Original subtitles

What have you got in that catch? The usual. Why?

Can you smell it?

It's not me. Washed my socks last week.

Smells like we dredged up a dead dog.

There's something going on over there.

Go over there and find out what it is.

Quick!

GULLS SHRIEK

We need to get rid of these crabs as quickly as possible.

What are you waiting for, then?

From the clothes, and what's left of him,

I'd say we'd got a middle-aged man.

Won't be able to tell you any more till I get him up on the slab.

Well, even then it's... Been in the water some days?

Well, yes!

Anyone been looking for him? Not that I'm aware of.

Then you're going to have some fun putting a name to him.

Half the jaw is missing.

Probably crushed against the rocks by the tide.

There's so little facial tissue left, it's difficult to tell.

Looks like there's been a slight blackening to the skin.

Blackening? Mm,

so I'd like to take a closer look.

May never be identified, he's in such a state.

Imagine. The water's a cruel place.

Morning, Sir. Morning.

I've just come via the local nick.

No reported boating accidents or men overboard from tankers.

That body's been in the water a fair while.

Someone would have shouted by now.

Then we're looking at Missing Persons.

This is just Devon and Cornwall.

Right. Let's start with men aged 30-60.

Right. That loses a lot of them, none of them recent.

A few holidaymakers, but they often choose to do a runner.

Rather than go home? Yeah.

Ah... Here we go. Lewis Jay.

Reported missing by his wife, 18 months ago.

Possible sightings of him about the county,

wife concerned over his mental state...

That's it, unless you want to go national.

No, no. Might as well start with him as anybody else.

Good.

Excuse me. Yes?

You're in charge of this investigation?

Detective Superintendent Wycliffe. Can I have your name?

Edwina Coryn.

The man you found this morning...

it must be my husband, Peter.

Why do you think that?

I reported him missing three weeks ago.

Um... up in London, not locally.

Is that where you last saw him?

No. Here at home.

Then why report it in London?

He said he was going to town. I thought he had.

Oh, I see. I see... He went regularly?

Sometimes.

Tell me, is there a possibility he may have misled you about his plans?

Oh, no.

I never thought anything was wrong until he didn't phone.

We never let a day pass without speaking with one another.

But... I haven't heard anything from him for over a month.

So what do you think happened?

I went out before he was due to leave.

He... Maybe he went for a walk.

We live just a little way down the coast.

He could have had a coronary.

Did he have heart problems?

Well, it... it's what one dreads at his age, isn't it?

When can I... see the body?

Um...

I'm afraid visual identification may prove to be impossible.

Oh.

So what... what happens, then?

Can you give details of any identification marks?

Scars, moles... tattoos?

Oh, yes! I know by heart the constellation of moles on his back.

Yes. Um, also, ah...

previous injuries, operation scars,

and we'll need his dental records, too.

Of course.

Peter and I have belonged to each other since I was 17.

Well, I hope we can identify the body as quickly as possible.

Thank you, superintendent. My officer will take your details.

You can imagine how desperate I've been.

Hello?

MAN: ..wind in your hair! WOMAN: Rubbish!

The so-called hippies have it right. Stupid man!

Living under the stars... You know absolutely nothing.

In fact, we'd all be happier if we weren't tied... Hello?

Hello?

Mrs Fiona Jay? Yeah. Who are you?

I'm Detective Inspector Kersey.

I'd like a word with you about your husband, Lewis.

Can I come in? Yeah.

Thank you.

RADIO: 'I'm just... I appreciate...'

DOG GROWLS Hush, hush.

Shh, shh. That's a good boy. Good boy.

Lie down. Lie down.

You don't mind if I carry on with this, do you? No, no, please.

My son shoots them for the dog, you see.

Oh. Just saves a bit of money.

Mm.

So, how old's your son?

GRUNTS I've got two. Ten and 12.

Haven't you got it on file?

Yes, probably. I just wanted to go over a few things again, that's all.

Well, go ahead. I'm getting used to repeating myself.

Your husband went missing 18 months ago, yes?

Yeah. But you've seen him since he left?

Once, in Falmouth,

about six weeks after he first walked out.

Did you speak to him?

He didn't recognise me. Sorry?

I tried to get him into the car to see a doctor.

It was awful.

So, ah... what sort of state was he in, mentally, then?

Was he a drinker?

Have you got children?

No. I'm still single.

Well, then, you won't really understand what it's like.

No. He wasn't a drinker.

I mean... how could he not recognise his own children?

What, your sons were with you in Falmouth?

How do you explain to a child,

face to face with their own father, and he won't even speak to them?

Oh. Was he coherent?

Deluded? Or... Oh, he was managing all right!

I mean, he was even quite polite about it.

But he wouldn't let on he knew us.

He wouldn't come home.

Why did he leave in the first place?

Oh, the usual. You know.

Redundancy, debt...

failure, guilt.

I just don't think he could cope any more.

Did he work round here? No. In London.

He was a... well, he worked for a chartered surveyor.

But he was a Cornishman.

And this house was so that his children could share

the same idyllic holidays he had.

Lucky them, eh?

Now they hate it.

Have you, ah... seen him again more recently?

Look, why are you here?

Nobody's bothered us for months.

Well, um,

the body of a man has been found at Mullion Cove, washed up.

Oh...

Identification's been hampered by the condition of the body.

We need some details to establish whether it might be your husband.

You know, did he have any distinguishing marks?

I um... I think I'm going to need a bit of time to think about this.

Operation scars, maybe?

Well, um, yes, he, um...

he had a vasectomy. Well, that's something, isn't it?

He shouldn't have been allowed to carry on like that. He needed help.

But YOU lot wouldn't accept that he was ill, that he was vulnerable.

Well, we can't force someone to return if they don't want...

That's what some young policewoman said -

there was nothing much you could do if he'd just lost contact.

As you said, if he was managing...

He'd lost contact with reality, not US!

Wait till you have children.

We also need dental and any hospital records... please.

They'll be in London.

I'll dig them out for you. Thank you.

I don't want Lewis to be dead.

There's...

you see, there's something I've learnt since he's gone.

Do you know what people want?

More than anything else?

I mean... I mean REALLY want?

No.

Just their plain, ordinary lives.

Hi, Ma!

What's happened? Why are you back so soon?

We cut the sailing short.

Rob's dad managed to wangle him a job, and he had to go.

I'm starving! Anything to eat?

What's the matter, Mum?

Has there been some news of Pa?

Yes... Well?

It's probably nothing.

Tell me. Where is he?

I was down at Mullion Cove this morning.

The police have found a man's body,

but they don't yet know who he is.

I... I told them Pa was missing.

Did you see it? No. No.

Oh, really, darling, I'm sure there's no need to worry.

So what happened?

He was washed up, down by the harbour.

Oh, I'm sure Pa's all right.

Pa's always all right.

Of course.

So how about some food, then?

Bacon and eggs coming up.

HUMS CHEERFULLY

I was right about that slight blackening on the face.

He was shot? Shotgun.

HUMS

The x-rays show fractures and distortions of the skull

that could be consistent with a contact wound.

Suicide, then? Ah, not necessarily.

The spread of the shot is inconclusive.

Any evidence from the entrance wound has been lost to decomposition.

But the gun was fired at close range?

No more than a couple of feet away.

It wasn't just an irate farmer taking a pot shot.

Ah! Now.

There we are. CLANK

So it's down to you to find out

whether it was suicide, an accident or homicide.

Thanks.

Time of death?

It's impossible to say.

How's your mother, by the way? She's staying with you, isn't she?

Mm. Though I won't be seeing much of her, the way things are going.

She and Helen get on well, though, don't they?

Clash of the Titans.

Are we any closer to finding out who our friend actually is?

Well, we've got some teeth.

Not really enough to rely solely on matching dental records, though.

That's it? I'm afraid so.

I'd better ring my mum. Tell her I'll be late home for tea.

Are you here about my father?

Detective Superintendent Wycliffe and Detective Inspector Lane.

You are...? James Coryn.

Shall I fetch my mother?

The police are here. You wait here, darling.

Trust me! It'll be all right.

Ma?

Do you really think it's him?

Just hang on in there.

You know us. We always find a way, don't we?

Sorry to keep you waiting. Detective Inspector Lane.

I was in the greenhouse. Funny how plants offer solace.

Do come in.

I've got all the details you asked for.

Peter's doctor and dentist and so forth. Thank you.

Mrs Coryn,

we still don't know whether the body we found this morning

is that of your husband,

but the cause of death is suspicious.

Well... he drowned, surely?

No. There was an injury to the head.

Mrs Coryn, did your husband own a shotgun?

Yes, several. I checked the gun cupboard - none are missing.

Was he depressed in any way before he disappeared?

No! No...

Any business worries? Oh, no more than anyone else.

Ma? Pa would never kill himself.

James, you know he would never leave you like that.

He did have debts. What does it matter if people know?

You've got to tell them! Mrs Coryn?

All right. We don't have as much money as you might think.

But he wasn't as worried about it as all that.

Peter's always looked after us.

Suicide is the coward's way out!

It's possible it may not have been suicide.

Are you saying someone may have killed my father?

We can't rule out any possibility at this stage,

but the body has not yet been identified.

Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to kill him?

Of course not! How ridiculous.

Maybe it was an accident. Someone out shooting.

What about in London? I don't know what might go on there.

Well, was there any reason he might have wanted to disappear?

No. I know what you're getting at. The police in London said as much.

You think he's left me. But he hasn't.

He wouldn't do that.

It doesn't mention it here, Mrs Coryn, but I have to ask,

did your husband have a vasectomy?

No.

Right. Well, thank you anyway.

Mr Coryn, perhaps your father confided in you?

No. No, I mean, I'm not usually here.

Where were you the day he went missing?

At university, in Exeter.

Well, perhaps if you think of something that might help us,

you'll let us know.

This is all so distressing.

Are you all right? What? Yeah, yeah.

Well, until the body's identified,

I'd lay odds Peter Coryn's tucked up somewhere with a female friend.

But Mrs Coryn doesn't want to believe he's walked out on her?

Or knows he has, and is saving face.

Yeah. That ties in with the gossip in the village.

Oh, yeah? Mm.

They say his hours never were exactly regular,

Peter Coryn was a bit of a chancer,

and had trouble with debt. Mm. Well, there you are, then.

He's done a runner, and Mrs Coryn's too proud to admit it.

Can't be much fun for the boy, though.

What's the problem? Fine! Fine.

Where have we got to?

Um, well, Franks confirms the body had a vasectomy,

which ties in with Lewis Jay. Common enough procedure these days.

It rules out Peter Coryn, though. Not necessarily.

If he chose not to tell his wife, she'd never know.

Surely a woman would be able to tell if a man...

An unfaithful man might choose not to tell his wife he'd had it done.

And Dr Franks got the toxicology report, sir. There's nothing found.

Good. Potter?

Yeah. I made a start on getting hold of dental and medical details

and on tracing the activities by either man

through banks, building societies and social security,

since the day they went missing.

Nothing useful so far.

See if you can find out what life insurance policies they had,

especially Peter Coryn.

I can't find the underwear, sir.

Potter's taken it back to Marks & Sparks for the refund.

Yeah. Without a receipt, they don't exchange it.

Where's the list from the mortuary assistant?

Ah.

Um...

He didn't have any. No socks or underwear.

The footwear could have come off in the water.

No personal items either. Nothing in the pockets.

Yeah, but why no underwear?

Doesn't sound much like the elegant Peter Coryn.

True. Sounds like someone who's been living rough.

Wait and see.

Right. Remnants of shirt, jumper,

trousers and jacket,

all tattered and filthy.

But the jacket's quite good tweed.

It's got the label of a Savile Row tailor on it.

And inked on the label on the inside of the jacket

is a date, 1979.

No name? Usually there's a name as well.

I know, but it's too faint to read, sir.

So I rang the tailor in London.

He'd never heard of a Lewis Jay,

but Peter Coryn was a long-standing client,

and he made a jacket for him in 1979.

Right. You've all been briefed.

A man is dead of a shotgun wound, probably in the last month,

possibly somewhere on this shore.

I want any evidence of such an incident,

or anything else that could be significant.

Yes, Peter Coryn had a vasectomy, a long time ago.

But he never told his wife about it? No.

Why is that?

Well, Edwina had a hard time when James was born -

frightened the life out of Peter.

Didn't like deceiving her, mind you, but...

well, he knew she'd want another child,

and he just didn't fancy the odds.

Was that the only reason? What do you mean?

Well, we need to know if Mr Coryn deceived his wife in any other way.

Was he unfaithful to her? Not to my knowledge.

No history of sexually transmitted diseases?

No. Absolutely not.

Do you think Mr Coryn the type to commit suicide?

Oh, no. Not Peter.

He was a great sport.

Never one to let things get him down.

And how were things recently between him and Mrs Coryn?

Well... he wouldn't just walk out on her.

Devoted to each other, they are.

Were.

Right. Thank you, Dr Bonner.

What's this? Ah, typical Peter.

We'd had a bit to drink at a yacht club dinner,

and had some ludicrous bet

over whether the scallops we had were fresh or frozen. I won.

£20,000?

Well, I never cashed it,

though no doubt Peter would have, if it had gone the other way.

Bit of a gambler, was he? Oh, incorrigible.

Bet on anything. Money was like water to him.

It just quenched a thirst.

So he had serious debts?

Yes. That ancient thing...

He always wore it for gardening.

Was he ever in the habit of going without underwear?

What? I don't know what you mean. It may be relevant.

But if that's Peter's jacket... Dr Bonner told us

your husband was a gambler. Yes.

The doctor telephoned me, by the way.

I didn't mean to mislead you about Peter having a vasectomy.

He never told me.

Why didn't you tell us about the gambling?

It was Peter's weakness. An illness, really.

Something private we... deal with between ourselves.

Did he have debts? Oh, yes. Always.

Even when he won, there were debts.

Was he depressed because of them? No.

Compulsive gamblers are eternal optimists.

Always dreaming of breaking the bank at Monte Carlo.

They're able simply to forget even the most terrifying losses.

What about you, though? Did the losses worry you?

No... we always came around somehow.

I loved his innocent excitement about life.

A world with no consequences.

Peter's a great romantic. You never thought of leaving him?

Never. He didn't steal or cheat.

He would never let it harm us.

Did Mr Coryn take out any new life insurance policies recently?

He had a policy, obviously. But nothing recent.

Look, can't we get all this tied up now?

You don't have to show that jacket to James, do you?

He's so upset. I'd like to keep him out of this.

Keep him out of what?

His father's disappeared.

I remember him having one like this,

but I'm sure he's not worn it in years.

Would he have worn it for gardening?

No, no, he hated gardening.

Pa needed more instant gratifications.

You're sure?

Look, what's going on. Is it my father you've found?

I'm sorry, James. We still don't know.

Do you think someone's killed him?

Do you know anyone who would want to?

Pa belonged to two or three pretty serious gaming clubs in London.

I had the impression he owed them a fortune.

Why do you think he owed them a fortune?

Last time I was home there were rows I couldn't help overhearing.

And you think these gaming clubs might somehow be involved

in your father's disappearance?

God, I don't know. They're in London, not Macao or some place.

I think they'd want to get their hands on

as much of this as they could before thinking about murder.

Why is Mrs Coryn behaving as she is?

Lunch.

Oh, crab. My favourite (!)

What I mean is,

why is our Mrs Coryn being less than straightforward with us?

I spoke to Peter Coryn's accountant. Good lad, Potter.

His finances were a nightmare.

Before he went missing, he wanted to raise some cash

by taking out a huge mortgage on the house.

The accountant advised against it.

Any life insurance?

Plenty. Nothing new. No cash to pay the premiums.

If he had shot himself, she might be trying to cover it up.

So she can still claim the insurance.

And face a police investigation?

But look at it from her point of view.

Without the insurance money, she stands to lose the house.

If it's suicide, there'll be no payout.

I get the feeling she absolutely adored him.

Yet she's hardly the grieving widow.

Maybe it's all lies.

She shot him and made the story up about his disappearance.

Why?

Driven to desperation over his gambling.

Only way to pay off the debt was to cash in his life insurance.

No, no. Why the old jacket?

And no underwear.

And how did he end up in the sea?

The son said there were rows.

Maybe she just couldn't cope any longer.

However charming he might be.

Oh. I thought you women liked all that.

The daredevil, a hint of uncertainty.

Well, as a bit on the side, Doug, yeah, maybe.

Not much fun if you're financially dependant on it.

I wouldn't put myself in that situation.

Things getting that serious with Simon, is it?

Doug, the chances of me becoming a financially dependant housewife

are as likely as you getting a girlfriend.

Yeah, well, I mean, what about Fiona Jay?

Her husband's just gone and left her to sort out his mess.

It's asking a lot of a man

to shoulder all the responsibility of a family.

I must be getting old.

In my day, a man was expected to take care of his family.

Being taken care of isn't always a healthy option, sir.

If their finances were in his name...

how long before Mrs Jay could get herself sorted out?

He'd have to be missing seven years before they could declare him dead?

Definitely separate bank accounts for you and Simon, then.

Salt and vinegar?

I don't want that muck on it.

Stupid cow.

LAUGHTER

Fiona Jay?

Yes.

Detective Superintendent Wycliffe.

Oh, erm...

I think you'd better come round the back.

Is it him? Have they identified the body?

Er, no, not yet, I'm afraid.

I'm hoping to know by tomorrow,

once the pathologist has got all the dental records.

Not the easiest of jobs. I'm lucky to have anything.

God knows what I'll do when the car packs up.

You can't move from here?

I'd love to. My family and friends are in London.

You're not from round here, are you?

No. But I like it, though.

You're lucky.

Why don't you move nearer your family?

I can't sell.

The cottage is in our joint names.

The house in London too. We had a buyer for that but I couldn't sell.

So it was repossessed.

No insurance or anything you can draw on?

Have you got insurance against

having your life kicked out from under you?

There must be times when you're furious about what it is

your husband's put you through.

Sometimes I just think how wonderful it must be to do what he did.

You know, just walk out, let go.

There's something in me that clings on.

Sometimes I wonder just what it is I cling on to.

Do you own a shotgun, Mrs Jay?

I believe your son shoots rabbits.

Yes.

Well, the dog really ought to be put down, but I can't afford a vet.

And, well, I haven't got the bottle, as my son says, to do it myself.

It's not an easy thing, destroying a family pet.

No.

Mrs Jay, the man whose body we found yesterday...

died from a shotgun wound to the head.

Lewis was ill.

Do you think he, er...? Do you think he could have shot himself?

Both of my sons blame me.

They think that I should have stopped him from going

and I should have talked him round and helped him.

Do you think that's true?

We were a family.

We shared things out, you see.

That's what marriage is about, isn't it? I did my bit.

But he wouldn't share the bad times?

Couldn't or wouldn't. Anyway, it doesn't matter any more, does it?

It's over now.

Would you mind keeping back, please?

Our house is just over there.

We used to come here for picnics when I was a kid.

If you'd just like to stay here, please.

Can I have a look? Sir!

What have you found?

So, you know Lewis Jay, yeah?

Yes, I know Lewis Jay.

When was he last here?

Six weeks or more?

He turns up every couple of months.

But his wife's been here since, asking about him with a photograph.

When was that? About a month ago.

How would you describe his mental state?

Always fairly placid. No bother.

Seemed happy enough to be left in a world of his own.

Did he know who he was?

It's not always an easy question for some of our regulars.

They know who they think they are.

So long as they don't kick up a fuss,

we tend to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Excuse me? Where do these clothes actually come from?

A couple of charity shops hand things on that don't sell.

Do you know if Louis Jay got a change of jacket here?

I do, actually. He was given a complete change of clothes.

Why? His own were filthy.

He'd been sleeping in them for weeks. Underwear?

I doubt it. We occasionally get given some by the local shops,

but there's never enough to go round.

So he might not have had any? Probably not.

I think I love you.

I know you probably... My father died here, didn't he?

Well, someone did.

But there's no evidence yet to say that it was your father.

It's not easy, is it,

knowing that your father can just go away and leave you?

I really love my father.

Of course.

But I can't buy into his fantasies like Ma does.

I think his gambling's pathetic.

Your mother encourages it?

She's worse than he is.

She pretends life's some kind of game.

What makes you say that?

I heard them when they were rowing.

She was telling him to go for the last big throw.

What did she mean?

I dunno.

But something's terrible's happened, hasn't it?

I'm not stupid.

If he'd have shot himself, you would have found the gun here.

How was he in the sea if there's blood in the hut?

We'll find out what went on here, don't worry about that.

My father died when I was nine.

He shot himself with a 12-bore.

I know exactly what happened to my father.

Sometimes I wish I didn't.

But not knowing must be very hard to live with.

Sir!

Edwina Coryn gave it to her local charity shop some months ago.

They passed it on to a hostel in Truro, where guess what?

Six weeks ago, Lewis Jay received a change of clothes.

Right. Let's go and talk to Mrs Jay, then.

I don't think she killed him, do you?

Well, someone took the gun away.

Hey.

Is your mum in?

Keep them out here.

Come on, then.

Come on.

Hey. Hey. We'll let them get on with it, shall we?

You get in goal. Come on.

Go on, down there.

Do you recognise the jacket at all?

Your husband was wearing it, wasn't he, the last time you saw him?

I was gonna kill his dog, you see.

He can hardly walk and he's in terrible pain,

and I just couldn't do it.

Er, anyway, it's Lewis's dog and I shouldn't have had to do it.

How did you know where to find him?

One of the men in the hostel told me.

They said that he had a hut.

So you went there.

Yeah.

Why?

I wanted to persuade him to come home... to go into hospital.

God, he was filthy.

Neglected...

He wouldn't go with you?

No.

Did he know who you were?

It was weird. He knew who he was.

He knew had a family and that he'd walked out on them.

But he didn't know who I was.

When was this?

About, erm... 12 days ago.

After I'd dropped the children off in the morning.

Were you angry that he hadn't recognised you,

that he wouldn't go with you?

He showed me where he slept, how he'd made a fire,

where he got water from the well.

Happy as Larry, he was.

And so you just... snapped.

He left me with the responsibility for his boys,

the dog, his property, his debts.

Our bank account is frozen.

I don't know whether I'm married or widowed.

I've been to hell and back and he's showing me his boy scout camp.

And where was the shotgun at this point?

It was in the boot of the car.

The... The poor dog was there too.

Mrs Jay, I must caution you that you do not have to say anything,

but it may harm your defence...

Do you get to go really fast with the blues and twos?

No, not often. No.

Been in a couple of dodgy car chases, though.

It is Dad they found, isn't it?

We still don't know for sure.

Why not?

So you left your husband at the hut and then went to fetch the weapon?

I couldn't go on any more.

I mean, there had to be some end to it.

If he didn't want his life any more, why not just finish it properly?

So then you went back to the hut, carrying the weapon.

Did you intend to shoot him with it?

No.

But I as good as murdered him.

Didn't I?

You handed him the loaded weapon?

I put it down by the door.

I told him that if he cared anything about us,

he'd use it and put us out of our misery.

He knew what I was talking about.

And then?

I drove away.

Why should I be the only one that has to cope with everything?

He can just wander off and not care about us,

but I have to go on day after day.

I couldn't do it any more.

So when did you decide to go back?

Well, I stopped the car and I calmed myself down.

I started to think more clearly. I rushed back, but...

He'd done what you asked him to do.

Yes.

Why didn't you report the death?

Alex and Richie.

I couldn't see them turn against me for what I'd done.

I mean, if I lose them... then there's nothing.

They're going to have to be told, you know.

I know.

I hope they'll forgive me.

So you dragged the body into the water...

I got him down to the shore and I managed to get him to float.

The tide was going out.

I took the gun home, cleaned it, put it back in the cupboard...

..got the blood from my clothes.

Then I did what I always do. Don't think, don't feel, get on with it.

And when we found the body?

I knew it was him straight away.

At that time, I thought, if you couldn't identify the body,

then I'd succeeded.

But now... I feel there's a chance, just a chance...

..that I can get on with my life.

Dr Frank's just phoned.

He's got a positive match on a dental X-ray

of a row of four upper teeth I got from a teaching hospital in London.

Anyway, together with the vasectomy and the blood group,

Dr Frank says he's happy to go with it being Lewis Jay.

OK, thanks.

Well, are we finished here, then, boss?

Er, no, no, not entirely.

Sergeant Dixon can take Mrs Jay to HQ with a WPC.

Doug, you'd better get the boys taken care of.

And you'd better stay here, Potter. Start cleaning up a bit.

Oh, Doug? Yes, sir.

Just remember... whatever you tell them about their father's death...

..they're going to remember it word for word

for the rest of their lives.

Sir.

I really don't understand what all this is about.

The body you found is not that of my husband?

No. Thank God.

But your husband is still missing. Well, obviously.

Why did you claim the body at the cove

when you knew very well that it wasn't your husband?

That's ridiculous. How could I know? Because you know where he is.

I haven't seen or heard from him since the day he disappeared.

He's not with another woman?

No.

He's been missing over a month. You've done nothing to find him.

Nor have you.

I've been out combing every path he may have taken.

I've checked the shotguns to see if they've been used.

You couldn't care less!

Why did you lie about your husband's old jacket?

When you'd taken it to the charity shop some time before?

I forgot that I'd given it away, that's all.

What is this?

Are you trying to set James against me?

I think that may have happened already.

If you know where he is, tell me!

I told you not to worry about him, didn't I? Mrs Coryn...

your son is terrified that you may have had a hand

in his father's death.

Oh, James, no.

We only did it for you.

I never thought... Where's Peter Coryn?

How could you think I would ever harm Peter?

Surely, you know I would never do that.

Mrs Coryn, where's your husband now?

Durban, South Africa.

Alive and well?

Oh, yes, of course.

My darling Peter.

Why?

The debts were going to wipe out the house.

Pa couldn't bear to think that you wouldn't inherit it

because of his... his... illness.

But you know I don't care about the house!

Your father went missing deliberately,

helped by your mother.

It was the only way out, one last gamble.

Why didn't you tell me? I was going to, darling,

as soon as it was safe!

So you said it was Peter's body...

so you could claim the life insurance.

Yes. Suddenly we were in trumps.

The body that no-one was looking for that couldn't be identified.

I didn't expect you home. I thought there'd be time.

If Pa was declared dead,

then you and I could go straight to Durban without any suspicion.

But you let me think that was him washed up like that!

Yes, but, darling, it was only for a day or so.

I never thought I'd miss him so much.

Just what sort of a game do you think you're playing?

Surely you can see that it was worth a try.

Will I be charged with anything?

Well, we could bring charges of wasting police time.

Oh, well...

You can phone Pa and talk to him now.

No real harm done.

I'm not so sure about that.

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