Original subtitles

[door creaking]

[suspenseful orchestral music]

Shh. Shh!

[glass smashing]

Wait, it's me!

Alfie?

Oh!

Are you alright, Sister Reg, I heard...

Oh.

Sister Boniface.

Meet my little brother.

[gentle orchestral music]

Maggie said I weren't welcome back.

But I'm going straight this time, I mean it.

The prodigal son, returning to the fold.

She got a screw loose or what?

So.

You get released from jail

and you decide to start your new life

as a law abiding citizen

by breaking into a convent!

Can't a man visit his sister?

I thought I might stay for a bit.

Oh, no. No.

The Reverend Mother wouldn't allow it.

Why not?

It's not my fault I got banged up.

When I was a nipper, our Dad asked me

to join the family business.

How was I to know it mostly involved nicking stuff?

This is a convent, Alfie.

Not a halfway house.

Fair enough.

I'll have to take my chance

with the old gang, then.

It won't be long before I succumb to temptation,

but perhaps prison is where I belong.

There must be something we can do.

We got some wine.

Needs shifting to the museum

for a shindig they're having.

Lend a hand,

keep your grubby fingers off the merchandise,

and I'll find you somewhere to stay.

I'm not sure the Lord created this humble body

for physical labour.

Well, He didn't create it

for doing over post offices!

Prefer I tell the police

an ex-convict attacked me last night?

When you put it like that, sis,

where do I start?

[gentle orchestral music]

Plenty of light.

It's perfect.

Just as perfect as that gallery in Kensington.

A London happening is too predictable.

I wanna bring my work to the masses!

Why aren't we in Liverpool or Manchester?

Heaven forbid, Birmingham.

The only masses here are sheep.

Where do you want this, Mr. Ardwell?

Need anything else?

To wake up and realise it's a bad dream.

What's the matter with you, Francis, huh?

What's the matter with you, man?!

You're here with the wine, Sister...?

Reginald, Reg is fine.

Right, rest is in the van,

just need to settle up.

This is more than you quoted last month.

Thing about wine is the older it gets,

the more valuable it becomes.

Since the refurbishment, the museum's finances

have been hanging by a thread.

Couldn't we.

Is that Gerry Ardwell?

Yes.

Tonight's party is to celebrate the launch

of his new exhibition, sorry, happening.

How about a 10% discount for two free tickets?

Deal.

Massive fan.

Don't worry, you can come too.

She's a bit of a looker, in't she?

That's the Virgin Mary.

It's not very big, is it?

Couldn't you afford the full sized version?

It's the Immaculate Conception

by Sebastian Glendinning,

it's worth over 50,000 pounds.

And I thought I knew how to get money for nothing.

I should be shaking Mr. Glendinning by the hand.

He's been dead for two centuries

but if you light that cigarette in my gallery,

you might just get a chance to meet him.

I'll just fetch the rest of the plonk, shall I?

Get off me! Bridy!

Stop it. Keep it down.

Sister Reginald.

I telephoned about the room.

No alcohol, no radios,

no guests, especially women, including nuns.

The front door is locked at nine every night.

Nine o'clock?

But what if I'm out?

Then you will remain out, Mr. Lynch.

I only make an exception for two of my guests

because they are officers of the law.

You've got coppers staying?

I love coppers.

He'll give you no trouble, Mrs. Clam.

If he does, he'll be swiftly ejected.

Payment is in advance.

Come along, then.

I might as well be back in jail.

It can be arranged.

Help yourself to a drink.

We make the wine at the convent.

Oh, do you?

So.

That's the aftertaste, is it? Guilt?

Ardwell.

Ardwell?

Thought you could hide yourself from me

in the sticks, eh?

Far from it, Dickie.

I know how far you travel for a free bar.

[chuckles] Come on, tell. Tell my readers.

Which artist will you be plagiarising

for this latest exhibition?

Readers?

Dear chap, I didn't realise you had any left.

Well done you.

[Dickie scoffs]

I don't see what all the fuss is about.

Oh, you are a Philistine!

Where's your appreciation of beauty?

Oh! Mr. Ardwell?

Excuse me, sorry.

Mr. Ardwell. Ruth Penny, Albion Bugle.

I love your work.

Feeling's mutual.

May I have a quote about why you chose Great Slaughter

for your exhibition?

How about I give you my telephone number first?

[Ruth] Well, let's start with the quote. [Chuckles]

[clock chiming]

[Alfie sighing]

[mischievous orchestral music]

[floorboard creaking]

[Ruth laughing]

Having fun?

What do you know about this Gerry Ardwell?

Bad boy of the British art scene, very experimental.

Yes.

Once spent 24 hours staring into a bucket.

What was in the bucket?

Oh, this is Francis Scritton, my studio assistant.

When I found him, he was a grubby little orphan

who could barely hold a paintbrush.

Not technically true.

Soon, thanks to my tutelage,

he'll be the toast of the Royal Academy.

Sorry to interrupt.

It's time.

Duty calls.

Well, good luck.

So. What are you working on?

Not much.

Mr. Ardwell keeps me very busy.

Well, surely you need to have your own projects.

Oh, there is one project.

I've been planning it for years, but I just

Lilly Ardwell.

Gerry's wife.

Oh, he...?

How do you do?

[glass clinking]

Ladies and gentlemen, as museum director

it is my enormous pleasure

to introduce the world-renowned Gerry Ardwell.

[group applauding]

Thank you, Madeleine.

Throughout my career,

I have sought to deconstruct

the walls of elitism separating traditional art

from the common man.

With my latest work, I go further.

Bridging the gap between artist and audience.

For the next month,

this is my home.

I'll not leave this stage

even for the most private of bodily functions.

When the museum's open, you may observe me

however you see fit.

At night, the gallery is locked and alarmed

and I'll be incarcerated with these other exhibits.

The artist as living art.

[group applauding]

Yes, if you wish to glimpse the true nature

of the art of Gerry Ardwell,

examine the contents of his bucket. [Chuckles]

[tense orchestral music]

[dog barking distantly]

I'll take that. Just in case.

It's exactly as Mr. Ardwell asked.

Know what he's like first thing in the morning,

don't want to get your head bitten off, do you?

[Madeleine] Gerry?

- [tray clattering] - [dramatic orchestral music]

[Lilly] Gerry...

- Gerry? - Gerry...

Inspector.

Please tell me you'll find the Immaculate Conception.

We'll do our best, but for now

our priority is Mr. Ardwell's death.

Sorry for your loss, Mrs. Ardwell.

Doesn't make sense.

We locked him in. He was all alone.

Rest assured, we will bring the culprit to justice.

Let us know if there's anything we can do.

[sombre orchestral music]

[Felix] What happened?

Oh.

A window was forced from the outside.

The victim suffered blunt trauma to the cranium,

no other wounds, and, oh, and I found this.

What am I looking at?

Discoloration on the plinth.

This figurine has been moved from its usual position, see?

Oh, and there are blood traces on the base.

That's our murder weapon.

I'll check with the victim's blood type.

So far, no fingerprints.

So someone breaks in via the window,

they go to steal a painting,

not realising that Mr. Ardwell's here

and then he tries to stop them

and gets bludgeoned with a bronze figurine.

What about the alarm?

Mrs. Rigley?

Is the gallery alarmed at night?

Always.

I tested the alarm before the party

and turned it on before I left.

If the thief entered through a window,

it should've gone off.

And where's the control box?

My office.

Who else has access?

Usually, only me, I keep it locked.

But yesterday I gave my spare key to Mrs. Ardwell

and Mr. Scritton so that they could store things

for the party.

Oh, and Dickie Whitfield, the art critic.

He'd driven straight from London

so I let him use the office to freshen up.

Thank you.

[dramatic orchestral music]

Smells like Old Nun's.

I beg your pardon?

Old Nun tobacco,

my father used to smoke it.

Mrs. Clam's neighbour saw a man

climbing out of her guest house window

late last night.

It wasn't me.

I know who it was.

[door knocking]

Mr. Lynch?

Let me.

[door knocking]

Alfie.

Open up, it's the police.

He appears to have checked out.

Perhaps he went for a walk.

[Mrs. Clam] Not out of the front door,

I'd have seen him, oh.

For once, Sister, your services

may be surplus to requirements.

Is Alfie stupid? Yes.

Is he a lazy, selfish, greedy little toe rag? Yes.

- Sisters. - Morning.

[Reg And Boniface] Sisters.

What was I saying?

Did Alfie kill Mr. Ardwell?

Oh! Not a chance.

To break in, disable the alarm

and leave no fingerprints?

It looks professional.

Perhaps your brother was caught off guard.

Alfie wouldn't hurt a fly.

What about the Snosebridge job?

He was there, but.

Snosebridge?

Payroll robbery.

Local bobby tried to intervene.

So Alfie's gang beat him up.

He was lucky to survive.

It was Alfie who told them to stop.

According to him.

He did his time.

Where is he?

If you see him, tell him to hand himself in.

Let's go.

[stern orchestral music]

You gotta do something.

Like what?

Prove Alfie's innocent.

Thank you.

The alert has gone out.

Are you sure Alfie Lynch is our man?

It was him.

I just, I can't work out

how he forced the window

without triggering the alarm.

Madeleine Rigley said that she tested the alarm

before the party.

What if Lynch had an accomplice?

Someone who sabotaged the alarm during the evening.

Yes.

Who had access to the controls in the office?

- Lilly Ardwell. - Mhmm.

Francis Scritton, and Dickie,

- Dickie... - Whitfield.

Dickie Whitfield, yes.

Unless Mrs. Rigley was lying.

She's looking at a sizable insurance payout.

Start there.

I'll brief Lowesley, and then meet me

at the Tudor Hall Hotel.

I wanna see what the victim's wife

and little helper have to say.

[door knocking]

Any updates on the Ardwell case?

Nice hat.

What do you know about Dickie Whitfield,

the art critic?

Or Drinky Whitfield as he's affectionately known, why?

Quid pro quo.

See what you can dig up on him,

anything to do with him and Gerry Ardwell.

And if I dish the dirt?

Regular updates and an exclusive interview

with the officer in charge.

Well, how could a girl refuse?

Alright, swing by this afternoon.

Toodle pip!

[Felix kisses his teeth]

[dramatic orchestral music]

What happens if the press discovers

that one of our sisters is related to the murderer?

I told you, Reverend Mulberry, it weren't him.

How can you be certain?

Because we have an arrangement.

Your brother is clearly a lost soul.

Oh no, not with Alfie, with God.

My family always has a relaxed interpretation of the law.

I am aware of that among your relatives

there's a certain criminal element.

Element? [Chuckles]

The whole blooming periodic table.

So, I made God a deal.

A life of service in return for keeping

my nearest out of the clutches of the Devil.

You should pray for your brother.

And I shall pray for you.

Oh, look.

I know Alfie ain't Your finest work.

But help me find him.

I just wanna know he's alright.

Psst!

Fair play, quick work.

I know what they think

but it weren't me, I swear.

Shh!

I need to hide.

Well you can't stay here!

You stick out like a sore thumb.

Unless...

I went straight home.

I was there until I opened up this morning.

And how well did you know Mr. Ardwell?

We were at art school together.

Even courted for a little while.

But, just a silly fling.

Gerry was never the type to settle for one woman.

Before yesterday, I hadn't seen him in years.

Will that be all?

I promised to update the trustees.

We'll be in contact if there's anything else.

Where's Sam?

I said I'd meet him at the hotel, I should go.

No, no, no, no, no.

I was looking at the scene of crime photographs

and there's something funny about the blood spatters.

For a nun, you have a disturbing interpretation

for the word funny.

It'll have to wait, sorry.

Our top priority is catching Alfie Lynch.

[dramatic orchestral music]

I think you're right, Sister,

it wasn't Alfie.

I'm glad to hear you're on my side, sweetheart.

[Francis] Alfie Lynch?

No. Sorry.

Well, he's a known criminal,

staying at a guest house in town.

We believe he broke in assisted by a person

or persons unknown.

How long have you worked for Mr. Ardwell?

About a year.

Were you close?

I never knew my real father.

Without Gerry I wouldn't be the man I am today.

What exactly did you do for him?

Everything.

Gerry generated a lot of ideas.

He needed someone to create the actual pieces.

Must have been galling,

you doing all the work and him taking the credit.

All great masters had apprentices.

[door knocking]

Message from Sister Boniface.

She needs you at the lab as soon as possible.

Right.

Hope you catch this Lynch fella.

We will. And whoever he's working with.

[sombre orchestral music]

I know it was daft, but I was getting the jitters,

stuck in that room, so I hopped out the window

and went to the pub.

Then this morning, I heard them coppers

talking about a murder.

I knew I'd get stitched up, so I legged it.

Maybe if I explain to Sam that.

No.

He'll have Alfie banged up.

Yes, but...

Yeah.

They're good, in't they?

One of Bridy's old brassieres

and a couple of spuds I got out the kitchen.

Yes, very...

Creative.

The thing is.

Do you mind stepping outside?

Important police work, sisters,

sorry for the inconvenience.

What's so urgent?

Fact.

If someone's hit on the head while standing up,

you expect a wide blood spray pattern.

Mr. Ardwell was already lying down.

See the two lines in the floor wax,

running from the stage to the body?

[Felix] So Mr. Ardwell was hit on the head

while he was still sleeping

and then dragged to the painting?

There'd be a trail of blood, no.

Judging by the dilated pupils,

I think Gerry was drugged.

[tense music]

Dragged to the painting.

And then hit with the bronze figurine

to look like he'd disturbed a thief.

[figurine thudding]

[Felix clears his throat gently]

Sorry.

These four had access to the alarms.

Any of them could have also drugged Mr. Ardwell.

So which one of them's working with Alfie Lynch?

Oh, we can't be certain Alfie was.

The bobby from Snosebridge,

got beaten up by Alfie's gang, he's a mate.

And he's never been the same.

So I'm gonna find Alfie

and I'm gonna put him in jail where he belongs.

[stern orchestral music]

With the police about,

you're gonna have to stay in here.

But what about lunch?

Try feeding your soul

instead of your belly for once.

Wait, Bridy.

I really am trying to change.

I'm unlucky, that's all.

You choose good or you choose evil.

Luck has got nothing to do with it.

That's easy for you to say in here.

Not surrounded by temptation like I am.

Oh, you think I've never been tempted?

I could've taken the easy route like mum.

Strutting down the high street

in her knocked off fur coat.

Half cut on gin.

Turning a blind eye while you lot divvy up

the spoils on the kitchen table.

No.

I wanted a decent life.

And an honest life.

It takes hard work.

Read it. You might learn something.

[sombre orchestral music]

What's all this?

Articles where you criticise Gerry Ardwell.

I'm a critic.

The clue is in the name.

"Gerry Ardwell epitomises

everything that's wrong with his generation.

Superficiality, egotism,

obsession with celebrity."

[Sam] Why do you hate him so much?

After his first exhibition.

Ardwell wrote a manifesto,

declaring that traditional art is dead.

He singled out one artist in particular,

Robert Eddington.

Dismissing his life's work

as outdated and irrelevant.

[Sam] So?

Robert was my friend.

He killed himself a week later,

left behind a wife and a child,

so I hated Ardwell, yes,

but this was 20 years ago.

If I wanted him dead, why would I wait until now?

You tell me.

Someone at that party disabled the alarm

to allow the murderer inside

and you had access to those controls.

[chuckles] Well, this is hardly in my skillset.

But if you are looking for an accomplice,

what about the widow?

Huh?

Ardwell was a known womaniser.

Hey.

Look at this.

Gerry Ardwell with fiance, Maddy Rigley.

What if Dickie's right?

What if Lilly knew that Ardwell

was here visiting an old flame?

May we come in?

Is there a problem?

No.

Have you found the murderer yet?

Not yet.

We'd like a better idea of people's movements

after the party.

Well, I walked straight back here with Francis,

said goodnight to him downstairs,

and came to bed.

- Hmm. - Why?

We're exploring the possibility

someone else was involved.

Did you know that your husband

and Madeleine Rigley were once engaged?

Of course.

Gerry told me everything.

Ancient history.

Oh, that's Gerry's.

He could be quite a slob.

Is there anything else?

That lock is broken, I think.

I called down to reception, but

[door knocking]

Open up.

I won't ask again.

[tense orchestral music]

[bell ringing]

Sister Reginald?

Hmm?

Didn't you hear the bell?

Hmm.

You don't want to be late for chapel.

Sister Reginald.

It's just a bit of fun.

Gerry was always going off with other women.

It must've made you very angry.

No.

Well, yes, but I didn't kill him.

Lilly and I were together all night.

So it couldn't have been either of us.

Forgive us if we're sceptical of the widow

and her new lover exchanging alibis.

The night porter can confirm

that we arrived back together

and didn't leave until after breakfast.

Nonetheless, either of you

could've drugged Mr. Ardwell

and cut the alarm ready for Mr. Lynch

to come and do the rest.

Never even heard of the man until today.

We've only got your word for that.

♪ Oh blessed Jesus ♪

♪ Hear and answer me ♪

♪ Deep in thy wounds Lord ♪

♪ Hide and shelter me ♪

♪ So shall I never ♪

♪ Never part from thee ♪

As I've already mentioned,

we have an interesting visitor here today.

Someone who will be familiar to many of you, I'm sure.

Father Brown.

[uplifting choral music]

Thank you, Reverend Mother.

Sister Boniface.

It is reassuring to see

that your community is not only surviving, but thriving.

I even see some fresh faces sat here today.

- He knows. He knows. - [Sister Boniface whispering]

Sister Reginald. Sister Boniface and guest.

Please remain behind after chapel.

I really don't mind staying.

It's convent business, Father.

What were you thinking?

Bringing a known criminal into our holy refuge

and then allowing him to desecrate your habit!

I never did.

I wouldn't, not in a convent!

I- -[potato clattering]

Sorry about that.

He's mocking our very way of life.

If I may.

No you may not!

I shall inform the police that we've discovered

the whereabouts of the fugitive.

Aren't criminals meant to be given sanctuary

by the church?

Oh, so you're admitting he's a criminal now?

Well...

He has sinned. Yes.

But he was raised in a family of sinners

and now he wishes to turn towards the light

and shouldn't we help him?

Sanctuary is an archaic tradition,

holding no basis in modern law.

I will not put the sisters in danger.

He's not dangerous, he's my brother.

And if you throw him out,

I'm going too.

I beg your pardon?

There's nothing else I can do

but leave St. Vincent's.

And may I say, you might struggle

to balance the books without me.

Sister Reginald, you are a highly valued member

of this convent, but I will not allow St Vincent's

to be blackmailed.

Very well... No, wait.

You can't do this, right? This is your life.

Gonna turn myself in.

They'll throw you in jail.

Not if Sister Boniface catches who done it.

But... But Bridy!

I never done nothing good in my whole life.

Let me do this.

Well, that's settled then.

You'll clear my name, right?

Oh, absolutely, yes.

100%.

Or 90 at the very least.

Actually, let's say 85.

It's good enough for me.

I should go.

Alfie.

You might want to get changed.

Yeah.

It's a pity.

I mean, these things are surprisingly comfortable.

Now, according to the post-mortem I was right.

Enough barbiturates in Gerry's bloodstream

to send him to join the choir invisible.

Right, let's talk motive.

Madeleine Rigley.

She's a jilted ex-fiance,

needed the insurance money to save the gallery.

Lilly Ardwell, was sick of her husband's adultery

and stands to inherit his wealth.

Francis Scritton, he was his love rival

and presumably envied his success as an artist.

And then there's Dickie Whitfield.

Whose friend, Robert Eddington,

was driven to suicide by Gerry.

And Dickie has the contacts

to shift the painting on the black market.

[Boniface] Now, Lilly, Francis and Dickie

were all staying at the same hotel,

is that right?

The night porter claims he didn't see anyone leave

during the night.

But if their job was just to drug Gerry

and cut the alarm, then they wouldn't need to return.

Alfie did the rest.

If, for argument's sake,

we say Alfie wasn't involved.

He's handed himself in.

Has he confessed?

No, not yet.

So, humour me.

Where does a wise man hide a leaf?

Come again?

In a forest.

Exactly.

So where would he, or she, hide a painting?

Madeleine.

We know that you and Gerry were engaged.

More than just a silly fling, then?

So?

Well, it must've hurt

when he ended things.

Actually, I ended it.

He was too chaotic, too egotistical.

Prepared to do anything for fame

even if it meant trampling over others.

I didn't mention it

because I wasn't sure if Lilly knew.

Then you won't mind if we search the museum

and your cottage for the missing painting?

Be my guest.

[dramatic orchestral music]

Perhaps Felix had better look at Madeleine's cottage.

Look, I've humoured you.

We're back to where we were, it's Alfie.

He must've hidden the painting somewhere

before he handed himself in.

The only problem is he's refusing to tell us

where he was lying low.

Sam, there's something I should tell you.

Unless.

Mrs. Clam said she saw Alfie at breakfast

which means he returned there after the robbery.

I bet it's been hidden under our noses this whole time.

[dramatic orchestral music]

Is this entirely necessary?

I'm sure they'll put everything back.

I should jolly well hope so.

I've already lost another paying guest today,

he barely unpacked his suitcase

when he found out that a murderer had slept in here

and he beat a hasty retreat.

What are you doing to my floor?

Perhaps we should wait downstairs, hm?

Shall we?

Sister, I think I've found something.

Oh, no, no, no, no.

You mustn't contaminate the evidence.

[sighs] Fine.

[suspenseful orchestral music]

Ah!

Look at that.

Perhaps Alfie Lynch will start talking now.

He did it, didn't he?

Supposed to have a deal, me and God.

Only I'm starting to think He's not listening.

Oh, but He is listening!

He wouldn't abandon you

and you shouldn't abandon Alfie.

The painting was found in his room.

So?

I will find out who put it there.

[door knocking]

Can I help?

I understand you were a friend of Gerry Ardwell's.

Well, not really.

But you were friends with Robert Eddington,

so this whole thing must've brought back

all sorts of painful memories.

Best to talk about it.

Thank you.

Spiritual advisor?

Yes, it's a service we offer

to help you deal with your loss.

- I see. - Oh!

Silly me.

May I use your bathroom?

[door knocking]

[Lilly] Are you alright in there?

Oh. Yes.

No harm done.

Such a...

Butterfingers.

Hm.

All sorted.

So, you wanted to talk to me about?

I just remembered I'm needed back at the convent.

Breakfast.

I ain't hungry.

Oh, suit yourself.

I'll leave it here.

Do you have a Bible I can borrow?

Somewhere, I'll fetch it for you.

Thanks, love.

Someone wiser than me said it's worth a read.

And I need all the help I can get.

[door slamming]

[gentle choral music]

Bingo!

I forgive you.

For, if you will forgive men their offences,

your Heavenly Father will forgive you also your offences.

What is happening right now?

I believe he's found God.

Not another one.

Lilly Ardwell has a prescription for sleeping pills.

This is not a good time.

They share the same chemical composition

as the drugs given to her husband.

So Lilly was working with Alfie?

No.

With Francis?

No.

Must you look so pleased with yourself?

Yes.

I can't face being alone in that big house.

Maybe you should move in.

Your husband's barely cold.

What would people say?

Who cares?

As long as we're together.

I should focus on my career.

But I thought.

Just like you said, just a bit of fun.

Leaving us?

[Francis] You have the culprit?

Seen this before?

It's Lilly's.

That's you were doing in my bathroom?

That's for personal use.

Explains how Francis was able to sneak out

during the night without waking you.

The fire escape runs below your bathroom window.

He could leave without you

or the night porter noticing.

I never went anywhere.

Oh, I think you did.

[dramatic orchestral music]

You'd already drugged Gerry with the same medication

and disabled the alarm.

You returned to the museum, moved Gerry's body,

then hit him round the head

to make it look like he'd disturbed a burglar.

And then you stole the painting.

[Lilly] Francis?

You think I'd kill Gerry for, for what?

For money? For her?

Revenge, for your father's death.

Robert Eddington,

the artist whose career Gerry destroyed.

Dickie confirmed that Robert had left behind a son

who was taken into care.

And you think that was me?

I spoke to Mrs. Clam.

When you pretended to be a guest

so that you could hide the painting in Alfie's room,

you gave your name as Mr. Eddington.

Couldn't resist a final tribute to your late father.

If I'd stolen a priceless artwork,

why dump it in a guesthouse?

To make sure that someone else was blamed for the murder.

I'm sure if we hadn't have found it,

we would have received an anonymous tip off.

And you can prove all this, can you?

Mrs. Clam seemed very confident

she could identify you.

And while you were careful at the murder scene

to remove any fingerprints,

the guest house was a different matter.

You were in a rush,

and like the Inspector here, struggled

to lift up the base of the chest of drawers wearing gloves.

So you took them off, only for one moment.

[dramatic orchestral music]

[Francis chuckling]

[Francis laughing]

Well, as far as performance pieces go,

I think Gerry would have approved.

At least I had shock value.

This isn't a joke, Mr. Scritton.

Maybe you're right.

Gerry never cared about art, anyway.

He wanted fame.

That's all.

He sabotaged my father's career,

destroyed my life, to make that happen.

So you got a job with him

so you could take your revenge.

I'm only sorry he wasn't awake

when I smashed his head in.

Francis Scritton, I'm arresting you

for the murder of Gerry Ardwell.

You do not need to say anything

but anything you do say will be written down

and given in evidence.

For the record,

I'm sorry about what happened to your mate.

The copper, if I could go back.

Just keep your word.

Go straight.

[gentle orchestral music]

Come here! [Laughs]

Cor! You need a wash and a change of clothes.

And before you ask, you're not borrowing any of mine.

Thanks, Bridy.

For never giving up on me.

I had my moments.

For which I'm sorry.

So, I've been on the blower to your Maggie.

She's gonna give you another go.

How did you manage that?

Oh, your sister can be very persuasive

when she wants to be.

No messing, though.

One hint of mischief, you're out on your ear.

Good as gold, me.

Here, I've even started reading this.

Did you steal that from the police station?

Borrowed it.

Bridy, ow!

- Just get over here! - Ow!

Bridy, alright, I'll take it back!

Revered Mother Adrian told me about the murder.

I was going to offer my assistance.

But I see that you had everything in hand.

How about I tell you all the gory details

over a nice cup of tea?

I can think of nothing more enjoyable.

[gentle orchestral music]