12x01 - The Dogleg Murders

[bunniefuu]

Like this?

Like this.

Like this?

Yeah.

That's better.

(SNIFFS)

(PIG SNORTS)

Good boy.

I gave Becky Tunstall
a lesson today, Mum.

I know. I'm so pleased.
She's a lovely girl.

Can I ask her out?
Not yet. Not till I say so.

You and Becky Tunstall,
you make a lovely couple.

Take it out the back, Colin.

Put it away safe and sound.
I haven't finished.

Do as you're told, this minute.

(LAUGHS)

Stop that, Colin! Stop it!

Do you want a good thrashing?
Do you? No, Mum.

Then get on with your chores.

(SNORTS)

This used to be the library,
you know,

till your father ripped
out all the book cases.

Yes, Martin.
I've heard that story more than once.

By the way, I've noticed there's
a loose tile up on the west gable.

Grandad always worried
about that roof.

Well, you can attend to it
when you buy the house.

If you buy the damn house.

I only need a couple more days.

Well, that's all you've got,
before the asking price goes up.

Again.

I'm gonna have to get
all the muck off these beams.

That's going to be job number one.

Bully for you.
Well, I'm off to play golf.

See yourself out.

You know the way, don't you?

I'll see you at the club, Will.

Won't be long now.

No.

I found it in the spare room.
No.

Oh, come on, Tom. It was good fun
when we used to play tennis.

No, it was not.
Rose-tinted spectacles there, Joyce.

I loved that club.
I don't know why we ever left.

Well, apart from the snobbery
and the extortionate fees,

the small matter of me arresting the
treasurer for murdering his mistress.

Details. Details.

We've got to keep active, Tom.

Why?

What about waking?
Muddy boots.

Swimming.
Chlorine. Disgusting.

How about golf?

Oh, you must be joking.

(SIGHS) I give up.

Good. Hey, Joyce, what about
those tennis shorts you used to wear?

Have you still got them?

Good morning, Captain.
Good morning, Captain.

Do you know what the time is, Kemp?

Do you mind? I'm trying to hole out.

Village members should
be off the course by midday.

I reckon your watch must be fast.

It's not even five to yet.
Don't worry, Mr Kingslake,
this is our last hole.

Well, make sure it is.

Ruddy yokels
cluttering up the course.

Oh, come on, Kingslake.
They're only here half a day a week.

Ooh!

I don't like Kemp's manner.

He's a trouble maker.

He gives us a jolly good discount
at that garage of his.

I'd rather pay the full whack

and not have his ugly mug
cluttering up the course.

Well, I prefer Kemp
to that jumped-up beggar Claypole.

God, yes, any day.

Go on, then, Drinkwater.

Rumour has it that Claypole
is angling for full membership.

Over my dead body.

But not chance of it with you three
on the Membership Committee, eh?

You know the form, Jerry.

Can't discuss membership matters
outside the committee room.

They're just a pain
in the ruddy arse.

(SIGHS)

Oh, put the thing out of its misery,
Drinkwater, for pity's sake.

(LAUGHS) Sliced it.

Ha! Plugged in Old Glory! Ha ha!

Damn!

Ali, you really should be quiet
when someone's making his stroke.

Oh, don't be so wet.

A ton says he won't get
out of there in one.

says I will.

OK.

How about three?

I'll tell you what...
let's make it five.

For heaven's sake, you two.

A demi-grand, it is.

Oh, yes.

Route one, chaps.

A ton says I get up and down in two.
Any takers?

Not me, Ali.
Me neither.

You big girls' blouses.

Rebecca!

Rebecca, come here this minute.
And you...

you go back to the pro shop now.

Yes, sir.

What? I pay for you
to have lessons with the pro

and not with the steward's son.

Clyde didn't turn up, so -
I don't care.

You are not to associate with
that boy. Do you understand?

Associate (?)
What do you mean, associate?

You know very well what I mean.

Martin, you have got to do
something about Clyde Patchett.

Come in, Will.

I turn up today and find my daughter
being taught

by that...ghastly Fountain boy.

Actually,
Darren isn't a bad little player.

He's not even the assistant pro.
He's the damned steward's son.

And where is Patchett, anyway?

He'll be in later.
He's got a touch of flu, I think.

The kind you catch from a bottle?

Now, listen, Martin,
you are the captain of this club.

Either you do something
about Patchett, or I will.

Ali, your ball's over here.

What's the matter, Kingslake?
Don't you trust me?

For crying out loud!

Mum says you're late.

All right, but she'll have
to wait till tomorrow.

Hey!

What the hell's going on?

Out in one, Kingslake.
You owe me .

That's impossible.

Are you accusing me of cheating?

He played it out fair and square,
Mr Kingslake.

Oh, yeah?
And what's it got to do with you?

What are you doing on the course
at this time of day, anyway?

Broken sprinkler on the eighth.

Well, in case you hadn't noticed,
this is the th.

So shove off.

Course, you'll give me a chance
to win my money back. Of course.

A grand on Crisp's Folly, then.

A grand, it is.

Are you all right, old chap?
Yeah...

Never better.

Only a grand, Drinkwater.
No pressure.

Let the man, play, Ali.

Oh, nice one, Jer.

Don't count your chickens,
Drinkwater.

Anything can happen
on Crisp's Folly.

Ho ho ho! Yes!

Route one!

Gentlemen, I am on a roll!

Well, where the hell's my ball?

Like you said, Kingslake,
anything can happen on Crisp's Folly.

Must have had a bad bounce, Ali.

No point looking for it, Ali.
Might as well go back to the tee.

I hit it straight down the middle!

Right.

You want some? Right?

Do you?

Because I'm ready if you are.

Kingslake?

How the hell did that get there?

I hope you're not going to say your
ball was on the fairway all the time.

For God's sake, Kingslake,
what are you doing?

(BREATHES SHALLOWLY)

Ali?

(BUSHES RUSTLE)

You idiot.
Are you trying to k*ll me? Sorry.

I've got a bone to pick with you.

Oh, really?
About him.

Giving my daughter lessons
instead of you.

Well, the thing is, I must have
picked up a spot of food poisoning.

Now what?
Something terrible's happened!

(PANTS) Some... Someone...

S-Someone's...

Someone's what, Ed?

Someone has k*lled Ali Kingslake.

Multiple heads wounds, Tom.
Vicious stuff.

Done with that club?

Probably. Won't know for sure
until we've got him on the slab.

Beaten to death with a one iron.
What a way to go.

This hole was famous, you know.

I played it once.
I got a quadruple bogey.

It's known as Crisp's Folly.

Crisp's what?
Folly.

A chap called Crisp lost his house
on a bet playing this hole.

It's got a -degree dogleg,
you see.

You take a driver from the tee,
you end up in the jungle.

With an iron, you may not
get a sh*t at the green.

Well, that's absolutely fascinating,
George,

but I don't speak golf.

Where's Jones got to?

That's where the momentum...
That's where the momentum comes in.

Time for golf, have we?
Ah...sir.

This is Martin Crisp, club captain.

And Will Tunstall, president.

Dreadful business, Chief Inspector.

Rest assured that we at Whiteoaks
will do everything we can

to assist with the investigation.

I think you should know that we've
had problems on this hole before.

Problems?
Vandalism. Loutish behaviour.

You see, there's a public footpath
goes across the fairway.

It's a damned nuisance.

What is that?
Periscope, sir.

So people using the footpath can
check if anyone's on the th tee.

Health and safety is always
a priority at Whiteoaks.

Mr Crisp, is that
the Crisp of Crisp's Folly?

Yes, it was my grandfather,
the black sheep of the family.

As you probably know,
John Cotton is a member here,

so lines of communication
will be first rate.

John Cotton?

Your Chief Superintendent,
Inspector.

Yes... Well, thank you, gentlemen,
That'll be all for now.

We'll talk to you again, of course.

Thank you.

Thanks.

Since when has Johnny Cotton
been Chief Superintendent, eh?

Last week.

You should read your emails.

I can't. The computer's broke.

What's this?

Kingslake's ball, sir.

Is it?

If Kingslake's ball was here,
what was he doing in there?

Hacking it out probably. Mind you,

he'd need a miracle sh*t
to get to here from in there.

So Kingslake disappears
into the undergrowth,

and one of his mates goes looking
for him, yeah?

A man called Drinkwater
found the body.

He says he saw someone
fleeing the scene.

Any description?
No.

Just a flash of someone
in a blue hoodie.

Oh, a hoodie? Ho ho ho.
That's perfect, isn't it?

Local thug attempts robbery.
Respectable citizen resists.

Thug beats respectable citizen
to death with his own clubs.

How convenient is that?

Maybe that's what happened, sir.

Yeah, well,
I'm not holding my breath.

Let's go talk
to some of these golfers.

Well, we were playing the th,
Crisp's Folly,

and Ali creamed it off the tee.
Absolutely mullered it.

But when we got on the fairway, lo
and behold, no sign of Ali's ball.

So Mr Kingslake's ball must have
gone into the...into the...

Rough.
..rough.

Well, on Crisp's Folly, you've
got jungle either side of you.

There's not much point in looking
for it. Might as well reload.

Reload? Go back to the tee
and play a new ball.

But Ali charged off into the trees.

To look for his ball?
Well...yes. Suppose so.

And you went to help him...
Yes, I...

Er...I mean...no.

Which exactly?

Well, no because his ball
was there on the fairway.

But you just said
there was no sign of it.

At first, yes.

But then he... Then he obviously
found it and played out.

So Mr Kingslake's ball reappeared...

but he didn't.

Yes, that's right, so..

Ahem. I... So you went in to see
if he was all right, didn't you?

Yes.

That's right.
I was a little concerned.

There had been incidents
in the past.

Were these incidents
reported to the police?

I'm really not sure.

No idea.

So, Mr Drinkwater, you went in to see
if Mr Kingslake was all right and...?

Yes. There he was.

Just lying there.

I thought maybe he was ill
or something.

Then I saw the blood and the ...

And then I heard a noise
in the wood

and saw this...this chap
running away.

But you can't describe this chap,
Mr Drinkwater.

Not really.
I didn't see his face or anything.

He was wearing one of those...
hooded things.

Bright blue. Ghastly colour.

And until you played the th,

it had been a game
much like any other, had it?

Nothing untoward, nothing unusual.

No. Nothing at all.
All perfectly normal.

I...

Mr Tully?

Nothing.

Ali did have words with some village
members near the th tee. Hm.

Village members.

Residents are allowed to play
mornings on Wednesday mornings.

Thank you. Words? What kind of words?
It was nearly midday.

Ali thought it was time
they were off the course.

Would you mind if we rang for
a refill, Inspector? No, please.

(RINGS BELL)
(KNOCK ON DOOR)

Large ones, please, Mrs Fountain.

Right away, Mr Monkberry.

He was a lovely man,
was Mr Kingslake.

A lovely man.
I'm sure he was, Mrs...

Fountain. Eileen Fountain.

Mrs Fountain's the steward here.

I've been working here years.
We've never had anything like this.

All right, Mrs Fountain. That'll do.

We're gonna have to talk
to these village members.

Mr Kemp and Mr Claypole.

You won't be able to talk
to them here, Inspector. No.

Village members are not allowed
in the club house, sir.

You'll find them in the cooler.

The cooler?

The shed behind the car park, sir,
for the use of village members.

There's something
that lot aren't telling us.

I agree, sir.

Get Forensics to check
their golf clubs, all of 'em.

Yes, sir.

Look, Jones.

There seems to be an as*ault
taking place.

They're brothers, believe it or not.

Are they? Mrs Fountain's boys,
the steward we met.

One's the green keeper,
the other works in the pro shop.

Want to interview them now?

No.
I'll save that pleasure for later.

Where's this cooler?
It's round there.

Alistair Kingslake did a lot for
this club. He'll be sorely missed.

Not by me he won't.
Steady on, Archie.

Inspector Barnaby wants the truth,
not the spin. Indeed, I do.

Well, the truth is,
he was the rudest man I ever met.

When you met him on the course,
gentlemen, what happened?

We was on the th green,

next to the th tee,

It was coming up to midday.

Kingslake reckoned
we should be off the course.

He's forever trying to chuck us off.

Was. He's a stickler for the rules,
that's all.

Quite right, too.

That's what golf's all about.
Sticking to the rules.

Where were you this afternoon?

Giving Becky Tunstall a lesson.

What kind of lesson?
Good question, that.

Careful, Kemp. Or what?
You'll set your big brother on me?

Steady on, lads.
What will Inspector Barnaby think?

What kind of lesson?

Golf, of course.

So you're a professional.
(LAUGHS)

He works the pro shop
three days a week.

And I do some coaching.

Only when Clyde Patchett's
under the weather,

which is most days.

Did you play Crisp's Folly
this morning?

Yeah. About half-ten.

There have been incidents,
have there not,

at Crisp's Folly in the past?

Incidents?

Yeah. Confrontations with the local
hooligans, that sort of thing.

Only incidents on Crisp's Folly
are golfing incidents.

It's a beast of a hole.

Ever get the feeling
you're not wanted?

You're imagining things.

(TOOTS HORN)

(TOOTS HORN)

We need to talk.

Follow me.

quid.

And you didn't hear it from me,
all right?

So Alistair Kingslake
bet Jerry Drinkwater

that he couldn't get out
of this bunker with one stroke?

That's right, and...

And? And what, Mr Tully?

Well, Jerry jumped into the bunker
and the next thing we knew...

his ball was out of the sand
and right on the green.

It was a pretty miraculous sh*t,
to be quite honest.

Ali certainly thought so. They...

There was brief discussion,
shall we say?

Did Mr Kingslake accuse him
of cheating?

Well, it came pretty close,
I can tell you.

Then Colin Fountain popped up

and said he saw Jerry play out
fair and square.

So that was that.

The green keeper?

Yes, he was lurking about.

Anyway, the whole thing seemed
to upset Jerry no end.

Then he bet Ali ã ,
on Crisp's Folly.

What?
ã , ?

Look, a certain amount of gambling
goes on at Whiteoaks.

Always has done.

No doubt Ali Kingslake can afford
to lose a grand here and there,
but I can't.

And Jerry Drinkwater -
can he afford it?

I really couldn't say.

So, Mr Tully...

..we have Kingslake and Drinkwater
playing Crisp's Folly for ã , .

Kingslake clouts his ball
into the wood.

He goes in after it
and suddenly out it pops.

So it would seem.
Another miraculous sh*t.

I suppose so, yes.

Mr Tully, do you think
that Kingslake cheated?

Play the ball as it lies,
play the course as you find it,

and if you can't do either -
Do what is fair.

Exactly. That's the spirit of golf.

And very much the spirit of
Whiteoaks, I'd like to think.

Mr Tully?

You haven't answered my question.

If you really want to know a man,
Inspector, play golf with him.

Ali had a temper, it's true,

and his social skills
may have been lacking,

particularly when dealing with
people he regarded as his,

how shall I put it -
social inferiors -

but he was a man
of complete integrity.

So there.

Right, what have we got?

An argument over a bet.
Yeah.

Drinkwater cheats his way
out of a bunker on the th hole.

They double the bet. Kingslake gets
his own back by cheating on the th.

Drinkwater confronts him
in the wood.

They fight and Drinkwater
beats Kingslake to death.

Then he makes up this story
about someone in a blue track suit.

Both of them cheated.

It seems unlikely.
What?

Golf being the last bastion of fair
play? Something like that, yeah.

Yeah, well... Well, whatever.

Drinkwater's still got a lot
of explaining to do. Hey, look...

we need a map of the golf course.

I need to know where that footpath
goes to in both directions,
where the road is,

and, Jones, could you get hold
of the local news media?

This has got to be worth
an appeal, hasn't it?

You know, someone somewhere must
know something. You know the form.

And those incidents on the th hole
- see if they were ever reported.

Anything else?

Well, if all that's a bit
too much for you, Jones,

you could always call
on the widow yourself.

No, thanks.

Are you familiar with the expression
'golf widow', Inspector?

Er, yes. Well, no.
Erm...I have heard it used.

He played golf every day,
rain or shine.

Then there were
the committee meetings.

And the bar afterwards, of course.

So I'm used to being alone, you see.
I've had lots of practice.

May I ask, your late husband
and Jerry Drinkwater -

were they erm...very good friends?

Well, Ali enjoyed bullying him.

And Jerry put up with it.

Maybe that passes for friendship
in male circles.

What about Miles Tully
and Ed Monkberry?

Actually, he's seen more of those
two in the last couple of months.

The three of them would spend hours
on the putting green,

banging on about some crisis
at the club.

Crisis? What crisis?

How would I know? Golf chatter
was banned in my presence.

(MOBILE PHONE RINGS)

Barnaby.
'Where are you, sir?'

I'm outside Martin Crisp's house.

Chief Superintendent Cotton's
been trying to reach you.

What?
'I gave him your mobile number.'

Oh, thank you, Jones.

'Did you get a map yet?'

Er...not yet, sir.

Well, get on with it.

'Yes, sir.'

(MOBILE RINGS)

Chief Superintendent (!)
(TURNS OFF PHONE)

That was our last summer
at Pellings.

My grandfather had already
lost all his money.

The house went
in the next month or so.

Look at him.

Not a care in the world.

Your father doesn't look too happy,
does he?

No, well, he knew which way
the wind was blowing.

My poor dear father.

Worked himself into an early grave,
paying off the debts.

He saw it as his duty.

Duty. Not a word you hear bandied
about much now, is it?

No, sir, you don't.

My duty, as I see it,
is to reclaim Pellings...

for my children...

and their children.

Reclaim, eh?

Buy it back, Inspector.

Of course...
it's worth a fortune now.

We're nearly there.

With a bit of luck,

we'll be back in the family home
by the end of next month.

Actually, Mr Crisp,
it was gambling at the club

I came here to talk to you about.

Well, it goes on.

I've always tried to impose
some sort of rule,

but there's always
stiff opposition.

The view is that it's a private
matter between members.

If it doesn't impinge
on other members, then...

If Alistair Kingslake was k*lled
because of a bet...

..would that qualify as impinging?

Are you saying...
Jerry Drinkwater k*lled Ali?

Well, sir, I have to consider
all the possibilities.

I've played golf a couple
of times...with Janet Painter.

It's years ago. Do you remember?

No, I don't.

It was quite a good laugh.

We even had a lesson with the pro.

He said I had a natural swing.

A natural what?
Swing.

(LAUGHS)

Wait a minute. Did you say
it's called Whiteoaks?

I did. Well, that's the club
Derek and Janet joined.

It took them ages to get in.

They were as pleased as punch.

They had to eat a -course dinner
as a kind of test.

You know, eat your soup
with your pudding spoon, you're out.

So the Painters are members
of the Whiteoaks club, are they?

Well, they were. It was all Janet
talked about for a while.

Then Derek had some work problems,
I think and they packed it in.

They play badminton now.

(GASPS) Badminton, Tom.

(CHOKES AND COUGHS) No, Joyce!

Yes, I'd say he was hit
six or seven times.

Blows are consistent
with a golf club?

Yes, but...

Yes, but what, George?

All the blows pretty much landed
in the same place.

Good grouping, in fact.
The k*ller had a good eye.

Yes, good hand-eye co-ordination.

(MOBILE RINGS)
It made it damned difficult

separating one wound from another.

But there's one
that's slightly off target.

And the angle's different.

Sir, it's Chief Superintendent
Cotton. Oh, not now.

He's in a...

Maybe that was the first hit.

He was on his feet at the time
and that would explain the angle.

Could be.

But there's something bothering me,
Tom, and I need a bit more time.

There's something bothering me too,
George.

If you'd hit a ball into that wood,

would you have used a one iron
to get out of it?

Now you come to mention it, no.

No, you use a one iron off the tee
or on the fairway.

If at all. There's an old saying:

'If there's lightning about,
hold up a one iron.

'Even God can't hit a one iron.'

What's this?

I'm not sure,
but it wasn't from a golf club.

When he fell maybe.

No, the bruising's too small,
too symmetrical.

A punch...during the struggle.

No, it wasn't a fist.

But whatever it was,
it was sustained before the att*ck.

Right, thank you, George.
Thanks very much.

Anything back from Forensics
about those golf clubs?

Not yet, sir, but I've got a map.

Have you? Excellent.
Stick a few pins in it.

That'll look good.

(MOBILE PHONE RINGS)

Hello?
'Mr Monkberry.'

It's Sergeant Jones.
It's about your statement.

'When would be a good time to meet?'

Oh, erm....

No, I'm a bit erm...

Mr Monkberry, is everything OK?

Oh, yes, yes.

Um... Well, I'm not quite sure
to be honest.

I've just had rather an odd phone
call. What sort of phone call.

Oh, look, it's probably nothing.

Where are you? I can meet you.

I'm in Lovewood's Lane,
near the club.

Lovewood's Lane. Lovewood's Lane.

(HANGS UP PHONE)

What are you doing here?

Did you get a phone call too?

Got it. Yeah, I'll meet you there.

Hello?

(TOOTS HORN)

(TYRES SCREECH)

Idiot!

How many times
do I have to tell you, Darren?

Solids to the left,
liquids to the right.

Sorry, Mum.
Liquids on the right.

And we don't need to hear from you,
thank you very much.

Clyde, dear. How nice to see you.
I bet it is.

Have you got something for me?

And when's Darren's next lesson
with Becky Tunstall?

Ah, well,
we need to talk about that.

What do you mean?
Tunstall's put his foot down.

He's put his foot down. He doesn't
want Darren teaching Becky any more.

But we had an agreement.

Well, what can I do?

Tunstall wants me to teach her.
I am the club pro, you know.

Well...you'll have to pay
the full interest rate, then.

I'll be wanting another ã
a month, starting now, Clyde.

You should get rid
of that silly car, dearie.

Don't you "dearie" me. I will not be
patronised by a jumped-up barmaid.

Don't worry. Old man Tunstall
will change his tune
when I'm a full member.

Darren, when will you learn
to keep your mouth shut?

This goes no further than these
four walls, do you understand?

Darren a member? Are you serious?

Is that what the posh cutlery's
in aid of?

Practising for dinner with
the president? Oh, this is great.

Oh, this is hilarious.

What's so funny about it, eh?
Get off me, you twerp!

Do something, Col! Bash him up!

Good morning.

Is this a bad moment?

No, perfect.

I was just leaving.

You should have told me.

Families, eh, Inspector?

Families, indeed, Mrs Fountain.

Lovely craftsmanship in that.

It was my late husband's.

He was steward at Whiteoaks
before me.

I use it to keep track
of the housekeeping.

You took over that job from him,
did you?

Yes, my husband was cut down
in his prime,

but the club saw fit to keep me on.

It was a godsend
with two small boys to bring up.

What was it you wanted again?

I wanted a word with Colin,
if I may.

Colin? What about?

Oh, it's nothing very much.

Well, he just popped out,
as you saw.

Ah, yes, well, he can't have gone
very far, so I'll take a look.

He might be feeding the pig.
I'll take you.

No, don't you trouble yourself.
Don't worry.

I'll follow my nose.

Oh, he won't say anything.

Of course he won't.

My handsome boy.

Mr Fountain... Colin.

I'd like to talk to you about the
day Alistair Kingslake was k*lled.

(PIG SQUEALS)

Mr Kingslake said that Jerry
Drinkwater cheated on the th hole,
didn't he?

Come on, Colin. You were there.

You told Mr Kingslake
that Jerry Drinkwater

had played out of the bunker
fair and square.

But he didn't, did he?

Did he, Colin?

No.

No. So why did you cover for him?

Mr Kingslake was a rude man.

Oh, so you did it
to annoy Mr Kingslake?

Yeah.

He was extremely annoyed.
It was funny.

I didn't like Mr Kingslake...

but I didn't k*ll him.

No, I don't think you did, Colin.

He's not gonna get her.

I'm sorry,
who's not going to get who?

My brother Darren.

Becky Tunstall
would never go out with him.

Would she?

I'm sorry, Colin.
I can't help you there.

Hello?

Mr Monkberry!

Mr Monkberry?

(BUSHES RUSTLE)

Hey! Hey, you!

Argh!

Look out, man!

Did you see him?

Who?
A man in blue.

A man in blue
fleeing the scene of a crime.

DS Jones, isn't it?

(BREATHLESS) Oh...hello, sir.

What on earth is going on, Sergeant?

Well, there's a dead body...

sir. (PANTS)

Multiple s*ab wounds to the abdomen,
Tom.

And no cuts on his hands or his arms?
No.

No defensive wounds. The att*ck
took him by surprise, then.

No time to defend himself.

Or maybe he wasn't surprised
because he knew his assailant.

What was that he said to you?

He said he'd had an odd phone call.

The k*ller, do you think?

No sign of his mobile, I suppose.

No, no. Just his wallet.

There's no cash or credit cards
in it, though.

So this person in the blue tracksuit
actually exists. Yes, indeed.

Spooky place.

Time was I'd have given my eye teeth
to be a member here.

I'll stick to Causton Municipal,
thank you very much. Me too.

Oh, the Chief Superintendent wants
to talk to us at the clubhouse, sir.

Well, the Chief Superintendent
will have to wait.

I want to look at the th again.

So the k*ller must have known

that Kingslake and his cronies
were on the course.

He waits for them
to get to the th tee,

and when they do, he watches
them through that periscope.

So he knows who's hit which ball?

Exactly. Now, he wants to lure
Kingslake into the woods.

But Kingslake hits a great sh*t
off the tee.

So the k*ller snaffles the ball
and then goes into the woods.

Why would Kingslake
bother looking for it?

The ball could have gone anywhere.
You'd play another one off the tee.

Yeah, that's been bothering me too.

Maybe, Jones, maybe he didn't have
to look for a ball at all.

Do you remember that bruise
on his forehead?

The ball was thrown at him.

Now, from what we know of Mr
Kingslake, there's only one way

he'd react to something like that,
isn't there?

Right.

He grabs a club at random...
Hence the one iron.

..and heads off to confront
whoever chucked his ball.

He gets jumped,
has his club taken off him -

No, not necessarily, Jones.

Not necessarily.

George Bullard is worried about one
of the blows to Kingslake's head.

I don't want to jump the g*n,

but I reckon in a day or two
George will come to us

and tell us that the blow was done
by a different club.

You want some?

Because I'm ready if you are.

The subsequent blows were delivered
by Kingslake's club

in order to disguise
or obscure the first blow.

(SQUELCHING)

Good hand-eye co-ordination,
says George Bullard.

He's a golfer, Jones.

A golfer.
That cheered you up, has it, sir?

Look, I know you think I've got
a prejudice against the golfers.

And I have.

But I've put it to one side
for the moment.

The truth, Jones, is all I'm
interested in, I promise you.

Well, I'm sure that'll please
the Chief Superintendent.

Will you stop worrying
about the Chief Superintendent?

He's waiting for us
back at the club house.

Is he?
Yep. Oh.

Now, of course, we can't be sure

until the pathologist
has completed his final examination.

But it looks likely that Mr Kingslake
was struck by two golf clubs,

one of which might have belonged to,
or been in the possession of,

his assailant.

So this thug was wandering around
with a golf club?

I think Inspector Barnaby
is suggesting

the m*rder*r is a member
of this club. Indeed I am, sir,

because that is a possibility.

A member? Ridiculous.

Drinkwater saw the m*rder*r
running away.

Monkberry was stabbed and had
his cash and credit card stolen.

Sergeant Jones saw the thug in the
blue track suit with his own eyes.

Gentlemen, Inspector Barnaby
will do everything in his power

to make sure that the club and its
members are treated with tact,

and discretion, isn't that right?

Tom?

Yes, yes, tact and discretion.

I think, John,
you might mention the possibility
of opening the front line.

Yes, of course.
I don't see any reason

why the front line hole shouldn't
be open for play from Monday,
do you, Barnaby?

They're well away from the SOCs.

I'll be playing over at Chedgrave
Park for the time being.

I think it's best
if I keep my distance.

I quite understand, John,
and thanks for all your help.

A word, Barnaby.

I would appreciate it, Barnaby,

if you would take my calls now
and then.

Yes, I'm sorry.
You know, it's been a bit...hectic.

Of course.

Of course. Do you play golf, Tom?

Perhaps you'd like to join me
at Chedgrave Park?

No, I do not play golf, John.

I always thought it
a bit unsporting,

you know, hitting a stationary ball.

The more's the pity.
I play, sir.

I want a daily progress report.

I am disappointed in you.
It was worth a try.

Do you play?
Yeah.

(PHONE RINGS)
Jones.

Something's come up, sir.

There isn't a trace of blood

on Drinkwater's clubs
or Tully's and Monkberry's.

But there was an as*ault on Crisp's
Folly a couple of years ago.

A bloke called Derek Painter
was att*cked.

Derek Painter?
Yeah. Here's the interesting thing.

The police were called
by Harry Claypole,

one of the village members.

Who has no recollection
of any incidents on the th hole.

He's here now, in the cooler.

TV: (CROWD CHEERS)

(KNOCK ON DOOR)

TV: 'Sam, now we've seen a
demonstration of the lob wedge,

'could you now show us
a chip and run?'

Morning.

We'd like a word, Mr Claypole.

Alone, if you don't mind.

Watch out, Harry.

Looks like they've caught up
with you at last.

How can I help you, Inspector?

TV: (CROWD CHEERS)

Have another go.
To the left of the hole.

To the left of the hole, Becky.

OK, one more time.

Hello, Colin!

Yeah.

I came across Mr Painter
on Crisp's Folly.

He was up by the periscope
in some distress.

He'd been att*cked. So I got to the
club house and phoned the police.

Did Mr Painter ask you
to phone the police?

No, that was the thing. When I told
him, he got quite shirty.

Said there was no point
wasting their time

when he hadn't got a look at whoever
it was. OK, so the police arrive.

Yeah, they didn't speak to me.
They were only here five minutes.

Had a word with Mr Tunstall
and Mr Painter and left.

Mr Tunstall.
Yeah, he sorted it out.

He was quite annoyed
about me phoning the police as well.

Very concerned about
the club's image, is Mr Tunstall.

Anyway, next time
I stayed well out of it.

Next time?

Er... Oh, nothing.

Mr Claypole.

Well, Jerry Drinkwater was playing
Crisp's Folly last year.

He come out the rough
with a bloody nose.

Said he walked into a tree.

A few months after, Clyde Patchett
was found in a bunker,

doubled up, crying like a baby.

Caught himself in a sensitive
spot with his sand wedge, he said.

Bit odd, though, him being
a professional, and so on.

Were either of the Fountain brothers
around at the times of these events?

You're never far from a Fountain
at Whiteoaks.

The Fountains seem to be an
institution round here, don't they?

Oh, yeah,
the wonderful Mrs Fountain.

The sun shines out of her,
all right.

As long as
there's no money involved.

Now, what can you mean by that?

That woman's so tight,
she squeaks when she walks.

I did some work for her.
Put a new concrete floor

in that damned pigsty of hers.

That was three years ago.
She still owes me half the money.

You should have told us about
the att*ck on Mr Painter before.

Yeah, I know, I know,
but I didn't want to...

Didn't want to cause any trouble
for the club, did you?

Look, there's a captain's committee
meeting day after next.

They're proposing new members.

The captain, Mr Crisp,
he's put me up for full membership.

I'd be the first village member
to become a full member.

Mr Crisp thinks it's about time

things were a bit more...
democratic around here.

Good for him.

He's a good bloke - Mr Crisp.
There's no side to him.

He manages the White Lion Hotel
in Causton, you know.

You'll even find him serving
behind the bar when they're short.

So he understands people like me.
He's got a bit of respect.

Well, Mr Claypole,
I hope you succeed.

They have to vote unanimously,
of course,

but I'm well liked around here.
I'm sure you are.

All I've got to get through then
is the president's dinner.

Bit of an ordeal, is it?

Oh, yes. Curtains
if you pick up the wrong fork.

Like teeing off with your putter,
you're out.

I'd be grateful if you didn't
discuss this membership thing
with anyone.

It's not done to discuss things
in public.

Don't you worry, Mr Claypole. Your
secret is safe with us. Thank you.

We need to talk
to this Derek Painter bloke.

I'll get his details
off the secretary.

No need.
I know how to get hold of him.

Derek Painter was a friend.
He used to be a member here.

But he packed it in rather suddenly.

Now, Jerry Drinkwater.

Never keep a car longer
than three years.

Depreciation's terrible.

Have you got a minute, please?
Er... Er...

Later would be better for me
or tomorrow.

No, now, please, Mr Drinkwater.

(TOOTS HORN)

(DOOR CLOSES)

Are you just moving in,
Mr Drinkwater, or moving out?

Oh. Moving out.
(PHONE RINGS)

Place is getting too small.
Growing family

and so on.
(MACHINE BEEPS)

MRS DRINKWATER ON MACHINE: 'It's me.
I've had enough. We're in Dorset.

'Don't follow us. I mean it, Jerry.

'Don't you dare try to speak to
the children until my solicitor -'

(TURNS OFF MACHINE)

My wife's a bit depressed
at the moment.

It's the move.

Mm. We want to talk about the day
Alistair Kingslake was k*lled.

For God's sake, I've told you
everything. But you haven't, sir.

You didn't tell us about the bet
you had on with Alistair Kingslake.

Bet? What bet?

Mr Drinkwater,
if I suspect from this moment on

that you are telling me something
that is less than the complete truth,

Jones here will handcuff you,
take you to Causton Police station

and charge you with conspiracy
to pervert the course of justice.

Are we clear? Now, look -

Are we clear about that?

OK, all right.

It was a few quid, that's all.

.
If you say so.

And he accused you of cheating,
didn't he? As good as.

The nerve of the man. But you did
cheat, Mr Drinkwater, didn't you?

Now, just you hold your horses.
Just you hold on.

OK, all right.

I told him I'd got out of the bunker
in one.

I'm ashamed to say it was a lie.

I've never done anything like that
before in my life. Never.

But I was sick to death
of Kingslake's bullying,

sick of him bullying me
with his damned money.

So you doubled the bet
on Crisp's Folly.

Yes. A grand.

What an idiot. There was no way
I could pay him if I lost,

but if I won, well...

..the pleasure of taking
a thousand smackers off Kingslake...

That man hated losing, believe me.

So what happened?

His tee sh*t was in the trees.

Gone.

The next thing I knew, there's his
ball in the middle of the fairway.

So you thought he'd cheated.
Yes, it was impossible.

I went after him to tell him
what I thought of him.

There he was...lying there.

Body all twisted.

I didn't k*ll him, I swear
and I didn't k*ll Ed Monkberry.

I know you didn't k*ll Ed Monkberry

because you were visiting
Eileen Fountain, Mr Drinkwater,

at the time, weren't you?

Was I?
Yes, you were.

Until you saw me.

What were you doing there?

Oh, catering committee stuff.
Deadly dull.

(CLICKS HANDCUFFS)

I...

I had an arrangement with Mrs
Fountain, a private arrangement.

(SNAPS HANDCUFFS SHUT)

She was good enough
to lend me a small sum of money...

to tide me over.

I was paying her back.

You were borrowing money
from Eileen Fountain?

Well, I've known Mrs Fountain
for years.

She's been very kind.

It was just to tide me over...
so I could keep on playing golf.

I've lost everything else, you see.

Now that's gone as well, I suppose.

Want to buy some clubs?

We decided it was time
we got more active,

didn't we, Tom?
Yes, we did, absolutely.

We were thinking maybe badminton.

So we came along for a look.
Badminton or golf.

Golf?

Joyce has a natural swing.

Aren't you investigating those
terrible murders at Whiteoaks?

Yes, I am, for my sins.

Funnily enough, we were thinking
of joining Whiteoaks at one point.

Oh, wait a minute.
Aren't you two members?

Erm...not any more.

Don't talk to me about that place.

Oh, what happened?

You don't have to talk about it
if you don't want to.

No, of course you don't.

No, I want to.

Tom might as well know.

I had a problem with gambling.
That's the long and the short of it.

The one thing that kept me
out of trouble was golf.

Until I joined Whiteoaks.

Does gambling go on up there?

Oh, it certainly does.

I was down a couple of grand

with nothing
but change in my pocket.

So I was pointed in the direction
of someone who could help.

Was that someone,
by any chance, Eileen Fountain?

That's right. The steward.

Turns out
she's the club's unofficial banker.

Who pointed you in her direction?

Will Tunstall.
He was the one I owed money to.

I should have listened
to Martin Crisp.

You've probably heard his story.

Losing that lovely house.

Yes, after the membership committee
voted us in,

Martin Crisp took me to one side

and warned me
about the gambling element.

So you borrowed money
from Eileen Fountain

to pay off your gambling debts
to Will Tunstall.

Keeping it in the family,
he called it.

And I fell a couple of weeks behind
with the payments.

One day I find myself in the trees
on Crisp's Folly

and Colin, Eileen Fountain's
great lump of a son,

looms out of nowhere

and roughs me up.
What?

Derek, you should have come to me.

Anyway, we put our heads together
and managed to pay it all off.

So, no more Whiteoaks for us.

Stick to badminton.
That's my advice.

What's it for?
Shut up, we're counting.

We're helping a friend, a very good
friend who will help us in return.

But that's all we've got,
that's everything.

Spread it thin, dad always said.

Shouldn't you be feeding a pig
or something?

She doesn't really like you.

She's just pretending.

She's just winding you up.

Ugh!

Stop it, both of you, this minute!

I decide what's best
for this family.

Darren, get on with your work.
And, you...

get out and don't come back
until you've calmed down.

You aren't going to get her.

Ah, the map.

Very nice.

Monkberry's body was found here,
sir, just off the footpath,

about yards away
from where Kingslake was found.

And the assaults
on Drinkwater and Painter?

Here, sir,
where Kingslake was found.

And Clyde Patchett's alleged groin
injury occurred in this bunker here.

Ah, Crisp's Folly again.

Right, so, Painter
and Drinkwater assaulted here.

Yes, thank you, Jones.
Been there, done that.

What did Miles Tully
have to say for himself?

He said the meetings
at Kingslake's house

were about the membership committee.

They were worried about candidates
that Martin Crisp is putting up
like that Claypole bloke.

(POSH VOICE) Not our sort of chap,
don't you know?

Transpires, Jones,
that Eileen Fountain runs

a very, very lucrative
money-lending operation.

Well, well.

That nice Mrs Fountain.

That nice Mrs Fountain.

Painter borrowed a couple of grand
from her at extortionate rates

to cover his losses
and so did Jerry Drinkwater.

And heaven knows how may others.
Offering loans without a licence.

Consumer Credit Act, .

And Colin found him.
He strong-arms those people

who fall behind with their payments.

Well, that's extortion.
Let's pull 'em in.

No. Let them be for the minute,

while we work out the connection
with those two murders.

Is there a connection?
I mean, Kingslake had money.

He didn't need any loans
and Monkberry wasn't a gambler.

So we could still be looking
for a local bad boy.

There's got to be a connection,
Jones.

Will Tunstall, it was,
who delivered Derek painter

into the delicate clutches
of Eileen Fountain.

So let's go ask him why the
president of Whiteoaks Golf Club

touts for a loan shark?

Yeah.

Have you got the money?

I'll have the money
by the end of the day.

I've heard all that before.

I had the money six months ago
and you put the price up.

Because you took so long about it
and the market went up.

Do you expect me to sell you an
asset at less than the market price?

Dad, that policeman's here.

Well, actually,
this isn't terribly convenient.

It'll only take a minute.

I'm off to the club for a lesson,
dad.

Who with?

Don't get stressed.

It's with Clyde, OK?

Well, I'd better be getting along.
No, no, Mr Crisp.

Stay where you are.
I'd like you to hear this too.

Have you caught the m*rder*r,
Inspector?

No, this concerns Eileen Fountain.

It is alleged that she's been lending
money to members of Whiteoaks.

Well, if Eileen wants to lend people
a few quid here and there,

surely that's her business.

Colin's been using force
to extract repayments.

Now, did either of you
know about this? Certainly not.

Mr Tunstall?
No, of course not.

Mr Crisp, thank you.

I'd like to talk to Mr Tunstall
alone now, please.

Yes, well, I have a committee
meeting to prepare for.

Gambling, Will...

that's what's brought us
to this sorry state.

You and me, both.

Spare me the sermonising, Martin.

And, Martin?
What?

So, you don't know anything
about Mrs Fountain's money lending?

Am I missing something here?

Never mind Mrs Fountain.
Two men have been m*rder*d.

Two damned good friends of mine.

We have a witness who said you did.
He claims you recommended her.

That makes you an accomplice,
Mr Tunstall.

That's outrageous. You wait till my
friend John Cotton hears about this.

I'll be reporting it to the Chief
Superintendent later on today, sir,

so it won't be a very long wait.

Somewhere along the line, someone
got their wires crossed. Perhaps.

Perhaps I didn't fully take on -
Mr Tunstall, thank you very much.

That will be all for the time being.

Get hold of George Bullard.
I want to talk to him right away.

Sir?

Oi!

Ha ha ha!

Sometimes I love this job.

Tom, I've had a bit of a
breakthrough. You know I was worried

about those blows to Kingslake's
head? Two different clubs.

Yes...

That's right.
Do you know what sort yet?

There's something about the injuries
I'm still trying to work out.

If I may humbly suggest, George,

take a look at Monkberry here.

Six s*ab wounds to the right side
of the abdomen. George...

Six s*ab wounds to the right side.

(LAUGHS) Of course.

Oh, damn! Damn!

I don't get it.

The m*rder*r was left-handed.

The first blow to Kingslake's head
was with a left-handed golf club.

Which means the shape
of the indentation was reversed.

That's what confused me.

So we're looking
for a left-handed golfer.

Yeah. There can't be that many
at Whiteoaks.

Well, there is one
that springs to mind.

Oh, and Martin?

Martin Crisp. He's a leftie.

Crisp? Remember that impromptu
lesson you had on the th fairway?

See, we've been looking
at the gambling

and we should have been looking
at a house.

The house Crisp's grandfather
lost in a bet?

Yeah. Pellings. How much is it worth?
Two million? Three million? More?

How does a hotel manager
manage to raise that kind of money?

I don't know, but how does k*lling
Monkberry and Kingslake help?

They were part of the membership
committee along with Tully.

Do you remember the meetings
that the three of them had?

They didn't like the fact
that Crisp was considering
Claypole for membership. So?

I think Martin Crisp had someone
much more controversial lined up.

Someone the three of them
wouldn't vote for in a million years.

So he gets rid of two of them.

That leaves Miles Tully.

And the committee meeting's today.

We'd better find him.
Thank you, George.

My pleasure.

Is er...everything in order...
Mrs Fountain?

Oh, yes, Mr Crisp.
Everything is very much in order.

Just the man.
Martin, you wanted to see me.

Yes, I thought we might play
a couple of holes together.

There's something
I'd like your advice on.

Well, of course. I'd be delighted.

Thank you, Mrs Tully.

We'd better get a move on.

He's gone to the club
to have a drink with Crisp.

So Crisp borrows money wherever
he can. He scrimps, he saves.

Finally, he gets enough money
together to buy Pellings.

But then Tunstall
raises the price...again.

So there he is,
still wanting more cash.

And who does he turn to?
Eileen Fountain.

Eileen Fountain.

But she wants something in return,
doesn't she?

Membership for her beloved Darren.

Becky, wait a minute.
What is it?

I want to talk to you.
It's important.

I'm late for my lesson with Clyde.
Dad will k*ll me if I miss it.

It won't take long.

I want to take you out tonight.

I'll have something to celebrate.

I can't, Darren.

Tomorrow night, then.

Sorry, darling, but no.

You're a sweet boy, Darren.
You really are.

And we have fun.

I'm not going out with you, OK?

I'm gonna be a member, Becky.

What are you talking about?

A full member, here at the club.

The committee's
going to vote me in today.

Even if that's true, which I
doubt very, very much, sweetheart,

it doesn't make any difference.

Why not?

You and me, darling, we're
never gonna be an item, are we,

what, with my dad and everything?

But we can still see each other,
here at the club, can't we?

Now and then.

(MOBILE RINGS)

What is it, Colin? 'Mum wants
to see you in the cooler now.'

(SIGHS)

Miles, I wanted a word about
the committee meeting this evening.

What about it?
Well...

I wanted to talk about
the candidates for membership.

You know we're not supposed
to discuss that,

secret ballot and so on.

Yes, I know, but this is somewhat
of an emergency. I need your help.

If this is about Harry Claypole,

then I'm sorry, Martin,
I can't support him for membership.

This isn't about Claypole.

You can black-ball Claypole
by all means.

I'm talking about Darren Fountain.

Darren?! Darren Fountain?
Are you serious?

Completely.

Everyone on the committee
will approve him.

I hope you will as well.
No way, Martin.

Absolutely no way.

(BALL HITS TREES)

Oh, dear.

I seem to have pulled it
into the rough.

Ah, Darren, let me buy you a drink.
Big day today. Where's Mum?

Well, she isn't here, Sonny Jim.
Come on, what'll it be?

This may be your last chance.

No, thanks, Harry.
I've got a lot on my mind.

You may not see me in here again
after today.

Colin?

Colin, open this door.

(KNOCKING ON WINDOW)
I'll tell Mum.

Colin!

Oh, hello, Becky.

Oh, Clyde.

We're supposed
to be having a lesson.

Sorry. A touch of food poisoning.

Hello, Becky.

I mean, crying out loud, Martin.

Think about it, Darren Fountain
in the bar as a member?

Ordering drinks from his mother?

I'm sorry you see it that way.

I think mine went in over there.

Help me have a look, would you?

I'm not a snob!

Absolutely not a snob!

But a place like Whiteoaks,
it's a delicate balance, isn't it?

I mean, we have to preserve
that balance, don't we?

Otherwise, what's the point of it
being a club in the first place?

We've been friends a long time,
Miles.

This is very important to me.

So I'm asking you as a favour.

No can do, Martin,
for Ed and Ali's sake.

Anyway, what's so important about
Darren Fountain becoming a member?

We'll never find it, Martin.

Might as well reload.

Isn't that it there?

Ahh! Ohh! Oh, please, don't hit me.

I just want my house back.

Let it go! Let it go!

Ahh!

(WHIMPERS)

Still think golf's a boring game,
sir?

(POLICE RADIO IN DISTANCE)

Sir?

Let's have a look.

That's blood, isn't it?
Yep.

Look at this.

(MOBILE RINGS)

Jones.

Uh-huh.

Right, OK.

A commotion up at the club house.
Something about the Fountains.

It's high time
we rounded up the Fountains.

Come on, let's go!

Come on!

Darren. Darren, where's Colin?

How would he know? You don't have
to say anything, Darren.

I saw Colin leave about ten minutes
ago with Becky Tunstall in the car.

Becky?

Mum, he's gone to get the money.
Darren, shut up this minute.

Mrs Fountain,
would be that the money

you were planning
to give to Martin Crisp?

I don't know
what you're talking about.

Where is Mr Crisp?

I hope these shenanigans won't
unduly affect the committee meeting.

Mr Claypole, what was that job
you did for Mrs Fountain?

New floor and drainage
in the pigsty.

And you still owe me quid,
Eileen.

It was a bodge. You're no better
than a cowboy, Harry Claypole.

Mrs Fountain,
why would a woman as careful as you

lavish money on a pigsty, I wonder?

I don't know what you're driving at.

You said Daddy was here.

I've got something for you, Becky.

Colin, you're hurting me.

(PIG SNORTS)

Is it vicious?

No. As long as you don't move.

Colin, you're starting
to freak me out.

Why do you like Darren more than me?

Who said I did?

You do, though, don't you?

You never talk to anyone.

Why should people like you
if you don't talk to them?

You're a bit scary, Colin.

You're scaring me now. I'm going.

Wait.

Look...

God.

It's for you.

Me?

So you'll like me.

No, Colin,
that's not the way it works.

Now let me go.

Wait!

All right, all right.

You're all right now

(SHOUTING)

(PIG GRUNTS)

So all the details were written
in Eileen Fountain's ledger.

Yes, her book-keeping
was impeccable.

And apart from Tully,
Kingslake and Monkberry,

everyone, every single man
on that membership committee,

was in hock to Eileen Fountain.

They would have voted for the pig
if asked.

What about the builder chap?
Claypole?

Martin Crisp introduced him
to test the water,

to see what the reaction would be.

Of course,
Kingslake and co were outraged.

So he knew that Darren Fountain
wouldn't stand a chance.

So Crisp had to eliminate
the opposition. Yeah.

Crisp's office had French windows,
opened on to the golf course.

He kept a little buggy, a little
golf buggy, there all the time.

People were used to him
buzzing around in it.

So he hid the buggy,
got into his track suit,

and waited by the periscope.

Now, he was due to play a round
of golf with Ed Monkberry.

But Monkberry cancelled,
so he had to improvise...

with the Kn*fe.

Do go and get changed, Tom.
They'll be here in a minute.

There's plenty of time. Oh, God.

What?
I forgot my bat.

You mean, your racquet.

Don't worry. Here it is.

Oh, thank you, Joyce.
What would I do without you?

Not a lot. Oh!

Here they are. You two are cruising
for a bruising today.

We're gonna run you ragged.
You'd better get changed, Tom.

We're on in five minutes.
Absolutely.

Ooh.

Are you all right?
Yeah, fine. No.

Oh, I think
I've tweaked my hamstring.

Run it off, that's the thing.
Yes, get on court and run it off.

Right.

You three, you can start without me.
Please.

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