All language subtitles for Dalgliesh.2021.S01E03.The.Black.Tower.Part.1.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-TEPES

Get on with it.

Come on! You're so slow!

Put your back into it.

Stop panting, you bovine oaf.

I want fresh air,
not your stench.

It's hard work.

What would you know
about hard work?

Do you want me
to stay with you?

What? For your scintillating
conversation?

Shout when you're done.

If I start shouting,
I might never stop.

I might shout out the truth
about Toynton Grange!

Then what would happen?

Where would you and Wilfred

and his stupid pilgrimages
be then?

Father Michael?

It's Adam.

For God's sake!

A human being.

And a male at that.

Flash car must be yours then.

You looking for Father Michael?

I'm a friend, I...

I'd arranged to come and
visit him this weekend, but...

-It seems I'm--
-Two weeks too late.

-Yes, how did he--
-Heart attack.

Yeah, he'd been in hospital
with chest pains.

He only just got out.
Died the same night.

-Here?
-In the armchair.

He was still
in his cassock and stole.

It's like he just nodded off.

-Maggie Hewson.
-Adam Dalgliesh.

My husband Eric
is Medical Officer

at Toynton Grange.
Father Michael was chaplain.

Do you work there, too?

Not if I can help it.

Wilfred tries, but I'm
impervious to his charms.

Wilfred Anstey.
He owns the place.

I mean, he thinks
he's Francis of Assisi.

I guess that makes me
the heretic.

Did Michael mention if anything
was troubling him recently?

-Hmm, not to me.
-Who saw him last?

Grace, I think.
One of the residents.

Yeah, for a confession.

I mean, she probably
bored him to death.

Sorry, that was...bad taste.

Michael didn't tell me much
about the Grange.

Just that it was
a small care home.

It's ridiculously small now.

We're down to four residents,
local authorities haven't placed

anyone here
since Victor Holroyd died.

He was a resident.

He could be wicked,
but he made me laugh.

You know, until he wheeled
himself off Toynton Head cliffs.

-Two months ago.
-I'm sorry.

Everyone's busy pretending
it was an accident.

Either way, it doesn't look good
if you have a duty of care.

No.

Well, we're just up the drive.

Big ugly house.

You can't miss it,
if you need anything.

-Thank you.
-And sorry.

About Michael.

My dear Adam

I was so saddened
to hear of your loss.

It would, of course,
be wonderful to see you again.

But only if you felt able.

I'm hoping
you might be able to help me

with a disturbing situation

here at the Grange.

You are, as ever,
in my prayers.

-Wilfred Anstey.
-Adam Dalgliesh.

How can I help you, Adam?

I'm a friend of Fr. Michael's,
I'd arranged to stay with him

this weekend at Hope Cottage.

I'm afraid I have some sad news.

I heard. Maggie Hewson
came to the cottage.

I hope she offered
our condolences.

Michael was a valued member
of our community here.

It must be a shock.

It was to us.

I-I didn't know
he'd been in hospital.

I tried to get him
to stay in the house

while he recuperated.

But he insisted on returning
to the cottage.

Dr. Hewson checked on him
down there that afternoon.

Did anyone else
see him after that?

Grace Willison.

One of our residents
visited him in the evening.

Helen, our nurse,
was due to pop in later

but unfortunately, it seems
there was some kind of mix-up.

So he died alone?

As, at the last, do we all.

Like Victor Holroyd.

So, Maggie was as discreet
as ever.

Michael wrote to me.

He said there was something
worrying him.

Do you have any idea
what that might've been?

Michael was
a very private person.

He kept his own counsel.

He never mentioned you,
for instance.

Not once.

In all the time he was here.

It's a shame
you travelled all this way.

I hope you have a safe journey.

I don't think I'm ready
to head home just yet.

I'd planned to spend
the weekend in the cottage.

I'd like to do that.

Get a sense
of Fr. Michael's time here.

Would that be alright?

Of course.

We'd be glad.

And I hope you can find
some solace here.

Mr. Dalgliesh,
I'm Helen.

Wilfred asked me to bring these.

That's thoughtful. Thank you.

What was the mix-up...

the night Father Michael died?

Were you supposed to check
on him after Grace left?

Well, Eric asked me to.

I suggested
he ask Maggie or Dennis.

I was busy with the residents.
It's a lot of work.

-What happened?
-Well, Maggie refused.

And Eric couldn't find Dennis.

He assumed that I'd go as asked.

I assumed he'd got one
of the others to do it.

Fr. Michael's insistence
on being in the cottage.

Did you get a sense
he was expecting a visitor

other than Grace?

I don't remember him
ever having a visitor

apart from us.

Until you.

Goodnight then.

Wilfred thinks it's important
we feel useful.

Gives a sense of purpose.

I sometimes wonder

if the chickens
understand their purpose.

First, we take their eggs
and when they're past laying

we wring their necks
and consign them to the pot.

I hope you don't have to do
the wringing.

-Hmm!
-Have you been here long?

Four years.
It's not so bad really.

It's nice to be near the sea.

Although it seems always
just out of sight.

Victor managed to get
close enough to see it.

Mr. Holroyd had a need
to get away by himself.

He was quite forceful.

He used to bully poor Dennis
into wheeling him up there.

I thought you wanted to talk
about Fr. Michael?

If you don't mind.
You were the last to see him.

-For confession.
-Did he seem out of sorts?

-Troubled?
-A little frail maybe.

I think he must've died
just after you left.

Why would you say that?

Mrs. Hewson says
he was still wearing his stole

when she found him.

Wouldn't he normally have
taken it off

soon after hearing confession?

He did take it off.

When we finished,
he took it off

folded it
and put it on the table.

like he always did.

Is it possible
someone else visited Michael

after you left?

Not for confession.

Not from the Grange.

I'm on breakfast duty tomorrow.

I can use these.

-It's so nice--
-I'm sorry!

But you-you just can't go
on thinking that--

Mr. Dalgliesh, you found Grace.

Um, I'd better take these
through to the kitchen.

-They'll be starting on lunch.
-You should join us.

Julius, why don't you
show Adam around?

-Do you work here?
-Oh, no, no.

Wilfred's an old friend
from school.

I have a cottage here,
and I help

with the accounts sometimes.

Watch your step.
It's like a warren down here.

You live on the estate?

I come down when I can,
but I have a place in London.

What do you do in London?

I have a few investments.
I get by managing those.

Workshop and craft room.

Henry is one of the residents.
This is Adam Dalgliesh.

-A friend of Fr. Michael's.
-Oh, um...

I'm sorry for your loss.

This is the Grange family
cottage industry.

Mail order hand cream
and bath salts.

It's just lanolin,
almond oil and glycerine.

But put in a little jar
with a fancy label.

Wilfred.
It's a good likeness.

-Henry did that.
-A long time ago.

And this is Dennis.

Pleased to meet you.

Dennis looks after the residents

the building
and all of the equipment.

That's a lot of responsibility.

Oh, it's better to be busy.

Devil finds work for idle hands?

No, I-I mean, it's just...

Dennis is not great
with strangers.

Wasn't he with Victor Holroyd
when he died?

Oh, you heard about that?

Not with him exactly.

Victor asked
to be left alone apparently.

So Dennis came back
down the path.

Terrible business.

I was in London,
but Wilfred tells me

that Dennis
was absolutely distraught.

And this is the centre
of the whole operation.

Adam Dalgliesh.
This is Helen Rainer.

-Our nurse.
-Hello again.

-Hello.
-And you already know Grace.

Grace does a newsletter.
For Friends of the Grange.

It goes out every month.
Mainly around England.

But we have two subscribers
in America

and one in the south of France.

It's just bits of news
and a nudge

to buy our mail order products.

-Are there many "Friends?"
-Sixty-eight.

I've typed the labels so often
I know them all by heart.

-Seriously?
-I can do it from memory.

I imagine
what the people are like

just from their names, and the
names they give their houses.

Lourdes?

Yes, our pilgrimage.

We leave on Wednesday.

It's therapeutic.
We go twice a year.

-Biennial.
-Biannual.

We used to hire a van,
but last year

there was an accident
on the way home.

Two of the wheelchairs
were broken.

So, Julius decided it
would be safer

if he bought us
our own adapted bus.

Well, I couldn't let
you all climb

into another rented death-trap
after that, could I?

Hmm.

Lourdes? Is that Wilfred's idea?

A few years ago, he became ill.

Uh, he could barely walk.

Ended up in hospital.
St. Saviour's.

They couldn't help him,
so he went to Lourdes,

bathe at the Grotto.

And he came back
fit and healthy.

That's why he created
this place.

Why he goes back there.

-That's a remarkable story.
-He was sick. Now he's well.

That's all that matters to me.

The luncheon gong.

That's my cue to leave you.

-Eric Hewson.
-Maggie's husband.

Doctor Hewson.
Medical Officer.

Adam Dalgliesh.

Ursula Hollis.

So, have you met everyone?

Uh, everyone except...

Jennie. Uh, Mr. Dalgliesh.

A friend of Fr. Michael's
from London.

Pleasure.

So, how did you know Michael?

My father was a Rector
at a small parish

in Norfolk. Michael was
his Curate when I was a boy.

Did you follow
into the family business?

No, I'm a Detective
Chief Inspector

with the Metropolitan Police.

-That sounds exciting!
-It's just a job, Maggie.

Fun job is it,
catching murderers.

And getting them hanged.

They don't hang them these days.

What about the ones you caught
when you were younger?

-Any of them hang?
-Jennie, please. Must we?

I was just curious!

Five of them.

Whoa. Five deaths.

Down to you.

-Doesn't that keep you--
-Jennie.

Shall we remember the rule?

No talking at meal times.

My body is my prison

and I would be so obedient
to the Law

as not to break prison.

Benedictus Deus.

I will not hasten my death

by starving
or macerating this body.

Benedictus Deus.

I'm sorry.
I didn't realise.

I came out
for a walk and saw this place.

It's an unusual building.

The Black Tower.

It was originally built
in the 1600s

restored by
my great grandfather.

He invented his own religion
based on the Book of Revelation.

Apocalypse and judgement?

He read it more as a road map
to the final victory.

-Over what?
-Death.

In 1887,
he walled himself up in here

to await the Second Coming.

It was three months
before they found him.

He'd torn his fingers
to the bone

trying to claw his way out.

It's what we all do, I think.

Wrestle with mortality.

Is that why you set up
the Grange?

I faced something
and been saved.

I wanted that to have
some meaning.

And not just for me, I wanted--

-Witnesses?
-Yes.

If you like.

And you still use the Tower.

For meditation.

Private prayer.

Fr. Michael used it, too.

Must've been an interesting
contrast. The two of you.

We crossed swords sometimes.

I found our differences
stimulating.

Two deaths in as many months.

It must be a difficult time
for you.

I've had my share of challenges.

I'm still here.

But I keep the door
here unlocked

so I won't ever
have to claw my way out.

Enjoy the rest of your walk.

What a nice surprise!

I wanted to ask you
about something.

It's a little delicate.

I found something
in Fr. Michael's writing bureau.

Something curious.

A poison pen letter.

Did he mention it to you?

Do you know if anyone else
in the Grange

received anything similar?

A week or so
before Victor died...

It was obscene.

I tore it into pieces and
flushed it down the lavatory.

Do you know
if anyone else had one?

No. I thought it was just me.

Did you tell the police?

I'm sorry. I couldn't have shown
that thing to anyone.

I understand.

The worst thing was,
I could tell

it had been typed
on this typewriter.

Detective Chief Inspector.

Have you come to arrest me?

I'm off duty.

I haven't been busted
since my West End days.

We're a long way
from the West End.

I don't know.
You've seen Wilfred.

What a performance that is.

You don't look like
you're ever off duty.

You married?

-Yes.
-Me, too.

Still am, I think.

Where's your husband?

At home. On the fourth floor.

I see.
What made you choose here?

People think when you're going
soft in the legs

you've gone soft
in the head, too.

Start making decisions for you.

And you feel comfortable,
safe here?

I've been in worse.
And it's only temporary.

Until he comes gets me.

I'm sorry about Michael.

Did he seem happy here?

Yeah. I think
it kind of suited him.

What about Victor?

-Who've you been talking to?
-Maggie told me about him.

Don't believe her.
Nobody else liked him.

He enjoyed being cruel.
He was good at it.

-With the staff too?
-Hated them.

Hated the idea
they had any power over him.

He bullied Dennis
something rotten.

-Do you think he killed himself?
-Yeah, I do.

And I think he did it to cause
as much hurt

and upset as possible.

He was probably
laughing all the way down.

-I was just going into town.
-Perfect.

You've nothing to worry about.

I promise you. Nothing at all.

Why did you ask me if anything
was troubling Fr. Michael?

Something he said
when he wrote to me. Why?

Have you remembered something?

A week or two after Victor died

I was on the cliff.

I saw him down on the beach
with Dennis, arguing.

Could you hear
what it was about?

Too far away.

But I saw Michael
grab Dennis' arm.

Dennis pushed him away and
Michael fell back on the rocks.

-Then what?
-Dennis walked off.

I remember thinking
it was funny.

The two most unlikely people
in the world, arguing.

You're a star.
I'll get a bus back.

See you tomorrow at Julius'?

He's doing one of his dinners.
He'll want you to be there.

I'll tell him, 8 o'clock,
don't be late!

Not often we get a DCI
from the Met down here.

It's quite an honour.

It was meant
to be a social visit.

They didn't tell you
Baddeley had died?

Only Fr. Michael knew
I was coming.

Said he wanted my help
with something

that was disturbing him.

I wondered
if it might be connected

to Victor Holroyd's death.

I don't see why.
It's pretty straightforward.

Topped himself, if you ask me.
We passed it on to the coroner.

Is there any evidence
that Holroyd was suicidal?

-A note?
-No note.

Not much else I can tell you.

But Miskin spoke to his doctor.

He had a hospital appointment
in London

the week before he died.

And they confirmed
that there was

nothing more
they could do for him.

Were you able to examine
the wheelchair?

No sign of fault or tampering.

What about Dennis Lerner?

Did you look at him
as a suspect?

We, uh...

We may not be the Sweeney, sir,
but we know how to do our job.

Witnesses confirmed
that it was Holroyd

who insisted that Lerner
take him up the cliff that day.

Lerner says that he asked
to be left alone

so he went back down the path.

When he looked back to check,
Holroyd was gone.

Any possible motive?

Apart from Holroyd
being mean to him?

Well, if that were a motive
seems they'd all be suspects.

There was a full investigation.

Thank you for your time.

No problem.

Show the Chief Inspector out,
will you, Miskin?

Alright, Sergeant,
what was he not telling me?

Sorry, sir?

You were biting
your tongue in there.

What did you want to say?

Holroyd's hospital visit
was routine.

What they told him
was that there was no change

in his prognosis.

It wasn't great,
but it wasn't news either.

-He already knew he was dying.
-Anything else?

The other residents said
he was in good spirits

when he came back. Excited.

Now, it's possible
that was about his own suicide.

-But...
-Did you raise all this?

I did. But there was no evidence
of criminality.

So I was told to close the case.

Do you think there's more here?

I just don't think
he killed himself.

He was full of anger and rage
but it was all directed outwards

at other people.

How would you feel about doing
some more background digging

on the Grange family?

Quietly.
No need to involve your DI.

I could do that.

Anything interesting?

Ammonite.

Tw hundred million years old.

Gives a bit of perspective,
doesn't it?

Our lives. The blink of an eye.

Is that where Victor fell?

-Did you see him go over?
-I was walking away.

When I looked back he was gone.

I don't like to think about it.
I still feel guilty.

-Why?
-I was responsible for him.

Either you pushed him
over the cliff or you didn't.

If you didn't,
guilt is just an indulgence.

And if you did, it's dangerous,
it's how murderers

give themselves away.

Did you talk to anyone about it?

Fr. Michael?

Is that what you were arguing
about When you pushed him?

That was about something else.

-What?
-I don't remember.

If you can lose your temper
with a priest

I can understand how Holroyd
could make you snap.

-It wasn't like that.
-Was Victor tormenting you?

-Did he know something about--
-Why would you think--

The temptation
must've been strong.

The cliff edge right there,
one sharp push and--

Stop!

Look! It must be the Tower!

Wilfred might be in
there!

You could've died.

-You should call the police.
-No!

Let's see.
Julius Marsh.

Public school. Cambridge.

Civil Service. Minor diplomat.

Left when he inherited
some family money.

I'll give you
the number of a contact

in the Foreign Office.
Might give you more detail.

There's no phone
at Hope Cottage so...

Thanks, sir.

I-I checked out his alibi.
It's watertight.

He was at his club in London
when Victor died.

Residents?

There's nothing.
They all have alibis.

Even before you consider
the practicalities.

So if we rule out Marsh
and the residents

that leaves us with staff.

They're a proper mixed bag.

Helen Rainer
worked for the Ridgewell Trust.

Private care business.

They're hoping to take over
Toynton Grange.

Her uncle's on the board,
and Dr. Hewson

had his licence suspended
for a while,

after an affair
with a young patient.

He ended up marrying her.

-Maggie.
-Mmhmm.

And what's
Dennis Lerner's story?

Well, no police record.
Good worker. Mild mannered.

But his mum lives
in a fancy private nursing home.

Meadowlands. It's expensive.

-And Dennis pays for it.
-Does Anstey pay him that well?

No, sir. Also, Meadowlands
offered him a job.

More money, near his mum.
But Dennis turned it down.

So what's keeping him
at Toynton Grange?

Loyalty to Anstey?

Or is he skimming money
on the side somehow?

If he is,
maybe Victor found out.

Which would give him a motive.

Snapdragon?

Yes.

Fr. Michael gave it to me.

It's my reminder of him.

I found this in the cottage.

Bookplate says it's yours.

I lent it to him.
I'd forgotten.

Thank you so much.

Hardy's a favourite of mine,
from school.

"An aged thrush,
frail, gaunt and small

in blast-beruffled plume."

The Darkling Thrush.

How is your own writing going?

Fr. Michael told me about his
friend the famous poet.

He was so proud.

I haven't been able
to write anything lately.

Of course.

He told me about your wife
and baby too.

I'm so sorry.

I wish you'd been able
to see him again.

Would've meant so much.

Actually it wasn't for the
chyteau I moved to this place.

Of course, i-it's the region.

It's quite the collection,
isn't it?

I'm just a magpie, really.

Anything that catches my eye.

That is why I hate you, Julius.

-Why's that, darling?
-You've travelled.

You have beautiful things.
Taste. And money.

-Maggie.
-It's fine.

I think there was a compliment
in there somewhere.

I suppose those are
all the benefits

of the Diplomatic Service.

You were a diplomat?

Uh, Junior attache.
Very briefly.

I had dreams
of an exotic posting.

I was excited. I thought it'd be
the Embassy in Paris!

Turned out to be
the Consulate in Marseille.

It doesn't sound that bad.

Well, Paris has writers,
artists, musicians.

Marseille has sailors,
gangsters and drug smugglers!

I realised it wasn't for me.

I wasn't, um, selfless enough
to make a career of it.

Now. Shall we eat?

Nice to eat without John Donne
in the background.

-You know Wilfred means well.
-Does he?

I mean, there's a difference
between believing in God

and believing you are God.

We should be grateful
for the chance he's given us.

The chance to be marooned
in the middle of nowhere.

-With a bunch of--
-That's enough.

It's even worse
now that Victor's gone.

Not for some of us.
Horrible man.

How can you say that!

What about that letter I got?

-What letter?
-Poison pen drivel.

Cruel, anonymous, disgusting.

It was his sense of
humour. He liked to play games.

Like trying to frame Dennis
for murder?

Ach, come on,
everyone knows

Dennis doesn't have the guts

to kill a chicken,
let alone a human being.

Human being?

-Victor?
-Henry!

You don't mean that.

This party needs some music.

I don't understand
how the Grange survives.

-It can't be profitable.
-It isn't.

It's deep in debt, I've been
speaking to The Ridgewell Trust

about a deal
that would give them control

but preserve Wilfred's ideas.

The trouble is...

I don't know
if he's ready to let go.

So, who's going
to dance with me?

Maggie.

Maggie, I'm not sure that's...

Oh, for God's sake!
My fault.

No harm done.

It's late anyway.

We should go. No scenes.

If I decide to make a scene
the whole world

is gonna know about it.

Not tonight. Please.

Come on.

I'll show you out.

Bravo to base. In hot
pursuit of a few hours' sleep.

-Over and out!
-Nice radio technique.

I've watched a lot of Z-Cars.

I'm gonna need a little help.

-Not too uncomfortable?
-No.

Three, two, one.

Over there in the dresser

there's a box.

"You are a sick
and depraved monster."

"You should be castrated."

"You will burn in hell."

There's a photograph too.

That's Peter.
He arrived last year.

He was smart, and...

funny...

and kind.

We became close.

Very close.

We tried to be discreet but...

Victor spotted it.

He took great delight
in informing Wilfred.

They sent him
to a different home

hundreds of miles away.

I finally found out
that he died of pneumonia.

I'm sorry.

That's awful.

Yes, but...

normal, for people like us,
because...

we just don't matter.

You know, you should think
about making an effort

with the Chief Inspector.

He's very sweet.

You don't want
to end up a spinster.

-Hey.
-Night.

Did you forget something?