All language subtitles for Dalziel.and.Pascoe.S01E01.A.Clubbable.Woman.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-squalor1

Come in.

- Good morning Mr. Dalziel.

- How long have you been
with those Mr. Pascoe?

- Not long sir.

- Seems longer.

The first time he walked
in, he always said

"Good morning Mr. Dalziel".

First bugger that ever got
my name right, first time.

Unforgivable that is.

Smart ass I thought.

I was right.

Hold it!

Come on, leave him!

Come on.

Connie? Alright bud?

He's alright.
He's immortal, aren't ya?

- What happened?

- It was that fat kid
in the second row.

Don't worry, I love you mate.

- I think I'll take
a few minutes off.

- Aye, you do that.

This match is beyond redemption.

I'm surprised you haven't
a bloody clam.

- We're old enough
to better, eh?

We never bloody learn do we?

- No, we never bloody learn.

- Oh god.

- We're not open yet!

- This is medicinal.

- Come on, open up.

- He doesn't even
remember the game.

- What do you think, right?

Two men short, reserve
playing full back.

We lost, 43-5.

- Who scored for us?

- You did!

- Moment of glory, like
the old days, eh?

- Good.

- Right.

Yeah!

- I think we're ready
to open now.

- About bloody time too.

- Marcus.

You haven't forgotten your
round tonight as well have you?

- Oh of course!

- Start pouring a few pints bud.

You'll have another Connie?

- No, Mary's expecting me.

- She didn't know
you were playing.

- I didn't know we were
playing 'till Arthur started

weeping Welch tears all over me.

- I never see Mary down
at the club these days.

- Well you know, women.

- Aye, we know.

- Francisco, on a trial
like that one,

not remembering about.

- He's got better things
to remember.

- And worse.

Legless as usual.

Who is?

- Connon.

- What's he ever done to you?

- He's my boss isn't he?

- No, he's a personality sir.

- I'm a mechanic.

I've served my time.

And what's he got?

Bloody big house and influential
friends at the Rugby club.

- He nearly played for England.

Is that right?

- He's a stand off.

- A what?

- Stand off. It's a kind
of half back at rugby.

Mary told me.

- Aye, over morning coffee?

- Yes.

Well listen,
Elaine and Andrina,

thank you for bringing
along your wonderful

sporting hamsters Coswell
and George.

Have you had a good
evening on Pets and Prizes?

- Sorry I'm late.

Weren't they great?

- I'll get a cup of tea.

It's a video machine.

Congratulations, well done!

- Well he should've thought
about that before he did it.

What's his surname?

- Joan.

- Can I help you?

- I'd like to speak
to sergeant Pascoe.

- I'm afraid sergeant Pascoe
ain't in the building.

- Is it out cleansing society?

- I think he's gone to
leads, to the opera.

Could anyone else help
you or is it personal?

- It's personal.

- Well I could give
him a message.

Is there a telephone number
where he could contact you?

- The arrangement is I ring him.

Just tell him I called in.

Who shall I say?

- He's having a night
at the opera?

Tell him Mrs. Claypool.

- Mrs. Claypool.

In connection with?

- In connection with sex.

- Five pints of best
large tea sir.

- Oh, she's turned up, has she?

- Oh yes.

- She's heaven.

- Yeah, keep your
eyes to yourself.

There's a long waiting list.

I think Arthur is going crazy.

She was only supposed
to be in an hour ago.

When she didn't turn up, he
went out looking for her.

He goes out, she comes
in 10 minutes later.

- Well it's like Shim
Thankol tonight.

What is it about
women's breasts?

They sustain life.

Batten down the hatches.

- Where they hell have you been?

- I haven't been anywhere.

I was at home and now I'm here.

Ted Morgan's buying me a drink

and all's right with the world.

- Dick and Joy came
to collect you.

You weren't there.

- Sorry, I forgot.

I'm an independent,
free thinking woman.

I came in on the bus.

- Marcus Felstead, temporary
barmen, bring you a piece.

- Mary?

Cause of death?

- Brain hemorrhage.

Ruptured the meningeal artery.

Blow from a metal implement,
probably cylindrical.

- Someone knocked a
hole in her head.

Probably a toffee hammer.

Do they have toffee
hammer's anymore?

Don't suppose so.

Probably banned by those
bloody clowns in Brussels.

Any sign of the weapon?

- No sir, it was dark.

We started a proper search
first thing this morning

in house to house.

- Right, let's go on
and shake them up a bit.

Hey, who's misses Claypool?

- Carried her night at the
opera, Marx brothers film.

- She was in here last
night looking for you

in connection with sex.

- I can explain.

- Oh save it son,
feeling strong.

What did Connie have to say
for himself when you got there?

- Not much, it was one in the
morning, he was half-asleep.

Doctor had given him
a shot of something.

He'd had a kick in the
head in the afternoon so...

- Who kicked him on the head?

- He was playing rugby so
it could've been anyone.

- You've never played
rugby, have you?

- You know Mr. Connon,
don't you?

- What makes you think that?

- You're the vice president
of the rugby club.

- My word, we university
graduates

do our own work, don't we?

I'll tell you the
Sam Connon story.

It's very sad.

You're 20 years old, local hero.

Dead set to play for
England and become a legend.

Then you crack your ankle.

Nobody kicks you, you
just fall over.

It's your own stupid
fault, nobody to blame.

That's the end of the dream.

You get trapped into
marriage with an older woman.

You play for the local
team once a week.

You get a bit pissed at the
clubhouse on a Saturday night.

- Trapped into marriage?

- Mary Connon, the deceased.

Where's Connon?

- He's in his kitchen,
having a cup of tea.

- I'll keep him waiting,
see if he sweats up.

- Do you want me to?

- What, stir his tea for him?

Speak to him.

Why?

Well you being
old friends, I thought--

- I didn't say I
liked him, did I?

- No, you didn't.

- You have help these lazy
souls find a toffee hammer

or a useful witness.

Then at midday, you can
take yourself for a drink

at the rugby club.

I've made a list of
all the usual suspects.

- We're looking for gentleman
who's acting like a hooligan.

- Stop being a clever sod.

Upset sergeant Wield.

- As somebody once said,
soccer is hooligans

acting like gentleman.

- Rugby union is gentleman
acting like hooligans.

Rugby league is hooligan
acting like hooligans.

- Bollocks.

Men play soccer and rugby
league to make money.

Rugby union is violence
for the love of it.

Or it was until it got corrupted
by sponsors and satellites.

I'll go and see the man.

- We found anything
resembling a weapon?

- Garden gnome but
no blood stains.

- Witnesses?

- People opposite.

They've got a bit to
say for theirselves.

Mr. And Mrs. Fernie, number 277.

Not best pleased.

Sunday morning we got
them out of bed.

- You woke them up?

- No, we got them out of bed.

- Here you go.

How well did
you know Mr. and Mrs. Connon?

- Well I knew Mary.

- I see him at work.

Mostly we keep out
of each others way.

- I suppose she was
a friend really.

- A friend?

- Popped across and had
a cup of tea with her

yesterday afternoon.

I was at the match.

- Another rugby man?

- No, football, united.

- Does that mean I was the
last person to see her alive?

- It's possible, apart
from the murder of course.

And then he got
home at half past eight.

- Who did?

- Connon.

- I was talking about
the murderer.

- Me too.

- You've got no right
to say that.

Dave doesn't like Mr. Connon.

Does Jenny know?

- Jenny?

- Their daughter.

She's at university.

- Mr. and Mrs. Connon's
daughter has been informed.

- So you left the
club at about 8:10

and you got home at 8:30.

Yes.

- Can you be more precise
about that?

- Mary was watching a
so-called game show.

Hamsters were attempting
an obstacle course.

That a clue?

- Well it could be
vital Mr. Connon.

This is daft.

I'm gonna call you Connie.

Everybody calls you
that don't they?

- And everybody calls
you that bastard.

- And on that more
informal basis,

let me ask you something
personal.

What was wrong with
your marriage?

- You'll have to explain.

- You get kicked in
the head, you come home

sick as a pig, you spew your
guts up in the bathroom,

she doesn't move from
her armchair.

She doesn't even make
you a cup of tea.

She just carries on
smoking cigarettes,

watching these idiots
fly about on television.

There are men we both
played rugby with

who'd have put their
boots through the screen.

- Men who don't have no
respect for their wives

don't deserve to keep
them Mr. Dalziel.

- Is that where I went wrong?

Mine opt and off
with the milkman.

When was it?

- 15 years back, I remember.

- You were the class
player Connie.

You still know how
to go for the man.

- Which makes two of us.

- Oh I hate working
Sunday mornings.

What happens now?

- Formal statements
with tape recorders.

Legal safeguards of your
civil liberties.

As a great man once said,
we'll have you looked at

and then we'll decide
if you need seeing to.

- Sid hope.

- Club Treasure.

- Oh that's impressive.

- Sergeant Pascoe.

- What's the problem?

Kids from the estate been
chopping up the goal post again?

You were
in here last night?

- Saturday night.

Sunday lunch time is our
main source of income.

How many
were in last night?

60, 70 maybe.

- Including Sam Connon?

- Yeah, but he left early
before he really got going.

- Sorry Sid, late
again, no excuses.

Seventh deadly sin.

- Sloth.

- Oh, well done.

- Sergeant Pascoe, he's
a police officer.

This
is Marcus Felstead.

- How do you know that?

- My boss briefed me.

- Dalziel?

- What'd he say about me?

- Sorry I have to
plead the fifth.

- A little ball runt
with the pot belly.

- And the face of an angel.

- Cheeky sod.

- Spot on.

- So what seems to be
the trouble officer?

- It's about Connie.

- To be precise about
Mary Connon.

- Mary?

- You know her?

- We all do.

- What time it was she
was hardly out of here.

Not so much now except
for special occasions.

We all grow old, don't we?

- Mary Connon won't grow
old, she's dead.

Somebody killed her last night.

- Merciful goodness
of the Lord endures

forever and ever toward
those that fear him

and his righteousness upon
their children's children.

We have entrusted our
sister Mary to God's

merciful kingdom as we now
commit her body to the ground,

earth to earth, ashes
to ashes, dust to dust.

Ensured of certain hope of the
resurrection to eternal life

through our lord Jesus Christ.

- What are you doing here?

- Same as you sir.

- Wrong, friend of
the family, me.

Member of the club,
pillar of the community.

Last respects must be paid.

But you, stranger in town,
and a bloody policeman.

Intrusion into private grief.

This is a bad name.

- I'm learning my trade.

In his master's steps he trod.

- So which one of us
is the very sod?

- I'm here to look
for a murderer.

- You won't find him down there.

- Not a bad gate for
a midweek match.

- Arthur!

- Oh hello uncle Marcus.

- Oh, don't call me that,
makes me feel even older

than I am.

- I'm sorry, I forgot.

Think it's called regression.

- Well.

- I'll sit in the car
until you're ready dad.

Take your time.

- Pascoe.

How the hell did you
get this number?

No, it's very nice to hear
your voice, misses Claypool.

- Jenny.

I'd just like to say I shall
miss your mother very much.

- You're the first person
who said that.

- Oh I didn't mean to
speak out of turn.

- Oh no, don't apologize.

Everybody else has said
the usual stuff.

Deepest sympathy, sad loss.

Can't find the words to express

but your the first person to
say you'll miss my mother.

Thank you.

- I'll have to go, bus to catch.

- Did you hear anything
from the bereaved?

- Yeah I heard Ted Morgan.

- Ted's got a bigger mouth
than the Mosie Donald.

What was he saying?

- He said that Collon
was kicked in his head

during a loo small?

Is that the word?

- You know damn well it is.

- Ted Morgan says it
was one of Connie's own

team that kicked him.

- Who?

- Arthur Evans.

- Rubbish.

Arthur's the captain.

He wouldn't do that
even if he is Welsh.

- The match was already lost.

- If he was gonna
stick the bolt in,

he'd do it in the gentleman's
way, up a dark alley

or in the gents.

I don't buy it.

Ted Morgan's always
been a shit stirrer.

We've got to do better.

- Sam Pascoe.

- What we've got is that
Mary knew the killer,

otherwise why did she just
sit there and let it happen,

instead of running away?

- We'll be there immediately.

- So we're not looking for
mysterious homicidal intruders,

we're looking for a paid-up
member of Mary Connon's mafia.

Where are you going?

- Early drive.

Jenny Connon's had an
anonymous letter.

- To say condolences?

- Shit stirring.

- That's not the sort
of language we expect

from an educated man.

Go on, shift yourself.

- How did it go off then?

- What?

- The funeral?

Was our Stanley there?

- Yes and it went very well.

- He took time off
work, special.

He worships Mr. Connon.

It's a shame, isn't it?

- What?

- When somebody you look up
to turns out to be a murderer.

- Who said Mr. Connon's
a murderer?

- Well your Dave for one.

- Dave's never been right
about anything in his life.

You got back
from the funeral what time?

- It were about half past five.

There were a time check
on the radio.

- What you switched it on
as soon as you were home?

- Well I, I wanted some
noise in the house.

- And this was was
waiting for you?

- I didn't look at
it straight away.

I thought it was just
another condolence card.

- May I have a word with
you in private Mr. Connon?

- Aye, we'll go into
the kitchen.

- Sergeant Pascoe will take
a statement from Ms. Connon.

- What would you
like me to state?

- Won't you sit down Ms. Connon?

- Sorry, our house.

Won't you sit down sergeant?

- Why don't we sit down?

- You don't really want
a statement from me.

The fat controller wants
us out of the way so he

chat up my dad in private.

- You don't like Mr. Dalziel?

- Well it's hard to respect
any man who scratches

his balls in public.

- Dear Ms. Connon, it must
be terrible to realize

that your father is a
murderer but it may be

some comfort to know that the
man you think is your father

is not your real father.

True or false?

- Can't offer you
proof either way.

We were married, Jenny were
born eight months later.

- Bit premature.

- We had sex before
we were married.

It were called intercourse
in those days.

- They took it away with
the trams, intercourse.

- She didn't like
me playing Rugby.

Stuck at home all
week with the baby

and then Saturdays as well.

I can understand it now.

- But you didn't understand
it then?

- What does any man
understand at 20?

- Primal urges.

I suppose.

- And Mary was older than you?

Only five years.

- Well she understood
your primal urges.

- You really are an evil
bastard, aren't you?

- I need to know whether
you're Jenny's natural father.

- I tell you what I know.

We were having it out
one night and she said

"You might as well keep
going to the club,

"that way you might run
into Jenny's father".

- I don't know how to block off

but I'm an evil bastard.

When was this?

- 13, 14 years ago.

Too long ago for a motive?

- You could've been having
the same ride ever since.

Every man has his
breaking point.

- I'm not the breaking kind.

- What did you tell him?

- Same as I told you.

I've no clinical proof
of paternity but

in every way that matters
a damn, you're my daughter.

- And you're my dad.

Could you get
a statement from the lass?

Nothing
very helpful.

- Good. You weren't meant to.

Play your cards right,
you could be in there

with your primal urges.

What's today, Monday?

- Monday.

- Tomorrow night's
training night.

Home committee and I.

I think I'll drop in at my club,

chop my weight about a bit.

It'll make a nice change.

- Cheers.

- Welcome back.

- We haven't seen you
in here for years.

- I'm sure that's just
a coincidence.

- See? The acumen
of a bank manager.

He understands, coincidence.

- How's the building
trade Jacko?

Still kicking the shit
out the green belt?

- No scratch you live in.

- And how is the
detection trade?

- I just scratch till
I draw blood.

- You've been scratching Connon?

- Never touched him, your honor.

- Time to rig the agenda
Mr. chairman.

- Right.

- Could I have a look at those?

- Last week's team sheets?

- I want to see who's
playing these days.

Good god.

Is he still alive?

- Well I'll see you.

- See you.

You used to sniff around
Mary Connon in the old days,

didn't you?

- We all did. You did.

- Me?

- Connon got to the line
first, right between the post.

Didn't know you brought
the wife.

- What the hell are
you doing here?

- I'm a fully paid up member.

A part of Mr. Hope's
recruitment drive.

- This place is going
to the dumps.

- First step towards becoming
a pillar of the community.

- Did you say pillar?

- No I said--

- Well that'll be two pints
at best and get yourself

a fruit juice.

- My pleasure.

- There's one in every
rugby club, isn't there?

- What, the smooth talking
got you copper?

- A new bar woman to inflame
the loins of the pack.

- Ah, once upon a time
it was Mary Connon,

now it's Gwen Evans.

And Arthur Evans
doesn't like it.

- I can't speak to
your loins Jacko,

but I'd need a set
of jump leans.

- Arthur? Arthur.

It's eight o' clock.

- Yeah, alright bud, on my way.

- The supreme soviet
is now in session.

- Teams for Saturday,
Mr. Wallace?

- For obvious reasons, I wasn't
able to consult as usual.

- I'd like tonight to be a
sign that I'm back to normal.

- That's my suggested
first team.

- Thank you.

- Young man who lives
across the street from me,

Stanley Curtis.

Keeps telling me he's the
best swing three quarter

that ever lived across street.

- He's got speed, just
not sure about his bottle.

- I promised him I'd mention
it, now I've mentioned it.

- Oh great, I found it.

- What?

- Application form for the
Wales V. England international.

- Well it's the huge
arrangement isn't it?

We'll ask for 150, get
40 and carve them up

amongst the committee, eh?

- The international isn't
until after Christmas.

We have more pressing
matters to consider.

I move next business.

- Can I get anybody a drink?

- I'm alright. A bitter please.

- Half?

- Well a pint, but only
if you're worth it.

- Oh Stanley.

- When we were at school,
he was always

trying to look up my skirt.

- He's a fitness freak
now, always jogging.

- Sublimation.

Sublimation.

- Now then how's my toy
boy this evening?

- Fine, thank you Mrs. Evans.

A pint of bitter please.

- You're supposed to
be in training lovely.

- It isn't for me.

- You mean I have a rival?

- Just a friend.

- Just good friends.

You must be fluent in
the english language.

- Thank you Stanley.

- Cheers.

- Are you going?

- Good night.

Hello Stanley.

- Hello Mrs. Fernie.

- How is the Smartsview
personality of the year

this evening then?

Leave him alone,
at least he's trying

to make something of himself.

- Yes, a bleeding idiot.

- Ignore him Stanley,
it's what I do.

- I'll see you.

- You could race him.

- I might do myself
a permanent injury.

- Well who'd notice
the difference?

- Last call for any
other business?

In that case...

- Oh, yes Connie?

- Mr. president, yesterday
immediately after

my wife's funeral, my daughter
received an anonymous letter.

I believe it came from someone
connected with this club.

- What did it say?

- The writer knows.
I know, Jenny knows.

- We realize what a
dreadful time this has been

for you but why don't
we close this meeting

and discuss this informally?

- I propose that the
writer of this letter,

when identified, should be
banned from this club for life.

- There's nothing in the
rule book to cover this.

- We can't ban somebody if
we don't know who he is.

- No.

- I've made a proposal.

Do I have a seconder?

- I'll second it.

- Now I think, according
to the constitution,

it goes to a vote.

- Unless there's any
further discussion,

all in favor?

Connie.

- Thank you.

Alright
gentleman, meeting closed.

- Are you alright?

- No, no I'm not alright.

I intend to be better soon.

- I got you two, saves
on the leg work.

- Gentleman sir.

Now you were asking me
some leading questions.

Who'd
want to kill Mary Connon?

- Next.

Who's
got it in for Connon?

- Next.

- Who if anyone is having
their way with Mrs. Evans?

- Well I'm no bloody
oracle, but Arthur Evans

is convinced somebody's been
digging in his allotments

and I know who he's picked
as his front runner.

- Connon?

- Connon, the golden
boy this was.

- I thought they were mates.

- Well your first suspect
is always your best friend.

Usually right.

- Is Evans right?

- Welshmen weren't
born to be right.

They were born to
be bloody tragic.

Is there a
policeman in the house?

- Sergeant, it's for you.

- Sergeant Pascoe.

We'll be there immediately.

One of your neighbors
seen a man in your garden.

- Don't spread it around,
they'll all want one.

- I'll kill him.

- Alright who saw it?

- We did.

- Name?

- How should I know?

- Not his name you
soft sod, yours.

- This is Mr. Fernie.

- Aye, we've heard about you.

Alright, round about you two.

- He's still over there.

- Now pay attention sunbeam,
I've been called away

from half drunk pints
of bitter because of you

and I'm not best pleased
so let's be having

a good look at you, nice
easy and I'll try to keep

my assembled rottweilers
under control.

Who are you?

- Anthony Wilkes, University
of South Warwickshire,

reading sociology
and media studies.

- Oh Anthony!

- Jenny!

- Will that be some
sort of boyfriend

you're mauling there Ms. Connon?

- Well yeah, sort of.

- Unrequited love.

- I wouldn't say that.

Looks to be reasonable requited.

- Not his, yours bugaloos.

- What's this, something
from your early period?

That's a
sequence of events charts, sir.

- Never happened
when I was a lad.

Deprived childhood.

- That's the chart of the
night of Mary Connon's murder.

Around here, the arrow's from
six o' clock till midnight

and on this side the names
of all our main protagonists.

Protagonists.

Yeah it means--

- The participants
in a great drama.

It's a word I enjoy saying.

- Well courtesy of Ted Morgan
and others we can track

the movements of all
of our protagonists

on the night of the murder.

- So they were drinking
in the club

as usual on a Saturday
night, but not all of them

and not all the time.

Is that the gist?

- That's the gist.

- You see I knew that in me
head, don't need to write it

on a solid blackboard.

- It isn't actually--

- You ever watched grand prix
motor racing on your tele?

- Only in a dire emergency.

- At the end, some
overpaid prat in a daft art

shakes a bottle of champagne
so it pisses all over

the runners up.

- Yeah I've seen that.

- This case has gone flat.

We need to shake the bottle,
see who we can splash.

Let's have a look.

Yeah, he'll do.

Listen Arthur, we've known
each other a long time.

I give you my word as
a public official,

as an old friend, whatever
you tell me will be

in strict confidence.

- Confidence?

Bloody tape recorder going
off in my sit in there.

- Regulations. Lot of
the land, hands tied.

If it wasn't sergeant Pascoe,
it'd be a total stranger.

He's a paid up member
of the club.

It keeps it in the
family so to speak

if he acts as my,
a man who answers.

Is that the word sergeant?

That's the word.

- Look, I've got a match
on this afternoon

to coach three to Oakley
quarter to one.

- The fourths are
playing at Oakley?

Do you fancy your chances?

- Well they're all 16 years
old, run like the wind.

Smart money says another
good hiding but I want

to be part of it.

I'm sentimental like that.

So tell me, what do
you want to know?

- Where did you go when
you left the club at 8:15

last Saturday night?

- I went home.

Why'd
you do that?

- It's where I live.

Home, that's what
the word means.

Ask your bloody man who insists.

- Sergeant?

- Mr. Evans left the
club to see what was

delaying the arrival
of his wife.

- What's with wrong with that?

- Naught goes your
credit Arthur.

Was wouldn't concerned
about his wife's well being.

So you get home,
she wasn't there.

What did you do then?

- Went back to the club.

- Sergeant?

- Mr. Evans left the club
at 8:15, returned at 9:15.

- You live not five
minutes away from the club.

Whichever way you do your
sums, that's 50 minutes

unaccounted for.

Would you like to
account for them,

ease my troubled mind?

- Alright. I was there.

- There? Where's there, Arthur?

- Hurly Drive.

- Connon's house?

- Yeah, but I didn't
go in, alright?

- What did you do?

- I followed him there.

Could see lights
on in the house,

Mary watching television
in the living room.

- And you came to the
conclusion that your fears

were unfounded and Connie
was not in some secluded

rendezvous having an illicit
tryst with your Gwen?

- I wouldn't put it
quite like that.

- Well of course, Connie
had a headache.

It was you who stuck
the boot in, wasn't it?

- I persuaded him to play fair.

I thought at least I know
where you are this afternoon

you bastard.

And he went down in
the sluice mall.

Well he didn't like
to be there did he?

I always was a bit of
a hero like that.

- That's what made him
different from the rest of us.

- I saw my chance and I took it.

Might have killed him.

Thought I had for a minute.

I do feel bad about that.

Guilty as charged.

- You've got a bus
to catch Arthur.

- You mean I'm free to go?

- Sad it is.

We're only open for confessions.

- Excellent, we've
got Arthur Evans

at the scene of the crime.

- Give me your pen.

If I think you're shafting
my wife, I don't take

a toffee hammer to your wife.

Those things are not dreamt
of in our philosophy Malvolio.

- Horatio.

- They're not dreamt of
in any bogus philosophy.

- Connon's the man
with the motive.

Our last action hero,
paradise lost.

Then he meets Gwen Evans,
glimpse of paradise regained.

- Go and talk to her.

- Me?

- This afternoon, when Arthur's
safely on the bus to Oakley.

If Connie doesn't come
calling, you could be in there

with a chance yourself.

Here you are.

- Dad, we've hatched a plot.

- I can tell.

- The first 15 are playing
at home and we think

you should take Anthony.

- I've never seen a rugby
match in the flesh as it were.

I've watched it on television
and found it a totally

bewildering experience.

And who better to explain
the finer points if indeed

there are finer points.

- Oh yes there are finer points.

Will you come with us?

- I thought I'd sort through
some of mom's personal things

and well I thought you'd
prefer to be out of the house

while I do it.

- Well you're both
very thoughtful.

I've
got a book coming up

and I've got a new job.

- So have I, I'm supposed
to be doing it now.

- But I know about your job.

You don't know about mine.

Tell me
about your new job.

- Lecture in social science,
home coach from college

in the University
of MU Yorkshire.

- Home Cuchrem, that's
dangerously near.

- 25 miles to the north.

You're familiar with the
points of the compass.

- Yeah, we have to
do a written paper

and an oral examination.

Good, now I'm very pleased.

- Once upon a time you
would've been proud.

- I am pleased and proud.

- A little late but
very welcome.

- I hear the siren call
of criminal investigation.

The message from misses Claypool

said it was in connection
with sex.

- Idle curiosity. Are
you getting any?

- No, are you?

- No, I put a notice on the
board in the senior common room.

I hear the hallelujah
chorus is social science.

- You don't change, do you?

- Neither do you, that's
the problem.

- Is something wrong?

- Isn't there always?

- Goodbye forever.

- Come into my parlor.

- If you're gonna have
secret assignations,

don't have them in my pub.

This is CID territory.

- Noted.

- Single malt arrives unbidden
on the table before me.

- Also noted.

- Now for the sermon.

I've got not against
women in principle.

You're a young man.

Young man have to get their
under way, fact of life.

What's her name?

- Ellie. Eleanor Soper.

- Love's young dream.

- When we were at university,
we used to be a number.

- An odd number, an even number?

Is that what old farts
like me call a couple?

- We turned out to
be an odd number.

- She gave you the elbow.

- Yeah. She didn't approve of
my joining the police service.

- She's right.

What would she think of you
calling on a married woman

while her husband's away?

- At least it's not
your big, fat boss.

- Doesn't anybody
like Mr. Dalziel?

- Not that I'm aware of.

- I'm afraid I still have
to ask one or two questions

on his behalf.

- Go on then.

- You're aware your husband
is jealous of Mr. Connon.

- So he keeps telling me.

- Does he have reason to be?

- None whatsoever.

- But you've had rouse about it.

- Our marriage weren't
made in heaven sergeant.

It was made in Eberville
as a matter of fact.

- So you have rouse.

- Certainly we have rouse.

What the hell business
is it of yours?

- None, probably.

The trouble is in order to
find out what is our business

we have to poke our nose
into a great deal that isn't.

- The lads were right about you.

- What about me?

- They say you're a
silver-tongued bastard.

- You expecting someone?

- I have no expectations
of anything Mr. Pascoe.

The gospel according to Gwen.

Oh, hello Gwen.
Are you alright?

You better come in.

- Oh, hello Mr. Pascoe.

- Mr. Felstead, I thought
you'd be on the bus to Oakley.

You haven't been dropped.

- Nobody is ever dropped
from the Fourth.

No, I've retired.

Age has begun to weather me.

And I saw what happened
to Connie last week.

I realized it could
be my turn next.

- Marcus telephoned
to let Arthur know

he wouldn't be playing
and I told him that Arthur

was under arrest.

- Not under arrest, assisting
us with our inquiries

and he's now on his
way to Oakley.

- Oh so he's alright then?

Yes, he's fine.

- And you?

- In the time honored freeze,
as well as can be expected.

- That's what I need to know.

Right, I'll be off
to the match then.

Is the game
better if seen

through a glass mistilly?

- This one is.

- Is this not a good
example of the genre?

- Not good.

- Haven't got any
better, have they?

- We've had complaints
about you Andy

from various members
of the club.

- What are they moaning about?

- Well if I might quote
"He hangs around the bar

"all hail fellow well
met but basically

"he's still a dirty
copper wanting us

"to grass on our mates".

- Sounds about right.
Who said that?

Jacko Roberts?

- Well I couldn't
possibly grass on a mate.

- I'll tell you about
Jacko Roberts.

He built the clubhouse for us.

Did it all for cost,
no profit margin.

Then the roof leaked.

We went to call him back in.

He fixed the roof but he made
a rotten mess of the place

while he was doing it.

Bloody butterfingers, you
couldn't catch a dead rat!

Your clubhouse has sprung
a leak Mr. chairman

and you'll need a dirty
copper to fix it

and you've got the dirtiest
in the county.

I don't care how
much mess I make.

Your rugby club will
end up fixed.

Dalziel.

Yeah, alright, 10 minutes.

I'm off.

- Something important?

- Aye, damn straight
more important

than this insubstantial pageant.

So what we got here is another
example of Dalziel's law.

It's Saturday afternoon
and half the force is out

making the street secure
for soccer hooligans

to beat the daylights out
of each other and we get

a missing child.

An early result, that's
what we want.

Sergeant Wield will tell
you how we get it

- Michael Anon, known
as Mickey, aged eight.

103 Scour Terrace,
Oakfield estate.

He went out to play
after school last night

and didn't come home.

His parents tell us he
likes to play on the common.

Right, start the search
tonight, while the light holds.

Then again first thing in
the morning if necessary.

- Thank you Mr. Connon, that
was absolutely fascinating.

- Good.

- Seems to me there's a
symbiotic relationship

between the skill
and the violence.

- That's what most people say.

- I'd like to see
it all over again,

knowing what I know now.

- Nothing is repeatable.

That's the point about
the game, all games.

Moments.

Once they've gone, they've
gone forever.

- Jenny? Jenny?

Oh my god.

- You dragged us out
here for this.

It's straightforward,
sure as your tits stuff.

- So where's Jenny?

- You say this arrived
after you went to the match,

therefore it must have
been delivered by hand.

And then what?

The author knocks at
the door and says

"Come for a walk with
me little girl

"and we'll buy you
a bag of toffees".

I think you're both
underestimating

the young lady in question.

- And there is a contradiction.

- Oh well do tell me.

I love hearing about
contradictions.

- This letter accuses Jenny
of flaunting her naked body

at her bedroom window.

- Are you saying that's
out of character?

- I'm frankly not in
a position to say

but her bedroom's at
the rear of the house

so in order to see her
flaunting, you'd have to climb
over

the fence at the back
of the garden.

It isn't easy, I tried
the night I arrived.

- Hello!

Hey, what's happening?

- Your alright.

- I've been to a supermarket
but otherwise I'm fine.

Why?

- What can you tell
us about this?

- Oh god.

I didn't mean you to see that.

I found it among mom's things.

- Any more like it?

Let's be having them.

It's Mary Connon doing the
flaunting and some local

tit fancier writing the letters.

There's a motive.

Where?

Mary Connon
finds out he's sending these,

threatens to report him,
he knocks her on the head.

- Here's an informed guess.

These were sent over
a period of time.

She kept them like love letters.

I think she enjoyed it.

Flattery doesn't confine
to the male of the species.

- You said you didn't
like Mary Connon but--

- Nobody did.

She was a genuine
24-carat Delilah.

All those hypocrites
at the funeral,

that was for Connie's sake.

Mind you, I don't
like him either.

CID, sergeant Pascoe's desk.

Oh, send her in, give
all the lads a treat.

Young woman with a pram
asking for you.

- What?

- Oh I lied about the pram.

A parcel, that was the word.

- Superintendent Dalziel,
this is Eleanor Soper,

my old friend from university.

- Oh, you're the ex.

Don't worry love, we don't
have any secrets here.

We tell each other everything.

- In that case, yes I am.

- You're a bloody mug
Pascoe, giving a nice lass

like this the elbow.

- Correction, I gave
him the elbow.

- I can understand it.

He's got some funny habits.

- I gave him the elbow
because I didn't want him

to join the police force.

- Well it does bring
out the worst in a man.

- Open your present.

My new book.

It's about police corruption.

- Do I get a mention?

- Perhaps in the next volume.

- I doubt it.

Ms. Eleanor Soper,

let me confess.

I use foul and abusive language.

I pick my nose and
scratch my balls.

I fart louder than is
biologically necessary

and I do it all in public.

I've got sod all
to hide to pity,

I do my job, collect my
wages, go home and have my tea

generally in the middle
of the night.

And you'll already have
observed that I don't know

any funny handshakes.

Have you done any in-depth
research into children

who go missing?

- No.

- Or wicked women who
flaunt their naked bodies

in full public view?

- No.

- In that case, Mr. Pascoe
will see you off the premises.

We have to be very careful
with liberal-minded do-gooders,

especially on a Saturday night.

- What a monster.

- Yep.

- I was waiting for you
to tell me "He's alright

"when you get to know him".

- No, monster all the
way through, correct?

- Definitely, king
of all the beasts.

- What was that about
missing children?

- Well we've got one, missing.

Little lad, eight years old.

I'll be in touch.

- Why?

- When I've read the book.

- Right, see you around Watson.

- She's a clever lass.

Be well rid of her unless
she's a phenomenally good shag.

- You read the match, who's
Marcus Felstead there?

- No.

- When I saw him with
Gwen Evans, he said he was

going to the match.

- He changed his mind,
he was a good judge.

- Yeah but what did
he do instead?

- I don't know, stayed
home, played with himself,

watched Grandstand.

- Maybe he waited till
I was out the way,

then he went back to Gwen's.

- Marcus and Gwen, not a chance.

Even if stood on a box,
he'd suffocate.

- Didn't Mickey Rooney
have a gardener?

- How the hell should I know?

And I'm not interested in
your bizarre sexual fantasies,

only in me own.

- And of peeping toms.

- Give the neighbors a shake
tomorrow, he should fall out.

- Morning.
- Morning.

Managed to persuade Mr.
Connon that one Sunday paper's

enough for three people.

Are you here professionally?

- We're never off-duty sir.

- May I share a speculative
theory with you?

- By all means.

- When I first arrived
and there was no one here,

I telephoned my parents
like a dutiful son

and I found Jenny's
number, the Connon's number

written on the wall here.

What's
your speculative theory?

- It's really a speculative
question.

Why would anyone telephone
a house that's only

20 yards away?

Why not just ring the doorbell?

- Fair question.

- It also occurs to me,
albeit as a somewhat

degrading theory, that this
telephone box does command

an excellent view of
the late Mrs. Connon's

bedroom window.

- Thank you Mr. Wilkes.

Mrs. Fernie, would you
mind if I had a word

with your husband alone?

- Yes I would mind.

Me and Dave, we don't
have secrets.

Well
it's a little delicate.

- We definitely don't
have delicate secrets.

- Very well.

- We've been told the late
Mary Connon was in the habit

of appearing in her bedroom
window not fully dressed,

so to speak.

- Bollock naked so to speak?

- Yes.

- Everybody knows that.

- Mr. Fernie we now know
that for the last two years

Mary Connon received anonymous
letters and phone calls

of an obscene nature.

- And you've got me down in
your book as a local pervert?

- I'm not accusing
you of anything.

- You bloody are.

- Have you got any of
these letters with you?

- I've got a photocopy.

- Can I have a look?

Pardon me for being rude
but you're talking through

your bumhole sergeant.

- I am?

- Well for a kickoff, this
isn't Dave's handwriting.

It's much too neat.

And whoever wrote this is
sexually frustrated, right?

- I suppose.

- I suppose nothing,
it's obvious.

Now let me tell you something.

My Dave is big, loud and
daft and he won't mind

his own business and once
in a while he hits people

but he's not sexually
frustrated.

- I see.

- Not since 20 past
11 this morning.

And if you're going to write
it all down in your book

you can put before,
during, and after

the omnibus edition
of the Archers.

- Thank you Mrs. Fernie.

- Any joy?

- Well we found some
bits and pieces.

- Guns?

- Prehistoric.

Came up with the vikings
by the look of them.

That's
an air pistol.

My dad had one of those.

- Anything on the boy?

You'll be
the certain one to know.

After the ice had gone
around 10,000 years ago...

- I'm sorry, am I interrupting?

- No.

- Found this photograph.

Thought Anthony might
find it interesting.

This is you.

- England trial, 1976.

Don't went to kick in to touch,

and Chip kicked over their
back line, caught it,

sidestepped the fullback,
left him for dead,

touchdown in Cohorn.

My shining hour.

- Wish I had seen it.

- But you weren't born were you?

Either of you.

- Not quite.

- Marcus.

Just the man I want to see.

- It's about your inquiries?

- No, no, no it's strictly
personal and trivial.

I just want you to
confirm or deny a bit of

malicious gossip that's wandered
into my shell-like ears.

It's concerning you
and Gwen Evans.

- Marcus.

You bastard, I want
a word with you.

- Arthur, it's the rush hour.

The man's under pressure,
we'd all like a word with him.

Would you mind forming
an orderly Q?

- I just want to tell
him he can't retire.

We lost 55 mill yesterday.

We didn't score nill.

- Is the beautiful
Gwen with you?

- She's in the toilet,
tarting herself up as usual.

- Excuse me gentleman,
we've run out of crisps.

I'll be back in a minute.

- The humiliation.

- What, running out of crisps?

- No, our match yesterday.

We were playing against
children, bloody children.

- Would Marcus had made
any difference?

- Well he's a little,
fat pole drunt

but he's got a share
of low culling.

At our age, what else is left?

We have to tell him.

And then what?

He kills you then he
kills me in either order.

You saw what he did to Connie.

That was mistaken identity.

Good
evening both.

- How long have you been there?

- Long enough.

Mr. Felstead why don't you come
and see us tomorrow morning,

clarify whatever
misunderstandings

have accrued along the way?

- How long has it been going on?

Two years.

- Bloody hell.

- Nightmare.

- So why do it?

- I hesitate to use words like
love in your presence Andy.

- You do right.

But it's a bugaloo, isn't it?

I mean here you are pulling
the best bird

in the palace and you
can't tell anybody.

I would've shout it
from the rooftops.

- Who would've believed me?

Fair point.

- Sergeant Pascoe.

- So what are your plans
for the future,

apart from protecting
your frontal lobes

from Arthur's big boots?

- You better take this sir.

Excuse me.

Aye. Hang on.

Piss off Marcus.

We've found the missing child.

Your sex life is no
longer of any interest.

- Adult traffit?

Don't tell me, asleep
on the penalty spot.

Some kids'll do anything
for an autograph.

Right, returning to base.

- You can't return to base.

Mrs. Groveland at number 40,
she's been expecting you.

- Did she see something?

- She reckons she did.

She's a naughty old bat
but she's generally right.

- Always nice to the Mrs.
Grovelands of this world.

- You have to give it
a good long ring.

She's a bit deaf.

- Thank you Mrs. Williams.

- Guess what Jacko
Robbins told me?

He saw Mary Connon
in the blue ball

the night before she was killed.

She was having a drink
with Arthur Evans.

- And he's just remembered?

- Yeah.

They're a tight bunch
at the rugby club

and Arthur's a popular man
but they all grass eventually.

- Did you want me to
do something about it?

- Yeah when you've got a
minute, call on Arthur.

He might talk to you.

Ask him if he's a murderer.

- Have you found her?

I'm sorry?

- She's left me.

I'm very
sorry Mr. Evans.

- You know she better
not go on her own

cause if she'd gone
with anybody else,

I tell you this, I'll kill him.

- You do not pump out
a man's stomach because

he's had a drop of scotch.

If you did we might as well
all be tubed up permanently.

- It was the doctor's decision.

I showed him the empty bottles.

- Oh you trust the
medical profession?

God have mercy on your soul.

Actually it's two hatches.

God I hate this bloody thing.

- It's working perfectly well.

- Look, a police canteen
should serve sausage, eggs

and greasy chips 24 hours a day.

No wonder that DeCram left.

Anyway, half of Evans isn't you?

Romantic suicide type is
it find him a mashem type.

You'll be on his hit list now.

- I'll bear it in mind.

- And little Marcus
has done a runner?

- Uniform checked his digs.

His car's gone, told his
landlady he wouldn't be back.

- Marcus Felstead and Gwen
Evans, Romeo and Juliet.

Little soul trip.

Moral, anything's possible.

The world is flat, the moon
is made of green cheese,

peace on earth.

- May I have a word sir?

- What's your problem?

- I have a witness who
claims to have seen a man

in the front garden of
the common house the night

Mary Connon was killed.

- And what was he
doing this man?

- He was on the roof,
climbing in the house

to an upstairs window.

- I wouldn't have thought
that was possible.

- Only one way to find out.

That's what we call
a reconstruction

in the investigative trade.

Load of Bollocks usually
but it looks good

in the paper work.

- Well whoever did this is
a better athlete than I am.

Can you
make it to the window?

- It's a theoretical
possibility.

- Suck it and see, give the
crowd it's money's worth.

- I'd rather not sir.

- Have you disobeyed an order?

- I don't want to spoil
the footprints on the roof

till forensics have
had a look at them.

- Oh get down.

Do you know any sexually
frustrated young athletes?

- Yes.

- Young man, you are
trying my patience.

- I didn't do anything!

- It's another fine
mess, Stanley.

I didn't kill her.

- What did you do?

Did you write the letters?

- Yes.

And
telephoned her?

- Yes, but she asked for it.

- You'll have to explain that.

When did it start?

- A couple of years ago,
when I first started

serious training.

I was out running one
night and there she was

in the window, like all...

- Naked?

- Yes.

- Don't worry son,
all men are alike.

A deep desire to say
"Show us your tits"

to every woman we fancy.

- Even sergeant Pascoe is
like that, but we do not make

obscene telephone calls and
we do not write dirty letters.

- I was daft wasn't I?

- You said she asked for it.

- One night I was in phone
box and she must've been

watching me because she
rang me in phone box.

She got me to say things
like, dirty things.

Not ever so dirty.

I don't really know that
many seriously dirty things.

- You'll have to work at it.

- She told me I should get
me letters in her dressing

table and why didn't I
try and spy some up a bit

and stuff like that.

Then I decided to stop.

Why?

- Don't laugh.

It was interfering
with my training.

- I'm not laughing,
this isn't funny.

- She didn't want
me to stop, see?

- She threatened me,
she kept the letters.

- And she was gonna
show them to Mr. Connon.

- Mr. Connon, the police,
my parents, everybody.

- So you decided to steal them.

- On a Saturday night,
that Saturday night

I went on to that little flat
roof and in through a window.

I could hear a tele
on downstairs.

I went into her bedroom and
I was just about to open

the dressing table drawer
when someone on bed moved

and sort of groaned.

Mr. Connon?

- Yeah, he sat up.

- What did you do?

- I ran away, downstairs.

There was a lot of noise
in front room.

I though no one would hear me.

- Noise from the television.

- And voices.

Somebody laughing.

Anyway, I was halfway
downstairs when Mrs. Connon

came out into the kitchen
and saw me and screamed.

- Why did she scream?

You were her favorite toy boy.

Didn't she recognize you?

I had this over my head.

Show us.

- Ooh, it's enough to
make anyone scream.

Take it off and give
it to Mr. Pascoe.

So she screamed, then what?

- There was a man in front room.

Who?

- I didn't see him.

He said something like
"What's matter?"

and I threw something at her
and let it through front door.

- Did you recognize
the man's voice?

- It's all a bit muffled
when you've got a stocking

over your head.

- What did you throw
at Mrs. Connon?

- What?

- You said "I threw
something at her".

What did you throw?

- It was just something
I picked up.

- When my sergeant asks
you a civil question

he's entitled to a civil answer!

- It was an old air pistol.

My dad used to keep it on
his allotment for rats.

It's useless, he never
managed to kill any!

- Is that your father's
air pistol Mr. Curtis?

- That's it.

- Who did he buy it from,
Lord Kitchener?

- Lord who?

- Don't say things like
that, it upsets me.

Play your cards right,
you could be home in time

for Blue Peter.

- Thank you.

- But don't bank on it.

- Forensics won't thank
you for that sir.

- Forensics are gonna be
too busy finding those

imaginary bloody footprints
you saw on Connon's roof.

- How did you know?

- I know everything young man.

I know how these buggers work.

It's a spring-loaded mechanism.

You shove a pellet up the
spout and pull the trigger.

- Wow.

- That's not gonna help
anybody's frontal lobes is it?

That's our toffee hammer.

Doesn't do you good, eh Connie?

Seeing all these young
people getting it regularly?

This is no place for
the likes of us.

Come on, can't talk with
all this racket going on.

How's the head? Memory
improving?

- Memory?

- Come on Connie,
fill in the gaps.

What was it that woke you up?

Mary's screaming or the
hooded monster on the stairs?

And who was the man
in the living room?

Who got rid of the gun?

Was it you or him?

- He did.

- I know you're a man of
few words but that outburst

still leaves the odd gap.

- I heard the scream
and the front door.

- Stanley doing a runner?

- I didn't know it was
Stanley till Marcus told me.

- Marcus.

He was the man in
the living room.

- I thought you knew.

- You heard noises, you
went down the stairs,

you found Marcus and
Mary doing what?

Having their way
on the house rug?

- No, she were dead by then.

- I assumed you asked
Marcus for an explanation.

Excuse me sir, you
seem to be standing

besides my wife's corpse.

- He said it were an accident.

- I hope he had a good story.

- I believed him.

- Try it on me.

- Marcus came round because
Mary knew about him and Gwen.

She were threatening
to tell Arthur Evans.

- Why would she do that?

- Her idea of fun.

- Describe the accident.

- Young Stanley had
dumped his old air pistol

and Marcus had picked it up.

He were arguing with Mary.

She were sitting in the
armchair teasing him

about his love life with Gwen.

He was waving the gun around.

She says "What are you gonna
do to shut me up Marcus?

"Kill me with little
Stanley's toy gun?"

She grabbed the barrel
of the gun and held it

against her own head
and pressed his finger

where it were on the trigger.

Bang, she were dead.

- That's Marcus' story.

- Yes.

- Which you believe.

- I lay down for half
an hour, give him time

to get rid of the gun
and I phoned the police.

We had a masked intruder.

If necessary we could
blame everything on him.

- Stanley, poor little twat.

Whatever he does he'll
always be found out.

- Either way it adds up to what?

Death by misadventure?

Manslaughter at worst? Yes.

Not murder.

- Are you prepared to stand
up in court and testify

that your late wife was
a wicked, manipulative,

conniving, sex-starved bitch?

- When I bust my ankle and
I knew it were all over,

the glory that was me, you
know what she said to me?

"It's only a game,
Connie. It's only a game."

- That's a terrible
thing to say.

- It's true.

- That's why it's a terrible
thing to say.

- She weren't talking
about rugby.

- I know.

- Sid! Sid.

I shall need a pint
every 15 minutes

for the duration of the
game but if we were to win,

I shall drink a lot.

- Welcome home, Arthur.

- Come on boys!

- This'll be totally
fascinating,

I'll explain as we go along.

- I thought you might.

- Come on England, come on!

Where have you been?

- A world cruise.

Spent my entire life savings.

- Worth it?

- Every penny.

- Good.

- How've you been?

- I often wished I could
get away from Mary.

I often think it wouldn't
matter, but it does.

It always matters.

They know you're here,
I had to tell them.

- The man may come and in.

Well I musn't spoil
your enjoyment.

- It's only a game,
Marcus. Only a game.