?

As a farm, it would fetch a fair
sum.

As prime development land, it's
worth a small fortune.

ADAM: You won't give her up?

(AMERICAN ACCENT) OK. I'm calling
you out.

Man to man!

(g*nsh*t)

(GRUNTS) Where are they?
The back-up! Where are they?

It was five minutes, five minutes
ago.

I came back for some clothes.

How stupid is that?
I could be clear and away.

'No, you couldn't be.
Not before you had implicated Adam.

Once he realised you'd abandoned
him, too dangerous to let him be on
the loose.'

Mrs Fincher, you sent me this note.

And this b*llet.

You expected to be long gone...

..before Adam Burbage was arrested.

I told Adam we'd wait until things
had calmed down.

I'd sell the farm, he'd sell his
business, then we'd go away
together.

And once he'd realised the truth,
you'd be far, far away.

(g*nsh*t)

Time's up!

Make your play, Wyatt.

Oh, wonderful(!)

They decided to take a short cut and
got stuck in the Swamp.

Huh!

Time's up.
All right.

It's time to end this.
No, sir, you can't.

Yes, we can.

If he gets in here, he's gonna k*ll
her.

Now...

We've got one sh*t at this.

(CLICK)

Whenever you're ready.

(g*nsh*t)

More lethal than lipstick.

(GROANING)

Guess you were just too fast for me,
Wyatt.

(SIREN)

A very good sh*t, that. Thank you for
it!

You took a hell of a risk. He could
have sh*t you as soon as you
appeared.

Ah, no, no, Jones.
That's not the way it works.

He called me out, so he had to wait
for me to draw first.

The code of the West.