13x01 - The Sword of Guillaume

[bunniefuu]

On a mission, are we?
This town deserves a better mayor.

Hey, Tom.
Hello, Jenny.

Council meeting, Barnaby?

Not like you.
Mr Dalgleish. Lady Matilda!

Lovely day.
I don't think so.

All right, darling.

Ha ha. Ha ha.

What's he doing here?

Have you been opening
your stupid mouth?

That's Hugh Dalgleish down there.

Do you know him?
He called me a peasant once.

Lady Matilda's not much better.

Thinks she owns the whole village.

She does.

Jenny.

Lovely to see you.

Oh, Detective Sergeant Jones,

this is Mrs Jenny Russell,

hotelier and member
of our Chamber of Commerce.

Hello.
Hello.

Hello, people.

Wh-What? Have you spoken to him
about our Right to Roam?

Tell them to stay off my land.
See?

Threatening. We have heard
your complaints, Ms Terry.

Detective Sergeant Jones here
has the matter well in hand.

Thank you, Mary.

Trash.
Er...I heard that.

Good morningm everyone...
Knock it off.

First up today, the Brighton agenda.

Hooray!

Thank you, Harry.

I must emphasise that this Brighton
reunion is not just an excuse

for a junket.

It's also a matter of history
and gratitude.

Rubbish!

During the w*r, when they were
building Spitfires on our doorstep,

it was the good people
of Brighton who said to us,

'Send us your young ones so they be
not bombed by the enemy.'

Hear, hear.
Absolute tosh.

And we celebrated
that union between our towns

until certain incidents had put
a bit of a dampener on the events.

They tried to m*rder us.
That's not true.

Anyway, in a spirit of conciliation,
the Brighton council...

Here we go.

..have offered us the chance
to purchase some inexpensive land
along the coast

in order that we may build
some holiday cabins

for the less fortunate of Causton.

Well said.
Jolly good.

I hope to finalise that deal on our
memorial trip. Not a chance.

All right, Matilda. The people
of that town are barbarians.

They were barbarians when my
ancestors conquered them

and they are barbarians still.

And as head of the Finance Committee
I am refusing to sign anything.

So there. Be done with it.

Ugh!

So much for the Mayor's deal.

Hm.

(SEAGULLS CRY)

(DIAL TONE)

(PHONE RINGS)

Barnaby.

It's John. Oh, John!
Thanks very much for calling back.

I got your e-mail.
What can I do for you?

This land deal that's going down
between the two councils.

I checked it out, it looks kosher.

It's a bit of soggy council land.

'It's only good
for temporary dwellings.

'Why not use it for cabins
for your kiddies?'

Jones.

Our Mayor Hicks wouldn't get
out of bed

unless there was
a profitable fiddle involved.

Which bridle path, Mr Terry?

This isn't personal, is it, Tom?
No. No. No.

This is preventative detection.

OK. I'll er...dig a little deeper.

Right. OK. Thank you, John.
I'll be there in an hour.

Dalgleish and the Terrys again.

Well, you're just the man
to sort it out.

Sir? Giles Shawcross.

Midsomer Parva?

Oh, God, the Reverend Doom And Gloom.

(PHONE RINGS)

Hello, Reverend. What a lovely day.
I hope you're enjoying it.

Hello, Marcia.

Lady Bracknell home, is she?

I believe Matilda's expecting you.

Jolly good.

You be careful.
Don't cr*ck a smile or anything.

Ha ha ha ha.

Ha ha ha!

You really are the devil's work,
aren't you?

Pas devant, old thing, pas devant.

My son hasn't communicated in any
acceptable way for many, many years.

Well, he will now, won't he?

The king is dead.
Long live the king.

Ha ha ha.

And you have a conscript,
a volunteer, for this task?

Absolutely.

All we have to do
is come up with the catalyst.

I'll leave that to you, shall I?

It's wrong.

My God would say it's wrong.

Just as well you own His church,
then.

Even if you can't afford His roof.

It's television, you know.

It's all ugly, violent people
screaming at each other.

Appalling role model,
hence vandalism...

threatening behaviour,
the breakdown of society -

Yes, I'm sure you're absolutely
right, but to matters more pressing?

Oh, sorry.

Once I get going, you know...

Come through.
Thank you.

See. Not very clear.

Do you think
it's one of those hoodie chaps?

That's the wrong sort of hood, Giles.

Oh.

Have you got CCTV inside the church?

No. Matilda didn't want people
spying on her at her devotions.

There have been four of these now,
pinned up out there.

Virtual death threats.
Very unpleasant.

This one regarding Hugh Dalgleish,
the property fellow.

It says he's 'in league
with the devil.' Probably the Mayor.

Really?
It was a joke, Giles.

Oh.

Ah, then there's this one accusing
Lady Matilda and Marcia

of having
a 'vile and unnatural' relationship.

That's a bit of a stretch.

Ridiculous.
Finally last night's letter claiming

that Jenny Russell from the hotel
is 'the whore of Babylon'.

All of them saying
these people will be 'cleansed'

and signed with a cross...

a crucifix.
Or a sword?

Hm?
That could be a sword, couldn't it?

Yes, I suppose it could be. You said
there were four of these letters.

The first one was about me.
I er...threw it away.

I didn't realise
it was the first of a series.

What did it say?
Oh...nothing much.

Just generally abusive
and threatening.

Probably came from the bishop.

So, is there anyone you could,
you know, point the finger at?

Any disturbed Medievalists
in your flock?

No ideas at all.

We were just exercising
our legal right to roam.

You mean, winding him up, as usual.

This has been a public right of way
since Norman times. OK. OK.

Whoa!

It's like that Space Odyssey thing.

# RICHARD STRAUSS:
Thus Spoke Zarathustra

Ah, Bill, you know what?
This is so boring.

I am trying to run a business here.

Bill...

Look, I know where you are

and I know where your little tart
works. Hey, Tom.

Jenny. I am coming to get the pair
of you. Do you understand?

Yeah, you should be worried.
I'm bloody serious.

Ugh!

15 years to build this place up

and then he goes and blows it
all for some little tart.

Yes, I heard... I'll go down there
on this council trip and k*ll them.

That's quite understandable. How long
does sex take up in your life, Tom?

Half an hour a week?
Once a month?

Please may I have a cup of tea?

Very good, Tom. Very good.

The 'Whore of Babylon'?

I might put it on my website.
Could crank up business a bit.

Do you know anyone who has a grudge
against you?

Could be any of the women
round here.

Since Bill left,
their grubby husbands all try

and park their tanks on my lawn.

In fact, I'd be better off if I ran
this place as a knocking shop.

You'd be a wonderful madam.

Freebies for coppers, of course.
Oh, how public spirited.

In meantime, could you have a look
through your little black book,

see if there's anyone you think might
dislike you enough to write this.

Tom.
Are you coming to Brighton with us?

I'm in a bit of a mess.
I need a friend right now.

What sort of mess?
It's personal.

Its not really my area.

(TOOTS HORN)

(TYRES SCREECH)

New boyfriend?

We need to talk.

Ha ha ha!

Hi, Marcia.

You're pushing your luck,
aren't you?

If she doesn't see sense,
the whole town will suffer.

We have Richard with us every day.

She can't just pretend
it didn't happen.

It was a long time ago, for God's -
(g*nsh*t)

Oh, my God.

You've done it this time!
I'm gonna go to the law!

(CACKLES)

Thank you, Mr Dalgleish. Thank you
very much for your co-operation!

No, that's all right,
I'll hold, thank you.

He's put these huge concrete blocks

across a public right of way
and refuses to move them.

Dalgleish bought up the street
the Terrys have their shop in.

He bunged up the rents so much
the Terrys started

to become erm...
how shall I say, less scrupulous

about the stuff they were selling?

I should come on this trip,
keep an eye on them.

No, you should stay at home.
Hold the line.

Officer in charge. Oh, John.

Listen...I would really like
to have a look

at the land in question, please,
and I would also like,

if you can get it for me, a look
at the file on Richard William.

Call it political leverage.
'You know what Mum always said?'

Yes, your mum was right,
I am a total pain in the bum,

but I'm older than you are, John,
and certainly wiser, so hard luck.

'I'll bow to your seniority.
I'll see what I can do.'

Thank you. (LAUGHS)

Yeah.

My cousin.

Hmm. The William family,
they go back forever.

So does ours.

It's just not in a fat book.

So, we're off to Brighton, are we?

Yes, we are.

All rock, candy floss
and fun on the pier. Wahee!

You'll see John.
Yes, yeah, I will.

And Jenny Russell.

I'm sorry?

At the tennis club
the women were talking about

who they'd most like to be stuck
with on a desert island.

Oh.

Most of them went for Kyle,
the organic butcher,

but Jenny Russell chose you.

The organic policeman.

Really?

Oh. Whoo-hoo-hoo!

So you just watch yourself.

(DOORBELL RINGS)

(HAMMERING ON DOOR)
Yes! Yes! I'm coming! Good lord.

(HAMMERING ON DOOR)

I want Matilda arrested.
She just tried to k*ll me.

Shotgun.
Could have took my head off.

A tragic outcome.

Will be if you don't sort her.

Get her to see sense or I'll insist
on doing her for attempted m*rder.

What you have to understand,
Barnaby, is historical context.

I think the only thing that I have -
Marcia.

Would you please stop
that damn noise?

So, William the Conqueror?
What do you know about him?

Erm...1066. Battle of Hastings.

Oh, not just Hastings.

The French had to subjugate
all the people

along the south coast
to cover their rear.

And who do you think was in charge
of the mopping up?

Sir Richard Guillaume.
Well done.

Guillaume, French for William.

My late husband's direct ancestor

and a fine fellow
who's also quite ruthless.

As one has to be with barbarians.
Yes, if I could just um -

His Sword of Guillaume,
as his w*apon became known,

took many Anglo Saxon lives

and came to symbolise everything

that the English hated
about the French. Yes?

Yes, I'm -
So, naturally, when, 20 years ago,

my son, Richard, a direct descendent
of this fine warrior,

appeared in Brighton, scene
of Guillaume's greatest butchery,

the local natives conspired
to att*ck him, leaving him

as you see him now
and ending our family line.

Not white on white Marcia,
for goodness' sake.

Lady Matilda,
can I get this correct, please?

You're saying that your son's
injuries were caused

by a revenge att*ck for something

that happened
almost a thousand years ago?

Absolutely.

Your average Englishman
is a very primeval creature.

Which is why I'm having none

of this 'chummy, chummy,
let's make friends
with the murderers' nonsense.

What you need there
is some Zephirine Droughin.

Er, Lady Matilda?

A random mugging for his watch
and his wallet.

That's what was decided at the time.

Fiddlesticks!
Revenge, Barnaby. Revenge.

The police down there
got it all wrong.

As it happens I, myself,
was never happy

with the conclusions
of the Brighton officers.

It all seemed a bit to pat to me.
Really?

Hm. But, of course,
as a junior officer,

which I was at the time, my opinion
carried but little weight.

I'd love to do some digging for you,

but, of course, if the Brighton trip
doesn't happen...

Are you trying to co-opt me?
Coerce me?

Lady Matilda, do you know

how many firearms regulations
you contravened yesterday?

Goodness, you are.

I think we have allied interests.

The Hicks man?

Have you got him in your sights?

Ahh.

(PLAYS HAUNTING CLASSICAL PIANO)

(CHURCH BELL RINGS)

All right?

Matilda.

So glad you saw the light.

Hello, the Terrys.

All set?
Yeah. Thanks for setting it up.

Yeah. Thanks comes with 50%
of the profits.

Sorry. Forgot my cassock.

If you could just give me a hand.

Whoopsie daisy.

You'll catch a chill.
Morning, Dave.

Careful.

You're not on the list.

Police liaison.

All set?

Sweet as. You hardly need come.

Always stand near my money.

And, Dave,
if it goes wrong this time,

it won't just be your wife
that gets shafted.

She didn't like you, you know.

My wife.
I should hope not.

I'd hate to have slept
with a total nutter.

Righty-ho.
Lovely to see you all here.

We'll be taking a short comfort
break in Crawley,

in deference
to the pensioners' prostates,

and then it's on to Brighton
for shopping and sight-seeing,

followed by tea and mayoral
reception at the Pavilion.

Now, remember, we are all
ambassadors for Causton and I know -

Oh, do be quiet,
you tedious little man.

Driver, drive.

I've always had a bit of a thing
about Brighton.

It sort of says...

well...something to everyone.

Oh, yes.

When I was a boy,
I went on the ghost train.

Ahh. Learnt all about the fear
of God then, I can tell you.

Oh, well,
we'll give that a go then, eh?

Hey, fancy a bit of fun
among the spooks, eh?

Have you ever been really terrified?

Not until now, Giles.

What you got there?

A couple of years ago,

the guvnor suspected Mayor Hicks
of a dodgy property deal.

So he's kept this file on him.

Complaints mainly.

Wants me to search
for 'anything interesting.'

He's obsessed.

No, just sick
of petty corruption downtown.

And obsessed.
Want me to help?

Not really gonna att*ck your husband,
are you, Jen?

Nah. Just gonna give him an earful.

Everything all right your end?
Yes. Fine. What's the matter?

There's this bloke who's decided
to join us. I mean, nothing serious.

'I just don't want complications.
Thought you might be able
to get him out the way.'

Right-ho, everyone, how about
a nice bracing stroll on the pier,

along the front, or a bit
of shopping in the Lanes?

Remember...
I'll just get my coat.

..on the coach by twelve o'clock for
the short ride to the reception.

Yes, lovely, innit?

Hmm, yeah. Bit blustery,
but er we don't mind that, do we?

Fun pier, I think. Ha ha ha!

You don't have to strangle me.
Oh, sorry, madam.

John.
Tom.

How are you doing?
Hey, you're looking well.

Had a call from our Lady Mayoress,
asking if I'll show you the sights.

How convenient.

Hop in.
Thank you, thank you.

And remember, he's an old man.
So, er...take it easy.

Don't worry.

Yeah, well done, girl.
Your bloke just took him off.

Got to keep the balls
in the air a bit longer,

then once the deal goes through,

I thought we might pop down to my
Spanish place to celebrate. Ha ha!

What number?
Number three. Here we are.

Mr Wakely?
Yes.

Your daughter asked us to drop by.
Who?

Your daughter. Madam Mayor.

She sent us.

She's the Mayor, you know.

She said you had some things
you'd like to show us.

Have I?

May we come in?

Would you like to come in?

Well, its lovely. Why is it so cheap?

It floods.
The sea comes in down there.

Local conservationists want to
abandon the sea defences altogether,

so that the whole place goes under
and becomes a wild life reserve.

So where they gonna build
these holiday chalets, then?

Along the high side, I guess.

Couldn't put any solid buildings
there, they'd sink.

Mm-hm.

I can't see his angle myself.

Is he up for re-election? Maybe
it's just a vote-catching exercise?

Or maybe it isn't.

Oh, I got you
the Richard William file. Good man.

That ruined pier.

Says a thousand things.

Like what?

Well, the futility of man's efforts

at self aggrandizement,
moral decline,

It says the pier burnt down.

Good God,
no wonder the church is empty.

Now, go and find Marcia
and tell her I want a cup of tea.

This is the best one.

Basket hilted broadsword.

With a crest
and two scabbard mounts.

(MOUTHS)

And an infantry officer's
battle dress sword.

Made by Prosser of Charing Cross
in 1803.

Probably saw Waterloo.

Hm, I bet it did.

What was it Christine wanted me
to do?

She wanted us to have them
officially valued for you. For free.

Good idea.

Can never be too careful.
Dead right.

Tea.

Excuse me. Lady Matilda
would like a cup of tea.

It's just so sad.

So...let's cheer him up.

Erm...I have to get Matilda
a cup of tea.

I.... I wonder if you wouldn't mind
keeping an eye on Richard for me?

Of course.
No problem.

Hello, Dicky boy.

One latte and one cappuccino,
then, please.

One tea, please.

There we are.

This file's been altered
after the initial interviews.

How do you work that out?
Well, these two pages, look.

See?
Different typeface?

Different typewriters.

This page has been retyped.

It's a bit of a leap.

The SIR on this case -
DCI Jim Harper.

I'd love to have a look at
his daybooks, written diaries.

He's retired. He's gone off
to the Costa del Coppers.

Has he? Could you give him a ring?

Gran said
you were a bit of a terrier.

Drink your tea.

Dear God.

'Thank you, Marcia'
would have been nice.

Do you have faith, Mr Hicks?

Yeah. In myself.

That's interesting, you see -
Giles, I'm busy.

Yes, Dave.

Oh, yes, of course. Busy.

Everyone's busy these days.

Fun fair for me, then.

Yes...something real.

Just one more, George.

Marcia!

Marcia! Quick come here,
it's Richard. Quick!

What?
I don't know what the matter is.

Ha ha ha!

Ugh!
Richard.

Richard.

Stop. What's happened here?

Better get him another nappy.

You are despicable man.

What?
Truly despicable.

Ugh!
It's all right, Richard.

It'll be fine. It's all right.
Bye-bye!

Let's go do the ghost train, then.

I don't want
to go anywhere with you.

I don't like you.

Nobody does, darling.

That's the joy of being me.

I'll go frighten
the ghosts on my own, then.

Didn't Hicks's cowboys
screw up the guv's roof repairs?

Yeah. So?

Well, maybe that's what's driving
his tram on this one. No.

This is him doing his moral bit.

Oh.
Revenge is just a by-product.

Agh!

(SCREAMING)

Right, everybody off. That's it.
This way George.

Weather's looking up, Matilda.

So, if you'd like to er...
Right.

Everyone er... Everyone down.
That's... That's about all of us.

That's it.

Mr Mayor, what a pleasure.

Madam Mayor, it's my pleasure.

Allow me to introduce you
to the members of our council.

Welcome to Brighton.
And Chamber of Commerce.

Christine will be chairing
the proceedings.

Giles, how was the ghost train?

Oh, as always.

Dark, godless
and reassuringly hellish.

That's our local optimist.

Hey.
Jenny!

What have you done
with Hugh Dalgleish?

He's nothing to do with me.

I'm going shopping?
Do you want to come buy a hat.

What about the reception?
Ugh! Too boring.

And I have another agenda,
do you remember?

Hey, Jenny! Don't do anything silly.

That's Jenny.

She runs a very nice hotel.

She...she's going through
a bad patch, you know.

Private life.

I do like making my own
arrangements, but the choir is...

Bells, gas-masks.

For instance, this is an pretty
extraordinary bit of... Really?

Oh, our eyes were popping out
like st*lks.

Over here, please!
Look this way!

I hope it works out.
Could you all just...? Over here.

We should go.

Your boy certainly
looks shifty enough.

And your girl? She all right?

Very nice. Popular too.

Silence. Silence, please.

Your host,
Her Worship, the Mayor of Brighton.

Thank you, Mr Mayor.

I won't keep you all long.

I just wanted to draw your attention
to the programme of events

and to say how delighted we are
to revive the tradition

of the Causton Brighton reunion

and to see so many
of the youngsters here today.

Come along. Hotel.

I'm also very happy to welcome
the Causton Chamber of Commerce

to our city and hope
that the contacts

and friends they make here
will result in further social

and economic exchanges
between our two communities.

So you all have a splendid time

and for those of you
who enjoy a good laugh,

we have our annual comedy festival
at various venues...

I'm sorry, ladies and gentlemen.

Is Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby
here?

We've had to close the pier.

In this town that's sacrilege.
It's a right bloody mess.

And he's not looking
too chipper either.

He's certainly somewhat diminished.

Is this one of your lot?

Yeah. That is...

was...Hugh Dalgleish.

That's his weekend right down
the Swanee.

So, er...starting with the obvious.
Did this Dalgleish have any enemies?

God, John.

He had only enemies.

So he won't be missed?
Hmm.

No.
There'll be dancing in the streets.

Log it as a shaving accident, then?

This has to be contained. This could
screw up a good deal for our town.

Hicks, was Hugh Dalgleish
involved in your deal?

Oh, come on. As if.
This was legit council business.

Then why was he here?
Bit of a jolly, I suppose.

Him and Jenny Russell.

Really?

Not disappointed, are you?

Pathology's initial says it looks

like a clean swipe
with a very sharp blade.

I'm rounding up
all our local Samurai nutters.

Did you bring any crazies with you?
Only the usual.

Where would you go
to buy a hat round here?

Yes. It's lovely, madam,
really suits you.

Jenny.
Ah, Tom. What do you think?

My Fair Lady or what?

Jenny, could I have a word, please?
Hmm, too tarty?

Jenny...sit you down.

This is Detective Chief Inspector
John Barnaby from Brighton CID.

He's my cousin.

Oh, goodness me, keeping it in
the family! Nice to meet you, John.

So, what is it?

Hugh Dalgleish...has been k*lled.

m*rder*d.

On the pier.

Well...that's terrible.

What was your relationship
with Mr Dalgleish?

I knew him.
Nothing more?

Jenny?

No.

Well, not for a long time.

Hang about.

I thought you'd be here! I knew if
I waited long enough you'd turn up!

What you doing? You've ruined
my business and my life!

As for you, find a man of your own.

Could you not tell he was married?

Jen!

Come back.

Anyone you knew?

There you are, sir.
Ah, yes. Thank you.

Enjoy your meal.

Very nice, sarge.

Well, he's off having a jolly.
Why shouldn't we have some fun?

The beauty of the mobile phone.

Take the office with you. Cheers!

Cheers!

(MOBILE PHONE RINGS)

I don't believe...

Sir?

Where the hell are you?

They said you'd gone out to lunch,
for God's sake.

Just popped out for a sarnie, sir.
'I can hear ducks.'

Oh, no, no.
'Jones, I've got a m*rder here.'

Hugh Dalgleish... Decapitated.

'Do I have your full attention now?'

Oh, right.
'The Terrys...'

See if they got back. They have
disappeared from down here.

Then go and talk to Perkins at the
bank. And take no nonsense from him.

I want to know all
about Dalgleish's finances,

especially any dealings he may have
had with Dave Hicks

and/or Jenny Russell.

Someone m*rder*d Hugh Dalgleish.

One lunch!

Si, er...Jim Harper.
Er policia Inglesa.

Um...policia Brighton
er Ingleterra...

What?

Why didn't you tell me
you spoke English?

Yes, that's very funny.

OK, listen to me.

You tell Jim Harper to call me,
DCI John Barnaby, ASAP...

Have you got a pen?

I'm sorry, detective,
but my hands are tied.

It's the basic principle
of the 1998 act, I'm afraid.

Data must not be disclosed
to other parties

without the consent of
the individual whom it is about.

Neither Mr Hicks nor Mr Dalgleish
have informed me of such consent.

Not that Mr. Dalgleish is likely to
be so doing under the circumstances.

Why do you bother, Mr Perkins?

I'm sorry?

This ridiculous run around every
time we come to you for information.

As I just stated, the act says -

The act says in clear and massive
print under Exceptions; Section 29:

'Data processed for the prevention
or detection of crime,

'the apprehension or prosecution
of offenders,

'or the assessment or collection
of taxes

'are exempt from the first
data protection principle.'

You know it by heart.

Yeah, and a lot of other
basic statutes as well.

It saves time when dealing

with recalcitrant or obstructive
lawyers, accountants, bank managers.

The law, Mr Perkins,
is like The Bible.

You can always find one quote
to contradict another.

You really shouldn't talk to me
like that.

I haven't had any lunch.

(SEAGULLS CRY)

I was going to have
the service here.

I suppose I'm superfluous now.

Hugh Dalgleish -
Look there, see.

'1069. The original chapel
on this site

was built by Richard de Guillaume',

umpteenth great grandfather
of our poor Richard.

Did Dalgleish ever visit your church?

Only recently. To talk to Matilda.

What about?

I don't know. She was always on the
look out for cash for the church.

You see, the original Norman chapel
was burnt down by the locals.

They hated the Normans.

Especially the Guillaume family.

It's all cyclical.
Goes around comes around.

(MOBILE PHONE RINGS)
Goes round comes around.

No-one learns. No-one cares.

Jones?
Perkins the bank

said Dalgleish had a mortgage on
Jenny Russell's hotel.

She was into him
for some serious money.

What about Dalgleish and Hicks?

He says certain business accounts
can only be accessed

through head office.
'Well, that's nonsense.' I know.

Well, I need the information.
Think laterally.

Yes, sir.
'What about the Terrys?'

Yeah, they're back home.

Well, I need to know who they met,

why they took off so quick
and what was in their holdall.

Will do.

Do you know anyone at the bank?

Yes.

Good.

Mm!

Tom?

I left a message for Harper in a bar
in Fuengirola.

Look over there.

That Richard William?

20 years on, yeah.

Poor lad.

Relationship?

I do not have 'relationships' with
the likes of Hugh Dalgleish.

But lately, Lady Matilda, you have
been talking to him, haven't you?

And that, quite frequently.

From whom have you heard this
gossip?

A source.

As Giles well knows,

my church is in serious need of
expensive repairs.

Dalgleish had money. I was trying
to extract some from him.

I could not stand the man.
Any particular reason for that?

Apart from the fact that he was the
most ghastly parvenu,

he tried to have me removed from the
council. My own council!

He didn't? Why did he do that?

I got wind of a dubious scheme
he was planning with that Hicks
creature.

What was the scheme?

Er, Lady Matilda, this is Detective
Chief Inspector John Barnaby,
from Brighton CID.

He's the senior investigating
officer in this case.

Oh. Are you all called Barnaby in
the police?

Well, it makes life easier.

Well, I hope you people are more
competent these days.

We do our best.

Hicks and Dalgleish had acquired
some land.

They were trying to push a change of
use through the council

so that they could develop it.
And you stopped them?

I told Hicks that Dalgleish was
sleeping with his wife.

Everyone else knew.

I thought it was most unfair he
should be left in the dark.

It led to a falling out between
them,

a collapse of their scheme

and of course the end of the Hicks
marriage.

Oh, right.
Now, don't be censorious, Tom.

That land is still home to the
bluebell and the buttercup.

Not the hideous executive home.

(SIGHS) Talk about dinosaur.

We have one in every village, John.
They deter social change.

That one would deter evolution.
Hey, John. What?

That is it! What?

The deal, the scam.
She just said it.

The little...
He's trying it on again!

You know that change of use?
But that's flood plain.
You can't build on it.

Could we have a little chat with
your Madam Mayor?

We do have a m*rder on!

I know we do and we're looking for
motives, aren't we?

Not just riding your mayor?
No, no, no, no, no.

But everything is linked, John.
All rivers flow down to the sea.

Is that a fact?
Oh, yes.

Let me lead, OK?
Oh, yeah. Your town.

Glad you noticed.
(LAUGHS) Good to be here, John!

We don't seem to have much luck with
our Causton relationship.

Is there anything I can do to help,
Chief Inspector?

Mayor Hicks.
What do you know about him?

Well, seems like a man who gets
things done.

A bit um, a bit 'fly',
would you say?

I'm not sure what you mean by that?

Mayor Hicks has a bit of a name for
um, putting together deals.

Yes? Yeah.

Deals which will benefit Mayor Hicks
slightly more than they would benefit
the community at large.

Well, he has no criminal record.
I did check.

Why did you do that?

Why did you do that?
Common business practice.

I wouldn't want the council to get
involved in something

that wasn't totally above board.
Whose idea... Sorry, John.

Whose idea was the land deal
between the two councils?

I don't recall.

I met Mr Hicks at a local government
symposium.

I rather think he floated the idea

and I looked at what we had on our
books

that would accommodate his plans
for the holiday cabins.

I came up with the Wandin Valley.

And now, if you'll excuse me,
I am very busy.

Oh. Right. Of course.

Thank you so much for your valuable
time, Ms Wakely.

Always a pleasure.
Not at all.

(GULL CRIES)

I know what you're thinking.
I doubt it.

You're thinking I'm a great big wuss

and can't stand up to women in
authority.

No, I'm not. I'm sure there's a good
reason for your sycophancy.

And there it is.

Oh look, there's your little chum
too.

It's a northern thing.
Know how to operate a ferret. A-ha!

Looks like they're having a bit of
a falling out.

Which means she either doesn't know
what she's let herself in for

or she's balling him out for bringing
us down on her.

Either way, she's too smart to go
down with that sorry spiv.

I'll give her a nudge tomorrow.
When she's had time to sweat a bit.

(DISTANT SOUNDS FROM PIER)

(SOUNDS OF AMUSEMENTS)

(KNOCK ON DOOR)

Who is it?

(Tom Barnaby.)

Oh, well, I knew you fancied him!
What do you want?

I don't want you going with anyone
else, that's for sure.

Oh, but it's all right for you to
screw around is it?

Look, when you went bananas out
there today,

something in me kind of woke up.

'That is my girl,' I thought.

'What am I doing, Bill?'

So?

I've left her.
I've told her it's all over.

I wanna come home with you.

Just like that? Why not?

What do you say?

(POURING RAIN AND THUNDER)

A sign...
Is that so much to ask for?

A token of your existence.

An acknowledgement of mine.

Hm... No, of course not.

Because you don't exist, do you?

You're just not there.

Not for me, not for anyone.

We invented you.
You only live through us!

We are your witness!

Do you hear me?

You're a figment of our imagination,
our need.

You didn't create us.
We created YOU!

(THUNDER)

All aboard! We're leaving now.

Last one on's a sissy.

Hi, Giles.

You smell like a brewer's mare!

Are you all right?
Just a little... For my nerves.

Well, sit by a window. Hm.

John. I found Harper.

He faxed me his handwritten notes
taken at the time.

You'll find what you're after.
Thank you!

Chocks away!

Wait for us!

Wait for us!

Good morning. I'm sorry I'm late.
This is my husband, Bill,

who has decided he no longer wants
to live with his tart,

but would like to come home
and live with his wife.

So what do we think about that?
Lovely, eh?

No, I didn't think so either.

And if I ever see you in Causton
again, I will chop your bits off!

Rightio, ding ding, let's go!

Feeling better?

What are you doing?
Removing an illegal obstruction.

It's not like Dalgleish is going
to object.

That's not a very smart thing to
say. The man...was a pest.

He deserved to be culled.

Why did you leave Brighton before
being questioned? We were busy.

Shop to run back here.
So why go in the first place?

Business. What business?
OUR business.

How did you get back?
Hitched a ride on a passing camel.

You aren't helping yourselves.

And nor were you when Dalgleish was
ruining our lives.

Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby
would like to know

what you had in the holdall
you were carrying to Brighton.

Rhubarb.

Long sticks of rhubarb.

Listen, messing me around is a
mistake you will regret.

Is that a thr*at?
No, it's a statement of fact.

What did you say?

Get onto our favourite magistrate.
Search warrant. Six uniforms.

Big blokes, big boots.

I'm sick of this!

On the double yellows, then. Looks
like its been here a couple of days.

Ready to go, sir.
And they are at home.

Hang on a minute. Slow down.

They're not going anywhere just yet.
George?

Brighton Forensics phoned.

The cutting edge of the m*rder
w*apon left traces of ferrous oxide

on the neck wound, which would
suggest some kind of antique blade.

And what do you make of that?
Well, absolutely no idea!

Well, that's very useful, isn't it?

Well, actually, it IS useful!
Thank you, George!

Right, let's go!

Take this building.
Check out his van.

Help the others when you're done.
Yes. With me.

You two, those buildings we passed.

You two, everything else.
Turn it over, boys!

Down here. Come on. Quick.
Round the back.

What's all this about?
Morning. May we come in?

Thank you.

You cannot do this!

Lucy, this is a m*rder
investigation.

You'd be surprised what we can do.

Guv? Yeah.

POLICE RADIO:
'94, 94 August Road.'

Jones? Yes, sir.

Whoo!

Oh, this is the bag they had in
Brighton.

What's that?
Deliberately blunted.

Probably just ceremonial.
Certainly not a m*rder w*apon.

But of course, we don't know that
for sure.

So please explain how you come to be
in possession of a m*rder w*apon.

That can't be.

Really!

Looks like it.
They're antique swords.

We're antique dealers.
So why hide them?

They were stored, not hidden!

Where did you get them?
Off a bloke.

Let's spell this out very clearly.

You've been bugging me for months
about Dalgleish.

You were in the vicinity at the time
of the m*rder.

You're in possession of a possible
m*rder w*apon.

Why did you hide the swords?

They were procured...differently.

Come on. Spit it out.

An old man owned them.
So you robbed him?

No.
Dave Hicks.

Dave Hicks?

It's always Dave Hicks.
Dave Hicks what?

He put us on to 'em.

They belonged to that woman mayor's
dad.

But please, go on!

Dave had been round to the house
for meetings with that Mrs Mayor,

off-limit meetings.

Clocked the swords, saw that the old
bloke was a little bit doolally,

reckoned if we nipped in there, we
could maybe persuade him

to sell the swords cheaply.

Then we'd bung Dave a percentage of
any profits on resale.

Thank you.

Right, let's go through that again,
shall we?

A little gem indeed, John. Thought
it might help you with your nudge.

'It certainly will! Cheers!'

Stephens, what...

I got onto my friend Sarah at the
bank. We do pilates together.

She accessed those accounts the
manager was being a bit slow on.

A policewoman who can circumvent
the law. Well done, you!

Well, now, there's a surprise!
Or not.

Chief Inspector, I really don't know
what you're talking about.

Council agenda for next month.

Upcoming business - traffic,
housing, blah blah blah.

Then, right down here in other
business,

probably come up when everyone's
tired and just wants to go home,

a proposal to reinforce sea defences
in the Wandin Valley.

Proposer,
oh look, her Worship the Mayor!

So?

So, if you repair the sea defences,

that land will no longer be
flood-prone.

Correct.

Making the land rocket in value.
But we won't own it.

No, but your friend Hicks will.

I don't see or like where
you're going with this.
I think you should leave now.

You held meetings with Mr Hicks at
your father's house. Is that usual?

It was convenient.

And Hicks took a shine to your Dad's
antique swords. Remember that?

Your poor old dad was robbed
yesterday.

A couple of Hicks' mates lifted his
swords.

Apparently Hicks put them up to it.

Now there's a thing.

How can I help you, Chief Inspector?

£100,000?

Where did you get this?
Hugh Dalgleish gave you £100,000

two weeks before he d*ed.

It was a loan to the council.
Private finance initiative.

To help pay for the Brighton land.

No, it wasn't, Mayor Hicks!

It was used for bungs

to vote for a scheme to reinforce
the sea defences on your land!

And now poor Mr Dalgleish is dead,

he won't be asking for it back,
will he?

And that, sir, to me,
spells motive for m*rder.

You're crazy.

I'll get back to you, sir.

And may I suggest, Mr Mayor,

you call your lawyer?

Christine? Dave!

'Barnaby's all over the place.
You gotta k*ll the trail.

Wipe everything. Dump the hard
drive. Talk to your iffy mates.'

Tell 'em to keep schtum,

otherwise I'll tell the whole world
I bribed 'em.

I go down, they come with me.

Where does that leave ME?

Same as always. Good, honest citizen

helping the police whenever she can.

He wanted to take me to Marbella.

He's all class (!)

Say night-night to the family.

Grandpa William,
Great Grandpa William,

William of Normandy.

Night-night!

Up the stairs to Bedfordshire.

William the Whig, William of Parva.

William of everywhere
and everything.

Ha ha! You are cheeky.
Night-night, John. Good night, Sue.

GILES: Yes. Yes.
Watch how you go.

GILES: Yes.
What's up with him?

Yes, I am very sorry.

I know you can't forgive me, but...

Yes... I will.

Yes... I will.

Good night.

(DISTANT HIGH-SPIRITED VOICES
OF REVELLERS)

(HUMS HAPPILY)

So, how was your cousin?

John?
Oh, very good.

Right stuff.

And?
And what?

And how was Jenny Russell?

Oh...

Oh, not too good.

Things haven't been going um,
too well for her.

Well, isn't she lucky to have
friends who are so supportive?

Yes. Yes, she is.

Yes.

Joyce?

(UNLOCKS DOOR)

(ELONGATED WAIL)

(PANIC-STRICKEN SCREAM)

Wanna move it back, John?

Probably the same m*rder w*apon.
Definitely the same MO.

Easy does it, Terry.

OK, Bill, let's hear it again.

This time, try a story we might find
vaguely credible.

I just dropped by to pick up a few
things that were jointly owned.

Oh, yeah?
Like her jewellery? And cash?

I don't know how they got there.

Up.

Open and shut, is it?
I don't think so.

OK, mind your head.

Can you imagine the pain of
crucifixion?

Hours and hours of agony.

Days - Giles?

I'm sorry.

I just find it all too...

The anonymous letters. You said
the first one was addressed to YOU,

but you threw it away. Yes.

What did it say?

And please don't tell me you can't
remember,

because I still won't believe you.

It suggested...I was gay.

I'm not.

I'm not anything.

Some people are sexual creatures,

some people aren't.

I have neither reaped
nor have I sown.

How long have you known
Richard William?

I've been the unhappy rector of this
parish for two years.

That doesn't answer my question,
does it? What do you mean?

Was it pure coincidence that
you came here as rector

or were you driven here by your
sense of guilt?

I was drawn here by God.

You, sir, took your degree
in theology at Oxford.

You were a contemporary of
Richard William at Oxford.

Was I? Maybe.

And you fell in love with him there,
didn't you?

Love? What is love?

Is God love?

And the att*ck on Richard
in Brighton 20 ago?

I've got the investigating officer's
notes on that.

When Lady Matilda was Mayor of
Causton,

she took Richard along with her
as her escort on a Brighton trip.

And you secretly met up with him
there. Didn't you?

Yes.

But you had a...falling out.

You argued. Am I right?

Richard!

Richard.

He...

..fell.

And the police thought it was
a gay-bashing.

But Lady Matilda wouldn't have that,
no such slur on her family name,

so she bullied a Brighton police
officer into falsifying his findings.

Did she indeed? Hm.

What were you fighting about?

Richard said he'd fallen in love
with someone else.

Who?

He didn't say.
(PHONE RINGS)

Write it all down, Giles.

Everything. The truth this time.

Barnaby. 'It's me.' Ah, John.

'I've got the tape. You up for it?'
Oh, yes. Well done you!

I'll do the paperwork and I'll see
you there. 'Take me about an hour.'

(CRUMBLING DEBRIS)

So what now?

Yes.

Yes, of course.

John!

Jones, this is DCI John Barnaby,
Brighton CID.

He's my cousin.
Heard a lot about you, sir.

I bet.

What now? I'm getting sick of this!

David Hicks, we've come to arrest
you.

Arrest? What for?
Bribing a council official.

What?

Conversation between you and
Christine Wakely recorded yesterday.

We also have all your e-mails.

Entrapment!
Detective Sergeant Jones,

would you care to accompany the Mayor
to the station?

Oh, turn the freaking light off!

But he's no m*rder*r. No.

Hasn't got the balls.
Are you sticking around, John?

No, I'll keep working my end.

We'll have a drink next time you're
down. I look forward to that.

And thank you, John. Thank you.

(DOOR OPENS)

(MUMBLES)
Oh, Richard, I'm so sorry.

I'm just not very good at this.

Oh, Marcia! Good afternoon!
How nice of you to drop by!

Where have you been? Out.

Perhaps you could be less enigmatic
and a fraction more practical.

I have to attend evensong.

He likes soldiers dunked
in the yolk.

These are lies.

These people would say anything
to blacken our family name.

You knew perfectly well
that Richard was not att*cked

leaving the library.

Actually, he was found in a small
park on the outskirts of Brighton,

a park where men were known to go
to meet each other

for...for casual sex.

I had to protect the family -

Family name. Yes, yes. Look,
listen, I do understand that.

I believe there is a link, a
connection,

between the m*rder victims and
certain anonymous notes

that were sent to Giles Shawcross,

one of which suggests -
Yes, yes.

That Marcia and I have
an unnatural relationship.

Giles told me all about it.
Quite gleefully, if you ask me.

Is it true?

Mr Barnaby!

That is prurience not investigation.

Of course it's not true!

I live in the big house
and have a village to run.

It's quite enough for any woman.

And Marcia?

I assume...

Equally arid...

She has very few friends apart from
the people she meets in the gym.

Does she work out?
Oh, yes. Obsessed with exercise.

Beneath that mild exterior
she's built like a pit pony.

Lady Matilda,
do you know who this is?

Oh, one of Richard's Oxford friends.

It's Giles Shawcross.

Giles?

The man who met and att*cked your
Richard in that park in Brighton.

They were lovers. No! Impossible!

Look at the chin,
the angle of the head.

It's Giles. Oh, poor boy!

Giles believed that he was brought
here

by a just if somewhat perverse God
to atone for his youthful sins.

And Richard must have known all
about it...

..and unable to...tell anyone.

Where is Marcia now?
Church.

I'd like to see her room, please.

Upstairs, third on the left.
Thank you.

I must find Richard.

Richard.
Richard?

Thank you.

Thank you so much.

What is that?

That is the Terrys, winding me up.

We'll have to walk from here. Oh!

Ow! I'm fine.

So Richard wasn't there?
Didn't see him.

Maybe Richard's involved! Oh, Jones.
Come on! Not in the real world!

Think about who was named in those
threatening letters.

Lady Matilda.
Who was at home.

Reverend Giles. Marcia.

What is it connects them all,
one to another?

What are you doing?

You know something.

Not even the bell ringers stay
for evensong.

Come in, do their bit,

then off to the pub.

Can we get on with the service,
please?

What's the first psalm?

Inheritance, Jones.
That's what connects them.

Lady Matilda has got a big estate,
crumbling, yeah, but big,

and a line that stretches back
a thousand years,

but it's all going to come to an end
in the shape of Richard William.

TOGETHER: The Lord is my shepherd.
I shall not want.

He maketh me lie down
in green pastures.

He leadeth me beside still waters.
He restoreth my soul.

He leadeth me in the paths of
righteousness, for His name's sake.

Though I walk through the valley
of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil.

You're kidding!
I don't think so.

You think Dalgleish was leaning on
Jenny Russell to marry Richard
William?

Jenny Russell! Surely Richard would
be incapable of -

No, no, Jones. Not these days.

Perfectly easy to extract the sperm
from Richard

and implant it in a healthy female.

Jenny Russell? Yeah, who was deeply
in debt to Dalgleish.

And you think Lady Matilda
went along with this? Yeah.

But I think some other parties were
not quite so willing.

And now a special prayer
for the dying,

for those in our parish about
to face...the final hurdle.

Stick to the proper order of
service, please.

Marcia McIntyre devoted her entire
life to caring for Richard.

Why would she do that, do you think?

She was in love with him? She was.

How did you get THERE?
Nothing clever.

Found her year book.
They were all at Oxford together.

Marcia ousted Giles
from Richard's bed.

Giles crippled Richard.
What a mess!

Yeah, come on.

GILES: Lord have mercy.
Christ have mercy. Lord have mercy.

Well,

we know what has to happen now.

Yes.

I'm ready. Are you?

(BREATHES RAPIDLY)

Thank you.

Thank you!

Marcia!

Put the sword down.
Giles, get out of here!

Stay where you are!

Give me the sword.

Vengeance is mine!

Hey, Jones! Jones, Jones!
(CRIES PROMISES OF VENGEANCE)

(SWOOSH OF SWORD)
Aargh!

Aaargh!

Jones!
My peace, I give to you!

DS Jones. Ambulance.
Midsomer Parva Church. NOW!

Giles Shawcross.

His er, spinal cord's been severed,
completely severed.

He's never gonna walk again.

I have been very much at fault,
Mr Barnaby.

I don't think this is about you,
Matilda.

I only had the one son.

And then...Marcia came along,

offering her services as a carer.

I didn't know she was...

No, well, she and Richard had their
little secret.

Is it a light trim, sir? Something
for the weekend?' (GIGGLES)

For Marcia, her whole life...

Who do we want to look like today?

..was in the love that she had
for Richard.

Cary Grant?
And for her church.

Clark Gable?
She had no idea at the time...

of Richard's involvement
with Giles...

We'll look like our
oh-so-very-handsome self.

..until...

..until the new rector turned up.

Hm...

Mr Shawcross, there is one thing
we haven't actually talked about,

which is the condition of the roof.

No wonder Giles felt
he was in God's hands.

You were gloriously oblivious,
weren't you?

But Marcia wasn't.

I was never very good at the
subtleties of life, Mr Barnaby.

And then Hugh Dalgleish comes along

with his extraordinary,
bizarre agenda.

It's very simple, Lady M.

I want land, you want your precious
family line to continue.

I presume Dicky boy still functions
as a man?

I beg your pardon? Huh...

We take the seed of his noble loins,
impregnate...

And Marcia heard it all!

I'm sure your pet rector will do
the deed.

And so, betrayed, outraged,

terrified of losing Richard,

she set about eliminating everyone
involved in the scheme.

And what more suitably biblical way
to despatch them

than with the fabled sword of
Guillaume, hm?

But even in her disturbed state,

Marcia maintained a very high degree
of cunning

by laying a false trail of
accusatory letters,

even one maligning herself.

And she let her hooded alter ego
be recorded on CCTV,

and that opened a whole avenue of
suspicions.

And then the revived
Causton-Brighton visit.

That presented her with a perfect
opportunity.

Where else, where better
to begin her work

than in the very place where
her lover had been destroyed?

In Brighton she attached the sword
to the back of Richard's wheelchair

and then set out to deliver
her judgment on Hugh Dalgleish.

And then she had to destroy
the proposed breeding vessel

and Richard's future wife,

Jenny Russell.

Jenny Russell...

And, I'm guessing, but you,
as co-instigator of the scheme,

you'd have been next.

Oh, Marcia.

You poor woman.

Such demons!

Well, things to be done.

Duties. Always duties.

You will excuse us? Lady Matilda.

Come along, Richard.
People to visit. Gardens to tend.