Original subtitles

[Applause]

♪

[Indistinct conversations]

-Whoo! -Yes!

[Applause]

- Where'd the ball go?

That's good.

♪

[Laughter]

[Indistinct conversations]

- Oh, that's good.

-Oh! -Oh!

[Applause]

♪

[Applause] -Yes!

♪

- Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, Archie.

- Need I remind you, Ms. Gillan,

this is a no-smoking club?

- Apologies for my daughter, Wilf.

She gets the attitude from her father.

That's why I divorced him.

- That, and the fact he ran off with your hairdresser.

- Which was devastating.

Best hairdresser I ever had. Excuse me.

♪

[Applause]

♪

[Camera shutter clicks] -That's good.

Yeah, that's great. With the players in the back maybe

with the... Come. Come a bit this way.

Okay. Alright, it's okay. Just, yeah, that's nice.

-Is that okay? -Yeah. That's great.

That's great. Smile a bit. That's it. Lovely.

Do that. Alright.

-Oh, I'm so... I'm so sorry. -Oh!

♪

Um...

[Lock engages]

You're going through? -Yeah.

♪

Excuse me. I'll just... Sorry.

Sorry.

- Alright, Jenny. Just relax.

-Oh, okay. Okay. Alright. -Just for the club website.

Here we go. -Let's just get it over with.

- Yeah. Alright. That is... great.

- You can polish your balls all you like, Dale,

but we all know you're a marbles man underneath.

- Archie, mate, show these amateurs how it's done.

- My pleasure.

♪

- Oh.

Tension getting to you, is it? -[Breathes deeply]

Never.

♪

Come on, my beauty.

♪

- Nice one. Master at work.

- Actually, I think mine's nearest.

- Over to you, Wilf.

♪

[Footsteps approaching]

♪

- Black ball closer. Archie's team wins.

- What?! No way! Are you joking?! [Archie laughs]

-Fix! -They never lie.

- Chloe, you know the membership rules

as well as the rest of us.

Referee's decision is final.

- Yeah, but my ball was closer!

- Chloe's right. You're just a bunch of cheats.

I'm sick of this farce.

Are you gonna let him get away with this?

-Leave it out, mate. -Oh.

-Ban him, Ruth. Ban him. -Okay, let's just calm it.

It's only a knockabout.

Save your energy for the championship finals.

Okay? -You. I want a word.

♪

Now, listen.

[Speaking indistinctly]

♪

[Camera shutter clicking]

♪

[Vehicle door closes]

♪

[Door closes]

-Alright, champ. -A bunch of losers, that lot.

♪

- Lovely evening for it.

[Keys jingle, vehicle door opens]

♪

[Vehicle door closes]

[Birds chirping]

♪

- [Breathes deeply]

♪

[Suspenseful music plays]

[Ominous music plays]

♪

Oh! Uh!

Uh, uh. Oh.

Aaaahhh!

♪

[Muffled screaming]

♪

[Squelching]

♪

[Birds cawing]

♪

[Theme music plays]

♪

[Doorbell rings]

♪

- Betty! Good morning, Winter.

Betty! I think I've cracked 18!

Listen, um... now, 4 times 4 equals 16,

plus 4 is 20, minus the square root of 4,

which is 2, equals... ta-da! 18.

- Well done, darling.

- Ah, the four fours maths challenge.

I remember it well. -[John chuckles]

- 19?

- Oh, I think

we've got to get to work, haven't we, Winter?

-Uh, yes, we do, sir. -Ah. Oh, I'm sorry, darling.

I'll get me jacket.

♪

- 4 factorial... 24. Minus-4. Minus-4 over 419.

- She knows. Betty's actually up to 53,

but John's more likely to let her stay up late tonight

if he feels like he's helped.

[Mouthing] 53? Wow.

- That's top maths, that, sir.

Well done. -Oh, well, thank you.

And, um, I'm actually more of a Shakespeare man, really.

Hm. See you later.

♪

- [Whispering] Bye.

- [Laughs]

[Police radio chatter, vehicle door opens, closes]

♪

- [Clears throat]

Victim is Wilfred "Wilf" Worrell,

80, widower, retired antiques dealer and groundsman.

Thank you. [Grunts]

- I never really understood the fascination with bowls.

- Really? I love a bit of bowling.

I used to play my granddad all the time.

You know, it dates back to the 13th century.

Surprisingly skilled. It's all in the wrist action.

♪

- Right.

♪

[Camera shutter clicking]

- Great. More numbers.

-I've got it. -Morning, Fleur.

- Morning.

- Alright?

- Quite a mouthful. Was that to silence him?

- Whatever it was for, it wasn't the cause of death.

That's PBI... penetrating brain injury to you...

caused by these...

measuring calipers,

thrust into the nasal cavity with considerable force.

Indications of cranial penetration

and associated cerebral trauma,

triggering intracranial hemorrhage.

Victim could have had them on him.

Or they might have been taken from the outhouse over there.

- Hmm.

Time of death?

- Judging from the lividity of the bruising

'round the nostrils, I'd say we're talking early evening.

- What about these markers?

Looks like the victim placed them there himself.

-A score? -As in a score to settle, sir?

- One thing at a time, Winter. Mobile phone?

- No sign of one... or any other personal effects.

-Who found him? -Ah.

That would be the Dawn Chorus Yoga Club.

- Ah, yes. Yoga teacher Jenny Pollock,

along with mother and daughter Ruth and Chloe Gillan.

- Mum Ruth is a GP and the bowling club president.

I've met her at many a medical get-together.

♪

[Ling ringing]

- Ruth Gillan?

♪

Was Wilf Worrell a mainstay of the club?

- Mm, he was indeed. Too much so, really.

- Hm. In what way?

- Oh, Wilf should have retired years ago.

He wasn't a well man. Thyroid issues mainly.

When I finally got him to agree to a course

of statins and beta-blockers,

he'd also reluctantly accepted that he needed some help here.

- And who might that be?

- Libby. Libby Trevor. Local horticulturalist.

Amazing at what she does...

and the patience of a saint with Wilf.

[Cellphone rings]

- Do you need to get that?

- No, it's just the surgery chasing.

[Ringing continues]

- Hm.

Did anyone not have patience with Wilf?

- Well, he wasn't the easiest person, to be fair.

Things got a bit heated yesterday.

Ollie Peterson wasn't happy with Wilf's refereeing.

-Because? -Oh, he thought he'd won.

Wilf's measurements indicated otherwise.

- Measurements made with calipers, by any chance?

- Yes. Lucas really kicked off...

accusing us all of cheating.

-Lucas who? -Shaw.

Runs Midsomer Mocha, the brand-new trendy coffee place.

Not everyone's cup of tea.

Or coffee.

- And did Mr. Worrell cheat?

- Well, possibly, but Lucas overreacted.

He's intense and a bit pushy.

- Maybe it's all that caffeine.

- Most of us are open to new ideas.

But Wilf, however, wasn't.

So when Lucas got a youngsters bowling team together,

Wilf resisted their entrance to the club

and tried to get them thrown out.

-For what? -Oh, well, anything.

Um, breaking dress regulation codes,

um, match etiquette rules, breathing, you name it.

- Why is the bowling club up for sale?

- Well, our finances are perilous.

Membership's fallen off the edge of a cliff...

-Hm. -mainly because, well,

people insist on dying.

- Quite.

Archie Pollock's on a roll.

- Championship-winning captain for the last 12 years.

- I see he also won in 1926.

- Oh. His grandfather.

He comes from a long line of Archies.

A load of "Pollocks," some might say.

[Chuckles]

Only ever threatened by Captain Curve himself...

Teddy Mulcahy,

who's no longer with us.

But their rivalry was legendary.

Best not mention him in front of Archie.

- I'll try not to.

- Jenny Pollock, Chloe Gillan. D.S. Winter.

- Guilty as charged.

- And, uh, you are?

- Uh, Libby Trevor, groundswoman.

- There you go.

- Sorry. Um... excuse me.

S-Sorry.

No. Excuse me. You can't stand there.

- Can you tell me what you were doing here this morning?

- Yeah, I run a sunrise yoga class here twice a week.

-Ah. -And my mum approved it.

She was keen to bring in some extra revenue.

-Oh. -Wilfred paused it, of course.

Wasn't happy about us using the green.

- Wilf wasn't happy about anything.

Cantankerous old goat.

- Safe to say you're not a fan, then?

- Impressive detective skills, D.S. Winter.

- The bowling green is the only place in the area we can do it.

It's perfect.

And it's gone down well with the majority of locals.

- That's 'cause you're insanely brilliant.

I mean, personally, I could do without seeing Dale

and his Downward Dog at the crack of dawn twice a week,

but... Jenny's done more for this community

than pretty much anyone else.

- Hm.

81.

Does that number mean anything to you?

Um, someone's age? A house number, perhaps?

- No, not that I know of.

- Mr. Worrell... Did he own a mobile phone?

- Oh, definitely not. Old-school.

-Dinosaur, more like. -Jenny.

- Oh.

- Are you okay?

I just heard. It's terrible.

- I know.

- Well, let's... Uh, let's get you home.

- Has anyone shown interest in buying the club?

- Two bids so far.

Flash Harry being one of them.

Harry Peterson, architect,

property magnate, and entrepreneur.

Sporty car.

Moved to the village a year ago with his son Ollie.

- The same Ollie who plays bowls?

- Ollie's sweet, whereas his dad

has made no secret of his intention

to expand his property empire around here.

We figure he'll raze the club to the ground,

build some modern monstrosity, and sell it for millions.

Apparently, Jack and Wilf thought otherwise.

They were saying yesterday

that Harry's bid is dead in the water.

- Jack?

- Oh. Club accountant. Archie's son.

- And he was here yesterday?

- Taking photos to promote his wife's yoga studio.

I really must make a move, if that's okay.

- Oh, by all means.

And who is the other potential buyer?

You mentioned two.

- Oh, we have absolutely no idea.

An anonymous bidder.

♪

- Well, I think it's fair to say

that Mr. Worrell wasn't the most popular person in the village.

- Indeed. Generational conflict,

sporting rivalry, a spat with Lucas Shaw.

- SOCO are on their way to Mr. Worrell's house now.

I'll follow. -Check his financials.

And get onto the council.

I want to know who's behind this anonymous bid

to buy the bowling club.

And pay a visit to Lucas Shaw at Midsomer Mocha.

- Oh, I'd love to.

Really into my coffee at the moment, sir.

Become a bit of a Java junkie. -A what?

- A roast ranger, sir.

Bean aficionado?

- Well, keep it to yourself, Winter.

I'll speak to Jack Pollock, see what he knows.

- Right.

- So... where were you last night, then?

- Well, never mind me. Where were you?

- Pub. Then boringly tucked in bed with a book.

You... You, Dr. Dirty Stop-out,

didn't make it home, I noticed.

- Well, for your information,

I went back to the surgery to a mountain of paperwork

and some midnight oil.

- Ah, is that what they call it these days?

I mean, I believe you. Millions wouldn't.

- What's up with you home alone, anyway?

Well, you're not still holding out

for that flash Harry, are you?

- Of course not.

Maybe a smidge.

Well, he's fun, he's charismatic, loaded,

and I get on really well with his son.

-And, uh, Dale? -Oh, please, Mother.

He's a glorified man with a van.

He's not even a contender.

Hi, Harry. -Hi, ladies.

- [Breathes deeply]

I mean, seriously, what's not to like?

- [Smooches] See you later.

[Vehicle door closes]

[Chloe sighs]

♪

Wow.

Who died?

- Chloe, can you not? Positivity, please.

- Yeah, there's positivity and there's delusion.

You've got to admit Wilf's death on top

of already being boycotted by 90% of the locals...

It's not a good look.

Maybe this place isn't ready for a coffee revolution.

- We'll just have to work harder then.

Today, Midsomer Devereux.

Tomorrow, the world.

- If you say so...

coffee man.

- I do.

I do say so.

♪

[Thud]

[Ominous music plays]

- There's police crawling everywhere.

-Libby, calm down. -Didn't you hear what I said?

They're all over the place. What are we gonna do?

- I'll tell you what we're not gonna do.

We're not gonna panic.

We're gonna stay calm and carry on as planned.

Okay?

♪

- Tell me, does the number 81 mean anything to you...

relating to bowls possibly?

- No. No, not at all.

- About the bids to buy the club.

I gather you and Mr. Worrell no longer believe

that Harry Peterson's bid is a goer.

- That's correct.

I have a friend on the council

who told me they'd reject any bid

that wanted to build residential property on the land.

- Which is Mr. Peterson's plan?

- That's what he does for a living.

Look, I was [Clears throat] I was told in confidence,

but made the mistake of telling Wilf,

who wanted to blab it to the world,

which could have ruined everything.

- Does Harry Peterson know about this?

Might Mr. Worrell have blabbed about it to him?

- Very possibly.

Wilf was nothing if not a stirrer.

- Hm. I'll need an address for Mr. Peterson, if you have it.

- Sure.

- And would Mr. Worrell blabbing be annoying for you?

- Well, it's my own fault, really.

I should have known better than to trust him.

- Can you tell me what you did last night after the game?

- Well, I've been taking photos of Jenny for her yoga.

And then I dropped her home and went to the Swan.

A few of us did. -These photos...

were they taken around the club generally?

- Yeah. All over. Just snaps, really.

- Might I see them?

You might have captured something without knowing it.

- Sure. I'll send them over to you.

- Big match tomorrow.

- The match. Climax of the season.

Gone right to the wire.

Could be the last championship ever if the club goes.

- And potentially your 13th. Quite a record.

Rivaled only by Teddy Mulcahy, I believe.

- Oh, Mulcahy. All mouth and no trousers.

A pretender, a mountebank.

Which is why I don't plan on letting any of those youths

win tomorrow. First is first.

Second is nowhere. Isn't that right, Jack?

- In one, Dad.

- You'll need a strong referee, I suspect.

- We will.

Bloody selfish of Wilf not to be around if you ask me.

-Dad. -What?

Just saying.

You look after the club. I'll sort the bowls.

- Everything alright, Mr. Pollock?

- Just a twinge.

- There's something wrong with your...

- No. It's fine.

♪

[Chainsaw whirring]

♪

[Jenny speaking indistinctly]

♪

[Loud thud]

♪

[Vehicle door opens]

♪

[Vehicle door closes]

[Keys jingle, lock disengages]

♪

[Suspenseful music plays]

♪

- How'd you get on at Mr. Worrell's?

- Nice cottage. Full of antiques.

But then, he was a dealer. Clearly a successful one.

His financials came back... all in good shape.

Something, I suspect,

that house clearance expert-cum- ambulance chaser Dale McManus

might be interested in.

I caught him snooping around.

- Check him out.

- Also, Mr. Worrell had an old-school landline.

The last person to call him at 5:00 yesterday

was flash Harry Peterson.

- Ah. Just as well I'm about to meet him.

♪

I knocked, but, uh...

Uh...

Is your dad here?

- He said he'd be back soon.

[Water splashes]

- You know, if you're a bit of a maths buff,

maybe you can help me with something.

Is there anything special about the number 81?

- 9 squared. 3 to the power of 4.

- Hm.

This is all about bowling?

- Yes. I'm, uh, trying to predict the path

the bowling ball will take.

Accuracy is everything.

Unless the ref's cheating.

- I take it you're referring to Mr. Worrell.

Why might he do that, do you think?

- Pick on us for breaking rules.

Not let us book practice greens.

He really had it in for us.

- As a result, perhaps someone had it in for him.

♪

- Can I help?

- Ah.

♪

[Knock on door]

♪

- Excuse me.

♪

- What the hell are those for?

- Mushroom coffee. It's the next big thing.

- You can't just pick wild mushrooms,

experiment, and sell it as coffee.

There are rules and regulations.

We have to do this properly, or we'll never get an investment

from someone like Harry Peterson.

♪

- Hi. Hey.

- D.S. Winter, Causton C.I.D.

- Uh, what can we get you?

How about this one?

Paraiso. It's a nutty bean, responsibly sourced

from a cooperative in Nicaragua.

- Or perhaps you fancy a Brazilian?

♪

- Uh, yes. Yes, maybe, um...

maybe in a minute.

Um, how [Clears throat]

How's the café been received so far?

- Wilf despised us.

And generally speaking?

A destination coffee shop isn't exactly top

of the village wish list.

- Most people here are still wedded

to powdered instant and a kettle.

- Same with the bowling club.

Their website's like something from the Dark Ages.

- Jack did the puzzles. Wilf did the jokes.

Every one a belter. -We joined,

hoping to encourage some cross-fertilization.

- Yeah, we're doing okay on the "cross" bit.

Less so on the "fertilization."

- Ah.

How did you get into coffee?

- [Chuckles] Well, I was a barista champion.

♪

Um, I worked in cafés all over the world.

Uh, Madrid, Ecuador, Guatemala.

I got tired of working for other people.

And my family are from 'round here, so...

This is my dream.

I'll do anything to make it work.

- What did you do after the game last night?

Mr. McManus said something about going to the pub.

-Yeah, a bunch of us did. -I'll need a list.

And, uh, one of those.

- Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure.

[Birds chirping]

- He's a bright kid, your son.

- [Chuckles] Doesn't get it from me.

- Oh. Oh, really?

I heard that you were, uh,

a successful architect-turned- property magnate.

- I can talk the talk, but I'm no good at maths.

Not on Ollie's league, anyway.

You know, he's just still a teenager,

but he's already been in touch with the European Space Agency

about a mentorship scheme they run.

- Ah. Impressive.

Is it just the two of you?

- It is.

Money can buy lots of things,

but it seems happiness is not one of them.

Ollie's mum lives abroad.

♪

He misses her, and, uh...

well, he retreated into physics,

quantum mechanics, and the multiverse.

He's become quite introverted.

- And yet he's a member of the bowling club.

- Yes. A godsend.

When the coffee guys wanted to recruit a youngster,

Chloe Gillan took a punt on Ollie,

and he hasn't looked back.

Swapped one obsession... orbital trajectories in space...

for another... lawn bowls. [Chuckles]

Who knew? He loves it.

- Mm. But he didn't love Mr. Worrell, though.

- No, but to be honest,

it's good for Ollie to meet old duffers like that.

Life isn't always fair.

And the sooner he learns that, the better.

- Hm.

Where were you last night around 6:00?

- I picked Ollie up from the bowling club and then came home.

- And when did you last talk to Mr. Worrell?

- Yesterday, on the phone.

- About?

- Mainly he wanted to gloat about how I wasn't gonna win the bid.

Something about council opposition

to residential property.

-That must have been galling. -Not really.

Who said I was doing anything residential?

- Well, what are your plans, then?

- My plans are confidential and for the moment, academic.

And with all due respect, I'd prefer to keep it that way,

if that's alright. -For the time being, yes.

[Thud]

♪

- Ollie? Everything alright?

♪

[Chuckles] Teenagers, eh?

Hormones and all that.

- Does your son make a habit of lashing out?

♪

Oh. Did you get me a coffee?

- No. No, I'm taste-testing.

Now [Sighs] I get gooseberry,

but I'm not getting a hint of hibiscus.

Tastes like pencil shavings to me.

- I had no idea you ate pencils.

- I, um... I checked on Dale McManus,

our house clearance expert,

and he's had fines for fly-tipping

and was once accused of identity theft,

but nothing was ever proven.

- Interesting.

- And, also, the council got back to me

about our anonymous bidder... H. Appleby.

- Hmm. Well, do some digging.

And while you're at it,

see if Harry Peterson has been involved

in anything non-residential. -Mm. Will do.

Oh, also, I got you something, sir.

It's a steam wand.

[Wand whirring]

Milk frother for your coffee.

It aerates the milk, makes it creamier.

[Whirring stops]

[Grunts]

- I'll bear that in mind.

[Cellphone dings, buzzes]

Ah. Fleur wants a word.

♪

- Glad you could join.

I'm working on the numbers.

- Doing the cryptic word games

while waiting for lab results, Fleur?

♪

- You don't get to be head

of Causton Cadavers' Pub Quiz Team without practice.

So pay attention.

It could be a letters-to-numbers code A1, B2 and so on.

- So if it is 81 would be...

-8A. -Hm.

- It could be the start of Harry.

- Yeah or our anonymous bidder, H. Appleby.

- Whoever they may be.

- The victim held one of the markers

as if he'd placed them on the ground himself.

Was he trying to help identify his killer?

- That implies Mr. Worrell,

after having caliper ends thrust into his brain...

- Had time to think of the idea and execute it before dying.

- I can check, but I suspect death was instantaneous.

- It would also imply that the killer left the scene

without checking the victim was dead.

Possible but careless.

- Okay, so... Pfft, alternatively...

- Well, the killer put the markers on the ground

as if Mr. Worrell had done so himself.

- To point the finger at someone else.

- Exactly.

There's something odd about these photos.

They're numbered JPEGs,

but there's quite a few of them missing.

Why wouldn't Mr. Pollock just send all of them?

- Maybe he deleted some as he went.

- Maybe.

In this one, the outhouse door is locked.

But it was open at the crime scene.

- Well, maybe he unlocked it after people left.

[Machine beeping] -Maybe.

Or someone else could have.

Apart from Mr. Worrell, who else would have keys?

- His colleague, Libby Trevor.

- Oh, the horticulturalist with the patience of a saint.

Let's talk to her.

♪

[Smooches]

- Was the, uh, yoga meeting good?

- Yeah. Fab. I'll grab coffees.

- Yeah.

- Hi, Chlo. Two lattes please.

- Chap with you now, is he not, Harry?

You know, the good looking, very successful,

super-minted Harry?

- No. Why would he be?

- Good question.

- Do you know what? Forget the coffees.

Let's go.

-What? What is it? -Nothing.

♪

- Yeah. Cheers. Jack.

♪

[Knock on door]

- What are you doing here?

- I got an emergency appointment

'cause you weren't answering my calls.

- I've been busy.

Not here. Not here.

- I'll see you later?

- I... I don't know. We have to be careful.

- Do we? Why? Who cares?

- Well, I do.

- Wilf did, didn't he?

- Well, Wilf's not a problem anymore, is he?

- Look, um, maybe we should just leave it.

You know?

We had our fun. I mean, it's no big deal, is it?

And... you are that bit younger than me.

- What's that got to do with anything?

- Well, I thought, um...

maybe... maybe you liked Chloe.

- Based on...?

- [Chuckles] You two flirting earlier.

- Haha! Correction... Your daughter flirting.

Which she'll do for anyone, by the way.

Literally anyone.

[Both chuckle]

- It's... It's absolutely fine if you do.

But if that is the case, then I'd rather we drew the line now.

- I'm not into Chlo.

Ruth.

Uh, the last few weeks with you have meant a lot to me.

So can I see you tonight?

Please?

Sure?

- Okay.

[Both chuckle lightly]

♪

[Birds chirping]

[Planter clatters]

[Knock on door]

- Afternoon, Miss Trevor. May we come in?

- Yes. Uh, sorry about all the plants.

They... They calm me, and I like the scents.

- Well, personally, I'm getting a rather strong

aroma of vanilla.

[Birds chirping]

- I don't know what that can be.

- How did you get on with Mr. Worrell?

- Well, um...

Yeah. Great.

He taught me everything I know,

and he was like a mentor to me, really?

Especially when I first moved into the area.

-And when was that? -Four years ago this summer.

I was on my own.

I fell in with the bowling brigade

and I wanted to firm that up somehow, so I...

I became the grounds woman.

- I gathered Mr. Worrell could be quite difficult.

- Wilf?

No, not at all. Who told you that?

- Ruth Gillon said he wasn't the easiest person to work for.

- He was great.

I mean, working with someone from a different generation

has its challenges, right?

- The, um, the outhouse at the bowling club.

I assume you have a set of keys?

-Yes. -Who else has?

- No one.

Just me and Wilf. Why?

- Because we believe whoever killed him

might have had access to the outhouse.

- Maybe Wilf just left it open.

- We heard that a number of you went to the Swan last night.

Did you all come and go at the same time?

- Sure.

Oh, apart from Dale.

He left early.

- Did he now?

♪

- Dale didn't say anything

about leaving the pub early when I asked him.

- Well keep digging. Likewise, Miss Trevor.

She's on edge. She's lying about something.

♪

[Gate creaks open]

[Footsteps crunching]

[Gate slams close]

♪

[Birds chirping]

[Door creaks open]

[Footsteps thudding]

[Door creaks close]

♪

[Drawers sliding, objects rustling]

♪

[Objects clatter]

[Drawer slams close]

- [Breathing heavily]

[Door creaks open]

♪

[Stairs creaking]

[Footsteps thudding]

♪

[Door bangs] -[Groans]

♪

- I don't remember much, to be honest.

- [Sighs]

Well, try and remember if you can, Dad.

It's important.

[Police radio chatter]

- I was walking into the living room and...

next thing I know, you're all here.

- Do you recall seeing anyone?

Did you notice anything untoward?

- Just that the painting that was on the wall was missing.

Wilf loved that painting.

- And what exactly were you doing here?

- Wilf was a good friend. I came to pay my respects.

- How did you get in?

- The front door was open.

- Didn't you think that was odd?

- No. Not really.

Wilf could be forgetful. -Uh, erm, I'm sorry.

But I think we need to take Archie to hospital

just to get him checked over.

Jack? -Yeah, I agree.

- No. No hospital. The paramedics said I'm fine.

I just want to go home.

I need a good night's sleep before the match.

- Maybe we should think about cancelling the match, Dad.

It's not like you're up against a Teddy Mulcahy.

- Never mind him. And don't be such a loser, Jack!

Your mother would turn in her grave if I didn't play.

-Would she, though? Really? -Yes she would.

And don't you ever forget it.

[Breathing heavily]

First is first, and second is nowhere.

[Wall clock ticking]

[Birds chirping]

[Police radio chatter]

Which reminds me, Jenny.

We'll need a referee for tomorrow.

Someone who understands

how important it is to get the right result.

- I'll do my best. But I'm not Wilf.

[Police radio chatter]

[Door opens and closes]

- Your father claims to compete

in your mother's memory.

But you don't think so.

- He competes to prove he's "the man."

Gotta see off the rivals.

- Like Teddy Mulcahy.

- Hm. A rival in every sense.

Meaning?

- The whole village knew Teddy carried a torch for Mum.

I don't think there was anything in it.

But after she'd passed,

beating him mattered more than ever.

- More than being there for his son?

[Wall clock ticking]

- I guess.

[Door opens]

[Police radio chatter]

- [Breathing deeply]

[Birds chirping]

There's no sign of a break in.

Back door was locked, but this door was open.

- It was when Archie Pollock arrived.

- It was definitely locked when I was here earlier, I checked.

- Meaning whoever assaulted Mr. Pollock had a set of keys.

Maybe the killer took them from Mr. Worrell at the bowling club.

How was this called in?

- 999. No name given.

- Unusual for a killer to ring 999.

- Unless whoever did this isn't our killer.

Maybe Mr. Pollock just disturbed a burglar stealing a painting.

Like, for example, a house clearance expert

that was sniffing around the cottage earlier.

- Speculation, Winter.

But let's pay Mr. McManus a visit.

I just want to have a quick look round.

Archie Pollock said that he came here to pay his respects.

- Seems like an odd thing to do.

- Especially given that when I saw him earlier,

he seemed more concerned about his good friend

not being able to referee tomorrow

than he was about him being dead.

- So he didn't come here to pay his respects.

- Then why was he here?

[Police radio chatter]

♪

- No. I can do the job.

It's just gotta be done by tomorrow afternoon.

I'm tied up in the morning.

[Vehicle doors open]

Okay, okay.

[Vehicle doors close]

I'll do it as soon as I can.

Deal.

[Cellphone beeps] [Footsteps crunching]

- I need a word.

The, um, quality pieces that you said Wilf Worrell owned,

that you were curious about, did that include a painting?

- He had a few, but one that was definitely

worth a few bob, yeah.

- The one in the kitchen?

Is that what you were gawping at

through the window when I saw you?

- No.

- Tell me if your job is being familiar with objects

and their valuations, how much is that painting worth?

- At auction, who knows.

For insurance purposes,

gotta be in the region of 10K, maybe more.

- Tempting.

And it's just been stolen.

- And whoever stole it assaulted Archie Pollock.

- I get it.

You think I took the painting and assaulted Archie?

If I'd stolen it, would I just tell you it was worth ten K?

- Well, you might, if it was worth more.

- Then be my guest and check.

I'm sure you will, anyway.

[Birds chirping]

Anything else?

If not, I'd like to go home.

- There is something else, actually.

When I asked you where you were last night,

you said you were at the pub.

- I was.

- You left early.

Where'd you go?

- Home.

I was tired.

Can I go now?

♪

- [Sighs heavily]

♪

[Coffee beans pouring]

[Laptop chimes]

♪

[Frother whisk whirring]

- Honestly, Jamie, I love it.

[Chuckles] Good.

- I was practicing all last night,

which kept John and I awake

trying to catch up with Betty on the fourth floor.

I think '73 is the closest we've come to divorce.

-[Chuckles] -Right. What do you think?

- That's pretty good.

- Mm! Oh. Here's Einstein.

- Oh. Morning, sir. [Clears throat]

- Jamie's just been telling me all about grinders and tampers.

- Have you now?

Well, I hate to interrupt coffee morning, Winter,

but we have work to do.

- Are you planning holiday, sir?

- Yeah. Research, actually.

Something Jack Pollock mentioned about starting a new life.

- Several developments overnight, sir.

Harry Peterson doesn't just do residential.

He's a partner in a chain

of healthcare centers across Europe.

Also, he's trying to buy

some woodland on the edge of the village.

But the application doesn't say what for.

- The bowling club and woodland.

He clearly wants to make his mark.

- As for the other bidder, H is for Holly Appleby,

and she's proving quite elusive.

All I can find is a P.O. box in Midsomer Parva.

- Well, find out when she got the P.O. box.

- Yeah, will do, sir.

Also, there was a message

on Wilf Worrell's answering machine

that you need to hear.

It was left by Dale McManus two days ago.

- I'll keep this brief.

I'm sick of it. And I've told you loads.

Back off Ruth or you're a dead man.

[Dramatic music plays]

-Prophetic to say the least. -Mm.

[Applause]

[Indistinct conversations]

[Indistinct chatter]

- Go get 'em, Tiger.

And Ollie, if you don't win, it's okay, right?

♪

[Indistinct conversations]

- Quite a few people already.

They did a really nice job on it.

-Have one of those. -[Chuckles]

- I heard about the assault. Are you okay?

- Perfectly fine, no thanks to you.

♪

[Applause]

- Enjoyed last night.

- Me too.

And I'm tired of hiding.

- [Sighs] Not that again.

- I had a thought this morning.

Why don't we just go somewhere else?

Start fresh.

I'm serious.

- Are you playing games with me?

- No.

[Sighs] After this, I got a job to do.

Then I'm free.

[Indistinct chatter]

What do you say?

What are we waiting for?

- Hey! Dale!

Chop, chop. You need to get your eye in.

[Indistinct conversations]

- Archie, mate, how's the head, alright?

-Oh, is that right? -I've got my money on him.

- Check with Jack Pollock

about the rest of the pictures he took.

The ones he didn't send us.

- Yeah. Will do, sir.

- Hello. Coming this way?

- Yeah, that's it. [Chuckles]

[Indistinct conversations]

-Everything alright? -Oh.

- Just worried about Archie, that's all.

- Tell me, how far do you think he'd go to win today?

- Well, as far as needs be.

- That's what worries me.

The medication you prescribed for Mr. Worrell,

you mentioned statins and beta blockers.

- Yeah that's right.

- If someone else took them, would they, for example,

help with an arm tremor.

- Hm.

Well, they might.

Although, taking someone else's medication

is dangerous.

- And illegal.

[Applause]

- Oh, alright.

[Indistinct chatter]

- Best go, refereeing duties to attend to.

-Yeah. Break a leg. -Mm.

- Actually, Jenny, um...

♪

Nothing.

♪

- Ah, Mr. Pollock, about those files that you sent us,

some of them were missing.

- Uh, were they, uh, well, I might have deleted some.

- Sure, we'd still like to retrieve if we can.

- Okay. Can I get them to you later?

- We can do it now.

Just, um, airdrop them to me.

- [Chuckles sheepishly] Uh, yeah.

I'm... I'm not sure I know how to do that.

- I could show you.

[Indistinct conversations]

[Door creaks open]

♪

- Have you taken Wilf's meds?

Apart from being incredibly irresponsible,

you do know that's essentially doping.

- You should have given me a prescription then.

- I have my reputation to think of.

- So do I, and mine's worth more than yours.

Especially since Wilf told me all about you and Dale.

Right, Dale?

♪

[Coin clinks]

- Heads.

- Ollie's Orbitals, you get to choose ends.

- We'll do East-West, please.

Better lay of the land.

- It'll take more than that.

- Archie, your Bowls Whisperers

gets to choose who starts.

They can.

Right. Let's get ready.

♪

- [Imitates gunshot]

[Applause]

♪

[Crowd murmuring]

[Applause]

[Conversing indistinctly]

♪

[Applause]

- You were right to check the photos, by the way.

The ones that Jack Pollock didn't manage to send us

all have one striking thing in common.

They all show Archie Pollock arguing with Wilf Worrell.

[Birds chirping]

- Yeah. Question is, what about.

Let's speak to our bowling legend

as soon as this match ends.

We're on the deciding end now.

♪

- [Inhales deeply]

[Applause]

♪

[Crowd gasping]

[Crowd murmuring]

[Applause]

♪

- That looks good.

[Dramatic music plays]

[Crowd murmuring]

[Applause]

♪

- Over to you, Jenny.

♪

- And the winner is...

Ollie's Orbitals!

[Cheers and applause] -Yes! Yes, he did it!

-[Ollie cheers] -Yes, good shot, mate.

Absolute world. -[Ollie cheers]

-Whoo! -Come on!

- Ice cold. Come on!

Justice.

Whoo!

- How'd that feel? Dale, you alright?

[Indistinct conversations]

- Oh, blimey!

[Indistinct chatter]

-[Jenny sighs] -Here he comes.

-What was I meant to do? -Look, you did the right thing.

- You are no daughter-in-law of mine!

I don't know why you married her.

[Indistinct chatter]

- You speak to Archie Pollock.

I'll talk to Dale McManus.

- Will do.

Although...

[Suspenseful music plays]

[Engine starts]

[Engine revs]

[Engine receding]

♪

-Ready? -Oh, yes. Good. Lovely.

[Indistinct chatter]

- Where is Mr. Pollock Sr.?

- He stormed off.

- Not out front, he didn't.

- There's a back exit.

I think he wanted to avoid people.

♪

[Birds cawing]

♪

[Wings flapping]

[Birds calling]

♪

[Crane engine starts]

[Crane engine rumbling]

[Crane clanking]

- [Screams]

[Tree trunks thud]

[Police radio chatter]

- Harry Peterson found the body,

called it in, and then went home.

- Did he, now? We'll need a word.

♪

- I'm guessing you're familiar with the identity of the victim.

[Police radio chatter]

- I am.

Dale McManus.

Was it an accident?

- Hard to be sure,

but we're checking the crane cabin for prints.

I'll need to confirm, but preliminary indications

suggest cause of death was a combination

of blunt trauma to the head

and compression of the chest area

leading to pneumothorax.

[Birds chirping]

- Not pleasant. [Sighs]

Notice anything missing?

- His van. Perhaps the killer took it.

- I'll put a mark on it. Circulate a trace.

What we do have, though, about 30 meters over there,

is a large collection of white goods...

a fridge, freezer, washing machine, the whole lot.

-Fly tipping. -Mm-hmm.

[Birds calling]

[Footsteps approaching]

[Birds chirping in distance]

- [Sighs] Mr. Peterson.

It was you who found Dale McManus's body.

Is that right? -Yes. That's right.

- Well, just passing, were you?

So soon after your son's finest hour at the bowling club?

Seems a bit strange.

- I'm interested in buying that plot of woodland.

I... I go there sometimes

to think over my potential investment.

- And you just happen to cross Mr. McManus's body?

- That's correct. Yes.

- Mr. Peterson, we can confiscate your phone

and your computer and find out the real reason you went there.

Or you could save us some time and just tell us the truth.

- [Sighs heavily]

I was due to meet Jenny Pollock.

I'm thinking of building a yoga centre there that she might run.

- That's very generous of you.

- Well, not at all. I'm... I'm a businessman.

She's very good at what she does.

It would be a sound investment.

- I see.

- Did, uh, Mr. McManus

have anything to do with this plan?

- No, nothing at all.

I was late getting there after celebrating with Ollie.

And when I arrived...

he was just lying there.

- So if you went to meet Mrs. Pollock,

why wasn't she there?

- I don't know.

- She texted me to meet her there straight after the final.

- I didn't send a text to Harry.

- Mr. Peterson definitely received one.

We saw it.

- Er, no text.

But you could have deleted it.

- I didn't.

- Then someone else must have.

Who else would have had access to your phone?

Presumably you have a passcode.

- One, two, three, four.

- [Scoffs] That's guessable.

- But anyway, I always have my phone on me.

- The text was sent at 11:24,

which is around the time the bowling final was due to start.

Did you have your phone on you then?

- Actually, no.

It was in my bag, which I left in the outhouse.

- So it could have been accessed

there by anyone at the bowling match?

- Yeah, I suppose.

This business venture you might be embarking on

with Harry Peterson, is it public knowledge?

- What business venture?

- I think that answers my question.

- It's nothing, Jack. Really.

Harry's thinking of buying some land

and setting up a yoga centre.

He has some experience in that area.

- Healthcare centres across Europe, etc.

-Exactly. -What's that got to do with you?

- Well, he asked me if I wanted to run it.

- What? And you didn't tell me because?

- Because there's nothing to tell.

Look, I'm not gonna do it.

I don't want to get into business with Harry.

It's a non-starter.

[Sighs]

- Mr. Pollock, the photographs

that you didn't send us to begin with

showed your father and Mr. Worrell arguing.

Do you know what about?

- No, I don't.

- Was not sending us the photos just an oversight,

or did you think they might implicate your father?

[Birds chirping in distance]

- I was trying to protect him.

- Because you think he might have killed Mr. Worrell?

- No, of course not. I just...

I was worried, I guess.

I knew it didn't look good.

- I know what they were arguing about.

Archie told me about it last night as part

of trying to get me to cheat on his behalf.

He asked Wilf if he could have some

of his meds to calm his arm.

Wilf said no.

- So Mr. Pollock stole them after Mr. Worrell was killed.

Where is your father now?

- Refuses to be under the same roof as me.

- He's out walking. He'll be back soon.

He'll calm down.

[Birds chirp]

[Door opens]

[Footsteps thudding]

[Door closes]

- Archie Pollock isn't gonna calm down anytime soon.

Winning the bowls meant too much to him.

Something to do with unresolved grief

about the death of his wife.

What do you make of Mr. and Mrs. Pollock?

- I'm not sure.

If this is just about a yoga centre,

then I don't see why Mrs. Pollock

didn't just tell her husband.

- Well, maybe she knew he'd be suspicious.

- I mean, she could be lying to cover her tracks.

What about Harry Peterson?

- Well, we can't rule him out.

He wouldn't be the first murderer

to pretend to have found the body.

We can't rule out Archie Pollock either.

Keep digging on the Pollock family,

their finances, background, everything.

- Yeah, will do.

Do you know what Dale was planning

on doing after the final?

- Um, he said he had a job to do. That's all.

- We needed to talk to him

about a message he left on Mr. Worrell's answering machine.

You were mentioned in that message.

We need to know what it was about.

- What is it, Mum?

- Dale and I were seeing each other.

- But...

So that's where you were two nights ago.

- The night Mr. Worrell was killed.

- Yes. Me and... Me and Dale met up.

- That would explain why he left the pub early.

- [Sighs] Why not just say that?

You could have told me.

- No I couldn't.

I... I didn't want it to be public knowledge.

- Why was that?

- Chloe's dad ran off with a younger woman,

and I was very publicly humiliated and devastated,

and even more publicly,

a vocal opponent to...

inappropriately aged relationships.

- Dale was hardly a babe in arms.

- He was in his 30s. I'm in my 50s.

But also, I just...

I didn't want my private life to be the talk

of the village again.

I hated that.

So I wasn't comfortable going public

until I was completely sure about Dale.

- And were you?

- Yes.

I was now.

- But when Mr. Worrell found out about you two,

he threatened to blab.

- Oh and some.

Wilf was old school, disapproved,

loved having something over us.

- Famous for it.

"Radio Wilf" we called him.

And no secret was safe.

- He loved seeing my discomfort.

Reveled in it.

He said the only thing he enjoyed more

than dealing antiques was dealing in secrets.

- And Dale?

- [Sighs heavily]

Lovable hothead that he was.

He hated seeing me being manipulated.

- So he left a message telling Wilf to keep quiet.

His wording was quite severe.

- That was just Dale being protective.

He went in a bit heavy. Didn't mean anything by it.

He didn't kill him, if that's what you're thinking.

- I don't know what you're so worried about, Mum.

You're not the only one around here misbehaving.

- Who might... Erm, who else is?

- Well, Harry and Jenny, for starters.

Saw them having a lover's tiff out in the woods.

- They say that they were discussing

a joint business venture.

- Believe me, what I saw was no business talk.

- I'm surprised. I thought she'd seen him off.

- Seen him off? In what way?

- Well, when Harry moved here,

he made no secret of the fact that he was attracted to Jenny.

Was the talk of the village.

- Like Jack's mum and Teddy Mulcahy all over again.

Jenny fobbed him off. At least we thought she did.

- Something Mr. Peterson said.

Money can't buy happiness.

Maybe he was talking about Jenny.

- How did Jack Pollock handle all this?

- [Sighs] Jack's Jack.

He just...

lets these things roll over him.

♪

- Sir, news on an anonymous second bidder, Holly Appleby.

She started the P.O. box four years ago.

- Oh.

A lot of fours in the ether at the moment.

The forth form challenge,

four years Holly Appleby has had her P.O. box,

and it's four years since Libby Trevor moved to the area.

- Before that, Holly Appleby lived in Aspen.

She went through a messy divorce and ended up in the courts.

But why open a P.O. box.

- To protect her anonymity when she moved on perhaps.

Interestingly, Libby Trevor said she moved here on her own.

- Hm, you're thinking that maybe

Holly Appleby changed her name to Libby Trevor.

- Possibly, but why would an assistant grounds woman

put in a bid to buy the bowling club?

- Because she loves her job?

- Well, you say that, but if that's the case,

what are all these bowling balls still doing out here?

Why wouldn't Libby Trevor put them away after the final

unless she left in a hurry?

[Machine grinding]

[Machine powering down]

[Packages rustling]

[Footsteps crunching]

[Paper rustling]

♪

[Paper rustling]

- Busy?

- Oh! Uh, what? No, erm...

No, I was just sorting.

- Mind if we take a look in the greenhouse?

♪

- Mm, vanilla.

[Birds chirping]

Ah.

That's not earth on your hands, is it?

It's vanilla-scented coffee.

And this is the real Midsomer Mocha.

- Time to come clean...

Holly.

It is Holly, isn't it?

[Birds chirping]

[Insects chittering]

[Wind gusting]

[Leaves rustling]

[Birds calling]

♪

- Hello?

Dale!

That you?

♪

[Footsteps approaching]

[Liquid splashes, water bottle clatters ]

- [Yelling, sputtering]

[Footsteps crunching]

♪

- Lovely. Cheers, mate. Thank you.

[Sniffles, clears throat]

[Coffee pot clatters]

Hey.

Which one do you want to try this time?

- Something authentic would be good.

- Okay. Uh, what can I hit you with?

Uh, Colombian. Guatemalan?

- Actually, you can hit me with the truth...

and fill me in about Dale McManus blackmailing you.

Or I can introduce you to the Causton CID coffee machine,

which is about as authentic as you are.

♪

- My marriage...

was abusive.

[Birds chirping in distance]

But I finally got out of it

and I started over in Midsomer, Devereux.

- Changing your name and trying to make sure

your ex couldn't track you down.

- Libby...

started out as "liberty."

A sign of my new freedom.

[Chirping continues]

All I wanted to do was belong.

And I thought that the bowling club would...

would do that.

- But Mr. Worrell made it difficult.

- Wilf was a bully...

which wasn't good for me because it reminded me of...

of what I had fought so hard to escape from.

- Earlier you were very complimentary about Mr. Worrell.

You said he was like a mentor to you.

Why lie?

- I'm sorry, I guess...

I guess I didn't want to speak ill of the dead.

I... I didn't want to have to admit all this.

- How did you become involved with Midsomer Mocha?

- I liked Lucas's dream.

And I was trying to figure out how to do something positive

with a property that I owned in Aspen Tallow.

So I thought that if I sold it,

I could use the proceeds as collateral.

- To join forces and help to buy the bowling club.

- That was the theory.

But in practice, it's proving kind of different.

That's... That's the thing with dreams.

They don't... They don't always come true.

- With Libby's backing,

the plan is to turn the bowling club

into a coffee emporium with an outside space

for coffee events and music gigs.

- Emporium.

You've hardly won over the hearts and minds so far.

- We just need time.

You can make the best coffee in the world,

source the best growers, use the finest beans...

- But if you don't have anyone to drink it...

[Sighs]

We've seen your set up in Libby's greenhouse.

Everything here is fake.

- We just needed to reduce costs in order to survive

until things take off.

- By importing the cheapest beans that you can find.

Probably not ethically sourced and roasting them yourself.

- It's not gonna be forever.

- And you assume that no one would find out.

But Dale McManus did

I have access to his emails.

He found out what you and Libby were up to,

and he's been trying to extort money from you.

- Money I haven't got.

- You might if you broke into Wilf Worrell's house

and stole a painting.

Did Wilf find out your little secret, too?

- What? No.

Look, I didn't like Wilf or Wilf Didn't like me,

but I didn't steal any painting.

What do you think I am?

- A fraud.

Someone desperate to keep their dream alive.

Dale McManus was found dead earlier today.

♪

- I swear, I don't know anything about that.

[Police radio chatter]

- Lucas Shaw?

- Mm, he's admitted fraud,

but he's adamant that he didn't kill anyone.

And I think he's telling the truth.

He's misguided, but he isn't a killer.

What about Libby Trevor?

- I don't think she's killed anyone, either.

- So who did kill Dale McManus?

- And why?

- I wonder if we might be taking Mr. McManus's death

too much at face value.

- Meaning?

- Well, we know that Harry Peterson

received a text message from someone

wanting to meet him in the woods,

but he was delayed

by the match celebrations with his son.

So what if Mr. McManus

in the woods to dump white goods,

was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?

- And Harry Peterson was the real target?

- Indeed.

- How are we doing with the Pollock family background?

- Financials are interesting. The accounts are all in order.

But, erm, you were right to look into the Turks and Caicos.

Some years ago, Jack Pollock lost a whole pile of money

in an investment there.

Apart from that, everything's above board.

Interestingly, though, he did the accounts of Teddy Mulcahy.

-Hm, his father's nemesis. -Mm.

- And presumably historic accounts

given that Mr. Mulcahy has been dead for years.

[Cellphone buzzes] -I guess.

- Well, check.

[Clears throat]

Mr. Pollock, how can I help?

[Indistinct conversations]

We're on our way. [Cellphone beeps]

That was Jack Pollock.

He says his father's been kidnapped.

♪

Any further word?

- Anonymous e-mail demanding

a quarter of £1 million as a ransom.

- We'll try and trace the sender.

- [Sighs] Four hours to find the money.

How am I gonna do that? -You're not.

We don't recommend giving into ransom demands.

And this seems more like an act

of financial desperation than anything else.

- It's easy for you to say. It's not your father

whose life's in danger.

If I had the money, I'd hand it over right this second.

- Can we borrow against the house?

- I've already spoken to the bank.

There isn't the time.

We don't have that kind of money.

- Maybe we could call on local support.

- We'd never raise enough.

- What about Harry?

I could ask him. We could ask him.

- Thanks.

Uniform have triangulated the signal

and found your father's phone.

It's roadside on a country lane.

- We'll head over there.

In the meantime, please don't do anything without talking to us.

♪

I doubt there's much in the way of road cameras here.

- There might be one at the junction

where the road meets the village.

- Well, get tech onto it urgently.

- Yes, sir.

[Camera shutter clicking]

[Police radio chatter]

[Camera shutter clicking]

- One mobile phone

and one discarded bowling ball.

- Is that blood?

- Actually, it's coffee.

- Hm, if it's still wet,

we could get Winter to do a taste test.

- Already done it.

- We'll do a GCMS test in the lab to make sure.

But I did the old PTT...

pipette tongue taste.

My guess would be powdered instant.

[Button clicks]

♪

- Can't just sit here and do nothing.

Dad's out there somewhere.

♪

- It's all my fault.

- [Sighs]

Look, I don't like the idea,

but I think we have to do what you suggested.

Ask Harry.

-What about the police? -What about them?

♪

- Harry, it's me.

♪

[Indistinct chatter]

- What's the connection between the murders and the kidnapping?

- Money. Someone is desperate for it.

They stole a valuable painting from Mr. Worrell,

and now they want a quarter of £1 million

for the return of Archie Pollock.

- Why?

Greed? -A debt more like.

I think someone got into trouble

and made the mistake of asking Mr. Worrell,

who you said had money, to borrow some.

- Mr. Worrell said no, because he's an old curmudgeon.

- Who likes nothing better

than dealling in other people's secrets.

He threatens to tell the world and so needs to be silenced.

You know, what's really bugging me about these photos

is that they're not shots of Jenny Pollock

with Archie and Wilf in the background.

The two men are the main subject of the pictures.

- Meaning that Jack Pollock was curious about the argument,

which was just about meds.

- He said he didn't know what it was about,

but maybe he thought they were arguing about something else.

- Hm. Oh, we checked out Teddy Mulcahy's accounts.

And interestingly, so was the tax man.

Heavily in debt and still active

although pending imminent investigation.

- So the financial clock is ticking and the net closing in.

- Who would know how to keep a dead man's accounts alive?

- Jack Pollock would.

- He hasn't kidnapped his own father, has he?

[Telephone ringing]

Winter.

Ah. Okay. Yeah. Thanks.

Patrol have sighted Dale McManus's van in a field

in a field next to the woods.

- Let's go.

♪

- What are you doing here?

- I could ask you the same question.

I asked you not to do anything without talking to us.

- You don't understand. They said to come alone.

[Sighs heavily]

To, uh, to use Harry's phone to transfer the money.

Then and only then would Dad be released.

We need to do what they say.

Transfer the money.

-Don't. -Look! Quick, quick!

The time's running out.

- It is indeed, Mr. Pollock.

There are no kidnappers because there was no kidnapping,

was there?

- Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?

- Mr. Pollock has faked his father's kidnapping.

- Jenny. What? What's going on? What are you doing here?

- I need to know what's happening.

- Mr. Pollock here,

one failed Turks and Caicos investment behind him,

needed to do something.

- Prove himself to his father and provide for his wife.

- Was Mr. Petersen's arrival in the village the trigger?

The dashing international businessman?

You couldn't compete?

- But you tried to by making investments

under a false name.

Your father's nemesis, Teddy Mulcahy.

- Was that some kind of private joke to get at your father?

Why?

♪

- Because he wasn't there for me.

He was never there.

After mom died, he was too obsessed

with his stupid bowling!

- So when your fake investments went wrong

with the taxman looming,

you asked Wilf Worrell to bail you out.

- What a mistake that was.

He said no and started lording it over me.

- Which explains the photos.

You were never worried how those photos looked for your father.

- I-I-I saw Wilf having words with Dad.

I thought he was telling him about me

and I needed to know for sure.

So I went back. But he... He wasn't.

But that just made things worse.

- So you needed to silence him.

And knowing where Mr. Worrell kept the keys,

you went to the outhouse.

You killed him

and then tried to point the finger at your nemesis,

Harry.

You thought H.A. might be enough?

- I wasn't thinking straight. I-I-I needed money fast.

- So you stole a painting,

accidentally assaulting your father in the process.

- And then you decide to target Harry direct.

You used Jenny's phone to lure him to the woods.

Only that doesn't work either.

Harry's delayed, and you kill an innocent man.

- I didn't mean to kill Dale.

- He was the wrong man in the wrong place.

- You're... You're panicked, you're lost, and then...

it hits you.

The solution to everything.

Pretend to kidnap your father.

Demand a ransom that will clear your debts once and for all.

- Knowing that your wife would turn to Harry to pay for it

before he's killed by "kidnappers."

- Otherwise known as you.

- Jack?

- It should have been him.

-[Harry gasps] -Stay back!

Or else so help me God, I'll kill him!

- Put the knife down, Jack. It won't help.

- I was so close.

- To sailing off into the sunset?

- I just...

I wanted us to be happy.

I wanted us to be together.

- I am.

We are.

- No, no. You're having an affair.

- [Sighs] I'm not.

- I've seen all your messages.

I've seen your... y-y-your secret meetings.

Th-Th-The... The fear of being caught.

- Because I didn't want you to think this.

- Right.

You're gonna run off with him and live happily ever after.

You know what? I don't blame you.

[Scoffs] Because I can't compete with him.

[Birds chirp]

Look at me.

Look at me and tell me you weren't tempted.

- Okay, I was, but I didn't give in to it.

I stayed true...

because I love you.

[Birds chirping]

-[Grunts] -Oh, God!

- It's true. She loves you, not me.

- What have you done, Jack?

- Your wife doesn't cheat.

You just believed the gossip.

- I... I was a laughing stock.

- You're not.

Nothing happened.

I wanted it to, but Jenny refused.

Even when I just wanted to invest in her

with a yoga centre, she refused that, too.

She thought it would be inappropriate.

- [Exhales sharply]

You had the dream already.

You were living it.

♪

- [Cries]

[Inhales shakily]

Oh, God!

[Sobbing]

♪

I'm sorry, Dad.

[Birds chirping]

- So am I.

[Sirens wailing]

♪

Oh. Come on, Lizzy, everybody wants to see the trophy.

- I give you the four by four maths challenge champion!

[Applause]

And it was all her own work.

- It was actually. We were rubbish.

- Together we have a new challenge.

- Yeah, we do indeed.

- A bowling match.

These were my grandfather's pride and joy.

[Birds chirping]

Oh, and we also have to honour Harry Petersen's successful bid

to buy the Midsomer Devereux Bowling Club.

- He plans to modernize it and keep it as a bowling club

for his son to play at.

- Very good.

- They, uh, had names for their teams, didn't they?

- They did.

There's Archie's Bowls Whisperers

and Ollie's Orbitals.

And I've been giving some thought to a name for us.

And in every sense, you can't beat Barnaby's Bowling Bevies.

- Comparing me to a drink.

- Well, it's something else I'm very fond of.

- I thought of, uh, Fleur Power or...

the Flying Fleurs.

But I'll leave it to Jamie.

- Winter Milan.

-[John laughs] -[Groans]

My dear.

♪

- Oh! Come on. Ooh.

♪

-Ooh. -Ooh! Yeah.

♪

- Ooh.

♪

- Ooh!

[Laughter]

-Ooh. I think we did it. -[Chuckles]

♪

- Oh, well...

I think the clear winner is...

Hang on. That's cheating.

-Of course it's not. -[Laughing]

-What? -It's a bowl, isn't it?

[Laughter]

[Dog barking]

- [John chuckles]

[Barking continues]

♪