Original subtitles

-Trouble. -What?

Incoming.

My dynamic dad.

I hope you're here to do some work, Daniel.

Not stopping other people getting on with theirs.

Ah, you bet.

Hi.

Plenty of material, Cully.

Loads, Mr. Webster.

What about the press release?

It's not quite finished yet, but we did put one out last week.

Well, the tunnel's the crucial part of the project and the most interesting.

We need something international.

I have tried.

Ah, no time for that, Mum.

Timothy Webster's arrived, he's supposed to pull our socks up.

-Description? -No, we're volunteers.

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It's not there.

What's that, sir?

It's on the desk.

Well, I think I'd open it.

If I haven't got the exams, then the whole thing...

Superintendent Hopkins wants to see you

at force headquarters in an hour's time.

And Superintendent Blaney from Northumbria Police, he called.

Could you phone him back this afternoon, please?

Is that good news or bad news?

Troy, do you want me to open it for you?

I've got it Inspector Troy

What does Mr. Hopkins want?

Superintendent Hopkins, well, I imagine he wants to talk

to you about reconsidering taking that job in Newcastle.

Find out.

You knew?

Well, there was circumstantial evidence.

And I thought, what with you going, Troy,

I'd better start re-honing my detective skills.

FHQ, one hour.

You'd better get going.

Burnaby, CID.

Oh, hello, Cully.

I'm sorry, love, I can't hear you.

What is it?

What's happened?

This way, sir.

♪

♪

Well, we've tried to get to them from the other side, but there's no chance.

This is the only way in.

Or out.

Can you hear anything?

Well, still distant.

-Yeah, but there's shouting. -Yes.

We know they're in there.

We know they're all right.

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I've got a torch.

Come on!

Come on!

Nice day for it, young'un.

You dirty old git.

You always sneak around these woods.

This is what you get off on.

It don't bother me, boy.

Yeah?

Well, it bothers me.

In fact, you bother a lot of people.

You want to do your flies up.

Someone should teach you, scumbag!

♪

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♪

Cheers.

No, I haven't hurt.

It wouldn't hurt.

Oh, good.

Shall we just celebrate, then?

Serious setback for Friend Webster.

-Ha! -Excellent news.

Look, what's to find may be of interest

to an archaeologist, but not the police.

An odd one.

Anonymous phone call.

And you thought anything weird would take it along to CID.

Well, while we've still got you...

Midsomer Worthy.

Attack on an old man.

Tom, they call him.

Sort of a tramp, harmless enough.

We've had trouble with yobs in the village before.

Usually nothing more than loud music and fast cars.

Only it's getting more serious.

Caller says Tom's been beaten up.

Who phoned?

Concerned villager.

He's given us a description.

It could be you.

You got anything vaguer?

Well, that's why I brought it to you.

A detective of your seniority.

It was the darkness that was the worst.

Once we could hear you digging, we knew you were close.

Well, they'll certainly get the canal project into the national papers now.

Webster had no right to send anyone into that tunnel.

He is a qualified engineer.

He runs a bus company.

Anyway, he didn't send anyone.

We were all volunteers.

What was it you said about this save the Midsomer Canal thing?

It's all about a good gossip and spending a few afternoons hacking down weeds.

Well, we'll have plenty to gossip about now.

Constable Crabb.

I reckon there's something you might want

to have a look at, sir, back in the tunnel.

Mostly it's bones, sir.

Bones?

That's it.

There's a surprising quantity of dead people in there.

When the roof caved in, it brought some of the wall with it.

There's something on the other side of the wall.

More precisely, nothing on the other side, which is a bit odd.

It's another tool, I'd say.

♪

Can't see how far back it goes.

How many are there?

Three, so far.

♪

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What does he look like?

They all look the same.

Young.

Caught with his trousers down.

I shouldn't have laughed.

It's nothing to joke about.

It's the second time these boys have attacked you.

I was well-protected.

Looking for your governor?

No, I'm trying to find a man called Tom.

He doesn't live anywhere, that's a brief.

I've got some vague directions to a wood or a hill.

Is the DCI here, then?

He's over Norton Way now, at the canal.

Where else?

His missus was in the tunnel when it went.

And what went?

It's lucky no one got killed.

I thought you must be on your way.

I am

I didn't know.

No one said.

I was driving over to Midsomer Worthy, and I bumped into Crabb.

It happened so quickly.

They're both all right?

Yeah.

-Yeah. -They're all right. -Thanks.

Mrs. Barnaby was in there.

You know Joyce.

If there's something to be saved, she's right in there saving it.

Usually, it's something small and helpless.

Do you want me to take over here?

No, no, it's all right.

Bullard's in there.

It's a formality of some old bones to look out for the coroner.

You better go find your wild man of the woods.

Straightforward.

There's some broken bones.

I'd say broken at the time of death or thereabouts.

Consistent with an old tunnel collapse, I suppose.

And so far, we have the remains of four.

More or less.

Must have been an accident.

Standing here looking at it, it's too easy to imagine, isn't it?

You know Joyce was in the tunnel?

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Hey, George, have a look at this one.

Number four, craniobaric fractured, consistent with falling rocks and masonry.

How long have these bones been here?

As far as we know, they were worn in at

the turn of the 18th and 19th centuries.

So it is a little inconsistent for this one

to have national health fillings, isn't it?

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I can only guess it's another tunnel off from the existing one.

I don't know whether it's blocked or if they just never dug any further.

Could have been a mistake.

Navvies could have hit some very hard rock and changed direction.

Well, it was sealed up with at least seven bodies in it.

Thank you.

I don't suppose that was a common occurrence.

I can't understand one.

Oh, this is Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby, darling.

This is my wife, Lillian.

Have you come to arrest him?

There's been a fall in the tunnel.

It's created some kind of a chamber.

They found some old bodies and skeletons.

I hear he was lucky he didn't leave a few new bodies there today.

This isn't a joking matter.

Your canal has never been a joking matter, has it, darling?

♪

Hello?

Anybody here?

Tom!

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See, contour canals was Sir Jonathan's trademark.

You see how it meanders following the contours of the land?

It minimizes the need for locks, cuttings, embankments, and

tunnels, all of which push the building costs through the roof.

Anyway, it made it very popular with the investors.

Sir Jonathan Hazlett, he was only 38 years old at the time.

Midsomer Canal made his name and his fortune.

It was the age of great engineers.

But engineers who could make great profits for

their investors, they were a lot thinner on the ground.

I'm devastated, Mr. Barnaby.

No one will go back into that tunnel until a

full engineering report has been carried out.

I'll have someone down there tomorrow first thing.

No, sir, I'm afraid that's not possible.

For the moment, no one goes into that tunnel at all.

What do you mean?

Seven dead bodies, Mr. Webster.

That's what I mean.

They've been dead for the best part of 200 years.

All but one.

He has much better teeth than any of the others.

Due almost entirely to his 20th century dental work.

Now, your tunnel could become the scene of a murder inquiry.

If I can help, if the thing can be cleared

up quickly, it'll be in all our best interest.

Thank you, Mr Webster.

I'll be in touch.

If you're going out, you can turn down that damn music now, Daniel.

Yeah, it's not my damned music.

Tune it down, Lillian!

♪

♪

Let's go!

Where are we going, guys?

-The woods. -The woods. -Why?

Because it's June!

That's right.

What, are we going to shoot?

Woo! Woo!

Ha, ha, ha.

Peace.

Half a lager, please.

How's the job?

The job?

Takes one to know one.

Charlie Burkett, I'm an ex-cop of meself.

Retired now.

Now, he hasn't got an official reason to spy on us all.

We just put it down to nosiness, right, Charlie?

You can call it what you like, Helen.

A little bit more of it would mean a lot less crime.

So, well spotted.

Well, well observed, anyway.

I'll see you with Mr. Barnaby.

You don't know a man called Tom, do you?

Tom, I don't know what.

I can't get a surname.

He doesn't seem to live anywhere, doesn't seem to do anything.

I've been looking. He's a hard man to find, this Tom.

Could be anywhere or nowhere.

He comes and goes.

The best man to ask is Lord Fitzgibbon, up at the hall.

Ah.

The odd couple, we call them.

I mean, you'd think a tramp could find better

company than an appeal court judge, wouldn't you?

♪

Lord Fitzgibbon.

Evening, sir.

Are you a canal freak?

Indeed, I'm not.

No, I'm a police officer. I'm Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby.

I'm sorry.

I should know.

I hope this means the end of Webster and his ludicrous canal.

I'm sorry?

This canal, it runs alongside my land.

It's been happily decaying for almost a century.

I like it that way.

It must be too dangerous for Webster to continue.

I can take it you don't approve of Mr. Webster and his plans.

I don't.

You see, grubby money isn't enough for Webster.

He's angling for a knighthood.

A bit tasteless, a spot like this.

How many bodies were there?

Seven, eight, nine?

No,

we can't be sure, sir.

I'll try another injunction, on the

grounds of safety or the fact of a mass grave.

Nothing's worked so far, but I get the satisfaction of costing Webster money.

He should fill the thing in, make the hill whole again.

A fitting memorial to all those men killed by greed.

I have it on good authority he won't get that night of it, but don't tell him.

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These things shouldn't just be left lying around like this.

I wasn't expecting visitors.

It's hardly the point.

Old farm implements, I like them.

Do you have a reason for poking about on someone else's property?

Your Lord Fitzgibbon?

Detective Sergeant Troy.

That gives you no more right to be here than anyone else.

Unless, of course, you suspect a crime has been committed.

Do you?

I'm looking for a man called Tom.

♪

What made you think you'd find Tom here?

He's got some sort of camp, is that right, on your land?

Well, I don't know that he considers it my land.

You see, Tom doesn't believe that land really belongs to anyone.

It's the other way around.

We belong to the land.

You know Tom well?

I'm proud to say I do.

We've had several anonymous phone calls.

Yeah, well, there's a lot of newcomers to the village.

They think he clutters it up.

These weren't complaints.

They were from someone who was worried about

how he was being treated, especially by young lads.

The last call said he'd been attacked.

It's true.

Do you know by who?

I don't know the names.

The yobbers.

By time something was done about it, though.

So?

I'm surprised you turned up.

They usually send a social worker.

It wasn't you who made those phone calls.

I've never been one for anonymity, Sorrow.

If I've got something to say to the

police, I assure you, you'll know all about it.

Whoo-hoo!

Tell me!

Where is it? Where is it? Give it here!

Give it here!

Jesus!

Wait, wait, wait. Left. Dan, you're meant to shoot it!

There's the yobs, driving about in the

woods, shooting at everything that moves.

They keep off my land.

I've got a gamekeeper who shoots at everything that moves, too.

Oh, don't worry.

Every time he hits a teenage boy, we bury the body in quicklime.

There's no evidence.

If you do hear anything about Tom, I'd appreciate a call.

With guns about, I don't want anyone getting seriously hurt.

There's nothing to stop you picking them up now, Sergeant.

If they're driving about on the public highway with a

firearm for no licensed reason, they're breaking the law.

♪

Yeah, I can't see anything a fox there by the big tree behind it

-All right, let's go. -Come on.

Let's go.

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Oh Get out of here, boy!

You want to get yourself killed?

You don't do this.

Not here.

If you kill to eat, that's right.

Killing just to kill, that's the wrong thing.

You have to stop.

Oh, a wrong thing!

You mustn't do a wrong thing.

It's not only the life you take away, you do yourself harm.

What's inside, you kill that too.

Have to stop you.

Oh, I'm so scared Get out of the way

I will drive straight over you.

You wanna get yourself killed?

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Hey, Tom, are you all right?

We've had several phone calls for someone in the village, I'd say.

Reckoned you'd been attacked by a group of teenagers.

Someone's obviously concerned about you.

My name's Troy.

I'm a policeman.

I'm, uh, walking.

I heard shots.

If you are in any trouble...

Hang on, I've been looking all...

Tom, wait!

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Oh, my God, you're disgusting!

You think

you could move?

A lot more easily than you can, Grandad.

How is the old rheumatism?

Just get out of the way.

That's a joke, Mr Birkin.

Most people in this village don't have the sense of humour of-year-olds.

Or the manners.

And don't think we'll put up with it!

Don't do anything I wouldn't do.

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-Ow! -Ow!

Ow!

Oh

-Help me! -Help me!

Get me out of here!

Stop!

Please, stop!

Troy!

The cause of death?

A bullet or bullets, low caliber.

No exit wound, point blank range.

Well, he wouldn't have run very far, would he?

He was one of the teenagers I was going to talk to today.

Teenage boys harassing the old bloke, Tom.

Simon Mayfield was on the list.

Some of the lads were in these woods last night with a rifle.

Doing what?

Lumping's what they like.

Catching rabbits, foxes, whatever, vermin, and car headlights shooting them.

Whatever else was happening, this is a calculated premeditated murder.

Where do you want to start, sir?

I don't.

I have got an unidentified body, 30 or 40 years old.

A suspicious death.

You started this, Troy.

You can finish it, Inspector.

What's next then, Sergeant?

Securing the scene would be favorite.

The crime scene is very secure, Constable.

Although it will be helpful if you don't add any more

of your size 11 footprints to the ones we already have.

What I need from you is a list of anywhere and

everywhere in the area a person might find a man trap.

Wouldn't know where to start.

There's no shortage of the things on Lord Fitzgibbon's estate.

I suggest you start there.

♪

Does Daniel have a rifle?

No.

Your husband?

No.

Although I'm sure you're right.

Most guns belong to men.

I don't have a rifle either.

Do you know if Daniel was shooting last night with his friends?

Is that how Simon died?

Where were you shooting?

Simmons Wood, a couple of fields off the Forest Road.

And there was one rifle?

Stephen's, his dad's anyway.

You shot some rabbits, nothing else, then went to the pub.

So Stephen Curtis has the rifle.

I suppose if he went back for it.

Back for it?

Dirtbag Tom, this old tramp, he was, well, he was

standing there in front of us when we were leaving the woods.

He, he took the rifle off Stephen, and he chucked it.

How do you mean?

Simon stopped.

Tom launched into this row, shouting about us killing God's little creatures.

Then he snatched the rifle off Stephen and chucked it into the hedge.

He's a nutter.

Everyone knows.

Simon put his foot down, and we went.

Leaving the rifle.

Doesn't matter now, does it?

You let Tom take the rifle?

He snatched it.

He just chucked it. Well, you should have picked it up.

We were going to go back after the pub, Dad.

-I forgot. -You're pissed, you mean.

Mr. Curtis, the most important thing I need to know

at present is when your son last saw Simon Mayfield.

I'm sorry.

We're all choked.

Simon was, um, was it a car accident?

You said he left the pub first.

Was he going home?

He didn't say.

How did you get home?

I walked.

What time did you get here?

Half 11, I suppose.

I was still up when he came in.

Look, what is all this, Sergeant?

I want to know more about the shooting in the woods than this run-in with Tom.

They're just kids.

If this nutcase took the rifle and he'd- Mr.

Curtis, the rifle in question is licensed to you.

You had no right to let it out of this house

unless it was properly secured and in your possession.

As for the firearms act, the fact that your son left it by

the roadside doesn't mean you won't be facing prosecution.

Is that what this is all about?

Petty bureaucracy.

A boy died last night.

That's right, Mr. Curtis.

Simon Mayfield was shot through the

head, we believe, using a .22 caliber rifle.

♪

Are you the search party?

Lucky to have us.

Should have had your governor do the shouting.

Still, 30300, you won't find a rifle if Tom's squirreled it away.

Waste of time looking.

I'll take your advice, Constable.

Just waste your time.

Search a radius of 50 meters from this spot, every inch.

If you can definitely establish where the missing rifle

isn't, I'll come back later and start you looking for where it is.

You two can help me find Tom.

There'll be some backup out from Causton, but we'll make a start.

Oh, uh, mantraps.

What have you got?

That's it so far.

Lord Fitzgibbon and two pubs.

They have them on the wall.

Have any come off the wall?

Bring the patrol car.

How do I get back?

I'm sure the walk will do you good.

Archeology or murder?

I'm not sure, but I found out what happened to the tunnel.

It was a cave-in, reported in the papers at the time.

Mr. Webster's great engineer didn't come out of it too well.

Eight men died in all.

They weren't even dug out the rubble.

The chamber was sealed.

Vickis had a quick prayer.

And the very next day, they were deacon again.

The 18th century approach to health and safety at work.

The local papers, they were up in arms.

They accused Hazlitt of putting the interests

of his investors before the lives of his workers.

Of course, the canal company was going

to go bust if he didn't keep to schedule.

He did.

And he seems to have made very sure that a very nasty little bit

of history was quite forgotten by the time he got his knighthood.

Well, that'll satisfy the coroner.

But we do still have our friend here.

You got any more on the skull?

It's not impossible the damage was accidental,

though if I had to pick an implement, I'd go for an ax.

And axes rarely fall on people's heads accidentally.

I can't tell whether the fracture occurred before or after death.

If it was before death, it's certainly traumatic enough to have been the cause.

Well, I've got a list of people missing in the area over a period of 10 years.

Assuming he was local.

Oh, George, whoever put him in there knew exactly what was behind that wall.

You could be lucky with the teeth.

Far better than he deserved.

Fine testimony to his dentist.

There's lots of fillings, but some unusual bridge work.

I'd say it was done at a dental hospital.

And this is just in.

I haven't even started yet.

Oh, that's not mine.

That's Sergeant Troy's.

You won't get much further this way, Sergeant.

What's wrong with the front drive?

I was trying to get closer to the ridge, to Tom's camp.

It was a good hour's walk yesterday.

And it will be today.

All the roads on my land are like this.

The whole estate is returning to the anarchy of the natural order.

I have one gamekeeper.

His only job is to keep people out.

How far are you prepared to go to do that, Lord Fitzgibbon?

I don't use man traps, Sargent.

I still need to find Tom.

You said you were his friend.

Indeed.

Well, as a friend, you may want to help me find him.

The alternative is an arrest warrant.

You took the rifle from Curtis.

I don't know.

He says you snatched it.

Don't know.

You must do, Tom.

I saw you there.

The boys, Stephen Curtis, Simon Mayfield,

Daniel Webster, they'd only just driven away.

Don't know names.

Did you take the rifle?

He fired it.

Fired it at me.

They were just killing.

Um, blood for fun.

That's, that's not right.

I told them.

You took the rifle and you threw it in the trees.

Did you pick it up again?

You were the only person there.

Except for you, Sergeant.

You can testify that he didn't come back.

After I'd left, Tom.

Where is it then?

He doesn't know.

I'd appreciate his answer.

You've had it, Sergeant, and I'd like to talk to Tom alone.

I haven't finished yet.

For the moment, you have.

Tom is entitled to legal representation, so I shall call my old

friend, my client, and you can all start walking back to your cars.

You get the feeling Tom's being protected, certainly by Lord Fitzgibbon.

But there are other people who want to lynch him.

Find out who made the anonymous phone calls?

Some of the kids think it's a man called Burkitt, ex-copper, retired.

I've spoken to him.

He denies it, but he could be right.

Busybody, doesn't like the way the village is gone.

Too many newcomers.

Burkitt.

I know that name.

Oh, he'd have been around in your time.

Still is my time, Troy.

I didn't mean to.

Came across his name today or yesterday in the

land of the living, not in the land that time forgot.

No, sir.

Dental records have come up with a name for

our body in the tunnel, a Mr. Eric Edwards.

P.C.

-Burkett. -He was the village constable

who reported Eric Edwards missing in 1965.

C.I.D.

didn't do much of a job.

Well, I suppose if you set out not looking for a

body, you're not very likely to find one, are you?

He's still walking around.

Why isn't he locked up?

No one knows what happened yet.

The local nutcase walks off with a rifle.

He threatens us.

Simon gets shot with a rifle.

Any conclusions you draw from that, Sergeant Troy?

And what's the conclusion?

Is that some kind of a clue?

Well, what do they need?

Don't think you're going to get away with it, you crazy bastard.

We'll get you.

Do you understand?

Come on.

-What? -We know where you live, Tom.

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Steve, what are you doing?

Birmingham, Daniel.

That's what a shotgun's for, isn't it?

Come on!

Hey, you scum!

Get off me!

Whoop whoop!

A death, for a death.

It will come to you

just like the others.

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Tom!

Are you here?

All I want to do is talk.

Just talk!

Bloody judge is at it again.

He's served another injunction.

This time it's safety.

What's he got to do with him?

Maybe it should have something to do with somebody, darling.

It may have been all right for the great explorer to lose

a few workers along the way, but these days we have court.

I'd happily sue you.

I'm just surprised there isn't a cue.

It'd be nice to have a little bit of

support for a change, just a little bit of support.

Do you really expect me to support the time and money you spend on this canal?

For what?

Industrial heritage.

You don't know anything about it.

I know you've thrown good money after bad.

You've let the business go while you play

at being Midsomer's great canal restorer.

None of the people you think matter give a

damn whether you get this knighthood or not.

You're still the bus driver who made millions.

And while you're busy losing it all, they're just laughing at you.

I'll try to do something that counts, Lillian.

There's a dead boy.

It could have been Daniel.

No.

-What do you mean, no? -No, it couldn't.

All right?

Look, isn't there ever a moment you think we'd stop all this?

There was.

Sometimes, there was.

It's too late.

I don't even like you.

And don't pretend you like me.

When Daniel leaves, I leave.

And I won't go empty-handed.

I want every penny that's coming to me.

Yes, Mummy, you don't go short.

You can't begin to know what I've gone short of.

There's nothing for me here.

And when my son goes, it's less than nothing.

Mr. Beckett.

Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby.

I know you.

-I knew you. -You're a DS.

You won't remember me.

Eric Edwards was reported missing on the 1st of February, 1965.

He'd left his home a week earlier.

His wife and his son had not seen him since then.

But this is not an unusual occurrence.

Your words.

That's a long time.

I do remember.

Eric wasn't exactly regular in his habits, more out at work than in.

You didn't like him?

It wasn't a question of liking or disliking.

I had a job to do.

Eric liked a drink, a lot of drink.

Let's just say he didn't always make my job very easy.

Is there any family left?

Um, Lettie died young, uh, his

wife, uh, about 1973, maybe.

Children, brothers, sisters?

Children were long gone.

Left home before he went.

I don't know where, never came back, maybe for their mother's funeral.

Mrs. Edwards received a letter from him

in the May of 1965 from Sydney, Australia.

This is a copy of that letter.

You may remember.

No, I can't say I do.

But she must have given it to me.

No wonder we couldn't find him.

It is indeed no wonder, but not because he went to Australia.

What do you mean?

We've discovered Eric Edwards buried in the tunnel wall on the Midsomer Canal.

He didn't die a natural death, and he didn't write that letter.

Do you think somebody killed him?

Hmm.

I certainly got that one wrong, didn't I?

Trouble is, whoever did it, I'd say you're going to have to dig them up, too.

So all we can do is cancel everything in terms of publicity.

We don't know when the tunnel's going to be

reopened or how safe it's going to be to work in.

How much longer do you think your father's going to be looking into all this?

I've no idea.

Surely you can ask him for some indication.

Mr. Webster, I don't know anything about it.

It's police business.

Yes, yes, of course.

I just hope he understands that there's a lot riding on this.

Why?

If the opening's held up for six months, it doesn't matter.

This project hasn't been financed by shaking tins outside supermarkets.

I've put a lot of money into this, a hell of a lot.

Mr. Webster, I'm doing the publicity for Canal Project.

That's all.

The business side, well, basically, that's nothing to do with me.

These bodies have been there for 200 years.

Now, what is all the fuss about?

Those bodies were people.

And it's stirred up memories now.

Well, perhaps we should all sing songs about it around the village green.

Or dance around the bloody Maypole!

How's it going?

I think your father just fired me from a job I volunteered for.

Oh, he's pretty fed up.

It's like someone's taken away his train set.

Except it isn't even his.

Do you need a lift?

I'm all right. I'm only going into the village.

Oh, I'm finding things to do.

Anything to do, really.

It just stops you thinking.

All right.

This is the original wild goose chase, sir.

I've been looking for Tom all day.

Fitzgibbon doesn't know where he is.

No one does.

Think Fitzgibbon is covering for Tom?

I don't want to go at it like a bull in a

china shop with Tom, but I've got to interview him.

He's the only suspect, and he can hide behind two blades of grass.

If it carries on, we'll have to take dogs in.

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Is it the same yeah, I'd say exactly the same

Yep.

-Yep. -Yeah, I'm on my way.

The dog handlers are on to Tom.

Finally, I think we've got him.

That's another day he's given us to run around.

I don't know what's the matter with them dogs.

You'd think with the smell of him, they'd- The circus is on its way, Constable.

By the time they get here, it'll be getting on for dark.

He'll have to stay with the body until then.

Yes, Sarge.

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Come on, come on, come on, come on.

Well, Tom, whatever.

I'm arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Stephen Curtis.

-Hello. -It's Tom Barnaby again.

Yes, yes, I'm still at it.

Listen, have you got anything on blacksmiths in the

Midsomer villages, 18th, early 19th century, around about there?

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He still hasn't said anything.

Can't we give him a bath?

Forensic haven't finished.

Your orders.

Tom,

the first thing we need is a name.

Your surname.

What is it?

Please, tell me your name.

He loved to spend the night in the cells.

I'm sorry, Tom.

I can do nothing if you won't talk to me.

♪

If you'll all give us some time, I'm sure...

Someone's selling you something.

I'll go.

You could ignore it.

No, I couldn't.

No, don't you move.

It's a lord for you, Tom.

-What? -Lord Fitzgibbon.

I've no idea what he's selling, then.

Lord Fitzgibbon.

Ah.

I'm sorry to disturb you.

I wanted to talk to you about Tom.

As his lawyer?

Well, perhaps we can leave that until tomorrow, Chief Inspector.

Tonight, I'm here just as his friend.

I hope Sergeant Troy doesn't get his

interview techniques from you, any leading questions.

That's not on with a man who isn't quite in control, intellectually.

Troy thought that you admired Tom.

I admire what he is.

That doesn't equip him for interrogation.

He's in a cell.

You can't do that to a man like Tom.

He won't cope.

You won't get anything out of him.

Who is he?

I mean, you've known him a long time.

You claim to be his friend.

Hasn't he told you anything about himself?

Surely he's mentioned his surname.

He didn't kill those boys.

I don't need to know anything else.

He threatened to kill Curtis.

He's told me he's innocent.

Well, if that is true, Sergeant Troy will clear him and send him home.

He doesn't have a schedule, Mr. Brownleevy.

There's no one to vouch for him.

He'll be frightened, say all sorts of things.

What then?

You wheel in a psychiatrist who says Tom's not fit to plead.

If you go into court with that, we all know that it

reduces the burden of proof, however much the law says otherwise.

Even if he's not convicted, he could end up in a psychiatric unit.

He'd be better off with a lethal injection.

Do you think that Tom is entirely sane?

Saner than either of us, in his own environment.

He's not in it.

We need to know what went on.

He just has to tell us the truth.

I'm a judge.

I know the law's strengths and weaknesses.

He doesn't have a chance.

What am I supposed to do?

Believe him.

But just like that?

Yes.

No one is going to bully him.

He will be treated sensitively.

Can't say any more than that.

The late, very late Eric Edwards.

You found a photo?

Archives had lost half the files, but we did get there eventually.

However, having identified Mr. Edwards, I don't know where to go with it.

Whoever killed him, whoever buried him, whoever wrote that

letter from Australia, I've got to agree with Charlie Burkett.

They're probably long gone by now.

How's yours going?

The PM report on Stephen Curtis confirms it was the same killer.

Hit over the head this time.

Three bullets from the same .22 rifle.

Tom?

Downstairs.

The village is up in arms.

A lot of people want to know why he wasn't brought in before.

I probably asked the same question myself.

He was the last person seen with a missing rifle.

He didn't have any evidence, did you?

You talk to him?

Maybe I didn't talk enough.

Do you think he did it now?

Do you think you ought to take over?

You have still got to ask Tom a lot of questions.

And if I were you, I'd get about it quick before his lawyer arrives.

Lord Fitzgibbon?

He's very sure that Tom didn't do it.

Came to see me last night at home.

That's a bit rich.

It is.

So I did assure him that you would treat Tom with sensitivity.

I could have said with your usual sensitivity.

But he doesn't know you as well as I do.

Now, really, really, you haven't got time

to wait for a day while I get up to speed.

You've got to get on with it.

Oh, Troy, just one thing.

What made both those young men drive into the

woods by themselves in the middle of the night?

Wasn't to consult with poor Tom about the ways of the wild, was it?

Can you tell me some time, somewhere you were,

someone you talked to, who saw you, who saw you yesterday?

Oh, yeah.

It's dark.

Did you see anyone?

The Gibbon.

The Gibbon?

Lord, he was there.

You.

You were there.

I, uh, I don't want to be here.

Nowhere.

I can't abide walls.

What did you do yesterday?

I never dug in a wall.

Start again.

Where were you?

I, uh, I, uh, have to go.

I can't breathe.

You'll, uh, you'll put me away in the dark.

Tom, just tell me what happened.

He, uh, he went away.

He, uh, always went away.

Only, uh, he didn't come back.

You couldn't?

Well, sorry about that, sir.

That's all right.

Don't put me in the dark, please.

Let's have a break.

Man, it's so tight.

What do you think he's been talking about?

It's got nothing to do with what's just happened in Midsomer Worthy.

I can't get any sense out of him at all.

He's somewhere else.

Somewhere much more frightening.

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I've left the door open.

You were right about the air in here.

I would say we could go outside, but, you know, regulations.

My name's Tom, like yours, but it's my grandfather's name.

Some families, you know, they carry these things on down generations.

Is Tom a traditional name in your family?

You did recognize this man, didn't you?

His name is Eric Edwards.

Disappeared almost 40 years ago.

Did you ever know Eric Edwards?

Haven't you?

Walls, Tom.

You talked about walls to Sergeant Troy.

That's not now, is it?

That was then.

You're frightened because of something that happened before.

I've been in that, Tom.

I know how it feels.

I know how glad I was to get out into the air, into the light.

Have you ever been in that tunnel, Tom?

Last time I wore this suit was to a wedding.

Now I've got funerals.

I shouldn't have.

I think when all this is over, I won't want to wear this suit again.

I know.

You shouldn't have to remember all this.

Not at your age.

They were my best friends.

I'll never have mates like them again.

Daniel, look, you're leaving school this year.

University next.

It's time to start again.

Time to forget.

What about you and Dad?

Time to start again.

Well, it's no good pretending we've been happy.

Not for a very long time.

But you've got a new life.

You don't have to make the mistakes we made.

I guess I can make my own.

Do you remember the, um, the stories about faraway land when you were little?

Sort of.

Whatever happened, whatever hurt me, you'd hold me tight.

And you'd tell me how we'd find the boat down by the river.

The swans waiting to pull us down to the sea and across the ocean.

To faraway land, where the sun

shines all day, the moon

shines all night, and everyone smiles and everything's right.

I've been looking at the history of the canal.

Came across the minutes of the Midsomer Canal Company at the library.

All that stuff about the accident is missing.

But there is an interesting bit.

The second day of May, the year of our Lord, 1,800, and it goes on and on.

Ordered that the sum of £12, 11 shillings, and 9 pence be

paid to Mr. Edwards, blacksmith, in discharge of his bill for

ironwork to the wheelbarrows for the use of in the said navigation.

And I discovered a bit more about Mr. Edwards.

Eric Edwards was a direct descendant of his, this blacksmith.

And the blacksmith's name was Thomas.

Thomas Edwards.

Tom.

Harry Gatewoods was my father.

He went to Australia.

That was the last I ever heard from him.

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I think we should talk, Mr. Burkett.

What about now?

Well, I could start with falsifying evidence,

constable, and then move on to obstructing the

course of justice and maybe even accessory to a murder.

Why don't we pay a call on Lord Fitzgibbon?

I wasn't involved in hiding the body.

I knew about it, but it was done before I was involved.

By?

The Edwards.

Eric had a brother, then some cousins.

Presumably, they had a reason.

Eric wasn't just trouble.

He was a very violent man.

He beat hell out of Tom and Lettie.

I was called in several times, but she always lied about it.

This night, he was laying into her, put the boot in.

Tom cracked.

He picked up an axe, and he hit him.

He killed him?

I'd already started a missing persons inquiry

when Lettie came and told me what had happened.

I had to stop the hair running.

Oh, the letter from Australia.

How did you arrange that?

Lettie had a cousin.

He knew Eric of old.

He was glad to help.

You don't intend to do anything about this, Barnaby, surely?

Were you part of this?

Well, not then.

I got to know Tom later.

I knew enough to pick up the pieces.

I knew Charlie had always kept an eye on him.

I asked Charlie, he told me.

Well, you've both done the law proud.

Has justice been ill served?

Oh, come on, you know better than anyone what happens if you start to

pick and choose the bits of law you like and the bits you throw away.

Guilty as charged.

But time does matter.

Do you really think a judge would put Tom in jail now?

You can't undo it.

I don't care much for your arguments, Judge.

But I do care what happens to Tom.

Most people don't know how to heal their wounds.

Something heals Tom's without him knowing.

I think you overestimate the peace you've given Tom down the years.

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Is that it?

For now.

What exactly did you expect to find?

A note from the murderer.

You've got him in custody now.

Too late for my son.

Why can't you just get on with putting him away?

Sergeant, have you found out any more?

Tom is a suspect, but so far there is no real evidence.

We will find out what happened.

We will find who killed your son.

You know who killed him?

I've spoken to most of his friends.

Was there anyone else who might have seen him that night?

A girlfriend?

Wasn't really anyone special, not for a while.

Well, there was.

There's no point in dragging things up, Eleanor.

-You don't even know. -Of course I do.

Well, what does it matter now?

What do you know, Mrs. Curtis?

I think Stephen was seeing someone, and I don't

think he really wanted anyone to know about it.

You've no idea who this was?

None.

You don't expect a boy his age to tell you where he's going.

But it was, he was excited and at the same time ashamed.

Was there anything else?

I think they contacted each other by text messages.

Hear a beep beep, he'd disappear upstairs.

The oldest times, have a shower and go.

We want all the details.

We haven't found a mobile phone, Mrs. Curtis.

Is it in the house?

No, that phone never left his side.

Not much from Simon Mayfield's parents, but they did say

he'd been less forthcoming than usual about where he was going.

His ex-girlfriend was onto something.

They split up about two months ago.

Because he was?

As if it was some old slapper.

Oh yes, very elegantly put, Troy.

Her words.

But she didn't know who it was.

Anyway, I'd say we found what made those boys

go into the woods in the middle of the night.

What about the mobiles?

No trace.

Simon had one, and Stephen.

Very unlikely they didn't have them with them.

Especially if these assignations were made using text messages.

One thing's for sure, poor Tom doesn't have a mobile phone.

If you can't find the phones, can you get details of the calls?

They'll be here tomorrow.

And then, we'll have a killer.

How can you be after his wife again?

You said you'd go on shopping.

Look what I bought.

I want this to stop.

I'm celebrating.

Changes, Timothy, big changes.

At least Daniel's going to be out of it.

Fair enough.

Doing it at home is one thing, but sitting here?

Watch the image, darling.

No, I'm watching you.

This stops right now.

All right, no more of that.

Understood?

It's very macho.

What if it doesn't?

One way or another, it will stop Lillian.

I promise.

What are you looking at?

Having a row with my wife.

You got a problem with that?

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Text messages, two to Simon, two to Stephen, sent on the nights they died.

Who sent them?

Untraceable phone, call card job, cash paid, false name.

And the good news?

No shortage of calls from an older woman.

To both phones, going back months, Lillian Webster.

Lillian Webster?

They were calling her, too, all the time.

I doubt it's to ask how things are going on the Midsomer Canal.

No, no.

So that's it?

A woman scorned, eh?

Doesn't sound like she was being scorned to me.

But Timothy Webb still was, and how.

Thank you.

Tom?

There's no more questions, Tom.

I've got to let you go home.

Come on.

Sit up.

You can take a walk in the yard.

Then the sergeant will take you to the canteen.

No-one will come looking for you again, I promise you that.

No-one will ever lock you up.

It's finished.

Do you understand?

She was my mother.

I still remember.

He would have killed her.

That was a long time ago.

You go home.

Forget you were ever here.

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Mr. Webster?

Mrs. Webster!

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She's dead

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Tom, is there anyone I should tell, uh, Lord Fitzgibbon?

Anyone who should know you're back?

What needs to know knows.

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Good morning!

Hi.

Hi.

You shouldn't be here.

I'll probably go to my aunt's in Causton.

I can't get hold of her, she won't know yet.

Do you want to go for a walk or something?

Get away?

I mean, I know there's really nothing much to say, but...

I'm quite good at not saying anything.

A confession?

Yeah, all three murders.

And Mrs. Webster was involved with the two lads, Mayfield and Curtis?

What's the matter?

Something missing?

Not missing, just not right.

mostly I remember them rowing.

even as a kid in the old house I used to lie awake at night.

voices through the wall shouting at each other for hours.

His prints will be all over the rifle now.

Ballistics will show it was the same gun that

killed the two boys, but I still don't know how he got it.

It was left in a ditch after Tom threw it there that night.

And he used text messages to get the boys into the woods, yeah?

Yes.

So he must have used another phone and then thrown it away.

Could that be right?

He didn't say that.

He said he used her phone.

But he didn't.

Those dates were from an untraceable phone.

He didn't do it.

He's confessed.

Why would you confess to three murders you didn't commit?

Including the murder of your wife.

Why go to all that trouble to protect someone?

It's the sun.

Daniel.

Where's Daniel now?

I phoned the house.

Cully went to see him.

They've gone for a walk.

I don't think he ever hit her, but it was like, it was like she goaded him.

She'd say things to embarrass him.

If people were round for dinner, he'd try and shut her up.

The more he tried, the more she'd wind him up, and then when

they went, another great row with her pressing all the buttons.

I suppose she never got much from him.

Oh, that's no excuse for what she...

for what she...

Oh, that was just gross.

Bloody, bloody gross.

Now's not the time to remember the bad things.

I only remember the bad things.

They were laughing at me.

You'd laugh at your mate if you were screwing his mother.

Simon, Stephen, that's what it was, what she did to me.

That's why...

That's why I had to kill them.

To stop it.

That's why I had to kill her.

Thank you, sir.

All right, thank you, sir.

Oh, they're walking.

They can't have gone far.

Right, I want you to spread out from this point.

Every field, lane, footpath, everything.

When you see him, approach him carefully.

You've got no reason to believe that Daniel's there.

Hi, Dad.

Daniel has something he needs to tell you.

♪

-Woo! -Woo! -I'm sorry.

Excellent.

Thank you.

I owe him.

To the future.

To new directions.

And old friendships.

Old friendships.

So, you may be ready to go back to

Middlesbrough, but is Middlesbrough ready for you?

What do you mean?

Well, I don't know if they'll be able to understand a word you're saying.

Eh?

Is that a Southern slur?

No way!

There's no Southern slur to the way I talk.

Say that again, Troy.

I think I hear some Middlesbrough coming back.

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You got no further with the skeleton.

Edwards, wasn't it?

Eric Edwards, yeah.

Well, no chance of finding out what happened, not after all this time.

Bit of a mystery.

Well, can't solve them all, Sergeant.

Oh, I'm sorry, Inspector.

Thank you, sir.

I mean, thank you for everything over the years.

I don't think I'd be where I am if...

Well, you know what I mean.

Oh, rubbish.

Admittedly, it took me a long time to get

you trained, but when I'd finally done it...

I know how much I've relied on you, Troy.

Midsommar will miss you.

And I'll miss Midsommar.

Good luck.

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