Original subtitles

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

Damn.

Hey, what do you do with that?

♪

Damn.

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

Have a nice evening, then!

Phoenix turned and fired twice, the 35mm bullets

spitting through the air and splintering the

brickwork two inches to the left of the Russian thug's shoulder.

A moment later came the reply of the Uzi

semi-automatic, and Phoenix twisted round.

Mrs. Bundy?

Mrs. Bundy?

Her lips, searching in the sapphire, honey-scented darkness, found his.

Cool, forceful, unresisting.

And as the frozen waves crashed down.

Afternoon, Mrs. Hutton.

Oh, afternoon, Mrs. Bundy.

Got your meeting, have you?

Yes, I'm on my way.

Is, uh, Gerald, uh, Mr. Hadley, is he in?

Yes.

You'll be the first.

-Will I? -Oh, right.

He pulled her towards him, his powerful, masculine

hands tearing at the silk fabric of her Gaultier nightshirt.

Scum, scumbag, scumbag, scumbag, scum.

The repetitive beat of the inner city drum.

Scumbag, scumbag, scumbag, scum.

Yes.

Boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop, boop.

What is that?

It's Hector, my dragon.

I thought I might take him to the writer's group.

God's woman, you're not serious.

How's it going?

It was going very well until you interrupted me.

Scum, scumbag, scumbag, scum.

It's a bit repetitive, isn't it?

Yes, it is.

That's the point.

♪

In 1887, Sebastian Lyddiard, great-grandson of Herbert

Lyddiard, who'd served under Sir John Jarvis against Napoleon...

We ought to go, Honoria.

We're going to be late.

They can wait.

I've almost finished the 19th century.

Oh, I am pleased.

Sebastian Lyddiard, Edward Lyddiard, the Right Honourable William

Lyddiard, George Lyddiard, Herbert Lyddiard, Henry

Lyddiard, and then Ralph.

Ralph, yes.

Ralph Lyddiard.

Do you ever regret marrying him, Amy?

I wonder if you ever think that but for you, he might still be alive.

Well, I do.

So now we come to the question of which writer we invite to address us.

What about Jilly Cooper?

I thought he said a writer.

Do you think we could interest Frederick Forsyth?

I rather doubt it.

Oh, it's a wonderful idea, Gerald, especially since you're writing a thriller.

I think Frederick Forsyth would be first rate.

He'd never come.

He'd just pretend he didn't have time.

They always do.

I'd like Seamus Heaney.

The poet?

Not another poet.

That last one was such a ghastly little man.

Yes.

What about Max Jennings?

What?

Max Jennings.

Why him?

What do you mean?

Who is Max Jennings?

You know, Ornoria, that book I was

reading, Far Away Hills, it was a bestseller.

No, no, no.

I'm the chairman of this group.

I don't want him here.

Why not?

I don't think he's very good.

Look, what about Alan Bennett?

Tried him last year.

Geoffrey Archer?

Vulgar.

Look, it's getting late, and I've got marking for a class tomorrow.

Why don't we take a vote?

Max Jennings.

Well, I say no.

I'm against it.

It doesn't make any difference.

It's a majority vote.

Max Jennings it is.

It's from something called the Midsomer Worthy Writer's Circle.

They want me to give them a talk.

You're not gonna go, are you?

A letter from somebody called Brian Clapper.

He's got his own letterhead.

Chairman...

Gerald Hadley.

Do you know him?

Isn't it a bit early for that?

No.

I'm awake.

Cheryl.

They've invited me on July the 1st.

I thought you were to be in Dusseldorf or Denmark or somewhere.

I'm in Denmark on the 2nd.

You don't want to go to a boring writer's circle?

As a matter of fact...

I do.

Yes.

As a matter of fact.

I do.

You're going to be late.

Yeah, it's really quite a treat.

Got a couple of burglaries, car theft, nothing much to hurry in for.

If someone doesn't get murdered soon, you'll only get catchy.

No, I won't.

-See? -You already are.

No, I am not.

Oh, I'll get it.

-Cully! -Dad, hi.

This is a surprise.

I thought you were on your way to Poland.

-Yeah, we are. -No, I'll explain.

-This is Brad, by the way. -Hello, Brad.

We've only got a minute.

Oh, just come in, come in. Your mum's here.

Does he talk?

So we're joining the rest of the group in

Paris, and then we're going to go on by train.

Will they understand much ado about nothing in Poland?

Dad, it's Shakespeare.

They understand him everywhere.

The way Brad's directed it, it's very.

Non-verbal?

Visual.

So what brings you all the way out here, darling?

Not that we're not pleased to see you.

It's got nothing to do with that wicker basket

you've been trying hard not to let me see, is it?

You would notice, wouldn't you?

Oh.

His name's Kilmowski.

He's a Russian blue.

Is it yours?

Yeah, I sort of adopted him.

Oh, don't tell me you're looking for new foster parents.

Well, it's just while I'm away.

He's very clean.

He won't be any trouble.

I'll bring you some Polish vodka.

Oh, bribery now, is it?

It's just for three weeks.

Besides, Mom said you weren't very busy.

Well, that is true.

Never known it's a quiet.

Just make sure you remember to come home.

♪

♪

♪

♪

Hello.

Oh, Honoria.

Are you all right?

Yes, I'm fine.

No, you're crying.

No, it's hay fever.

Hm.

Can I help you, Honoria?

Yes, you said you might have some more papers coming in.

Navy news?

Oh, yes.

Yes, they're over here.

What a pretty table.

You have so many pretty things, my dear.

I suppose it comes from being in trade.

Yes, they're from the 70s, 78 and 9.

I don't know if that's of any interest.

It might be, indeed.

Excuse me.

The spinning wheel, how can I help you?

Oh no, we don't have...

Well, I hope he plays.

If you'd like to leave me your telephone

number, if I see one, I'll certainly let you know.

Honoria?

♪

The meeting isn't until 7.30, Enoria!

You're home early.

I thought dragons were supposed to breathe fire.

Oh, he hasn't learned to do that yet.

It's the story.

I'm going to have a bath, get ready for the night.

Max Jennings, I finished his book.

It's very good.

Oh, well, I'm glad while I was out working I had time for a nice read.

If you've got any strength left, maybe you could bring me a cup of tea.

Amy, I'll give you a hand.

Oh, no, no. I'm all right, just getting the shopping.

Amy.

You all right, Gerald?

No, as a matter of fact, I'm not.

The thing is,

I'm afraid.

Afraid?

Max Jennings, the writer who's coming tonight.

What about him?

I knew him a long time ago.

Amy, I want you to do me a favor.

I don't want you to leave the two of us together.

Not for one minute.

Would you promise me that?

Yes, of course.

I just don't want to be left alone with him, that's all.

When you say a book is true, I don't

think it has to be literally the truth.

I mean, that's not what writing's all about.

You take the truth and you spin something from it.

You're creating something new.

You're not recording something old.

Anyway, I've been talking for quite long enough

now, so in conclusion, I would just like to say this.

Writers need stamina.

We need a wayfaring mind.

Nothing should be beneath our attention, but above all, we need luck.

And that's what I wish, all of you.

Thank you.

Well, I can't stay very long, I'm afraid.

I'm flying off to a signing session tomorrow, but, um, are there any questions?

Gerald.

No.

I'd like to ask a question, Mr. Jennings.

Max, please.

Well, I was wondering, I'm writing a history of England.

Oh, really?

As seen through the personal chronicles of my family, the Lydiards.

Here we go.

Which I've traced back to the 14th century.

And the line continues all the way to the Falklands, where

my late brother, Ralph, served as an officer on HMS Leicester.

Actually, I do have a question.

Yes?

You were talking about the truth...

in fiction.

So I'd be interested to know...

where do you get your ideas?

Mainly from experience.

Well, that's interesting.

Because, you see, I don't have any experience that I can write about.

Not now.

I'd like to ask something.

I wondered how you managed to make your characters so real.

I worked as a psychiatrist before I took

up writing, and so I feel that I know people.

I wonder if your characters ever surprise you.

In what way?

Well, you think you know them.

You think they're one thing, and then

they turn out to disappoint you completely.

Well, I suppose that can happen, yeah.

Anyone else?

I'm writing a children's book.

Oh, yes?

It's about a dragon called Hector.

Ahem.

And my husband's writing a play.

Actually, I'd say I was building it.

For me, it's a totally passe word and elitist.

Which word?

What?

Which word is elitist?

Building, writing...

or play?

Writing.

You know, we're rapping, we're improvising, we're about free association.

You should come to one of my rehearsals, Max.

You might find it dangerous.

Well, I'd love to, but, unfortunately, I have to go.

I have a long journey tomorrow.

Oh, thank you very much for inviting me.

It's been a most instructive evening.

I'll get your coat.

Thank you, Mr. Jennings.

Good night.

We're off, too.

Got a busy day tomorrow.

Marking, rehearsals, staff meeting.

You should try a shift at a modern comprehensive, Max.

Then you really have something to write about.

Thank you, Max.

That was really interesting.

Well, good luck with the children's book.

I'd like to have heard more about it.

Home, Amy.

Actually, I'm worried.

-What? -I was thinking... -Really?

I didn't think you could manage that on your own.

Your coat.

Thank you.

You're leaving?

Yes.

Well, that's all right. We can all go together.

Well, goodbye, Gerald.

Thank you for inviting me.

I didn't.

Well, it was good to see you anyway.

Mr. Jennings.

I'm on my way.

Well, there is something I actually do want to know, Mr. Jennings.

Who do you think would be the best

person to approach once my history's finished?

I don't want it published by just any old firm.

I'm afraid I'm not the best person to ask, Mrs...

Miss Lyddiard.

Most of my contacts are in the field of fiction.

Really?

To be quite frank, we were expecting a much broader range of knowledge.

Honoria.

Stupid of me, but I seem to have forgotten my gloves.

I'll say goodnight.

How very rude!

We've got to go back in.

What?

I promised Gerald.

What did you promise Gerald?

What's it matter anyway?

Well, Gerald and Max...

-It's late. -We're going home.

Now!

Your gloves.

Any chance of a nightcap?

I thought you were flying out.

To a signing session.

-Gerald. -What are you doing?

Why did you come here?

I came to see you.

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

Morning, Mr. Hartley.

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

Mr. Hadleigh?

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

Can you move these people further back?

Yes, sir.

There's nothing to see.

Morning, Troy.

Morning, sir.

You got a name?

Gerald Hadley.

If it is him, he's not quite recognizable.

It's just in here, Sam.

Oh, where the blood and the police photographers are.

Thank you, Troy.

All right, well, don't forget the banners, please.

Morning, Tom.

Morning.

Do we have the weapon?

I've had it bagged up in the bedroom with a candlestick.

And before you ask, I'd say between 11 o 'clock last night and 1 in the morning.

It doesn't look as if he put up much of a struggle.

No, and then there's the question of clothes.

He's not wearing any.

I'll tell you what, though, Tom, whoever

did it must have been in a hell of a temper.

Probably killed him with the first blow and then just went on bashing.

Yes, George, I saw that.

Did you notice the cupboard, sir?

If you mean the cupboard that seems to have

been emptied, it had caught my attention, yes.

OK, so where's this cleaning lady of yours?

I've never, no, I've never seen, you

know, a dead person before.

You want to carry on?

Now, let's start with this morning.

Well, the house was in a bit of a mess.

It was stuff left over from last night.

There was some sort of writer's evening.

Was there anything unusual?

Yeah, his wife's photograph.

She's dead, and he always kept it in the same place, just there.

When I come in this morning, it was moved.

So where was it?

Well, someone had put it in the drawer.

Did you ever meet him?

No.

He never talked about his wife.

He was a very private man.

So you came into the house, you noticed

the photograph, and then you went upstairs?

I knew there was something wrong.

Did you go into the bedroom?

Well, of course I didn't go in.

You think I'm mad?

I took one look, and I saw him, stark naked on

the carpet with his head bashed in, and I startled.

Well, of course I didn't bloody go in!

Oh.

So she didn't go in?

Yes, I think we have established that.

It could have been opportunistic, sir.

A sneak thief caught unawares.

He could have been surprised in the bedroom and just panicked.

See that Rolex watch on the bedside table, Troy?

Yeah.

A sneak thief would hardly leave that behind, would he?

Now, what about these writers?

There were six of them.

Brian and Sue Clapper, Amy and Honoria

Lyddiard, their-in-law, Laura Hutton.

She owns the local antique shop.

And then there was a visiting writer, but Mrs. Bundy didn't know his name.

You got any addresses?

Well, the Clappers just live over there.

Clappers?

He's a teacher at Causton Comprehensive.

Right, we'll start with them.

Oh, and I'd be interested to know what car Hadley drove.

Why?

Garage, Troy.

It's empty.

The Midsomer Worthy Writer's Circle.

We meet once a month.

Of course, there'd be more space at Gresham Hall.

That's Noria's house.

She wouldn't have it, ever since Ralph died.

Mind you, the place was like a morgue.

Freezing cold, even in the middle of summer.

Who was Ralph?

Her brother.

She worshipped him.

Amy was his wife.

Now she lives there.

If lives is the right word.

Of course, I shouldn't talk out of turn.

Poor Gerald.

Still so hard to believe.

How would you describe Gerald Hadley last night?

Was he happy, sad?

Tense.

Definitely tense.

I thought perhaps he and Laura might have had some sort of a row.

They were usually so close, but last night, she was distinctly frosty.

Mind you, probably had something to do with Max Jennings.

Gerald was dead set against his coming.

Max Jennings, he was the visiting writer.

Yes.

Brian, that's my husband, had to invite him because Gerald wouldn't.

How well did you know Gerald Hadley?

Not very well.

Nobody did.

We've been here about five years, and he'd already been here a couple of years.

He's a very quiet man.

Did you know his wife?

No.

He never spoke about her.

I asked him once.

He got quite upset.

Did you happen to see Max Jennings leave after the meeting?

No.

What about your husband?

Brian and I, we went to bed straight away.

Brian was asleep the moment his head touched the pillow.

Sound asleep.

Did you sleep?

Oh, not immediately.

And I did hear a car pull away.

It must have been a little after midnight.

Well, that could have been Gerald Hadley's car.

No, Gerald's car was stolen the other day in Causton.

She was definitely lying about that husband of hers.

Which is why we must try to get to him first before she reaches him.

Course in the comprehensive.

You have a problem?

I went there, sir.

83 to 90.

It's a pity they didn't teach you how to drive.

It's a library.

Science block over there.

They all hoped I'd never come back.

You weren't happy here, then?

I couldn't wait to get out.

Yeah.

I know you, don't I?

Gavin Troy.

Hello, Mr. Belgrove.

Who are you, then?

I'm Chief Inspector Barnaby.

I'm with the police.

Oh, yeah.

Always said he'd come to no good.

Bit like bringing him back here, though, isn't it?

See what I mean?

And now, gently on the knees.

Bend those knees up and down.

And shake it out.

Shake it out.

You got a piece of sticky tape on your fingers and you want to get it off?

Shake it out.

Remember, making pictures now.

Adventure.

Explore.

Reach out.

Reveal.

Oh, interesting warm-up technique, Edie.

Thanks, Brian.

OK.

Gather round, earthlings.

Right.

We're two acts down.

We've done some good work.

But now we need something for the end of the play.

Well, who can tell me what we need?

I need a fag.

Yeah, good one, Denzel.

All right, all right. I'll tell you what we need.

It's called...

a coup de théâtre.

Coup de what?

No, no, no, shush, shush, shush.

A coup de théâtre.

The big scene.

The wrap.

I'm walking down the street of the day.

Right, OK.

Now, think.

Well, get into character, if it helps.

Drop dead, you scumbag.

What?

It was my character, Brian.

Remember?

Yes, now, careful now, not like that!

No, please!

Mr. Clapper!

That's enough!

Mr. Clapper!

What is it, Miss Planter?

Some policemen have just arrived at the school, Mr. Clapper.

They want to have a word.

Oh, evening, all.

Right, I'll be right back.

Just think coup de theatre.

See if you can surprise me.

Damn it!

God, I was actually there, you know, yesterday.

Yes, sir.

We've already spoken to your wife.

Yeah?

Well, I'm sure she wouldn't have told you anything.

How can I help you?

What can you tell me about this visiting writer, Max Jennings?

A reactionary fossil.

Not a clue about contemporary drama.

Hardly surprising when you consider the stuff he turns out.

You don't like his books, sir?

Haven't read them.

But it was you who invited him.

Only because Gerald got so uptight, yes.

You've no idea why he was so upset?

I never asked him, no.

Did you see him at all in the hours before the writers' group met?

He wasn't in.

I saw Anoria Lyddiard knocking at his door.

Must have been about 4.

She wasn't getting any reply.

Sorry. Can you tell us anything about him, his background?

He was a civil servant who'd taken early

retirement, a platinum handshake, and a fat pension.

Had no time for people like him.

Oh, I'm sure.

So, um, can we get back to yesterday evening?

What time did you leave the group?

Well, I would have thought my wife would have told you.

10.15.

And you went straight home?

Yes, and straight to sleep.

Are you quite sure about that, sir?

My yea is my yea, and my nay is my nay, Inspector.

And I've just told you, I didn't go out.

I'm sure you can find your own way out.

Mr. Jackman.

I forgot to tell you, your wife telephoned.

I'm bloody late.

♪

♪

Gresham House, Honoria Lyddiard's home.

You ever seen Frankenstein, sir?

-No. -This must be where they filmed it.

♪

Can't you read?

No hawkers, no circulars.

♪

Go away.

I shall call the police.

Miss Lyddiard?

Miss Lyddiard, yes.

We are the police.

Causton CID.

Can we go inside?

If you must.

There's very little I can tell you, Chief Inspector.

I hardly knew Gerald Adly.

It seems that hardly anyone in the village did, Miss Lyddiard.

I saw him once a month, the writer's circle, that's all.

You were seen at his house on the afternoon of

his death, Miss Lyddiard, knocking at the door.

Are you trying to suggest that this

horrible business has got anything to do with me?

I'd agreed to help with the food.

Gerald said he'd contribute towards the

cost, and I went round to collect the money.

Honoria, have you heard?

Oh.

These people are from the police.

And you are?

Amy Lyddiard, Honoria's-in-law.

So it's true about Gerald.

We are investigating a murder, Mrs. Lyddiard, yes.

-Oh, dear. -Ah. -Did you both come

back here after the writers' evening?

Yes.

We drove home together.

And then?

I retired straightaway.

I had a bad headache.

The visitor, Max Jennings, had been allowed to smoke.

Disgusting habit.

And you, Mrs. Lyddiard?

Not quite straightaway.

I made us drinks.

Cocoa, actually.

They don't want to know every detail of our domestic life, Amy.

I'm sorry.

Why don't you tell them how much sugar you put in, too?

I'll say good day.

I'm sorry.

I'm a Lyddiard, as is my late brother's wife.

Our name is woven into the very warp and woof of England, above reproach.

I suggest you pursue your inquiries elsewhere.

Warp and what?

Woof.

Honoria adored my husband, Chief Inspector.

Her brother...

That's him there.

After he died, I had no money, so she let me live with her.

I do some light housework in return.

Well, most of it, really.

Thank you.

Mrs. Lydia, what can you tell me about Gerald Hadley?

He was terrified of meeting Max Jennings.

Oh, Chief Inspector, this is all my fault.

He asked me not to leave the two of them together.

Not for a minute.

And I promised him.

Gerald Hadley.

He said he was frightened, and I said I'd stay.

But then everything went wrong.

-Why? -What happened?

We were the last to leave, Honoria, Max Jennings and me.

And then...

I seem to have forgotten my gloves.

How very rude.

We've got to go back in there.

I wanted to go back in, but Honoria was in a hurry to leave.

So I left him on his own.

Mrs. Lydia, can you remember who it was

suggested inviting Max Jennings in the first place?

That was me.

-God! -How can people live like that?

Don't think Amy Lyddiard's got a choice.

I wonder what she'd do to get away.

♪

♪

♪

What's the matter with you?

Nothing, Honoria.

It's just all been so sudden.

Afraid I can't help you, Mr. Barnaby.

My husband isn't here.

He flew to Denmark after that

writer's thing, signing books.

Max is very big in Denmark.

Did he come back here after the writer's group meeting, Mrs. Jennings?

No, it was easier to overnight at Heathrow.

Do you remember the name of the airline?

No.

Well, do you know how we can reach him?

No.

I have to ask his secretary, Bouncing Barbara.

She made the reservations.

Barbara?

Barbara Neal.

That's her name.

Do you know where we can get in touch with her?

No, not really.

Look, will you excuse me?

I really don't think this has anything to do with me.

♪

swimming in her jewels

♪

Get a hold of this Barbara Neal, and while you're at it,

check the passenger lists of all the flights to Denmark.

You think Max Jennings?

Right, and stop here.

YOU IDIOT!

You want a bookshop, sir?

Yes, Troy.

Books.

So who was he, the victim?

I'm not sure.

The more I hear about him, the less I seem to know him.

He was Gerald Hadley, ex-civil servant from Kent.

But that's all.

His house, he didn't tell me a thing about him.

What do you mean?

Well, he had no character.

No souvenirs, no mail, no personal documents, not even a driving license.

Just a photograph of his dead wife.

Just one photograph.

Didn't that strike you as strange?

How many have you got of me?

Oh, I have two of you in my wallet.

Whoever killed Hadley took away his suitcase.

How do you know that?

Well, there was a set of three.

The middle one was missing.

It was a brown suitcase with the initial GH.

Yeah.

Who's the cat?

Kilmowski?

I haven't seen him.

Joyce.

He's lonely.

I don't care if he's manically depressed.

He's not sleeping there.

Just for tonight? Not tonight, not ever.

♪

♪

♪

♪

Aren't you coming to bed?

No.

I'm not sleepy.

I'm going out.

You were out last night, too.

You didn't tell them that?

Who?

Dixon the luck green and his fascist sidekick.

No.

Goose stepping in, trying to trick me into.

Trick you into what?

Doesn't matter.

You didn't tell them?

No.

But you were out last night, Brian.

Where did you go?

Around the green, below the cobwebs.

Then why didn't you tell them that?

Why did you have to lie?

Oh, forget it.

Just forget it.

♪

No, no.

Thanks a lot.

Morning, sir.

Good morning.

I've got that information on Hadley's car, sir.

A blue Celica, registration Papa

844 Alpha Papa

Charlie, reported stolen between 9 and 11 in Causton.

Who reported it?

He did, from home.

It was logged at 5 to midnight.

Doesn't that strike you as odd?

What? Well, the car is stolen between 9 and 11 in

Causton, but he doesn't report it for another hour.

And why wait till he gets home?

There was something else, sir.

Max Jennings.

I checked all the flights to Denmark from

Heathrow and Gatwick and all the ferries.

He wasn't on any of them.

What was the name of that secretary of his?

Bouncing Barbara.

I look after all Max's paperwork.

VAT returns, fan mail, book signings, appearances.

Wouldn't it be easier to work at his house?

Max keeps his business and his private life very separate.

Did you organize his flight to Denmark?

No.

Usually I would, but for some reason, Max said he'd do that one himself.

And the hotel?

Yes.

I can't think why.

I did ask him, but he just told me to forget it.

Was he meeting his publisher?

I don't know.

I really can't help you.

Max didn't say anything.

Uh, the Midsomer Worthy Writers Circle.

Did he mention it?

Yes, he told me he was going.

I would have thought that half a dozen amateurs in a little

village, hardly worth the trouble of a writer like Max Jennings.

That's what I thought, but, uh, he knew one of them.

Gerald Hadley?

Yes, that was the name.

Max said he wanted to see him.

Were they friends?

I don't think so.

I got the feeling Max was afraid of him.

So which way around was it?

According to Amy Lyddiard, Gerald Hadley was afraid of Max Jennings.

Now his secretary tells us it was Max Jennings who was afraid of Gerald Hadley.

Well, maybe they were afraid of each other.

Oh, that's very helpful, Troy.

She's certainly scared of something.

Oh, yes.

If you ask me, she's having it away with him.

She knows he did it.

She knows where he is, and she's hiding it.

You all right?

Yes.

It could be your washing powder, you know.

If it's biological, give you a hand. Yes, thank you, Troy.

Thank you.

I still haven't met anyone who actually knew Gerald Hadley.

He had a wife.

What was her name?

What did she die of?

Where did he come from?

There's still Laura Hutton.

-What? -We still haven't questioned her.

And according to Brian Clapper, her and

Gerald Hadley could have been banging each other.

Banging each other.

What a delightfully picturesque turn of phrase.

All right, back to Midsomer Worthy.

And this time I'll drive.

♪

I didn't really know Gerald.

No, I'm sorry.

We met once a month at the writer's group, and that was all.

Just out of interest, what sorts of books were you all writing, Mrs. Hutton?

Gerald was writing a spy thriller.

Sue, a children's book.

Brian, a rather dreadful play.

I believe Amy wasn't writing anything, although she did talk about poetry.

And of course, there's Honoria and her family history.

She's always in and out of here.

In fact, she came in that afternoon, about

4 o'clock, the afternoon before it happened.

What for?

Old magazines.

London Illustrated News, Life Magazine, Navy News.

She's fanatical about it.

Anything to do with her family, or her brother Ralph in particular.

As a matter of fact, she stole one of those.

Do you know which one?

June 78.

They're in order, you see.

She probably found another cutting for her book.

And what about you, Mrs. Hutton?

I'm sorry?

What were you writing?

I was writing a romance.

Did you show it to Gerald Hadley?

Why do you ask?

Oh, yes, of course.

I know people talk about me and Gerald, Gerald and me.

Well, it's a village.

One expects that sort of thing.

And it's true that I, uh, I did find Gerald quite attractive.

But he never once reciprocated my feelings, not once.

We have been told that there was a certain amount of

tension between you and Mr. Hadley on the night of his death.

Who told you that?

Please, Mrs. Hutton.

Very well.

I'm a broad-minded person, you know.

And what Gerald did in his own time was his own affair.

He was, after all, a man.

Well, I happened to be passing his house the

night before we met for the writer's circle.

♪

I'm a bad sleeper, and I often go out walking quite late at night.

That night, it must have been about 10 to 12, maybe a little earlier.

And that was when I saw it.

A woman arrived in a local Causton cab.

She paid the driver, got out, and walked towards Gerald's house.

I thought she was going to ring the bell, but she let herself in.

She had a key.

She was quite obviously a prostitute.

How can you be sure?

Her clothes.

The way she walked.

Now, I'm not normally a nosy person, but

I have to admit, I was aroused.

My curiosity, that is.

I went a little closer, and that was when I saw them.

He'd given her a glass of wine, and she was toasting him and laughing.

♪

Now, I didn't mind being rejected by Gerald.

I didn't mind at all.

But to think of him turning to that sort of man.

-You were angry. -No, I wasn't angry.

I was disappointed.

Mrs. Hutton, you didn't by any chance go back

there the following evening after the writers' meeting?

Well, as a matter of fact, I did.

I couldn't sleep, so I went out about half past 12.

I arrived just in time to see Max Jennings leave.

It was clear to me he'd had too much to drink.

He took quite a while getting into the car.

Did you see Gerald Hadleigh?

No, but there was a light on upstairs in what I imagine was his bedroom.

Anyway, I was just about to leave when I saw.

It was Brian Clapper.

And he went home?

I don't know.

He could have gone anywhere.

I left.

You see, I didn't want to be seen outside

Gerald's house in the middle of the night.

I mean, it could have been misconstrued.

Oh, so Brian Clapper was lying.

Yes, and he'll still be at school.

You can have another go at him, sir.

No, Troy, you can do that.

Oh, I'd like that.

So how's the play going, Mr. Clapper?

Well, obviously, all these interruptions.

You didn't tell us what it was called.

Slang Huang for Five Mute Voices.

Working title.

It's very demanding, you know, but

they're a great bunch of kids and real talent.

The Carters, especially.

Edie and Tom.

They're terrific.

Life's stacked against them, but they never give up.

The girl, especially.

Edie.

There was just one detail we wanted to get straight, Mr Clapper.

Oh, yes?

You told us that you went home at

10.15 and went straight to bed.

Yes. Well, we have a witness who says they

saw you returning home sometime after midnight.

No.

What?

You are aware that this is a murder investigation?

Yes.

Well, that night, um...

Right, I did go out, yes.

For a drive.

Blow the cobwebs, don't know why I forgot to mention it.

Did you see anyone outside Plover's Rest?

No.

Yes, there was someone.

But I didn't see them.

I was sort of, um, behind the car, you see.

And someone did walk past.

I didn't see who it was.

Can you tell us actually where you went that night, sir?

No.

You weren't perhaps on your way to some sort of tryst?

Tryst?

No.

Of course not.

I was walking, just walking.

I woke up and I went for a walk.

Mmmhmmmhmmmhmmm

I bet he went round the local estate.

What was that girl he was going on about?

Edie.

Trying to get a look in the bedroom window.

You enjoyed that, didn't you, Troy?

Seven years' misery here.

It's nice to get a bit of revenge.

Oh, yes.

I missed you, Brian.

Are you a suspect?

I bet you did it, Brian.

Why did you do it, Brian? Was it money?

He's kidding.

-No! -All right.

-No, no, no. -Get up. Get up.

Just sit down.

Now, we've only got a few minutes left,

so how's this scene of yours coming off?

It's going to be our coup d'etat, sir.

Yeah, we've been working on it, Bri.

Well, I don't see much evidence of it.

We meet again next Friday.

If you haven't got anything for me by then, I'll have to runch it for you.

3.20

Edie?

Brian, can I have a word?

Yeah, sure.

What is it?

I really need to talk to you.

Well, that's what I'm here for.

Hello.

Oh, come on, off.

It's a wonderful book.

I'm not surprised it's a bestseller.

You should read it.

I gave it to you.

Well, it's the story of a young boy, an Irish boy.

His name is Liam Hanlon.

Liam lives on a farm near Durrow in Southern Ireland.

It's a horrible life.

He's abused by his father sexually.

Liam. When he's 13 years old, Liam shoots

his father with his own shotgun and runs away.

He meets a man, an artist, and they travel

together, first in Europe and then Turkey.

Oh, the faraway hills.

Jennings has a wonderful way with language.

Listen.

Is it autobiographical?

It reads that way.

Liam has bought a flat overlooking the Albert Hall.

How'd he get the money?

From the artist.

He's painted him lots of times, always in historical dress.

And they've made a fortune.

Anyway, listen.

He lies on the bed, the cushion cool against the curves of his

neck, and traces his past against the moldings on the ceiling.

Achoo!

Tom. I'm sorry, I must have got a bit of flu from Troy.

-I'm sorry, go on. -It's good.

It's good. It's good. You better get that.

I'm sorry.

Yes.

Oh, I'm on my way.

We've found Max Jennings.

♪

♪

♪

He's inside, sir.

Oh, surprise me, Troy.

A bit far afield for you, isn't it, George?

It's my case too, Tom.

And I fancied a day by the sea.

So did he, by the look of things.

So what do you think?

He's been dead 48 hours or more.

Poison?

I wouldn't be surprised.

Look at the eyes.

Bilateral ptosis, and there's a little pigmentation at the hair root.

Are you all right?

Yeah, why?

There's a very nasty rash at the side of your neck.

A-choo!

Well, I suppose that's it, then.

That's what, Troy?

The end of the case.

What do you mean?

Well, we already know that Gerald Hadley

and Max Jennings knew each other in the past.

There must have been some sort of feud, and it got out of control.

Jennings bludgeoned Hadley to death.

And then when he came to his senses and realized what he'd

done, he came down here and ended it all, rather than face the music.

That's what you think, is it?

Yes.

Well, I don't.

Who was Gerald Hadley?

What was he before he became to Midsomer Worthy?

Whatever happened to his wife?

I still don't even know her name.

It's like a blank jigsaw.

We've got some of the pieces, but not even the start of a picture.

Let's take the day Gerald Hadley died.

Honoria Lyddiard visits Laura Hutton.

The spinning wheel, how can I help you?

And she steals some newspapers.

She actually steals a newspaper.

Well, if you'd like to leave me your telephone number.

We know from Brian Clapper that she went

straight from the shop to Gerald Hadley.

The meeting isn't until 7.30, Honoria.

Why?

Well, she said it was something to do with the catering.

It was a bit late in the day to be worrying about the food.

And then when the evening was finished,

why did Max Jennings go back into the house?

Why didn't Amy Lyddiard manage to stop him?

I promised Gerald.

And if Jennings did kill him, what about

the empty cupboard and the missing suitcase?

What was taken?

And why was Hadley naked when he died?

And we've still got to think about the night before the murder.

Thanks, Bob.

This woman, Laura Hutton, claims she saw, who was she?

And if Laura Hutton was in love with Gerald Hadley, could she

have been jealous enough to bash his head in for unrequited love?

Right.

I want you to check every minicab in Causton

until you find the one that dropped off the

blonde woman in Midsomer Worthy at midnight on the 31st.

Do a complete background on Gerald Hadley, and do the same for Max Jennings.

On my desk, 9 o'clock tomorrow morning.

It's time we got to work.

You alright, sir?

Yes.

What news on Hadley?

We've got no record of his marriage.

We can't find an insurance number.

There's no birth certificate.

And the civil service has never heard of him.

Well, what is he then, the invisible man?

How about the taxi driver?

We're still looking.

Oh, there is one thing, though.

We found his car, the Celica.

No surprises there.

A straightforward TDA, wrecked and dumped in the river.

At least that's something.

Oh, and Barbara Neal's here.

Bouncing Barbara.

I hope you realise I could have you charged right now with obstruction.

I didn't mean to.

I didn't want to, but what else could I do?

You could have told us the truth and saved us all a lot of time.

That seaside cottage was built for two, wasn't it?

Max Jennings and you.

All right.

When did it start?

Max used to be a psychiatrist before he was a writer.

I was his receptionist.

Then I was his secretary.

And then...

We'd been seeing each other for two years.

You knew he was dead, didn't you?

Tell me.

There was no Denmark.

That was just what we told Selina.

The plan was we were going to meet there, at the cottage.

He'd gone down the night before and I followed.

It was easier for us to go down separately.

I got there about lunchtime.

Maxie, darling?

You're not in bed already.

Maxi?

Max?

He was lying there on the bed.

I thought he must have had a heart attack or something.

I never dreamt.

And what could I do?

I couldn't tell you about him without telling about us.

I mean, nobody knew.

Nobody.

We could have saved 48 hours if she'd been straight with us.

Oh, shut up!

-God damn it! -What is wrong with me?

-Sir? -What? -Gerald Hadley.

We found his solicitor.

What sort of man was Gerald Hadley, Mr. Joslin?

Well, he was a very private man, unusually reserved.

But we looked after his legal affairs for him,

including the purchase of Plover's West seven years ago.

Do you know where Gerald Hadley came from?

London, I can't tell you more than that.

Although I believe he did retain a property there.

How do you know?

We handled a purchase, though no sale.

I'm sure more details will come in once we have probate.

Oh, you're handling his will as well, are you?

Oh, yes, that's right, yes.

Yes.

We'd be grateful for any details.

Ah, well, I just.

This is a murder investigation, Mr. Joslin?

Quite.

Yes, well, it's very straightforward.

The bulk of his fortune went to the St. Martin's School of Art.

Mr. Hadley wished to endow two scholarships.

Was there a lot of money involved?

Oh, yes, indeed.

How much exactly?

In cash, oh, at least two and a half million pounds.

What?

Are there any personal requests?

Oh, yes, indeed.

Let's see.

Here we are.

He left 500 pounds to a Mrs. Bundy.

He's cleaner.

And 10,000 to the local cricket team.

Oh, yes, he left a picture, an oil painting, to a Mrs. Lower Hutton.

Ah, yes, and a somewhat larger sum of 100,000 pounds.

Who to?

£100,000!

Oh, goodness!

Did you know that Mr. Hadley was

planning to leave you something, Mrs. Lyddiard?

He did sometimes joke about it.

He said it would amuse him to rescue me from Honoria.

When did you come to live here?

It was after Ralph died.

We had a little house in Spain.

We were trying to make a life there.

But Ralph got ill.

I wrote to Honoria, of course.

The next day, she just arrived.

She nursed him.

She did everything for him.

It was as if I wasn't there.

And then after Ralph died, she talked to the doctors.

She brought his body back to England.

I didn't have a penny.

There was nothing I could do.

And there's nothing more you can tell us about Gerald Hadley about that night.

I wish I'd gone back.

I should have.

I promised him.

But you didn't.

I told you I was making us hot drinks.

Honoria had hers in the study.

I had mine in bed.

It's the warmest room in the house.

Will you leave now you have money?

Yes, of course.

I hate it here.

I can, can't I?

I'm rich.

Amy, why haven't you started the lunch?

These officers have come to give me some news on Auria, good news.

Well, I'm sure it's of no interest to me.

Oh, as a matter of fact, there was

something we wanted to ask you, Miss Lyddiard.

What?

Oh, it's only a detail, but I'd be interested to know.

What was it that you saw in the Navy

news that you took from Mrs. Hutton's shop?

I suppose she told you about that.

Do you deny it?

We just want to know what was in it.

It was on page five.

There was a picture of the Leicester.

That was Ralph's ship.

-Exactly. -I took it for my book.

Could I see it?

Just out of interest?

This is it here.

My brother Ralph rose to be a sub-lieutenant, you know.

He received two commendations.

He would have been an admiral, I'm sure of it.

On leave in Antalya.

I really don't see what bearing it can have on your case.

Well, as I said, Miss Lyddiard, it's just out of interest.

♪

Well, that doesn't get us anywhere.

Oh, I don't know, Troy.

There was something she said in there.

An Auria?

No, not an Auria, Amy.

Here, let me do that.

Honoria, I must talk to you.

Must you?

I've decided to leave.

What?

I've had enough.

I'm going.

No, you can't.

Yes, I can.

I promised Ralph I'd look after you.

It's not me you're interested in, Elnoria.

It's Ralph you want, and he's dead.

Keeping me here won't bring him back.

Don't talk to me about Ralph.

He was my husband.

If you'd loved him enough, he wouldn't have died.

I'll leave tomorrow.

It'll be better for both of us.

-No. -You're a Lydian.

Blood and bone.

What?

Blood and bone.

That's what counts.

Blood counts.

Bone counts.

I'm sorry, Honoré.

No!

♪

♪

I need to have you here.

♪

Laura, what's happening?

I'm closed.

I'm leaving.

Leaving the village?

But why?

I always used to think that if you loved someone hard enough

and for long enough, they wouldn't be able to help loving you back.

Well, I've been very foolish.

Daryl, that was his.

He left it to me.

It's beautiful.

It's a Hilton Connix, you know.

One of the series of historical boys he painted in the 50s.

It's very valuable, but I'll never sell it.

It reminds me of him.

♪

♪

♪

♪

His name's Baker.

He's over there, sir.

Thank you.

Yeah, I picked her up.

I told your officer.

It was just after 11 o'clock.

She told me to drive to Midsomer Worthy.

When we got there, she pointed out the house.

Other than that, she never said a word.

Is there anything else you can tell me about her?

She was an ugly woman, tall, a lot of makeup.

Nice legs, though.

Where did you pick her up?

On the corner, just over there.

Thank you.

Thank you very much.

She could have come from anywhere.

Can you listen to what he said?

Because it could explain the empty wardrobe in Hadley's bedroom, and

why he had no clothes on, and maybe the photograph of his dead wife, too.

What, you think this woman took his clothes?

No, no, I don't.

This is what we're looking for.

♪

♪

What is this place?

What do you think?

We're not open yet.

Yeah, I thought Troy was going to have a seizure.

It was really very funny.

So Gerald Hadley was a transvestite.

Yeah, he parked his car close to the club.

And then he must have walked back to it in full woman's dress.

But of course, he wasn't there.

Well, he couldn't just walk into Causton CID just as he was.

And that's why he didn't report his car stolen until he got home.

And the woman Laura Hutton saw?

Wasn't a woman at all.

It was dark and Laura Hutton was hidden in the

bushes and she probably only got a back view anyway

But I thought she saw Gerald Hadley and the woman having a drink together.

That's what she thought she saw.

There was a mirror in that room, Joyce.

And if you ask me, what Laura Hutton saw was

Gerald Hadley toasting himself on his lucky escape.

My glands are swollen.

You're not looking at all well, Tom.

Shouldn't you see the doctor?

I'll see how I feel when I wake up.

It's only a bit of flu.

♪

Oh, hi, Bri.

I'm so glad you came.

Well, if you need my help.

I do.

Come in.

Here you are, Bri.

What is it?

Thunderbolt.

Mixed wine.

Apples and lemons and all that.

Oh, cheers.

Erm, are we on our own?

Mum's out, with Tom.

So then, young Edie, what can I do for you?

Let's sit down.

It's the play, Brian.

I'm nervous.

I'm never going to be able to stand up in front of all those people.

Of course you are.

My accent's all wrong.

No, no, it's perfect.

You're perfect.

Believe me.

I don't like the character.

She really gets on my tits.

Tits?

Please say you'll help me, Brian.

I need you to tell me I'm going to be all right.

Oh, God, Edie, you're more than all right.

You're fantastic.

You're the best.

You don't know how much I've dreamed of this.

-Oh, Brian. -Oh, Edie.

Oh

Oh

This just came for you.

Bit early for the post, isn't it?

Wasn't in the post.

Hand-delivered.

No stamp.

Did you see who delivered it?

Didn't look.

Oh, did I tell you Laura Hutton's leaving the village?

Seems very sudden.

Oh, and I spoke to Amy, too.

You won't believe what has happened.

It's an absolute miracle.

For God's sake, woman!

♪

You shall shut up.

What?

What is it?

I've got that report from Dr. Bullard.

It was poison that killed Max Jennings.

Looks like he had it in a glass of wine.

Thallium sulfate.

Administered 12 hours before he died.

That was when he was with Gerald Hadley in Midsomer Worthy.

Thallium sulfate, a slow-acting poison.

Hadley could have slipped it into

Jennings' drink while he was still at Pluthers Rest.

And Jennings could have attacked Gerald Hadley

without realizing he was already dying himself.

But the clothes, why take the clothes?

Somebody didn't want us to know he was a gender bender.

Chief Inspector Barnaby.

Oh, yes, Chief Inspector.

James Jocelyn here of Jocelyn Tybbles and Delaney.

Yes, Mr. Jocelyn.

I mentioned to you that Mr. Hadleigh had a property in Larkin.

Yes. Well, I thought you ought to know I've

just received various documents from the bank.

Do you have an address?

Well, yes.

That's why I telephoned you.

So, you got here then?

Yes!

Yes.

So, what's all this about then?

This is some sort of...

joke, right?

I don't think it's very funny.

Raping a-year-old girl.

Rape?

There was no rape you call in Edie a

liar, which mean the police are gonna believe

We could come to an arrangement, how does five thou strike you bright I

Haven't got five thousand pounds you can rise

it bright a middle-class ponce like you no problem

Why?

What have I ever done to you?

I just tried to help!

Push off, Brian.

Yeah, just get out.

O'Brien.

He left these.

So what did you think of that, Brian?

-Was it good? -Oh, it was great.

That was our coup de theatre.

-What? -It was a scene.

You told us to work on a scene.

You said we had to surprise her.

I bet we surprised her.

A scene?

Yeah, so that we could, like, work it into the play.

You can do what you bloody well like!

I must have been mad ever to have wasted five

minutes, let alone five months, on any of you!

Or to have thought that the stinking sewers that pass for your minds

could ever begin to understand the first thing about drama or literature!

Why don't you all crawl back into the

gutter where you belong and stay there?

And right

Scum!

Well, that wasn't very nice, was it?

All right.

Plan B.

Oh, boy.

♪

♪

♪

♪

Well, this is it

Looks like there's a storm coming.

♪

You think he lives here, sir?

Shh.

Why do I feel as if I know this place?

What?

I know this place.

I've been here.

You can't have.

Can you? It's the story of a young boy.

An Irish boy.

Liam has brought a flat.

It's overlooking the Albert Hall.

That's it.

It's a wonderful book.

It was all in the book.

Which book?

He lies on the bed, the cushion cool against the curves of his

neck, and traces his past against the moldings on the ceiling.

The book Max Jennings wrote about Gerald Hadley.

That's how I know this flat.

It was in the book.

It's not possible. Oh, yes, it is, Troy.

Look.

His name is Liam Hanlon.

He meets a man, an artist.

He's painted him lots of times, always in historical dress.

They traveled together, first in Europe, and then Turkey.

Why didn't I read the book?

I should have read the book.

Liam Hanlon, the boy, meets an artist.

The artist paints him in historical

dress, and the painting sells for a fortune.

It's all in there.

And Liam Hanlon was Gerald Hadley.

Yeah, he was sexually abused.

He killed his father, and he runs away from home.

He gets rich, and then one day,

he tells Max Jennings everything.

But why'd he do that?

I mean, how did they meet?

Remember what Bouncing Barbara said?

Max used to be a psychiatrist before he was a writer.

Now, we already know that Gerald Hadley was a

transvestite, or a transsexual, whatever the term is.

Isn't it possible?

He visited a psychiatrist.

And if that psychiatrist were Max Jennings?

What?

Jennings took what Hadley told him and put it in a book?

The Faraway Hills.

Gerald Hadley was never married.

His life was a complete sham.

The photograph, the dead wife, was just a prop.

And he probably hid that himself because he knew Max Jennings might see it.

But Hadley was afraid of Jennings.

No, no.

That's what Amy thought he was saying.

But Hadley was afraid of being left alone with Jennings.

He was frightened of what he, Hadley, might do to him.

Well, think about it, Troy.

What would you do if you told someone, a professional

healer, your friend, all your innermost secrets, your

entire life history, and he turned it into a bestselling book?

What would you do?

I'd kill him.

Exactly.

And that is what Hadley did.

Do you want a drink?

I'll get you a drink

We'll never know exactly how he did it.

But after Max Jennings went back into the house, when the

two were finally alone, that must have been when it happened.

Laura Hutton was outside when Jennings came out.

She told us he took his time getting into the car.

She thought he was drunk.

She was wrong.

He'd been poisoned, and he was feeling the first effects.

So Gerald Hadley killed Max Jennings.

But did Jennings kill Hadley?

No, I don't think so.

Laura Hutton saw Brian Clapper there, and he saw someone else.

A third figure approaching the house.

But who was it?

It was whoever killed Gerald Hadley.

Sir?

Oh, more drag.

What a surprise.

We found this in the same room, sir.

It's the same paper Anoria Lyddiard had.

Another copy, yeah.

He received two commendations, he would have been an admiral, I'm sure of it.

First in Europe, and then Turkey.

Antalya.

What?

It's a port in Turkey.

God, I must have been blind.

She folded this over when she gave it to me.

It's a Leicester.

It's not the ship, Troy.

Use your eyes. Down here, look, look, look.

Well, who are they?

That's Ralph Lyddiard.

Same face we saw in his wife's photograph.

And the other?

It's Gerald Hadley.

♪

Liam, the character in the novel, spent time in Turkey.

But we now know that Liam was actually Gerald Hadley.

Which means Gerald Hadley was in Turkey.

Exactly, which is where he met Ralph Lyddiard.

And Talia.

Yeah.

That's what sent Honoria scuttling around to Hadley's house.

She was besotted with her brother.

And here, suddenly, there was someone in the village who actually knew him.

♪

What are you doing?

I was getting a case on Moria.

Whose are these clothes?

The dress is covered in blood.

G-H

Yes, Gerald's case is dead.

♪

Anoria killed Gerald Hadley.

Of course she did.

Amy almost gave her away when she contradicted her.

When?

When we first asked Anoria about her movements on

the night of the murder, do you remember what she said?

I retired straight away.

I had a bad headache.

Retired didn't mean go to bed, which is what I thought she meant.

Amy actually told us the next time we met.

Amy went to bed, Anoria retired to the study,

and then she went out again a few minutes later.

Back to Gerald Hadley's?

Yes.

I couldn't believe he'd known my Ralph.

My darling Ralph.

I tried to see him earlier that afternoon, but he wasn't there.

And I couldn't talk with all those people there.

So you went back that night?

Yes.

I had to see him.

I couldn't wait.

♪

♪

Gerald?

♪

I can't believe what I see.

So disgusting.

So beneath me.

But I asked him about Ralph.

I had to know.

That's what I'd come for.

Do you know what he told me?

Do you know what he said?

Yes, I knew him, your dearest Starling.

Ralph, we were lovers, Noreen.

I had him, and he had me.

Now, get out of my house!

No!

She killed him, and she must have taken all the clothes.

She didn't want anyone to know.

She must be as mad as a hatter.

Hatters, Troy, very sane people compared to Honoria Lyddiard.

♪

You should have died too, not just him.

♪

Oh!

Oh God!

No!

No!

What have you done?

You've brought him in here.

You're mad.

Go on the window.

Jump.

No.

I'm not going to do it for you.

I'll fight.

There'll be marks.

They'll know it's you.

Do you think I care?

♪

♪

SIREN WAILS

What's that?

She said she wanted me to die.

She was waiting.

It was AIDS, wasn't it?

That's what killed Ralph.

She knew.

And she hoped.

She was waiting.

Go on, get her out of here.

♪

Did you know that Dr. Preston, um, Don Pedro forgot all of his lines?

And Brad.

No.

He called the whole thing off.

Cully.

Dad.

Did you see Dr. Preston?

Yes, I did.

It's not serious, is it?

I'm afraid it is, yes.

It seems I have an allergy.

An allergy?

What to?

Oh, no.

Oh, yes.

What?

Cats.

Killmowski.

Yes. You mean all that scratching and sneezing?

It's not funny.

-No, no. -No, I'm sorry.

Cully.

You're not going to take this out on me, are you, Dad?

Oh, yes, I'm going to make your life hell.

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪