02x08 - The Ties of the Past

[bunniefuu]

I suppose this is where
everything changes.

You always told me
I was beautiful.

You never knew I could be so smart.

Bet you never thought
we'd be doing this together.

Neither did I.

Still here, Elaine?

May as well come in.

In case you've forgotten,
we're looking at skin tones today.

Of course some of you have already
taken this class before,

and you know how hard it is.

Those of you who haven't, good luck.

We want white, yellow, brown and red
on your palettes.

Orange and green for those of you
with pretensions.

Are we ready?

We all miss Nell.

Of course you do.
She was much nicer than I am.

Miss Clasby.
Jean.

Here you are, Agnes.

When are you getting rid
of all these tat on the walls?

Tat?

What about your mother's paintings?

Where are they?

You realise the gallery
is putting her work into storage?

They bought one solitary painting,
then they go and hide it.

Her son should be coming
to her defence.

Yes. Well, we'll see you again
in a couple of days.

And we'll check
that blood pressure for you.

Oh, bah to blood pressure!
We loved your mother.

We're all she has left, Lucien.

I've been at him for ages
to go through her old studio.

Do you think that he will?
Thank you, Jean.

Excuse me, ladies.

Yes? Dr Lucien Blake.

Did we upset him?
Oh, I hope so.

Good.
Of course. I'll be right there.

Jean, I'm needed
at the College of the Arts.

Wonderful!

It'll give you a chance to talk
to the gallery about her paintings,

won't it, Lucien?

Lovely to see you, Agnes.
You don't mean that at all.

You know I do.

Her name is Virginia Mackay,
life model.

Last seen about an hour ago
entering the building.

They cut her throat.

What with?
I don't know.

Davis, any sign of a m*rder w*apon?

No. Nothing, boss.
Just... lots of blood.

Charlie, what's through there?

Uh, a back stairwell that heads
down to the potters' studio,

and then out to an alleyway.

I reckon whoever it was
came in and out through there.

Well, let's say
she was att*cked here.

She was undressing.
She was interrupted, clearly.

Hadn't removed her slip
or her underwear.

Was it sexual?
I don't know.

After she was att*cked,
she fell here.

Do we know anything about this girl?

Yes. She was a regular model
for class.

And you are?

Geoffrey Ledwith.
I teach this class.

Mr Ledwith, we're gonna need a list
of names of all your students.

You do know she was my girlfriend?

Ah, er...

Mr Ledwith, how about we,
erm, sit you down?

She was pretty.
She certainly was.

Were there men in the life class?

Yes. Why?
Some men hate attractive women.

It's curious.

Yes.

It appears to be a circular cut
through the skin,

slicing through the larynx
and strap muscles.

Cutthroat razor.
Perhaps, or a wire of some kind.

Alice, would you mind
passing me a swab, please?

I've noticed something here.
I'd like to get your opinion.

Now, what do you make of that?

Soil?

Mud? Where from?

Already on the blade, perhaps?

Did you see her belt buckle?
No. Why?

Because of this.

Is that blood?

No. Some kind of pigment.

I think you might be right.

I think you'll find
that's alizarin crimson.

I'm sorry?

Er... oil paint.

The colour was originally derived
from the madder plant.

How do you know that?

My mother was a painter.

Thank you.

Doesn't quite go with the uniform.

Oh, I don't know.

It was dumped in a bin.

It's Virginia Mackay's.

They don't seem
to have left any prints,

but nothing seems
to have been stolen.

Right.
Wallet, with about five quid.

Make-up, house keys.

I don't suppose you saw any...
mud in that alleyway?

Not really, no. Why?

Oh, it's just a detail that doesn't
seem to fit anywhere yet.

So, what should I be looking for?

How about a blade with dirt on it,
a motive and a k*ller?

So, pretty simple, then.

Yes.
Excuse me.

Am I allowed in yet?

Do you have a reason to be in here?

Yes. I need to pick up my materials.

Charlie, come here a moment.

Mr Ledwith, if I may,
whose work is this?

Elaine Greenslade.

She was obsessed with Virginia.

Interesting painting,
Miss Greenslade.

Why?

It reflects the position
we found the dead girl's body in,

almost too accurately.

What's more, the girl
you've painted bears a...

..well, a remarkable resemblance
to Miss Mackay.

You know what it is, don't you?

'Beneath the Arena' by von Piloty.

Depicts a human sacrifice.

It's hanging in the gallery.
Everybody knows it.

Not quite everyone.

So, why'd you make a copy of it?

Because she's got
the most amazing skin.

It's translucent.

All students copy the masters.
That's how we learn.

Does the girl in the original
look like Virginia Mackay?

Yes.

Geoffrey Ledwith said that you
and Miss Mackay were friends,

and that you... flatted together.

He also said that you had
a falling-out, and you resented her.

You should be talking to him.
He's the one with the temper.

Or her horrible boss,
Barry Johnstone.

Did you resent her, Elaine?

Did you think that she was
perhaps more talented than you?

Of course she was talented.

She was just never given
a chance to show it.

What?

Got the director
of the gallery here.

Something about
the dead girl's keys.

Superintendent, I'm Barry Johnstone.

What's this about?

Virginia Mackay had a set of keys
for the gallery.

It is really important
that I know they're secure.

Davis.

Excuse me!

They're not the ones.

You sure?
Of course I'm sure.

No money was stolen.

Did you find anything else on her?
Anything at all?

Mr Johnstone,
Miss Mackay was m*rder*d.

I do apologise.

There is a major exhibition
coming in from the National Gallery.

I've promised
their works will be secure,

and with one set of keys missing...

Davis, take a statement.

Shouldn't you be looking
at paintings?

Lucien.

Lucien, mon cher.

Lucien.

Excuse me.
Yes?

Ah, I'm looking for a painting -
'Beneath the Arena', von Piloty.

Karl Theodor.

Karl Theodor von Piloty.

Ah.
And I'm showing off now.

I'm not sure where it's hanging.
This isn't my gallery.

Oh, I do beg your pardon.
Try the blue room.

Thank you.

Blake.

Ah, Patrick.

I'm surprised to see you here.

My family is the gallery's
chief benefactor.

I'm chair of the gallery board.

I'll leave you to it.

Ross, there you are.

You found it.

Macabre, but also quite beautiful,
isn't it?

You know each other?

Yeah, well, not formally.
Brendan Ross.

Lucien Blake.

Professor Ross
is from the National Gallery.

Yes, and we're a little nervous.

We have a few Davies travelling,
which are close to priceless.

They'll be fine. We'd better go.

The club is very strict
about reservations.

The exhibition opens on Tuesday.

Any friend of Patrick's...
Thank you.

I'll keep that in mind.

Doc, the boss wants us
to search the dead girl's flat.

Right.

Ah, David Davies.

Who's he?
A fairly well-known artist.

Well, I'll know for next time.

Now, you took a statement from
the gallery director, didn't you?

Yes. Yes.

Described the dead girl
as mostly competent,

tended to vagueness and clumsy.

Clumsy?

Well, that's what he said.

Did he say anything
specifically about her work?

'Typically decorative
female noodlings.'

Sounds like you didn't like him.

Boss described him as a w*nk*r.

Course he did.

Broken pottery.

Seems to be a lot of it.

G.L.

That'd be Geoffrey Ledwith.
Well, that's her boyfriend.

Why would she break all their stuff?

Oh.

I thought it was dirt or mud
in the wound.

It may have been potter's clay.
Potters use a...

Potters use a wire
to cut their work from the wheel.

Very fine gauge. No striations.

Ah. Seemed a shame
to throw that pot away.

Know anything about art?

I know who David Davies is.

Well, if it's not perfect,
it's not worth keeping.

You can't just simply remake it?
Better to start again.

That's harsh.

You have to be.

You didn't tell me you'd been around
to Virginia's flat

the night before she d*ed.

The neighbours heard the two of you
having a very loud argument.

You care to tell us what happened?

No.

That's a dangerous-looking device,
isn't it, Charlie?

Mm-hm. The neighbours said
there was screaming and yelling.

Doors slamming.

They said you left
in a very bad mood.

But it was after that,
they heard pottery smashing.

We looked in her bin. Found a few
of your perfect ceramics in there.

Oh, she'd made a mess of them.

Careful, Mr Ledwith.

You could really hurt someone
with one of those.

As a matter of fact, you could slice
right through someone's larynx

with one of those
if you wanted to...

That's what I think
of your opinions, prick!

And on that basis, Mr Ledwith,

I think you should accompany us
to the station.

How long were you and
Virginia Mackay seeing each other?

We've been told you were together
for a period of about six months.

Is this correct?

You've been described as a jealous
boyfriend, sometimes violent.

Is this true?

How often did you hit her,
Mr Ledwith?

The absence of any comment...
What do you want me to say?

The truth would be a good start,
Mr Ledwith.

Alright, then.

We had a fight...

..and I k*lled her.

You happy now?

She was beautiful.

Yes, she was.

Do you have the, uh...
the potter's wire there?

Mm-hm.
Good.

And if you could hold it just on
the other side of the wound there.

Ah, yes. It appears
to be the right gauge.

Seems like a pretty horrible way
to go.

Quick, silent.

People right on the other side
of the door,

and no-one heard a damn thing.

Luminol?
Yes.

You've seen it before, have you?
No, no. I've read about it.

Right.

Erm, Charlie, would you mind

flicking the switch
on the main lights there for me?

Now...

Bugger. Absolutely nothing.

There's no evidence here
to connect Ledwith to the k*lling.

I can go back to the station.
Tell the boss, if you like.

Shouldn't you have knocked off
by now?

Well, I don't mind missing another
night at the boarding house.

Not exactly the most comfortable
place in the world.

Yes.

I'm surprised you haven't
rented out a room somewhere.

Well, I didn't think
I'd be staying on so long.

Well, we have spare rooms
at our place,

if you are planning to stay on.

Is that your mother's old studio?

O'Brien said something about it.

No.

No. Erm, we have other rooms.

Anyhow, you have a think, Charlie.

Thanks, Doc.

I'll get it.

Is that Charlie?

Yes. At the gallery.

I'll tell him immediately.

We have a major exhibition opening
in three days.

We have three Davies works on show.

We had to increase the insurance to
cover it, and now that fool tells me

that a painting's been stolen
on his shift!

Boss wanted you here.
Security guard's got asthma.

What were you doing -
sleeping again?

Well, yelling at him
probably won't help that.

The missing painting?

It was here, and then when
I did my last round, it was gone.

You have a description?

It's an oil painting
by Herbert Smith.

Worth about a hundred guineas.
Is that expensive?

No. We have
far more valuable paintings.

So, why steal it?

Mr Baldwin, Dr Lucien Blake.

A little tight of chest?

Yes. Let's check that pulse of yours
to begin with, shall we?

Not much of a gap.
It's obviously big enough.

That's why they took the frame off
and passed it out the window.

What, an accomplice, you reckon?
Mm.

Careful there. Don't touch it,
it's a very valuable frame.

Original 1910 gilt.

Mr Baldwin, tell me -
how's your breathing?

Oh, feeling a bit better now, Doc.
It's mostly when I'm under the pump.

Please.

I'd rather you refrain from touching
anything while you're down here.

The boss doesn't help, does he?
Mmm.

Listen, I understand Virginia Mackay
was his assistant.

I don't know
how she ever put up with him.

Shouldn't he be doing something
about this glass?

Yes. He does seem rather, erm...

He's an arse. Cares more about his
paintings than he does about people.

Lucien.

Lucien.
Jean, good evening.

Can you hear me?

Bloody hell! Ted Baldwin.

Hit-and-run. He's still alive.

How long ago?
We don't know.

A passer-by called it in,
thought he was drunk.

Ted, it's Dr Blake.

We've got an ambulance
coming for you.

By the way, he must've been
involved in the break-in.

Whatever happened after that,
who knows?

Inhaler.

Wallet.

There's still money in it.

And a set of keys,
probably from the gallery.

Finally.

How is he?

Well, he's in a coma.
Serious swelling of the brain.

When do you reckon
I'll be able to speak to him?

Probably never.

Listen, I think Ted
staged that break-in

to cover his theft of the painting,

right down to the scattering
of broken glass on the ground,

and I think he handed the painting
to someone in the alleyway.

So, why run him over,
and why did they leave the painting?

Do we know where Mr Johnstone was
at the time of Virginia's m*rder?

What, you think they're linked?

Well...

Alright, we'll follow up
on Johnstone,

and we'll have another chat to...

We'll have another talk
to Miss Greenslade. Who else?

Anyone else
associated with the gallery.

Professor, er - what's his name -
Brendan Ross.

Patrick Tyneman.

Oh, be serious.
Alright. What about the boyfriend?

This is a typed-up statement
of your confession

to the m*rder of Virginia Mackay,
as taken from notes of interviews.

Read it and sign it.

Is there a problem, Mr Ledwith?

Is there a problem?

I didn't k*ll her.

But you used to hit her,
didn't you?

She understood.

I'm sorry? I'm sorry.
What exactly did she understand?

That I was doing great work.
She wasn't a real artist.

Just ask her tutors.
They'll all say the same.

Her tutors?
Tell me, were they all males?

Of course.
Then they must've been right.

You see yourself as a real artist,
though, don't you?

Yes.
Yes!

A few pots, a few tantrums, some bad
behaviour. That's all it takes, yes?

Takes a bit more than that.
Yes, it does.

It takes a lot more than that.

The ability to think
outside convention,

the ability to step
into someone else's shoes.

These things... these things!

I see none of these things in you.

I see a spoiled little brat
with very little imagination.

Someone who has to work very,
very hard to be even... mediocre.

And yet you sit there,

and you tell us that your girlfriend
couldn't possibly be an artist,

solely because she had
the misfortune... to be born female.

You arrogant little bastard!

We're charging Ledwith -
false statement.

What, that's all?
Bloody attention-seeker.

Any laws on the books
against being a dickhead?

Ah, don't think so, boss.
Then that's all.

You can take this
back to the gallery.

See what you can get
out of that director.

How hard shall we go on him?
Use your judgement.

Bring him in if you have to.

It's a miracle it's unscathed.
I took great care reframing it.

Yes, well, we're going to have
to question the loan arrangements

between Ballarat
and the National Gallery.

Please, Brendan...
No, no. We can't risk it.

The painting, Barry.

Mr Johnstone, before you do,
what's that?

What's what?

The dust on the wall.
So?

Well, the outline of whatever
was hanging there previously

doesn't match the dimensions
of this piece.

I've been clearing work
for the exhibition.

I thought the oil worked best here.
When did you switch paintings?

The night before last. Why?

I think your security guard,
Mr Baldwin,

may have stolen the wrong painting,

which is why
it was left in the alleyway.

The painting that was here,
Mr Johnstone, where is it now?

It's in the storeroom, but nobody
would want to steal that.

It's by an obscure local artist,
Genevieve Ettienne.

And why wouldn't anyone
want to steal that?

It's merely decorative.

If she wasn't a local, she
wouldn't be in the gallery at all.

You're quite sure about that?
Well, don't take my word for it.

Yes, well, I'm not familiar
with Ettienne's work,

but minor local artist,

solid enough technique,
negligible cash value -

unless the thief actually knew her,

in which case the painting might
have some sentimental value.

Sentimental value?
Ah.

I see. Well, I actually knew her.

She was my mother.

I think it might be best

if you came down to the station
with us, Mr Johnstone.

I'll, er...
I'll leave you to it.

You coming, Doc?

No. You go. There's something
I want to have a look at.

Your mother's painting?

No. Someone else
we've lost sight of.

Hmm.

Well, Virginia,
I think I have to say...

..I prefer your work
to that of Mr Davies.

I'm starting to think you may have
been just a little bit obsessed.

Perhaps you weren't the only one.

Miss Agnes Clasby, sir.

Always been a beauty,
if not, er, well...

Forthright?

I was going to say 'difficult'.

Same again, sir?

Ah, excellent idea. Thank you, Cec.

Ah, Lucien, I owe you an apology.

We get so used to making
big judgements about art.

Sometimes, we forget we're actually
talking about people as well.

It's perfectly alright.

Well, no, it's not, but thank you.

Erm...

Your mother...

Oh, I haven't seen
any of my mother's works

since I was about ten years old,

so I'm afraid I really wouldn't know
whether it was any good or not.

No, erm, well,
the art world is a tough one,

doubly so for women.

I keep trying
to tell my students that.

Patrick trying to convince you
to keep the exhibition in Ballarat?

Yes, he is.
Well, I hope he succeeds.

Thank you.

We could use more art here,
especially by women.

Enjoy your drinks, gentlemen.

Lucien. Lucien.

Good morning.

Did you get any sleep?

Not really.

Jean, let me show you something.

Look.

Huh. Is that gold?

Gold leaf.
She used it in her paintings.

It's very light.
She'd say, 'Watch this.'

And she'd take a piece of scrap,
and she'd hold it above the fire,

and it would catch in an updraft,
and it would drift up...

Ah. How lovely.

..and float up
until it reached the ceiling.

How long has it been
since you've been in here?

A lifetime.
Dad didn't want anyone in here.

In fact, I clearly remember
my father locking the doors.

He was a lonely man, your father.

Well, he packed me off to boarding
school five days after she d*ed,

so perhaps...

..perhaps being on his own
wasn't such an issue for him.

Well, you know that's not true.

What made you come in here today?

She's been gone 40-odd years...

..and suddenly, she's everywhere.

Agnes Clasby's talking about her,

someone tries to steal her painting
from the gallery.

And look -

I found this in the flat
of that girl who was m*rder*d.

That's Agnes Clasby.
Yes.

Isn't that your mother's work?

Certainly appears to be.

What do you mean?

Well, there's only one way
to find out.

Well... look at you.

- You stole it!
- Er, borrowed it.

I don't think that'll stand up
in a court of law.

Look. Look at this. Look here.

This... this is wet paint.
What?

Someone's painted alizarin crimson
over that section there.

I think...

I think they may have been trying
to hide some damage.

Who?
Virginia Mackay.

She had the very same pigment
on her belt buckle.

You think this painting
has something to do with her death?

Her boss was complaining
about her clumsiness.

So, how does it work?

Her belt buckle catches
on the painting, scratching it.

Barry Johnstone, her boss -
very, very demanding man.

So, maybe she paints over it
to avoid getting into trouble.

This is the painting
that the guard meant to steal.

Let me just...

Ah. You can just see.
That's where it's been patched up.

Yes, but there's something
underneath that scrape.

What is that?
I have absolutely no idea.

Maybe that's what this is all about.

What are you asking me for?

Elaine, please.
My... my mother painted this.

I'd like to hear
what you think of it.

You never said your mother
was an artist.

That's high praise, coming from you.

Ettienne?
Her maiden name.

What, she used it
even after she was married?

She did, yes.

Well, you could use
turps and a Kn*fe

to get the top layer of paint off,

but that'd destroy her painting.

And there's no other way?

Not that I can think of.

Dr Blake.
Dr Harvey.

I wasn't aware
another body had come...

You're dissecting a painting.
Actually, they call it a pentimento.

Is that a medical term?

Alice,
have a look at the lightbox.

You've X-rayed the painting?

What am I looking at?

So, this painting is covering up...

Another painting altogether.

You see, this one - you'll notice
a photograph of it in that book -

is covering up that painting
on the opposite page.

Why?
David Davies.

Who?
Hasn't anybody heard...?

David Davies, famous artist,
lived in Ballarat.

So, this person painted over
the work of a well-known artist?

Yes.
Why would they do that?

Why, indeed?

I can tell you, however,
that the culprit was my mother.

Perhaps she did it
to try and annoy someone.

Are you suggesting
that's a family trait?

I didn't say anything.

It's a pity we can't ask her.

Thank you for coming, Agnes.

I thought Jean
would've kept a cleaner house.

Well, until this morning,
Jean had never been in here.

In fact, no-one's been in here
for years.

Your mother was a gorgeous girl.

Why don't you take a seat here,
Agnes?

I'd like to ask you some questions,
if I may?

Ah.

Did Mother ever mention a painter
by the name of David Davies?

All the time -
not that your father approved.

He was a jealous man.

Yes.

Did she ever mention anything
about a specific painting,

one depicting a farmhouse?

He gave it to her.

Gave it?
She was his muse.

I see.

What did my father make of that?

He demanded they cut contact,
and he sold the painting...

..to Michael Tyneman,
Patrick's father.

And what did she do?

She lost the painting.

Lost?

Well, apparently, it's fairly easy
to lose a painting.

Now, you sat for her
while she painted your portrait?

Right here.

You knew what she was doing?
Of course I did!

Michael Tyneman was a philistine.

So was your father.

So she hid the painting

where neither of them
would ever find it.

And good for her, I say!

Your mother was given a painting
by a famous artist?

Yes.

And your father
sold it to old man Tyneman?

Mm-hm.
It's ironic.

Well, technically, a coincidence,
but anyhow...

So, she goes and paints this
over the top.

She had her reasons.

So, how much would the original
underneath be worth today?

Oh, goodness.

Currently, a Davies would fetch
1,000 guineas, perhaps more.

More than a year's salary.

Yes.

Listen, I think...

I think Virginia Mackay
accidentally damaged the painting

while she was at work.

Hang on. Just to be clear,
your mother's painting?

Yes, I'm sorry. Mother's painting.

But she saw part
of this other painting underneath.

She knew enough about Davies to know
she'd stumbled across something.

And she covered it up.
But not before she told someone.

So, the person we're looking for

knows the true value
of what she discovered.

Correct.

Boss.
Yes.

Miss Greenslade's here.
Wants to talk to the doctor.

Miss Greenslade,
thank you for coming in.

I didn't tell you everything
about Virginia.

Please, feel free, Elaine.

We were lovers.

You shared a flat, didn't you?

We shared everything.

But you had a falling-out.
What was it about?

Well, you know how pretty she was.

She always had men hanging around -

Geoffrey, the tutors, Mr Johnstone.

She was so talented.
She had so much to say.

They didn't see it.

They just wanted her to say
how talented they were.

When she went away to study at the
National Gallery, she was so happy,

but they just told her that
she was just another pretty face.

When she came back,
something had changed.

She studied at the National Gallery
in Melbourne?

Miss Mackay's study record.

Professor Ross.
Ah.

I see the exhibition
is staying in Ballarat.

Yeah. Well, you and Patrick
convinced me.

I'm glad you did.

Well, you can be confident
your paintings will be safe.

The police have arrested
Barry Johnstone.

Barry?
Yes.

Apparently, there was some conflict

between Mr Johnstone
and the dead girl.

Something about damaging an artwork.
Oh.

Apparently, the police
have uncovered evidence of...

..well, quite a bit
of suspect dealing on his part.

He's confessed?
Doesn't have to.

The police are very confident.

Oh, well, that's good news.

Too late for that poor girl, though.
Yes.

What's he doing?

Oh, that's my mother's painting.
They're bringing it back.

Well, the opening is tomorrow,
Lucien.

I'll see you there.

Wow. It's amazing.

Hmm. Isn't it?

And he kept it locked all this time?

Mm. He was just a boy when she d*ed.

I'll get it.

Trouble finding the light switch,
Professor Ross?

I have made
an extremely important discovery.

There is a David Davies painting
hidden under this Ettienne.

Didn't Virginia Mackay
discover that?

Who?

The girl you k*lled
in the College of the Arts,

your former student
from the National Gallery,

the one you failed
in her second year!

I...
It's your car outside, isn't it?

Yes.

Do you care to explain how you got
the bloodstains on the side fender,

or this?

I'm guessing it'll test positive
for traces of Miss Mackay's blood.

Thank you. I'll take that.
Keep still.

What's this?

Virginia Mackay's gallery keys.
Charge him.

Virginia Mackay dead,
Ted Baldwin in a coma,

just so you could own a painting
by a famous artist.

Yes, and look what your mother
did to it!

She was a nobody!

That what you called
all your female students?

You do realise you're not
the actual owner of that.

Patrick.

May I? Thank you.

Cheers.

Oh.

How is it?

Surprising.

This is about that painting,
isn't it?

Yes. Yes, it is.

Go on.

Well, we have something
of a dilemma here.

As you know, my mother's painting

was gifted to the
Ballarat Art Gallery by my father.

Now, it seems the painting has...
Fallen into disrepute.

..fallen out of favour.

Look, they own it.
They don't want it.

I do. Now, you're the chair
of the gallery board.

I'd like you to gift it back.

Unfortunately, the situation
is a little more complex than that.

The painting underneath
your mother's painting

was sold to my father.

I actually still have
the bill of sale.

You do?
When he came to collect...

And the painting disappeared...

..my father didn't
give the money back.

Your mother d*ed.

My mother thought
it would be cruel to insist.

Of course.

Oh, Patrick, I had no idea.

So, obviously, you're claiming
ownership of the painting.

Is that right?

Is that it?
Yes, indeed. That's it.

So, what did Patrick say?

Well, he wanted to ask my advice,
in regard to his children.

You?
I know.

Lucien, it's lovely.

You're just saying that.

No. It is beautiful. Your mother
must've been quite some woman.

Yes. Yes, she was.

Now, if you'll excuse me.

A woman may be the model of a good
wife, but that counts for little.

- What was that last sermon about?
- Adultery.

Witnesses say they saw you talking
to Father Morton after mass.

Not me.
They must've seen somebody else.

Do you have any idea why someone
would want to k*ll Father Morton?

m*rder is a mortal sin.

Going off on verbal tangents,
making inappropriate comments.

Not the sort of problem
a priest would want to have.

I expected that at some point,
he would retire.

And you would've been
next in line to take over.

It's about Father Morton.
I'm his housekeeper.

And I'm the reason he d*ed.

Lawson, what's going on?

If you go off on a tangent,
the Archbishop will be all over us.

You've spent
an awful lot of time on...

- Is everything alright?
- It's not your problem.

Don't let God go

because you couldn't hear him
when you needed to.