Original subtitles

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(Distant cheering)

(Cheering and applause)

Look.

(Gunshot)

What was that? Don't know.

Wait.

Oh, God, Paul! What? He'll kill me! Come on!

Hang on.

What is it? Shh!

Come on.

(# Lively flute piece)

Come on, Paul. Stay there.

(Dog barks)

Floyd.

What's up, boy?

What's the matter, boy?

KERSEY: Bottrell Hall should be up here on the left.

There's a Lord and Lady Bottrell still rattling round in there apparently, and a brother, Guy.

Bottrell family...

Is the dead man a relative? No. No.

He's estate manager, name of Miller.

Nasty way to go though, eh, playing lollipop with your own shotgun?

Mr Miller was also game warden to the estate, sir.

He was aged 35, single. There's no CRO on him.

This isn't the weapon used, sir, but not far different.

Two rounds racked into the breech,

pushed under the chin, both triggers...bang!

So, suicide?

Try it, sir. No, thank you.

Go on, Doug. You do it.

OK, sir.

So...

It's not easy, even with the long arm of the law.

(Chuckles)

Look how it's pushed his head back. You'd be looking for that angle of fire.

What does Frank say?

Well, we're still waiting, but from what I've seen now, I'd say iffy.

Prints? Plenty, on the lock, stock and barrel, all the deceased's.

Someone could have faked that after he was shot.

Very perceptive, sir.

Thank you.

Who found him?

It was a young girl, Jean...Lander.

Early morning walk, spotted the door hanging open.

Get a full run down. I'll be up at the hall.

Like a look at the photos of Miller, sir, as he was found?

No thank you. Give them to Inspector Kersey, please.

A Bottrell, do you think?

Yup. George Ignatius.

Chaplain to Queen Mary.

"Reticule recusant," whatever that is.

Catholics.

"Fides ad mortem."

Keep faith unto death.

George Ignatius certainly did. He burnt at the stake.

God save us from religion.

His Lordship will see you now. Thank you.

I'll do this.

Right, sir. Jane will show you up.

I took Miller on about seven years ago.

He kept the books, collected rents,

did some maintenance work around the game park.

He was Hugh's private dogsbody.

He managed the estate for me.

Did he... Ah, come in, Paul.

This is Superintendent Wycliffe.

My son.

Did Mr Miller have any family, friends you could put us in touch with?

No. He was quite a solitary chap.

A refugee from life. Just the sort to come unstuck and top himself.

You think so? I've seen it in the army time enough.

Miserable cove, Miller. Pickled pink more often than not, wasn't he?

He did drink, yes. Sometimes.

We're still trying to fix the time of Mr Miller's death.

Do any of you remember hearing a gunshot on Friday night?

I was in bed with a migraine all evening.

I returned by train from the house that night, so I heard nothing.

The house? The House of Lords.

There was an important debate in the chamber.

I was in my room watching television.

There was a film on, Sylvester Stallone.

You?

I can't remember where I was. Remember where you were, Superintendent?

Account for your movements?

I've no wish to be intrusive,

but, for the present, we must treat this matter as a suspicious death.

What does that mean?

I means there's a possibility Mr Miller may not have topped himself as you put it.

There's little Jane you saw just now, parlour maid,

and then there's Lizzie, Lizzie Biddick,

Lady Cynthia's maid, only she's gone.

Gone where? Oh, London, I expect.

Just upped and went a few days ago.

Maybe for good. No, you can't never tell with her.

Flighty piece. All right, Mrs Christopher?

This here's a policeman. Detective Inspector Lane.

George Carter, estate foreman.

That's Jed, layabout.

Did you both work with Mr Miller?

He was supposed to be our boss. Didn't know nothing about farming.

Did he have any close friends that you know of?

No. He didn't mix well, Miller.

The lads is always down at Botty Arms on Fridays,

darts night, but he never showed.

Rum sort of chap. Girlfriends?

(Laughs)

Not what you'd call a ladies' man.

More of a man's man, eh, George?

Don't get me wrong, I liked the fella,

but he were a bit soft, that's all.

Tell the truth, he didn't know if he were Arthur or Martha.

That's enough of that talk.

I can't stand here gassing. Good day, ma'am.

(Rings)

Hello?

I told you never to ring me here! It's about the police.

They think Tony Miller was murdered. Murdered?!

I'll have to tell them about Friday night.

You can't tell them about that.

Not now. Just stick to the story.

What if they find out...

OK, then. Don't worry. I'll see you after school.

Ciao, Hazel.

We're doing a close search of the area, before it gets contaminated.

Good. Tell Doug what you know, Lucy.

Oh, yeah. According to local rumour control, Miller was gay.

Eh? We'll work on that assumption anyway.

That's interesting, because there was a name and number on his phone pad.

Lizzie. I thought it was his girlfriend.

Could be his sister, I suppose.

I heard a mention of a maid up at the hall, name of Lizzie.

Yeah, Lizzie Biddick.

Gone to London, according to the housekeeper.

Maybe Miller Was AC/DC. Give that number a ring, Lucy.

Run CRO tests on Hugh and Cynthia Bottrell

and on Guy the brother.

Right. Get in the car, Doug.

Don't you want to see the scene, sir? No.

Let's have a word with the girl who found the body.

(Sobs)

What time did you find the body?

It was about half past nine.

Are you sure of that, Jean?

She left the house about nine. It's a half-hour walk from here.

Could you allow your daughter to answer the questions, Mr Lander?

At about half past nine, yes.

Did you often take these Saturday morning walks?

Sometimes. We've told her not to walk alone, haven't we, Edith?

Yes. Yes. The way it is these days.

Yes. I have a daughter myself, Mr Lander.

Jean, would you tell us what you saw yesterday?

The wind was banging his cottage door open.

I could see him from the path, and I heard his dog whining, so I called out, "Tony."

I went in and...found him.

There was blood...

She called the police from the cottage.

We'd like your daughter's fingerprints at some time.

What for?

We found several sets of prints at the cottage.

You're not suggesting that my daughter and Miller...

We're not suggesting anything, Mr Lander.

I'm sure, as a solicitor, you understand the process of elimination.

I also understand the propensity of some police officers to jump to unwarranted conclusions.

Pain in the colon. Don't take it to heart, Doug.

He's a solicitor. He'd argue with a signpost.

Did you watch the girl? What?

She's lying.

You OK? Yes, sir.

One of the er...local lads recognised her.

The coach ticket is one return trip to London, sir.

What's this?

Photographs of Lizzie Biddick,

found dumped in a disused well.

Did you phone that number for her?

Er...yes, sir.

A woman answered, name of Taylor.

She was expecting Biddick in London last Friday.

She didn't show. Yeah. The coach was booked for Friday.

Ticket's still unused.

I also had another word with the housekeeper.

Her bedroom's next to Biddick's.

Now, late last Thursday night, she heard Biddick come in,

bang about for five minutes and then leave again in a hurry.

She didn't see her? No, sir.

Well, maybe Biddick's having a scene with Miller.

She finds out he's cowboying around, they row and she...

Shoots him? Well, he didn't shoot himself, sir.

Oh, yeah? No. The path report came through, Lucy.

It confirms Miller's entry wound was under the chin,

and out through the back of the head.

Given the shotgun's length,

he couldn't possibly have achieved that angle of fire

if he'd held the gun himself.

She could have wiped the gun clean,

took his hand, laid his prints all over it to look like suicide.

She runs home, packs her bag, drops it down the well to fake her disappearance.

Yes, but why the photos in the bag of her naked?

Get the whole area tooth combed. OK, sir. What are we looking for?

If I'm right, the body of Lizzie Biddick.

SOCO's done us some copies of the Biddick photos, sir.

Do you want to ask round the village?

Were these taken by professionals, do you think?

No. They're good, but they're more like readers' wives snaps you get in the girlie mags, you know?

Can't say I do, Doug.

No. That's SOCO's opinion. I never read them myself.

I haven't met a man yet who does.

Yeah, Doug, ask around the village by all means, but remember...

Understood, sir. Soul of discretion. Lucy, try up at the hall.

See if anyone there knows who took them.

All right, sir.

Pull!

Pull!

Can you spare a moment, Mr Bottrell?

Still here, Superintendent?

I was wondering if your memory had improved at all. Memory?

As to your whereabouts last Friday night,

between 9:30 and 11:00.

Is that relevant, Superintendent? It may be.

We now know that Tony Miller was murdered.

Look, this is all rather awkward.

I was with somebody. Would you mind telling me who?

Well, I'd rather not.

OK. We can always continue

this conversation down at the police station.

Oh, come on!

Were you with Lizzie Biddick that night?

One of your maids?

Lizzie Biddick? Good, God, no! Of course not!

OK. Look, I can't really...

Guy was with me, Superintendent.

I thought you said you were on your own that night, madam, with a migraine?

Yes, I said that. It wasn't true.

You see, my husband... Hugh knows nothing about this.

It's not our practice to disclose sensitive information of a personal nature, sir,

unless we absolutely have to.

Quite.

I'm sorry we weren't altogether frank with you, Superintendent.

You understand. Perfectly, sir.

But I will need a statement confirming all you've told me.

Of course, but I've got a bunch of chaps booked in to the paintball trial this afternoon.

This evening will be fine.

Good.

Right, and thanks.

A lot of gear. Well, you collect it over the years, don't you?

Do you take the photos? No.

I used to, but I've got my hands full nowadays.

Mr Lander's lot do those.

What, Lander the solicitor? Yeah. He runs a photographic club.

They've got a studio in the old boat house by the estuary.

Has he? They come frame and the lot for 20 quid.

Probably do you a copy if you was interested.

(Door closes)

Ahem. Oh, Superintendent!

This is the scene of a murder.

Didn't you see the warning tapes?

Yes, I...I hope you don't mind.

I was just collecting some records.

Flute music that I lent to Miller.

Tony played the flute, you know.

You had a mutual passion. I'm sorry?

The flute.

Oh, yes. Yes.

Close friends, were you?

Spent a lot of time down here?

No, I just...lent him some records.

Well, that's very helpful, because the fingerprints of someone other than Miller are all over the cottage.

Kitchen, bathroom,

bedroom.

They wouldn't be yours, then?

This is a small community, Superintendent. I hold a position.

The family are looked to to...set a standard,

and people...just wouldn't understand.

Understand what?

Tony and I were lovers.

It began when he first came here to work for me.

How long ago was that?

Six years.

Seven.

(Sobs)

I just...

can't believe it.

I mean...

why anybody would want to kill him.

He wouldn't...wouldn't harm a soul.

What were you looking for just now?

Oh, letters.

Holidays, you know.

I was a fool to imagine it wouldn't come out.

Sorry.

Could you tell me again

what your movements were the night Mr Miller was shot?

It's only me, madam. Is Mr Lander in?

No. He's not here. You don't know where I might find him, do you?

He should be back around seven. Do you know a Miss Lizzie Biddick?

Biddick? Yes.

This is her.

I'd show you the rest, but they're a little indelicate.

No, I don't recognise her. Sorry.

You don't know who might have taken this photograph, do you? No, I don't.

OK. Thank you.

Good afternoon, you two.

Want a lift? No.

No thanks.

I'll see you.

I think you and I had better have a talk.

Get in.

That chair is priceless. Damn the bloody chair.

What is it?

The police know about Tony and me.

I told them. Bloody wimp.

For God's sake, woman! For once in your life,

you could support me instead of twisting the knife.

I've spent 20 years supporting you, Hugh, putting up with your...

..damn perversion!

They think that I did it.

I killed Tony.

I didn't. You've got to believe me. I swear I didn't.

I did believe once, Hugh, in you, in this.

You've destroyed it all. I'm sick of it.

I'm sick of living here, surrounded by all your sham and humbuggery.

For the sake of the family, we have got to...

The Bottrells? I hope you all rot in hell.

WYCLIFFE: So you were in the woods with Paul Bottrell that night?

Yes. And that's when you discovered the body, not the following morning?

Why didn't you tell us the truth?

My father.

You lied to the police just so your father wouldn't find out where you'd been that night?

You don't know him. He goes mad if I'm out late.

He always thinks I'm out with Paul.

He knows we see each other.

You've been a very irresponsible young lady.

I know.

I'm sorry. Sorry.

Please don't tell my father. He'll kill me.

I mean it. He'll...

Was there anything else you saw that night?

There might have been something. I don't know. It was dark.

You saw someone?

Not saw...

heard.

A man, running through the woods.

You didn't see him, but you know it was a man?

Now, think, Jean. I didn't see his face.

I only saw him for a moment.

We were running. I was frightened.

Sir! Over here!

MAN: I'm in here.

Oh, it's you, Inspector. Yes.

Won't keep you a minute.

As you can see, the photographic club uses this as a studio.

Oh. Private club, is it, sir?

It's just a group of amateur enthusiasts.

What sort of pictures get their juices flowing, Mr Lander, these enthusiasts?

Landscape? Still life?

Full frontal? I beg your pardon?

I see you've got your own dark room, sir.

Yes. I fail to see the purpose of these questions.

Ah, yes. We're looking for a young lady, Miss Lizzie Biddick.

Do you know her? Lizzie who?

Do you recognise her?

I don't think I've... It's difficult, isn't it?

They all look different in their birthday suits.

Yes, it's Lizzie Biddick.

Did one of your fellow enthusiasts take these, or was it you, sir?

I took them.

Look, I know what you're thinking, Inspector, but er...

Lizzie had ambitions to become a model.

She wanted a portfolio of photographs.

She paid you to take them, did she? No. No.

I was interested in doing some life studies.

Ah, that's what they are, is it?

She needed the photos to show to agencies. It was a quid pro quo between us.

Sort of tit for tat, you could say, sir.

I find your attitude offensive, Inspector.

Have you any idea where we might find this young lady, sir?

No, I do not.

Are you absolutely certain about that?

Why don't you have a good look, sir?

Eh?

Right, you can shift her now.

Any cause?

The local medic says her neck's broken.

No clothes nearby?

Nothing so far, sir.

So the body was brought here and then dumped.

Boat, do you think?

Maybe.

Or came through the woods from Lord Bottrell's place.

It's only half a mile away.

Lord Bottrell... I'd say he's favourite, sir.

Some sort of triangle between him, Miller and the Biddick woman.

Oh! Sorry.

It's OK. No, I'll get it.

Hey, Sally, Camborne Nick.

No, Angela, and I've never worked Camborne.

Oh, well, it's nice to bump into you anyway.

Hey, listen, where do you drink round here.

I don't.

No.

That was all.

Did you and she have any other sort of relationship?

No, of course not.

What do you take me for?

Were you aware that Lizzie Biddick was a close friend of Tony Miller's?

No.

She may have mentioned him now and again.

Did you take any photos of Tony Miller?

Any life studies?

No.

Look, these photographs have only an aesthetic and artistic interest to me.

Artistic?

Frankly, Mr Lander, some of these would make a pornographer blush.

That may be your judgement.

I can't be responsible for other people's perverse and limited imaginations, Inspector.

We do have some other photographs of Lizzie Biddick,

taken much more recently.

At the place where her body was discovered.

Miss Biddick was found dead earlier today.

This is outrageous.

I came here voluntarily to assist you with your enquiries.

When did you last see her?

I don't know...

Last week sometime.

You see, as far as we can presently tell, sir, Miss Biddick was murdered.

Did you kill Lizzie Biddick?

No, I did not! Do you understand plain English?

I have not, could not, did not kill Lizzie Biddick.

A blow to the neck with a blunt weapon

main artery ruptured...

massive haemorrhage to the brain.

When? Sometime last Wednesday or Thursday.

Just before Mr Miller...

Ah!

I thought so. You see?

Fibres. It could be her own clothes.

Could be she grabbed at her assailant.

Any other injury?

Oh, there's no close encounters of a sexual nature.

She was a very healthy woman.

Now, tell me again, Jean, is there anything else you remember

about the man you saw running away from Mr Miller's cottage?

You must tell them everything, Jean. I don't know.

Was it your father? Is that why you lied about finding the body?

I've told you, I didn't see who it was.

Honestly.

Mrs Lander, were you aware

that your husband was taking photographs of Lizzie Biddick?

I suspected there was someone.

Suspected?

He has an interest in that kind of thing.

It's pornography. He calls it art.

Have you any reason to suppose that something else was going on between your husband and Lizzie Biddick?

No!

Would you say your husband was a violent man, Mrs Lander?

Tell him, Mother. Tell the truth about him for once.

Quiet, Jean. He treats her like dirt.

He's so jealous. She can't even go to the shops but he accuses her of meeting a man.

Shouting and screaming at her.

Tell them, Mum.

Is this true, Mrs Lander?

It's true.

And he asked me to do it.

To do what?

To pose for some pictures.

No! I told him I didn't want to.

He said... He said I mustn't tell you he'd asked or he'd stop me ever seeing Paul again.

My husband, at times, does have a terrible temper, Superintendent,

but...I don't believe he would kill anyone.

I can't believe that.

Your mission, to capture their flag.

Arms, paintballs.

A hit between neck and waistline is a kill. Questions?

No. Good.

OK, hands in! Let's do it!

Go, orange team!

And yellow team, go!

That'll do, Tophy.

I've still got the other side to do, ma'am. I've hardly started.

That'll do.

As you wish, ma'am.

This way.

If this is about the Biddick girl, I've said I'll sign a statement.

No, actually, I wanted to talk to you about Lord Bottrell and Tony Miller.

As you're doubtless aware, Hugh and Tony were...close companions.

That's all I can tell you, Inspector.

Was there ever a dispute between you and your husband about their friendship?

I've put up with Hugh's peccadilloes for 20 years.

One learns to live with such things.

I see. No, you don't.

I am my husband's wife.

Loyalty to country, Church and family

is the true trinity, Inspector.

And yet you were with Guy Bottrell the night Mr Miller died.

Since he's chosen to tell you that, I'm not in a position to deny it.

I take it your husband knows nothing of this?

Hugh has always been entirely oblivious to everything save his own infatuations.

Including the fact that you sleep with his brother?

Some things one has to do,

and one can only pray for forgiveness,

but I repeat,

I am my husband's wife,

and that...

that I shall take to my grave.

as I vowed before God to do.

Oh, I'm sorry. I heard voices.

Come on, Floyd. I'm sorry.

You see?

And now, along with the dead Jesuits who hang round Bottrell Hall,

I must learn to live with Miller's damn dog.

Shop open? Yes. Not much choice left though.

Do you know any decent Indian restaurants round here?

Some, yes. So, how are you fixed for tonight?

I've got something on. Ah. Pity.

Still, bear it in mind, one night when you've got nothing on.

Don't hold your breath.

Hardly smouldering with the lust of the loins, sir.

More of a cold fish, I'd say.

Grub's here.

Could only get you egg mayonnaise, sir.

Right.

Strengths so far...

Lander has no alibi for the times of either killing.

His wife implied he's a violent man. The daughter backed that up.

We know he took the photographs of Lizzie Biddick.

And we're still waiting for the fibres under her fingernails.

If they're from Lander's clothes... He's certainly shaping up for it.

Yes, but I still don't understand the photos in the bag.

If he is Mr Meticulous, why didn't he check?

He must have known they would lead to him.

He panicked. Yeah, but then why kill Miller two days later?

He was afraid he knew too much.

Lizzie and Miller were friends, probably lovers.

Jealousy.

Maybe.

I want another go at Lander, keep his feet to the fire. OK.

Do you want me to sit in with Doug?

What did she say, that Lady Cynthia woman,

when you put Guy's alibi to her?

She confirmed it. No, no, what did she SAY?

Er...she said...

"If he's chosen to tell you, I'm not in a position to deny it."

Yeah, and one thing's strange.

She said, "Some things one has to do and only pray for forgiveness."

Interview Lander. See if you can get a crack open into him.

I'll be up at the hall.

Your sandwich, sir. You have it.

What's up with him? Is he all right?

No, I don't think he is.

He was talking to me about his father.

His father was a farm labourer on a big estate like Bottrell. It was up north.

Yeah.

The lord of the land evicted him and his family when Wycliffe was still a kid.

Wycliffe's dad shot himself.

What? With a twelve-bore.

Your daughter lied about when she found the body.

She was seeing Paul Bottrell without my permission.

She was trying to cover it up.

Where were you at that time, sir?

In the darkroom at the studio.

Anyone with you?

No, I was alone. Look, I've already answered all these questions.

And when Lizzie Biddick was killed, you were in the darkroom on your own. Same alibi.

These are not alibis. They are simple statements of fact.

You have a violent temper, Mr Lander.

I do not have a violent temper.

That's not what your wife says.

My wife?

Nor your daughter.

Look, we all lose our rag sometimes, Mr Lander,

do things we didn't intend to do.

Is that what happened?

I understand you've arrested Steven Lander.

He's one of a number of people we're questioning.

Oh, yes. Yes, of course. You know him?

Well, he's done some work for the family, wills and such. Not socially.

Rather a dry stick, I find.

Could he have been having a relationship with Tony Miller?

Superintendent, I've known men so deep in the closet they're in Narnia.

Steven Lander? No.

Yeah!

(Shouting)

Come on! Keep moving! Keep moving!

Captains of industry. No wonder this country's in such a damn awful state.

I'll leave you two to talk. Good day, Superintendent.

Talk? Just tidying up a few loose ends.

Sure.

Fire away.

I came here voluntarily.

I have concealed nothing.

I have represented myself.

Would you like another solicitor to sit in?

A colleague, perhaps? No.

Don't you realise what all this does to my reputation?

My career will be in ruins.

Lizzie Biddick's career never got off the ground.

Tony Miller is six feet under.

Now, that's what concerns me.

Well, it doesn't concern me, none of this!

Can't you get that through your stupid, plodding police brain?

(Knock at the door)

What is it? He's just about coming unglued in there.

Forensic. The fibres under Lizzie Biddick's fingernails.

They compared them with samples from Lander's clothing.

OK, I did have a flirtation with the Biddick woman,

but, believe me, I wasn't alone in that.

A bit of a Delilah, our Lizzie.

Had an affair?

Did it a few times.

Desperate men do desperate things.

A dim little tart, but a good body on her.

Mr Miller... That's Hugh's department.

I had nothing to do with that.

And you were definitely with Lady Cynthia the night he died?

I realise being in bed with a lapful of one's brother's wife

is not the choicest of alibis, but c'est la vie.

Only Lady Cynthia was less specific when my colleague discussed the matter with her.

Cynthia lives uneasily with her conscience.

No doubt she's purged her guilt endlessly,

done her Hail Marys.

You see, Mr Bottrell,

I don't believe you were with her that night.

What?

I believe she's lying. To protect you.

Why? Why should she do that?

The same reason she's suffered in silence all these years,

married to a man who doesn't, who can't love her.

Keeping faith unto death, isn't that the Bottrell family motto?

Look, I was with her.

And the night Lizzie Biddick died, where were you then? Who were you with?

I don't know.

Somebody murdered Lizzie Biddick, and dumped her body in a ditch,

went to her room,

packed some of her things,

slipped the photographs into her bag, hoping to implicate Mr Lander,

and then dumped the bag in a well in these woods.

Do you know that well? Yes.

We will discover the truth, Mr Bottrell.

We have fibres from the dead woman's fingernails.

What were you wearing the night of Lizzie Biddick's death?

That sweater? No!

What did you wear, then?

Look, she deserved everything she got.

Yes, all right, I killed her...

..but not before she killed me.

Killed you? She denied it, but I knew.

She'd been at it with that queer, Miller.

He was having it both ways.

Yes, I disposed of him as well. One less dross to worry about.

He laughed at me, denied that he and she'd...

I shoved the shotgun under his chin and...

I found out when I applied to renew my health insurance.

Routine blood test, they said.

Only I tested positive.

HIV.

It was her, the slut, and him.

They condemned me to a living death.

Any man would have done the same.

Sorry, old things. I just lost it.

Superintendent... Yes?

Why? Why did he kill Tony?

I don't understand.

Your brother has offered us an explanation which we will be investigating.

Until we know more, that's all it would be advisable for me to say at this present time.

I'm very sorry, sir.

Hi. Lurking or working?

A bit of both, really.

If that offer's still on, I'm er...free tomorrow night.

Er...I'm afraid not. We're off back to Camborne.

Job's jobbed here.

Pity. Yeah.

Oh, well. Maybe next time, hmm?

Yeah.

It must be written in my stars.

Once a Virgo, always a Virgo.

Listen, I'm all Taurus, me.

Is that it, then, sir?

I just rang Franks.

He did the PM on Lizzie Biddick.

He ran a routine blood test on the body. She was negative.

What, no AIDS? No, nor Miller.

They're both in the clear.

So how come Guy Bottrell got told he was HIV-positive?

He was in the army. Stationed in Kenya apparently.

Oh, what? Yeah.

So Guy Bottrell killed both Biddick and Miller for nothing.

But then, the Bottrells are landed gentry, a law unto themselves.

Always have been.

You know you said about about his father topping himself?

Yeah? Did he find the body? Didn't say.

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