06x15 - Bygones Be Bygones

[bunniefuu]

Heartbeat, why do you miss
when my baby kisses me?

Heartbeat, why does a
love kiss stay in my memory?

Heartbeat, why does a
love kiss stay in my memory?

Heartbeat, why does a
love kiss stay in my memory?

Heartbeat, why does a
love kiss stay in my memory?

Oh, thank you sir.

Is everything alright for you?

Perfectly, thank you.

Aidensfield, is that near here?

Next stop up the road.

Fifteen minutes by car.

Quiet sort of place, I imagine.

It's the grave, sir.

For he knoweth whereof we are made,
he remembereth that we are but dust.

Days of man are but as grass, for
he flourisheth as a flower of the field.

As soon as the wind
goeth over it, it is gone,

and the place thereof
shall know it no more.

We have entrusted our brother
Thomas Jowett to God's merciful keeping.

Poor turn out.

Makes it even more distressing.

Do you know him well?

No, not really.

But I've nursed him for the past year.

He used to be quite
active in local affairs.

You wouldn't think it, would you?

He'd been a virtual
recluse in recent years.

Who's that?

Oh, some personal snub from way back.

You know what villagers are like.

Are you all right, Maggie?

Yes, I... Oh, you know, it's
just an accumulation of things.

These do's don't help.

Maggie said he had a brain
tumour the size of a tennis ball.

Nothing could be done for him.

That's hard to come to terms with.

But Maggie must have seen it all before.

But I've never seen her so upset.

Well, it sounds like she needs a
holiday away from the sick and the lame.

Perhaps.

Oh, I, um... I thought
I'd ask Joyce Jowett

if she'd like to help me with
the flowers for the church.

She might appreciate the company, though.

Any suggestions for a place to stay?

In Aidensfield?

There's no hotel as such.

Try the pub across the road.

Oh, right, thanks.

I'm looking for a Jowett.

Do you know where I can find him?

He's just moved to the graveyard.

I did the removal.

Ah.

You can find his widow on
Meadowbank Road, outskirts of the village.

Constable, can I have a word?

Come in.

Billy was the children's dog, really.

But you know how it is.

I ended up looking after him.

Anyway, it's upset us all.

Of course.

Thing is, it should have been reported.

That's the law, isn't it?

Yeah.

So what sort of person just leaves
a dog dead and says nothing?

Well, I'm sorry, Mrs. Mason.

It happens, I'm afraid.

Yes.

Well, I don't think
that's all there is to it.

How do you mean?

I've had a letter.

It's typed and everything.

Everything that is except
a name on the bottom.

So what's it say?

That we let Billy loose
in fields to worry sheep.

It says if we couldn't control
the dog, he should be put down.

And was your dog worrying sheep?

We tried to keep him in, but... What
with the kids opening the gate and...

Well, it makes no direct threat.

None that you can see, perhaps.

To me, it says keep an
eye on your dog or else.

May I keep this?

Yeah.

Do you have any idea
who might have sent it?

Try Jim Riley.

He's the only farmer grazing
sheep at our end of the village.

Miss Weston?

Yes.

Nigel Wheeler.

Your father might have mentioned my name.

I'm not sure.

I've been advising him
on some money matters.

I'm sorry, yes, he did say something.

He suggested I should call in if I
was ever in this neck of the woods.

Well, please, come in.

Thank you.

Black and white?

Yeah, Collie.

Answers to the name of Billy.

Not my name for it.

Aye, I've seen it.

Been running some of my ewes ragged.

The dog's been run over.

Good riddance.

The owners received
this anonymous letter...

telling them to keep
their dog under control.

Aye.

It didn't come from you?

Me? No.

Or Mrs Riley?

Course not.

They were the only to think
whoever wrote the letter...

ran over the dog intentionally.

What are you saying?

Listen.

If I'd known who'd owned that dog,
I'd have gone round and strangled it.

Now, I'm going to dip these sheep.

If I were you, I'd get on me bike
before I got myself all mucked up.

Where are you based?

Leeds.

But I travel all over.

Bringing the word to the natives.

I don't preach and I don't judge.

If people feel happier
with their money

under the mattress,
I don't want to argue.

However, with no risk at all, there
are ways of making your nest egg grow.

I'm sure my father is
aware of most of them.

He is now.

An astute man.

I'm afraid I spend what I get.

Oh, I'm not here to sell
you a savings scheme.

It's social call.

Social call.

Hello.

Hi.

Nick, this is Nigel Wheeler.

Constable.

Nick Rowan. I'm not on official business.

Nigel's a financial advisor from Leeds.

Dad said he should
call in if he's in the area.

But you come up from the premium bonds inn.

Yeah, fat chance.

I'm not on duty either. Just a social call.

Is that your car?

Yes.

You got some damage to the front bumper.

Have I?

The car's been spraying probably.

There's some traces of blood.

Really?

It's probably just a pheasant.

We had a report of a
dog run over this morning.

Yes, well I think I'd
know if I'd hit a dog.

Yeah, yeah, probably so.

Anyway, thanks for coffee, Jo.

Nice to meet you both.

See you around.

Talk about topping up
that police pension perhaps.

Bye now.

Bye, Nigel.

Don't you ever knock off.

I only asked a question.

Do you always have to
interrogate visitors like that?

I didn't think you'd invited him.

Well, my father had, which I suppose
you think is reason enough to give him

the third degree.

Fern, Uncle George.

I'm out.

But it could be the Queen.

I'm still out.

Any sign of Rowan yet?

No, Sarge.

What's that?

Desk, Sarge.

Radio, Sarge.

From the found property locker.

I know where it's from, Bellamy.

I was just putting new
batteries in it, Sarge.

I'll put new batteries
into you in a minute.

Suppose the owner came in
now and found you dickering with it.

Now just put it back.

Yes, Sarge.

And don't use anything from
the found property locker again.

Hey, watch yourself.

Think the moon's in the wrong quarter.

Blaketon's in a filthy mood again.

Is that you, Rowan?

Yes, Sarge.

Jim Riley's been on the phone.

He says you're
accusing him of writing

threatening letters
and executing pets.

I was following up a complaint, Sarge.

Well, now I am.

Have you got the letter?

Did you know your
grandmother was in there, Sarge?

From your office.

Put it back, shall I?

Where is he?

He's in here.

What on earth were you doing, George?

I dropped the axe.

Temper. That's what caused it.

Don't talk stupid.

Temper?

What's the problem?

There isn't one. Only in his mind.

Haven't you got pumps to Polish?

He's had an anonymous letter.

It won't go any further than Maggie.

What did it say?

Him allowing after hours drinking.

It's probably from some temperance nutcase.

It's my licence at stake,
so don't go poo-pooing it.

If a magistrate gets to
hear, that's me card marked.

Was it a threatening letter?

Not really.

Well, if it's no threat, why write and
tell me something I already know?

You should show this to Nick Rowan.

I'd give myself up.

Oh, come on, George.
Nothing in this will be news to him.

Maybe not.

Do you think it's really serious?

Yes, I do.

Admit your bad timekeeping
and get Nick onto it.

This sort of blackmail needs
stopping before it takes a hold.

Mrs Jowett?

Yes?

Nigel Wheeler.

What an amazing place.

Am I interrupting?

No, I'm only weeding.

That's amazingly weed-free to me.

Soon gets out of hand.

You don't have any help?

Not now.

My husband died recently.

Oh, I see. I'm sorry.

Perhaps that's why Miss Weston
thought I should pay you a visit.

Miss Weston?

The teacher at the junior school.

I'm not as well acquainted with
local people as you might imagine.

How can I help you, Mr Wheeler?

It's more a case of me helping you.

But now that you've
told me of your recent

bereavement, this
may not be the time.

Time for what?

I'm a financial advisor, Mrs Jowett.

Ah.

And I understand completely if you'd
rather wait before doing anything about

your future needs.

My husband worked
for a bank, Mr Wheeler,

so naturally I left
money matters to him.

Of course.

But now you have your
own decisions to make.

If I can help you, as I have Miss
Weston and her father, I'd be more than

happy to oblige.

Unusual name.

I suppose it is.

Politics was my husband's passion.

Let me explain your financial
options to you now, Mrs Jowett.

It'll only take five minutes.

I'm not admitting anything, mind.

Once or twice I might have absentmindedly
pulled the pint after time, but

nobody's perfect.

But from now on you will be.

Eh?

Yeah.

Yes.

Any idea who wrote it?

Perhaps the blackmail notes to follow.

Thanks, Nick.

I was in such a lather, what with
the letter and this fellow Wheeler.

Nigel Wheeler?

Yeah, he's been staying at the pub.

He's got me Uncle George interested
in some money-making scheme.

Do you think he's alright?

Well, that's not for me to say, Gina.

That's for George to decide.

Yeah, I suppose so.

I just don't want him rushed into anything.

It seems like the writer just wants
people to know they're being watched.

Doing your job, in other words.

A little creepy, though.

Talking of which, I hear your friend
Wheeler's got his claws into George.

Just because he comes with
my dad's seal of approval, Nick.

What, he dresses as nice as he smells?

Meow, who's got claws now?

Hello, Maggie.

Hello.

Have you got a minute, Nick?

Yeah, sure.

So, what's the problem?

I've made calls on
two patients with similar

stories, involving
anonymous letters.

Oh, that.

In both cases, it's caused
upset and probably injury.

Hang on, Maggie. If you saw the
letters, you'd know there's not much to it.

Well, yes, but there is
to those who get them.

Oh, I appreciate that.

So, what are you doing about it?

I'm going to try and
get a letter out of him.

I'm going to try and
get a letter out of him.

Oh, I appreciate that.

So, what are you doing about it?

What am I doing?

Yes.

Well, whoever wrote them isn't
threatening anything or demanding money.

So, there's no crime, you mean?

Well, not that I can see, no.

That's nonsense, Nick.

I mean, the threat's clear enough.

I know something about
you and I'm going to use it.

Not now, perhaps, but someday.

Maggie.

For someone to hold that
over you, that's the crime.

You've had one.

It happened a long time ago.

Something I thought I'd
pushed to the back of my mind.

What, if you don't tell me
what it is, I can't help you?

When I was training to be a nurse, I
had an affair with a married man and

got pregnant.

He was the ambitious type.

He's quite a public figure now.

He paid for an abortion.

It was illegal, of course, but that was
no obstacle to those who had money.

And if this came out?

Couldn't face it.

Have you got the letter?

I've got the letter.

So, who knew?

Just, er, me, him and the doctor.

And the man's wife?

Not that I know of.

He isn't named in the letter.

Just to show that the
writer knows who he is.

There's still no direct threat.

Oh, for heaven's sake,
Nick, this is the third letter.

How many more do you need
before it becomes a police matter?

Do you want to tell me the man's name?

No.

Can't be anything to do with him.

If he's a public figure,
he'll have enemies.

I thought that was a possibility until
I heard about the other two letters.

This isn't an outsider, Nick.

This is someone here in the village.

Well then, George, what's all this
hair about you trimming your toenails

with a chopper?

What do you want?

Well, concerned customer
who's come to take the...

who's come to see how you're getting on.

All right.

How's it feel? Painful?

Not for you to worry about.

I'll be back behind that bar in no time.

Not before we get used to
these full measures, I hope.

What are you reading?

Wheeler left them for me.

Wheeler?

The fellow we've got staying here.

What, him with the blue
convertible and stinks of perfume?

Aftershave.

Same difference, isn't it?

He seems to know his stuff.

Investment without risk.

Double your money in a year.

Laid up like this, a bloke
starts thinking, Claude.

Ah, or not as the case may be.

There's only one safe way to
double your money, George.

That's to take your
notes out of your pocket,

fold them over and
bring them back in again.

You'll get your money.

I know what I said,
but... Listen, you're

already sharking me
for % over the odds,

so you can't lose.

Look, get off my back.

You'll get your money.

Just the man.

Oh, what's up?

Think back, Claude, about
eight years ago, to be exact.

You gave me a cook-final ticket.

Eh? What about it?

Why?

What, eight years ago?

I can't even remember what
happened yesterday morning.

Well, try.

I don't know.

I probably didn't want to use it myself.

So where did you get
this cook-final ticket from?

I used to get one every year.

What for?

What's all this about?

What for?

Well, I used to do some deliveries
for a bloke, you know, cash only.

Cash only?

The bloke who owned the firm.

He used to have
two sets of books, one

for the inland revenue
and a proper one.

Are you looking for another ticket?

No.

What's all the fuss about?

Well, I've had an unsigned letter
accusing me of obtaining a cook-final

ticket from a dubious source.

Did you tell anyone about it?

Of course I didn't.

I mean, if you remember rightly, Alf,

the reason you had the ticket in the
first place was because you'd been a

bit understanding about a slightly
overdue tax-discopy lorry, you know.

So you'd done me one, so I did you one.

I've been waiting for you.
Can I have a word?

I said I'd be back, didn't I?

Did you find what you
wanted in Aidensfield, sir?

Yeah, but I prefer it much better here.

There's only one thing you can do, Alf.

And it was going spare?

Well, I think that's what he said.

It was eight years ago. Hard to remember.

Well, somebody has.

Yes, Sarge.

And there was no "you scratch
my back, I'll scratch yours" about it?

Oh, you know me, Sarge.

Is that a yes or a no?

Well, my memory's playing tricks.

As far as I remember, there was
something about an old tax-disc.

Go on.

Well, Greencar, I said he got a new
one at home, and I gave him the benefit

of the doubt.

Knowing he'd go straight into
the post office and buy one?

Yes, Sarge.

Anything else playing tricks
with your memory, Ventress?

I don't think so, Sarge.

You're a fool, aren't you?

Yes, Sarge.

Well, if this letter-writer chooses
to make mischief, who knows?

What have you got so far, Rowan?

Well, next to nothing, Sarge.

There doesn't seem to be any link
between those who've had letters to

suggest a common enemy.

Typewriters?

Well, all four letters appear to have
been typed on the same machine.

The four you know about.

Well, unless there's a sudden outbreak
of honesty, we'll never know if there

are any more.

It's a delicate business, this,
but I want you to pursue it.

You're looking for a nosy local with
a grudge against the world in general,

and the police in particular.

You can start with Greengrass.

What, as a suspect?

Not this time.

But his ragbag of a
mind is full of tittle-tattle.

Something useful might drop out.

On your bikes.

What's all this? Mob-handed?

Must be somewhat serious.

We're hoping you can
solve a little mystery, Claude.

There's only one mystery
I've never been able to solve.

That is why, when
there's something to

up, you always seem
to come straight here.

What's all this, then, Claude?

What does it look like?

Office furniture.

Well done, Sherlock.

And before you ask,
I've got all the receipts.

I never said a word, Claude.

No.

There's a bloke who'll take
all this stuff off me he can get.

I think he ships it to underdeveloped
countries like Lancashire.

Mind you, I usually Nick
all the best stuff for meself.

You never get to wipe your feet.

No typewriter, Claude?

Ah, I don't know how
I'll manage without it.

I mean, a businessman without a typewriter,
it's a bit like a copper without

a suspicious mind, isn't it?

It's not natural.

Do you know you can type?

Well, only with one finger.

Mind I don't use the same one every time.

Are you going to tell me
what you've come for or not?

Well, funnily enough,
we're looking for a typewriter.

It's been used to send malicious letters.

Oh, I see.
And as usual, it's down to me, is it?

I never said it was you.

I'm surprised, I mean, I've got no
time to type malicious letters, let alone

the inclination.

Oh, well, just for the
record, we'd better

eliminate this machine
from our inquiries.

Well, that's all you've come for, you.

You'd better have a
look at this lot, then, huh?

I hope I haven't called at a bad time.

I wasn't doing anything that can't wait.

It's just that when I saw you at the
church, I wondered if you'd care to

give me a hand with the flowers.

If you had the time.

Well, there's no need to give
an answer now. Think about it.

I will. Thank you.

Thomas wasn't very churchy,
but I used to be a regular.

Is this Mr. Jowett?

Yes.

I gather he was
interested in local politics.

Oh, he gave all that up years ago.

Why was that?

Disillusionment, I suppose.

He voted for the quiet life,
and I wasn't going to argue.

Will you find things
a little too quiet now?

Possibly so.

Though I had another surprise caller,
charming man, called Nigel Wheeler, a

financial advisor.

Yes, I've heard his name mentioned.

He was recommended to come and see
me by Miss Weston, though I don't think I

've ever met her.

Oh.

I've got a lump sum of money,
and he suggests I buy an annuity.

I don't suppose you know anything
about that sort of thing, do you?

Nothing at all, I'm afraid.

I suppose that's why we need
the Nigel Wheelers of this world.

Well, thanks for holding the fort.
Any problems?

No, good as gold, weren't you, Katie?

Yeah, I've been on to the criminal
records office about your friend Wheeler.

You're determined to
paint him black, aren't you?

He used your name to
introduce himself to Mrs. Jowett.

He's pushy, Nick, that's all.
He's a go-getter.

It's what he goes getting that worries me.

Well, what did the records office say?

Well, they've got nothing on a Wheeler.

Well, there you are, then.

Well, who's to say that's his name?

Oh, come on. What more do you need?

A trip to his office in Leeds.

Why?

Well, when I spoke to him on the
phone, they said he'd coached her enough,

but I won't be convinced
until I've been there myself.

All right, Phil?

No. I've got typist elbow.

Hello, Phil.

Hello, Jill.

Hey, get in there, you.

Oh, get in.

I'm serious, you know, about Leeds.

Well, you know where to find me.

Excuse me.

Oh.

Can't be.

Can't be what?

Greengrass's typewriters.

It looks like the same machine
that typed the poison pen letters.

Okay. Yeah, thanks very much.

Is she all right?

Well, she's barely shaken up.
They're keeping her in for observation.

Do you know what happened?

Well, she ran into a Van, apparently.
Lucky by the sound of it.

Poor Maggie. I'll go and see her.

Get her some flowers from us all.
And go easy on the questions, eh?

I've got to see a man about a typewriter.

You're cocking your
leg up the wrong tree.

I mean, whoever
typed them letters,

they were using phrases
I never knew existed.

How do you know?

Because I've had one meself, haven't I?

So where is it?

Why?

I want to see it.

You can't.

This is serious, Claude.

All right, but it's for your eyes only.

Phil.

Here.

And don't laugh.

In broad daylight?

I didn't know the Van was
going to drive off, did I?

So where did you get the typewriter from?

Well, I got them at an auction, didn't I?

The lot, you know. I mean, as far as I
know, most of them came from that Ash

fordly Secretarial School.

Yeah, all right.

Phil.

Which one is it?

Which one?

The guilty machine. Which one?

I've no idea.

You'll be stopping for something.

I'm sorry, he isn't here at the moment.

If you'd like to leave your
name, he'll get back to you.

I'll make sure he gets it. Thank you. Bye.

Fire and safety?

No, we're looking for Nigel Wheeler.

He doesn't see people here.
I'm just a telephone answering service.

So you provide the same
service for other companies?

Yes.
I told him not to give people the address.

There've been two men
looking for him as well.

Really?

I told them.
I don't know where he is, which I don't.

But they said they'd be back.
Scared me, to be honest.

It doesn't actually prove anything.

No, not a thing.

I'm still happy for your father
to sign checks over to this fella.

OK, I'm going to go and see him.

I'm still not sure.

Tell me again what it
is that's worrying you.

Well, it's not one thing.
I'm just not sure, you know.

Surrender the policy now, and you'll
release the money for the scheme that

we discussed.

But if I let the policy mature...
You miss your chance.

In money matters, timing is all.

Seize this opportunity, and I
guarantee you'll have no regrets.

Uncle George?

Can you give us a hand?

Yes, coming.

We'll do this another time.

Jo?

Hello, Dad.

Nick, what are you doing here?

We're just on our way back from Leeds.

Well, you couldn't
have come at a worse

time. I'm just leaving
for a meeting.

Is it important?

It could be.

We were in Leeds looking
for Nigel Wheeler's office.

His office? Why?

Nick doesn't think Wheeler's
all he makes out to be.

Oh?

So we went to check.
We think you should be very cautious, Dad.

We?

Nick and me.

You've discussed my
private affairs with Nick?

Only as regards Wheeler.

Something of a financial
expert, are you, young man?

No, no, of course not.

No, I rather thought not. Perhaps
you should stick to what you know and

allow me to do likewise.

Nick's only trying to help, Dad.

I see.

Quick to leap to his
defence, but happy

enough to make a
fool of me, is that it?

You know it isn't.

We made very general inquiries, Mr. Weston.

Whether your aims were general or
particular, I take a dim view of anyone

interfering in private family matters.

Well, that wasn't my intention.

Now, for Nigel Wheeler, I believe
that keen young professionals like him

should be encouraged, not disparaged.

If that's your opinion, Mr. Wheeler.

It is.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll have to go.

You probably think it's none of my
business, but if Nigel Wheeler used my

name as a reference, then it is in a way.

But if you didn't suggest it, why
did he take it into his head to come?

P.C. Rowan thinks he saw
your husband's obituary.

Oh.

I gather it's a common tactic.

He thought I'd be vulnerable.

Well, yes, I was.

I am.

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interfere.

No, no, no. You were right to come.

All I'm saying is be careful.

Ask your solicitor to look at what
he's selling before you do anything.

Such a charming man.

He reminded me a little
of Thomas years ago.

And you believe Greengrass?

Yes, Sarge.

Because he had a letter himself?

What?

It's an obvious way of
avoiding suspicion, surely.

What was the substance of his letter?

Well, I'm sorry, Sarge. I can't tell you.

What?

Greengrass wouldn't show me, Sarge.

This is a police investigation, Rowan.

I know, but I gave him my word.

Look, I'm sure he has
nothing to do with these letters.

Well, not knowing any of the
details, I'm in no position to judge.

He bought these typewriters
at Ashfordly Auction.

I'm hoping they can help.

You'd best get on with it, then.

And in future, remember,
Rowan, your duty

to share information
with fellow officers

comes before any other obligation.

Yes, Sarge.

Oh, one thing, Sarge.

What's that?

Well, you didn't by any chance
happen to get a letter yourself?

If I had, I'm sure you would
have heard about it by now.

That's what I thought, Sarge.

I can tell you who the buyer
was, but not necessarily the seller.

And why's that?

Well, sometimes they
don't like to broadcast it.

Right, typewriter, batch of them.

Ah, Claude Greengrass.

He bought a lot of other stuff, too.

I'm only interested in the
typewriters at the moment.

Well, he bought of them in two lots.

assorted typewriters from
the Ashfordly Secretarial School

and an Imperial on its own.

This one?

Er... yes.

Do you have the seller's name?

There.

Any use to you?

Yeah, thank you.

Yes?

Weaver Financial Services.

Not here any more.

If you're after money, join the queue.

He hasn't paid me for weeks

and now I've got people threatening
me cos he hasn't paid them.

Rang, I'm finished.

Checking up on me again?

Sorry?

Her solicitor's on the
case now, so you can relax.

I'm going to report you for
messing about in my business!

Constable.

Mrs Jowett, can I have a word, please?

Yes, of course.
I was just showing Mr Gibson out.

Well, it might be a good idea if he stays.

Oh.

Some motor you got here.

Yeah. Look good on the forecourt, eh?

Yeah, fine-looking thing.

Tell you what, of it's yours.

You're kidding me.

Think you got a market for it?

I might have.

Couldn't raise the cash straight away.

Right then, . It's worth nine easy.

Still a lot of money.

Forget it.

I'm sorry, I can't take this in.

Are you accusing me of sending
anonymous letters to people?

All I'm saying is the letters
were typed on a machine

that you recently sold at auction.

But I haven't used it for years.
It was Thomas's typewriter, really.

What about the person
who bought it, Constable?

Well, he's already been eliminated.

When did your husband
last use the typewriter?

It must be two years or more.

He hasn't had the will to
do anything for the past year.

Mr Gibson can testify to that.

Did your husband hold a
grudge against anyone?

There were people he disapproved
of, certainly, but he didn't hold a grudge.

Well?

Thomas felt badly let down

when he was running for
re-election of leader of the council.

He never Rose above deputy
manager at the bank, Constable,

but he dreamed of going
all the way in politics.

I believe he would have
made Parliament eventually.

So what happened?

He was found guilty
of exceeding the

amount allowed for
his election expenses.

He forgot the cost of his postage.

£ .

For that, he was disqualified from office.

Well, who did he blame?

The voters, finally.

He'd worked hard for them.

And after that one slip-up,
they turned their backs on him.

Shunned him like a criminal.
That's how he saw it, anyway.

And did he write them
letters about their slip-ups?

He'd sometimes get angry and write
a letter just to get it off his chest.

But he never sent them.

Well, how do you know?

He'd write a letter and put the
envelope on the mantelpiece,

and after a day or two,
when he'd calmed down,

he'd put it in the drawer with the others.

Have you still got them? Yes.

I haven't been able to face
clearing out his desk yet.

Mrs Jarrett... They're in here somewhere.

I'm sorry, you won't find them there.

Why not?

When I came to see Thomas for the
last time, he told me where they were.

Whatever for?

He instructed me to take them
and post them after his death.

Oh, no! You knew he was ill?

I had no idea what
was in them. I thought

they were probably
letters of thanks.

No, please, no.

I'm so sorry, Mrs Jarrett. So sorry.

Sorry.

Jarrett must have
picked up most of the

details through his
job and by observation.

But how did he know about you?

The man I was having the affair
with was his political opponent.

The one who
lobbied hardest to get

him disqualified as
leader of the council.

Oh.

Thomas Jarrett must have known about us.

And I suppose with his job at the bank,
he'd have known about our finances.

He would have seen
the cheque being paid in.

And then later, when
I wrote another one

for the same amount
to pay for the abortion.

It must have been pretty
evident what was going on.

William must be relieved.

I suppose so.

Sad as well.

I thought I'd come to terms
with what had happened.

Yeah, well... It was the
right thing to do at the time.

But then later,
when I didn't have

children... That's
Joyce Jarrett taking it.

Oh, she's very upset.

You died a bitter man.

There's not much you can do about that.

Mr Mitchell.

Good of you to see
me at such short notice.

Not at all.

Take a seat.

Thank you.

How can I help you?

It's a matter of money, Mr Simms.

Naturally.

Do you have a property in mind?

Number Parkview Road.

Nine?

I see.

Very amusing.

I'm sorry, Mr Mitchell, my
property's not on the market.

No.

But your wife is.

What the hell are you talking about?

- Your wife is safe. - Safe?!

And she'll stay safe, as long
as you do everything I say.

What's going on?

Where is she?

She's at home, with a couple of
colleagues of mine to keep her company.

Do you understand?

What do you want?

£ , .

£ , ?

£ , ?

She's worth that, surely.

How do I know you've got her?

You want to take the risk.

Phone her.

Dead?

Only the phone, Mr Simms.

Now, I want you to
go out there, put the

money in this case,
come back in here,

sit quietly for minutes,
and no-one need get hurt.

Got it.

Police.

Hello, Nick.

Mr Weston.

I'm on my way to see Joel.

- Well, come in. - No, no, he must be busy.

I just wanted to say you were
right, about Nigel Wheeler.

Oh.

A golfing acquaintance referred him
to me, and I rather let my guard down.

Yeah, well... I'm not
often fooled as easily.

Appearance is a deceptive, eh?

Part of your training, I expect.

Anyway, thank you.

I stopped my cheques, so no harm done.

Well, I'm glad you called by.

Sounds like trouble, I'll let you get on.

See you soon, perhaps?

Yeah.

Anything?

I've only just got in. It's all very quiet.

The phone wire's
been cut just... there.

All right, Mr Soot, let's have a look.

Linda!

Linda!

Mr Sims!

Linda!

Linda!

Linda!

Boris, what are you doing here?

Tall, dark hair, -ish, tweed
jacket, grey trousers and glasses.

Yeah.

Ordinary looking, really.

Respectable.

Just another customer.

Is there anything else
you remember about him?

The way he spoke or acted?

Oh, no. Nothing else.

Oh, other than... It was
when I tried to phone Linda.

He reached across and
took the phone off me.

I know it sounds daft, but he smelled.
A perfume.

Like a woman.

Time for a word, Mr Wheeler.

♪ When I die in the name of two prayers ♪

♪ Gonna go to the place that's the best ♪

♪ When I lay me down to die ♪

♪ Going up to the spirit in the sky ♪

♪ Going up to the spirit in the sky ♪

♪ 'Cause where am I gonna go when I die ♪

♪ When I die in the name of two prayers ♪

♪ Gonna go to the place that's the best ♪

Where is he, then?

In the interview room with Al.

What's his story?

Well, he says he got in
too deep with loan sharks.

Scared stiff he was gonna
lose some part of his anatomy.

Well, he'll be safe
enough where he's going.

And it's useful to get this letter
business off our plates as well.

Yes, Sarge.

Means that people
can rest easier, knowing

their misdemeanors
have gone to the grave.

Well, only the ones I'm able to tell.

His solicitor sent two dozen in all.

Two dozen?

Well, there's nothing we can do about that.

No, Sarge.

You didn't get one yourself, then?

No, Sarge.

Just wondered.