Original subtitles

(gentle music)

(screaming)

Alright, Dave?

- Steady. - Sorry.

OK.

You'll give yourself indigestion.

I don't want to be late.

No one turns up to rehearsals on time.

The costumes arrived yesterday.

They are so beautiful.

I don't know where Harold finds the money.

The economy's booming.

No doubt Harold's exports and imports

are booming too.

And there are dark rumours

of a change of venue.

Apparently the corn exchange

is no longer good enough for him.

Was it ever?

You haven't finished your supper, Harold.

Dinner, woman. Dinner.

How many times do you have to be told?

I'm sorry, Harold, I'm sorry.

Did you get all the Amadeus publicity out?

Yes, Harold, yes.

That is, I haven't done the Ferndale Centre.

It's a long way and there's no direct bus route.

I was wondering, would you mind...

When you see Peter Hall running around

sticking up posters, let me know.

I shall be happy to join him.

Hello, Dierdre.

Oh.

- How are things? - I'm running late.

I couldn't settle Daddy for ages.

Bad again, is he?

You could say that.

What can I do?

Shall I... Shall I set up for you?

Oh, thank you, David.

I need that little piecrust table with the cakes on

and Salieri's wing chair.

Right.

Whoo!

(snapping)

Does that look Viennese, that?

Very Blue Danube.

Every time I get roped into this,

I tell myself it'll be the last time.

Don't we all? Cully coming home for this one, is she?

Oh, yes. Never misses if her mother's in it.

She... Has she brought any boys home yet?

Who, Joyce?

Yeah, one or two.

I wish David would... He's not getting any younger.

I'd love to see him if not settled

at least going out with someone.

Well, he will. He just hasn't met her yet.

Yeah.

Three copies of Notes From A Small Island.

Two.

I knew that girl with the Mickey Mouse rucksack

was up to no good. Appassionata, two.

Four.

Now they're bringing them back.

You just don't mark the stuff off.

I still think we should have done this on Sunday.

But then Harold wouldn't be running round

incandescent with rage because we've missed rehearsal.

There's no fun if you can't see it.

Nicholas can act it out when he gets back. He'll enjoy that.

I believe he's got a secret passion, our Nico.

(coughs)

Well, it's not for dusting.

I think he's having an affair.

(humming)

- Hello, Rosa. - Ah, Nico.

Costumes come?

- Shall I hear your lines? - No, I'm all right, I think.

- Careful. - Is Joyce here?

Green room.

Oh, let's have a look.

Nico, don't start pulling them about.

- Wow. Is this one mine?

- No, it's the Emperor Joseph's.

Careful. Mind that wig.

I'd give anything to play Mercutio.

I should get Amadeus out of your system first.

Salieri.

Kapellmeister.

Tutor.

Patron saint of mediocrities.

- Murderer. - Don't be silly.

- He killed Mozart. - Never proved.

A life for a life.

It's only a play.

(dog barks)

Where is everyone?

Dierdre!

Don't mind, Dierdre.

Yes, Harold?

- Where are my actors? - Well, I'm not...

Ooh, Rosa...

I know where Rosa is, you stupid girl.

What about lighting and design?

Oh, yes. Tim and Avery are stocktaking,

but they'll be here on Thursday.

I need them here now, today, not Thursday.

You should have told them.

It's not Dierdre's fault.

Anyway, I... I need her to help me

with the interval tape.

Alright?

- Where is my star? - Here I am, maestro.

I'm not in a humorous vein today, Nicholas.

Where is Esslyn?

God, what am I doing here?

Casting pearls before uncultured swine.

I, who directed a number one tour of Spider's Web

with the original West End cast.

So renowned that one critic said

he'd never seen anything like it

in the whole of his theatrical life.

- [Harold] How often Johnny G would turn to me for advice.

"Harold, love," he would say.

"Dear boy, this speech of Prospero's..."

Where the hell have you been?

You do realise that the first night is barely a week away?

Better get on with it, then, hadn't we, hm?

(dog whimpers)

I'll go to England.

England loves music. That's the answer.

We were yet again in the library of the Baroness Wald...

- Waldstaten. - I know, I know.

Waldstaten.

That room fated to be the scene

of ghastly encounters between us.

Again, too, the compensating crema al mascarpone.

I was there when I was a boy. They absolutely adored me.

I had more kisses than you've had cakes.

When I was young, everyone loved me.

He's doing it again, masking me at every turn.

- No, I'm not.

- Yes, you are. Horrid Nicholas.

I'll say whether he is or not, thank you.

Salieri is the lead in this play.

It is me the people come to see over and over again.

They couldn't believe their eyes the first time.

- How dare you. - Don't be so pompous.

Everyone knows you're only an accountant.

And everyone knows your chances

of ever getting into the professional theatre.

Kitty, could you just try this on? Sorry. Sorry.

I think Esslyn should be playing Leopold Mozart.

He's described as a jealous, dried-up old turd.

- [Harold] Leopold Mozart is not in the play.

- Are you sure? - What?

Page 49.

- [Harold] Well, I can't see it.

Only in spirit.

You mustn't allow Esslyn to do as he likes.

He'll unbalance the whole play. You must be firm with him.

- You were firm with Sir John. - He was a joy to direct.

A true professional.

Then he acknowledged my talent.

It takes one to know one, Harold.

Another few weeks and I won't be needing padding at all.

- Ow! - Rosa?

Darling, have you pricked your finger?

Maybe she'll go to sleep for 100 years, give us all a break.

- Rosa. - Leave me alone.

Would you like a plaster for that?

No.

Twenty years we were married and he'd never give me a child.

It was never the right time, you see.

We were too young. We didn't have enough money.

The business wasn't established.

But then, when the business was thriving,

he'd give me all that moralistic claptrap

about it being no sort of world to bring a child into.

And then to get Kitty pregnant.

Sometimes I don't know which of them I hate the most.

- Evening, sir. - Hello, Troy.

- What have you got? - A middle-aged woman.

Doc Bullard reckons she's been in the water some time.

- Hello, George. - Tom.

- Straightforward, is it? - Hard to say at this stage.

Terrible bang on the side of the head.

Could have happened while she was in the water.

- Do you know her, sir? - No.

But I know who she is.

Couldn't this have waited till morning?

We can't start a postmortem without identification, sir.

Yes. That's my cousin.

Agnes Grey.

- [Troy] I knew we had a case as soon as I saw

- that crack on her head. - Oh, yeah?

- [Troy] No water in the lungs. Dead when he threw her in.

Stands to reason.

- [Barnaby] Sometimes I wonder why we bother

going through all the usual procedures.

We could just come straight to you.

Tyre lever, didn't they reckon on the report?

Yeah, or a crowbar.

You could almost say he'd done the poor woman a kindness.

Pardon?

She was suffering from cancer,

quite advanced and apparently never treated.

- I didn't see that. - Nobody's perfect.

This is Agnes' place here, sir.

No, no.

Excuse me.

- We're Causton CID. - Oh.

- And you are...?

- Jenny Evers. Something wrong?

I'm afraid Miss Grey has had an accident.

Oh.

Do you know her well?

Not very. We chat about holidays sometimes.

She's always going away. She went to Austria in the spring.

I thought she'd gone off again

when I saw the car had disappeared.

And when was that?

About a week ago.

How come you know of Agnes Grey?

She used to come to the plays

Joyce's drama group put on.

Esslyn belongs to the same group.

He's a cold devil. He looked down at her

as if she was a lump of meat.

Esslyn is not known

for his affectionate nature.

Lunch?

Can't. I'm supposed to be buying a book

for my mum's birthday.

Well, hello.

Afternoon.

- How can I help? - I'm looking for a book.

- Books are what we do best. - For my mother.

Something light?

I've got a lovely new Trollope.

- Pardon? - Or Catherine Cookson

goes down well in the home counties.

- That a fact? - It's the contrast.

All these dark, satanic mills.

Actually, she's more into this

heritage Edwardian lady stuff.

She's already got the tea towels, the chopping board,

the oven mitt.

We're running out of ideas.

So you thought you'd get the diary.

I designed the set for that. My partner did the lighting.

He has a way with a lamp you wouldn't believe.

Ah.

Avery, I'm in a hurry.

Now, what do you call this?

The third finger of your right hand.

You are supposed to dust this place thoroughly every morning

in exchange for that room upstairs.

I overslept. I'll do it tomorrow.

Where are you going anyway?

I'm... meeting someone.

Alright?

If you're in a hurry, mate, I should try Smiths.

That took you long enough.

He only tried to sell me a diary, in the middle of October.

In the end I got her

a nice little car vacuum set.

Your mother doesn't have a car.

No, but it'll do for cushions and stuff.

Is that the forensic on Agnes Grey?

Yeah, it is. Leaf mould and pine needles on her clothes.

Nothing under her nails. No skin flakes, no hair,

no bits of cloth, no blood.

And we know from the PM there were no scratches.

She didn't put up much of a fight, then.

Is this the key that was round her neck?

Yeah.

To a very large padlock?

(knocking)

Your appointment, Mr.Carmichael.

Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby.

Right.

Would you like to come through?

What is it now, Tom?

Thank you.

Agnes Grey.

Is her body released for burial?

You could have told me that over the phone.

Your cousin was murdered, Esslyn.

Agnes? Well, who would...

I mean, she's just not the sort.

Tell me about her.

There's not much to tell.

She did the same job for 25 years, took early retirement.

What job was this, sir?

With the BBC World Service.

She spoke excellent French and Italian.

Although her degree was in art history.

She always sent holiday postcards

from the Uffizi or the Louvre

or some other dry as dust mausoleum.

What about men? Was she ever engaged or married?

No.

Poor Agnes. Plain little soul.

Friends, then?

She preferred animals, even as a child.

Drove her parents mad.

She was a kind person, then, was she?

Agnes always identified

with the weak and wounded. To quite a morbid degree.

But I suppose she was rather a loser herself.

Blimey. Fancy having that as your only living relative.

No wonder she preferred to save the whales.

(humming)

- What are we looking for, sir?

- I don't know, Troy.

But I'm missing something.

I'll check out the bedroom.

Bastard even ripped her clothes.

He certainly went to town on this place.

No handbag. I assume he took that when he killed her.

Probably.

There's a little bit of jewellery.

Pearl brooch, little gold ring.

One of those crosses on a bead necklace.

Rosary?

- I don't get this place. - How do you mean?

Agnes Grey really appreciated beautiful things,

yet there's nothing here, apart from a few books,

to reflect that. Dreary furniture, dull clothes.

Perhaps she thought she didn't deserve beautiful things.

It doesn't sound as if she had much confidence.

Anything interesting?

Not really. Mainly bills.

Ah.

- A letter with a donkey on. - Oh, good God.

"Dear Miss Grey, thank you from the bottom of our hearts

for another wonderful contribution

towards the five-acre meadow

and new stabling block."

"The 150..."

150,000 pounds.

Let me see that.

I want every bit of paper in this place bagged.

And find out the name of her bank while you're at it.

First may I offer my condolences on your sad loss?

Thank you, Mr. Makepeace.

I'm not sure if Miss Grey made you privy

to the dispensation of her will.

Well, as I only have two legs and no tail,

I don't expect to benefit.

Quite. It's quite straightforward.

All monies at the time of her death

and the proceeds from the sale of her house

go to various charities.

They're carefully listed in some detail.

I don't think you'll find your

duties as executor too onerous.

Good.

There is one more thing.

(sighs)

You can have the afternoon off, Mrs. Maddox.

But I've got all these...

Here.

Kitty? I'm going to have to work late.

So you'd better go to rehearsals without me.

Hm? No. No, I won't overdo things. I'm really very strong.

(chuckles)

Who's a silly kitten?

Love you.

(American accent) Love you too, baby.

(mutters)

Unbelievable. 60... What was it?

860,000 pounds over seven years.

- Maybe she won the lottery. - Not in 1991, she didn't.

And then to give it all to animals.

Everyone needs something to love,

and at least animals love you back.

Not the same, though, is it?

I wouldn't fancy cuddling up at night to a cocker spaniel.

Don't you knock it before you try it.

And so far over 700 people have signed the petition

protesting against the reduction

in library opening hours.

Causton CID, who are investigating

the murder of Agnes Grey, from the Midsomer area,

would like to talk to anyone who knew her.

They are also anxious to trace her car,

a Ford van, registration number B920 BOO.

I don't want money. You know what I want.

Not such an ugly word as murder.

Oh, yes, I have proof, alright.

Monday night. I'll give you till Monday.

Hello, Dad.

Cully! Cully.

Cully, this is a... This is a surprise.

I thought you were coming home tomorrow.

- I caught a late train. - Oh. You must be starving.

Oh, no, don't fuss. Sit down and talk to me.

Kitty!

Up here, darling, in the bath.

(phone rings)

Hello.

Rosa, what the hell do you want?

(hums)

(sings in French)

I think it's only fair to tell you.

Fair? You call this fair?

As soon as tonight's out of the way,

I shall start divorce proceedings.

The child will be provided for.

You can provide for yourself.

Judging by the alacrity

with which you jumped into my bed,

you shouldn't find that difficult.

Esslyn, baby.

This is just a stupid misunderstanding.

I love you.

(door closes)

Ten hours to go.

I wish first nights didn't make me so nervous.

(phone rings)

At least... you can't forget your lines.

I can forget my moves.

Barnaby.

- [Troy] Did she seem genuine, this Peggy Marshall?

- [Barnaby] I'd say so.

- [Troy] Can bring out a lot of wackos, public appeals.

- Miss Marshall? - Yes.

I'm Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby. This is...

Detective Sergeant Troy.

I hope you don't mind our meeting here.

Of course not. It's very good of you to get in touch.

So, how did you know Agnes Grey?

I was assigned to take her under my wing

when she first accepted instruction in the faith

around six months ago.

That'd be the Catholic Church, would it?

There is only one faith, young man.

I discovered almost at once that Agnes was greatly troubled.

- Did you know she had cancer? - Yes.

She had already decided not to have any form of treatment.

I felt a great... loneliness in her, Inspector.

She didn't seem to have a single friend.

Did she ever tell you exactly what was troubling her?

No, just that she had done something very wrong

and wanted to put matters right before she died.

Did she indicate how?

It wasn't straightforward.

Apparently another person was involved.

Bitch. Bitch.

I see you've been got at.

Avery's right, I have been slacking.

I've things on my mind.

Oh. Interesting things?

Secret things.

You shouldn't mention it, then.

Teasing people is ill-mannered.

Suffice it to say that any day now,

my life may well be miraculously transformed.

You really are the most irritating boy.

- Is that our lunch? - No, it's our lunch.

I just saw Esslyn in a BMW.

Bit early for cheap thrills, isn't it?

Jumped a red light.

So, how do you feel?

- Ugh. - No. It'll run like a dream.

You're a brilliant stage manager.

I've got some brilliant help.

Is your... Is your dad coming?

No. No, I've persuaded him to wait until the last night.

With a bit of luck, by then he'll have forgotten about it.

- Ooh, personal props. - Oh, I'll... I'll do those.

You're very kind, David. Thank you.

Ah, darling, how lovely to see you.

Completely sold out as usual.

Sit where you like. The press seats are reserved.

Ah, good evening, sir. Sir John

is devastated not to be here.

But the journey was just too much for him.

This is going to be the greatest

disaster since my Aunt Laetitia

fell off the Matterhorn.

- Uh-huh. - On the other hand,

a bad dress rehearsal does make a good first night.

I wonder what fatuous idiot first thought of that one.

I believe it was Abraham Lincoln.

My God.

It's actually filling up.

You'd think they'd know better by now.

So there she was, snivelling in the prompt corner.

"What's the matter, Dierdre?" I said.

Her senile old fool of a father

had forgotten to take his tablets

and gone out directing traffic

at Badger's Drift.

"How terrible," says I. "Yes," says Dierdre.

"He doesn't know that area at all."

(laughter)

- Very funny. - Thank you.

You know your problem, Esslyn?

What might that be, Nicol-arse?

Too full of the milk of human kindness.

(gasps)

What? You've quoted from the Scottish play.

- What, Macbeth? - Oh!

You have to go outside the dressing room,

turn round three times and come back in.

Don't be ridiculous.

Is that clockwise or anticlockwise?

Oh, Daddy.

I just came to wish you good luck.

You're not supposed to be out by yourself.

I just came to wish you good luck.

Oh, thank you very much.

Come on, darling. Let's go and find you a seat.

Bold effects are, as you know, my forte.

You can never have too much verismo.

What is verismo?

Hello, Doris. Nice to see you again.

Would you like a programme?

- [Harold] If it's wishy-washy naturalism you're after,

stay at home and watch television.

Troy, you made it, then.

This is my daughter, Cully. Cully, Gavin Troy.

- Hi, Gavin. - Pleased to meet you.

- [Harold] ..finest cast since Spider's Web

and you're going to be superb.

There's a full house out there

and the atmosphere's electric.

- Neck and leg break, Mum. - Good luck, everyone.

Especially you.

(bell rings)

Sorry.

- Will it be OK? - You look lovely.

All set?

Stayed behind to gloat, have you?

I beg your pardon?

Do you think I don't know who's responsible for this?

And for doing over my car.

You don't think that breaking us up

is gonna bring him back, do you?

I'm sure I don't know what you mean.

Wanna know how he described your sex life?

He said it was like humping a tranquillised carthorse.

(humming)

This is it, lover. No turning back.

No turning back.

Merde in your eye.

(applause)

Ah. That's for my set.

- Assassin. Assassin. - Salieri. Salieri.

- Assassin. Assassin. - Salieri. Salieri.

- Assassin. Assassin. - Salieri. Salieri.

- Assassin. Assassin. - Salieri. Salieri.

- Assassin. Assassin. - Salieri. Salieri.

- Assassin. Assassin. - Salieri. Salieri.

- Assassin. Assassin. - Salieri. Salieri.

- Assassin. Assassin! - Salieri. Salieri!

I know who started the tale.

I know who started the tale.

- The old man's valet. - The old man's cook.

Squeak, squeak, squeak!

Meow!

Squeak!

Meow! Meow! Meow!

I'm going to pounce-bounce.

I'm going to scrunch-munch.

I'm going to chew-poo my little mouse-wouse.

I'm going to tear her to bits

with my paws-claws.

- No! - Paws-claws. Paws-claws.

(music reaches climax)

These cakes are absolutely vile.

Hello, Mr.Tibbs. How are you enjoying it?

I just came to wish you good luck.

Do you want a cup of coffee? Don't get up.

I'll bring you one down.

(mouths)

How lovely to see you. Are you enjoying the play?

I'm so glad. It's a beautiful play, isn't it?

I have to go. Excuse me one second.

Very good, isn't it?

I reckon they're on a par with that lot in EastEnders.

- The one playing Mozart is. - Yeah.

It's good, this. I've never been to the theatre before.

This isn't the theatre, Gavin.

Well, I must say,

our little ensemble's excelling itself tonight.

Half the cast were making it up

and the Emperor Joseph's walking as if he's got

a duck up his knickers.

But the lighting was, as always, magnificent.

Now, I can offer... anchovy and provolone on olive bread

or walnut and banana on fruit loaf with brown sug...

Where are you going?

A spot went on stage. I've got to fix it.

I didn't notice that.

Keep going, keep going, keep going, keep going.

Yeah.

Trouble?

Flickered a bit, then went out.

- I didn't notice that happen. - Don't you start.

- You OK, Tim? - Perfectly OK.

As soon as people stop coming

up to me wanting to know if I'm OK.

OK.

Sorry. I'm a bit edgy.

I'll be glad when tonight's over.

Where's the three-minute buzzer?

- It's only just... - How dare you answer me back.

You're a brainless, moronic cretin. What are you?

(bell rings)

- Hey, what happened to you? - Walked into an accountant.

Poor love. Kiss it better.

I have been listening to the cats in the courtyard.

They're all singing Rossini.

(laughter)

- Where do we go, then? - What?

Do we do it here?

Why not? Well?

Let's get on with it.

There are your manuscripts. Please take them and go.

Now. At once.

- You shit. - Via! Don't return.

You rotten shit!

Bloody hell. What's going on down there?

If he lays another finger on me, I'll frigging kill him.

- Shh. - Let it be Herr Sommer.

- Bastard. Bastard. - He can't do much harm.

To be frank, no one can do much harm musically

- to the Princess Elizabeth. - Nico, you're on.

Mozart certainly did not suspect me.

The emperor made his announcement in his usual way.

Well, there it is.

And I commiserated with the loser.

I think we should bring the curtain down.

Not before my death scene.

Harold would only take it up again.

Well, that's true.

We don't know what Esslyn will do next.

I'm alright. Forewarned is forearmed.

Wolfi?

- Stanzi. - Oh, Wolfi, my love.

- Little husband of my heart. - Oh.

Oh, my dear one. Come with me.

Come on, now.

- There, there. - Salieri...

Salieri has killed me.

Yes, my dear.

He has. He told me so.

Yes. Yes, I'm sure.

Now I will go to become a ghost myself.

I will stand in the shadows

when you come here to this earth in your turn.

And when you feel the dreadful bite of your failures

and hear the taunting of an unachievable, uncaring God...

(whispers) Joyce.

..I will whisper my name to you.

Salieri,

patron saint of mediocrities.

Truth will out.

And in the depths of your downcastness,

you can pray for me and I will forgive you.

Vi saluto.

(screams)

Get the curtain down. Get it down!

Washed in the blood of the lamb.

Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention, please?

There has been an accident.

Would you all please stay in your seats

for the next few minutes? Thank you.

- [David] I'm absolutely certain, Tom.

The tape was on the blade when Dierdre checked the razor.

- I was here. - And when was that?

A few minutes before curtain up.

So it just sits there until the end of the play?

Yes.

Anyone could have tampered with it.

Bit risky. People are using the props table all the time.

But the light's dim, actors milling about.

You can't just whip it off. You'd need a knife.

Even then you'd have to be careful.

That thing was bloody sharp.

- [Kitty] I can't believe it.

Who would do such a dreadful thing?

Everyone liked Esslyn.

Well, obviously not quite everyone, darling.

Perhaps it was an accident.

Of course it was an accident.

The tape got torn or something. It's outrageous,

keeping us shut in here like naughty children.

That's show business. Start the evening with Mozart,

end up with Gotterdammerung. (laughs)

- How can you be so heartless? - I'm sorry.

It's all that stupid girl's fault.

If she'd checked properly...

Dierdre is not stupid.

And I doubt very much whether any of this

will prove to be her fault.

Then why has she disappeared?

- [Nico] Her father ran off after it happened.

I heard Tom talking to David Smy about it.

David Smy?

He's an assistant stage manager, the lowest of the low.

As director, I should be seen first. I am in charge here!

The police are in charge here, sir.

Now, if you'll please just...

Excuse me.

- How is she? - Not good.

The paramedics gave her some stuff,

but it's made her pretty sleepy.

Is there anything I can do?

I don't think so, but thanks all the same.

Cully, I'm sorry. I should have got these to you before.

- Joyce? - Tom.

Cully's gonna drive you home.

I'll be with you as soon as possible.

Why don't I drive? If that's alright.

That's very good of you, Nicholas,

but we do need to talk.

Can you come into the station, please,

tomorrow, two o'clock?

At last.

Sorry you've been kept hanging about.

It is getting rather late.

If anyone wants to go...

Now he tells us.

My sergeant will arrange interview times.

I elect to be seen now.

- [Avery] What are you doing, Kitty?

- Rosa. - You can't go back

to White Wings by yourself tonight.

You come and have some supper with us.

We'll be cooking, won't we, Tim?

Oh, dear. Kitty...

Don't worry about me. I shall book into the nearest Hilton.

I can tell you now, Tom,

I felt a faintly sinister frisson

to this production from the very beg...

What is the matter with you?

All I did was ask the wretched

girl back for a bit of supper.

When I sit down with someone, I like to be sure

I'm going to get up again.

- Go on, you don't mean Kitty? - Yes.

God forgive me, yes, I do.

Dad.

Dad.

Are you coming?

Dad.

- There she is. - I see her.

- Are you Dierdre Tibbs? - Yes.

You're looking for your father?

I'm sure he's making for the day centre.

- It's two minutes in the car. - He feels safe there.

We'll get you there, love.

He wasn't a very nice man, sometimes mean.

But we were young together.

We were very happy for a while.

- [Barnaby] Can you think of anyone

who would want to kill him?

Kitty, of course.

He only married her because she was pregnant.

Now, the chances are it wasn't even his.

What makes you say that?

She's having an affair.

Esslyn was going to change his will

and start divorce proceedings.

Do you have any idea who her lover was?

Or how Esslyn found out?

Oh, Tom.

How was I to know what she'd do?

I'd do anything, anything to take it back.

I don't know what you're playing at,

constantly passing me over like the boot boy.

How am I supposed to retain the respect of my actors?

If there's one thing I cannot stand, it's high-handedness.

- It's getting very late. - Whose fault is that?

And I'm on the verge of losing my temper.

Now, earlier on tonight, when you were backstage,

did you see anything out of the ordinary?

Anyone there who shouldn't have been there?

Someone handling the props who doesn't normally?

I was hardly backstage at all.

People expect to see me front of house.

It's the only chance they get to mingle.

I went to wish the actors good luck, of course.

You followed me down there, I believe, Tom.

The buzzer was late at the end of the interval,

so I popped round just for a second

to chivvy that utterly clueless stage manager.

There.

I thought the second part was much improved, didn't you?

Except for the utter shambles at the end.

Are you sure you know what's going on here, sir?

Certainly.

Someone has sabotaged Amadeus.

Did you have any reason to wish Esslyn dead?

Me?

He was my leading man, my star.

Now I've got to start all over again training Nicholas.

- [Barnaby] Neil, will you take Mrs. Winstanley home?

It's Martyr Warren.

I didn't mean to be any trouble.

- [Neil] This way.

He's really lost it, hasn't he, that bloke?

A long time ago.

Just the type we're looking for.

Perfect. He couldn't have done it.

He wasn't in the wings more than three minutes.

I don't understand why it was done this way, so risky,

so complicated.

All he had to do was wait for the next dark night

and bash the bloke's head in.

What if he couldn't wait?

What if tonight was his last chance?

I reckon that puts his wife in the frame.

She kills him at home, straight off it's a domestic.

This way it could have been anybody.

Good point.

- There he is! - Kev'll be quicker, love.

- [Dierdre] Yes, but he's a stranger.

Daddy'll be frightened.

It's alright, Daddy.

Mr. Tibbs.

Come along, now. Time to go home.

Your daughter's waiting.

Washed in the blood of the lamb.

Streaming. Streaming everywhere.

It's all over now. Let me help you down.

- [Troy] There's no way he could

be in the frame, old Mr. Tibbs?

- [Barnaby] For God's sake, Troy.

- [Troy] He was backstage.

- [Barnaby] If that's all it takes, so was I.

- [Troy] Yeah, but you're not

one sandwich short of a picnic, sir.

Oh, Tom. This is kind of you.

- How is he?

- Fractured ribs. A broken leg.

He'll get better, but it'll take a long time.

- I'm really sorry. - He was so frightened.

Yeah, it was a bad business. Detective Sergeant Troy.

We were hoping you might be able to help us.

Anything. Anything I can do.

I believe you checked the razor

just minutes before the curtain went up.

That's right. And the tape wasn't snagged or torn,

as Harold has been suggesting.

- It was in place. - No one is blaming you.

But it remains a fact that some time during the play,

someone removed the razor and took the tape off.

What about this chap who played the valet?

- David? - He handled the tray.

- Would he have had time... - David?

Was there any point during the play

when the wings were completely empty?

I went to the loo once.

It was at the end of the interval.

It took all of two minutes.

When I got back, Harold was yelling at me

about the buzzer being late.

- [Barnaby] Could you drop me off at home, Troy?

- I want to see how Joyce is. - Righto, sir.

And while you're on the spot,

there's a couple of outstanding interviews

- at the bookshop. - (sighs)

Couldn't somebody else do those?

Well, you'll be alright.

Just hang on to your credentials.

I know it irritates Tim, but... I can't help it.

Every time he goes to the post

or shopping or the library,

I keep thinking... is that what he's really doing?

Or is he seeing someone?

I'm sure he's got more than enough on his plate

- coping with you. - But I don't understand

what he sees in me, Nico.

I mean, he's so elegant and...

Oh, handsome and austere.

You know, sort of spiritually opulent.

So what's brought all this on?

I think it's partly because he hasn't always been gay.

I was making sequined jockstraps for Paddington

when I was three, but Tim...

Well, he veered hither and yon

all the way through adolescence.

He even got engaged at one point.

I'm sure he's turned his back on all that now.

I suppose you think that's funny?

- Yeah, I do, actually.

- You're a cruel, heartless boy.

You wait till you fall in love.

I think I'm just about to.

So, when did you get this audition at Central?

The other week. But don't tell anyone. It's secret.

I should get the results any day now.

I've had a few theatre jobs since Cambridge.

- You're kidding? - Third witch in Macbeth

and a Polish tour of Much Ado.

Brilliant. How did it go?

I got mumps, our tents were washed away in a thunderstorm

and Claudio was had up for soliciting.

I can't wait to start. So what are you doing now?

Trudging round the agents.

I'm up for a voiceover next week, though.

So, will you get a grant?

I'll have to come and see you, then.

Stake you to a veggie burger.

- David. - I...

I just thought I'd come and see how things were going.

Thank you.

Oh! I must put them in water straightaway.

They're not for your father, Dierdre.

- They're for you. - For me?

- How are you, love? - I'm still a bit groggy.

I keep seeing him over and over again.

Come on.

There, there, there, there.

Shh, shh.

Cully.

Nicholas.

Tom. I came to see how Joyce was.

Well, you won't see how she is from here.

Try the sitting room.

Right.

Second door on the left.

Second on left.

Don't forget your interview. Two o'clock sharp.

Oh, crikey.

Well, why don't you stay and have some soup?

Then you can go back with Dad.

- [Doris] That's right. The corn exchange, Causton,

at three o'clock. Photographers will also be welcome

to photograph the director, Mr.Winstanley, in person

at the scene of the crime.

The crime that was on the news this morning.

And... Oh, yes, and our drama group production of Amadeus

was in full flight when...

Hello?

Financial Times.

Hello. Is that the Daily Telegraph?

Oh, yes. Could you put me through

to the theatre department, please?

Yes, yes, I will. Thank you.

Are they all coming?

They sounded very interested, Harold.

- Who are you onto now? - The Daily Telegraph.

They asked me to hold.

Hold? At daytime rates?

Why don't people put things back properly?

Look at this. A Room of One's Own under Interior Decoration.

- Nosh up. - Lovely.

- Well, hello again. - Afternoon.

Put the catch down on the door

and turn the notice round to closed.

We're having our lunch.

Detective Sergeant Troy, Causton CID.

It's regarding Mr.Carmichael's death last night.

God, was it only last night?

I understand you were both there.

We were in the lighting box, yes.

At what point did you go backstage?

I didn't go backstage till

after the final curtain, but Tim...

Once. In the interval. To change a light.

Colin Smy was with me all the time.

Did you see anything out of the ordinary

when you were back there? In the wings maybe?

- No. - A glass for you, Sergeant?

No, thank you.

Can either of you think of anyone

who might have wanted to harm Mr.Carmichael?

Well, you've got a wide field.

The man was a heartless shit.

Had personal experience of that, have you, sir?

Bottoms up.

Zilch at the bookshop.

The little fat one wasn't backstage at all.

The thin, sarky one briefly,

but he was with Colin Smy all the time.

I got nothing out of Nicholas.

Though he did say that Esslyn had attacked him,

crushed his hand. He showed me. It was a hell of a mess.

- Why was that? - He says he has no idea.

Bollocks. I bet he found out he was Kitty's fancy man.

He'd better not be.

Where's Colin Smy?

What do you think you're playing at?

You were due at the station at three.

I did it, Tom. I killed him.

Are you confessing to the murder of Esslyn Carmichael?

- Why did you do it? - Why?

It's not an unreasonable question in the circumstances.

He was an awful man.

Sneering, laughing at everyone, cruel.

I decided he should be taught a lesson.

Bit of a savage one, wasn't it?

I didn't think he'd die.

What do you expect a man to do

if you drag an open razor across his throat?

- How did you get the tape off?

- With my Stanley knife.

- And where's that now? - Still in the scene dock.

- When did you do it? - I don't remember exactly.

- It was on impulse.

- What did you do with the tape?

I flushed it down the toilet.

No, you didn't. We tried that. It floats.

Where was David while all this was going on?

He was in the men's dressing room. Anyone can vouch for him.

He'll be able to vouch for himself from the look of things.

Oh, no.

What are you doing here?

Picking up the van.

I'm collecting a friend after work.

What's happening?

Your father has just confessed to the murder of Esslyn.

Don't be daft.

He thinks you did it.

Me?

Why would I...

You saw me, didn't you?

What did he see, Mr.Smy?

- [David] Esslyn was being particularly vicious

about Dierdre's father.

I was so angry.

I shook Vim all over those little cakes he eats on stage.

I mean... (laughs)

You silly old sod.

Fancy a cup of tea, Tom?

No, I do not fancy a cup of tea.

You're lucky I don't charge you with wasting police time.

Thanks.

Don't do it again, alright?

I've asked Dierdre for supper tonight.

Really? I didn't know you fancied her.

I don't fancy her. I love her.

- Mr.Winstanley? - Yes. Who are you?

Becky Smith. Causton Echo.

Come to take a piccy and do a little interview.

Where are the others?

They're covering the good stuff.

Beer festivals, horse shows, the new Mel Gibson.

I always get the short straw.

Could come back another day.

Are you sure you're feeling up to this, Kitty?

I'll do my best. It is for Esslyn, after all.

Quite. Can you think of anyone,

anyone, who might want to kill him?

Well... Rosa is so full of bitterness.

She led him a terrible life.

So you didn't take the tape off the razor yourself?

- Tom! - You'd had a serious quarrel.

He was violent towards you, knocked you about on stage.

That was just part of the play.

When you came off you were heard to say

that if he touched you again, you'd kill him.

People say wild things when they're angry.

Sometimes they do them.

Can you imagine me

doing anything like that?

He'd discovered you were having an affair.

That's a lie.

He was planning to change his will,

- sue for divorce. - No.

Leaving you without the proverbial...

And what about the baby?

- Poor, fatherless mite. - Is it his?

Course it is, you cheeky bugger.

A jury would be very sympathetic, Kitty.

Violent man, well off.

Yet still prepared to consign his wife and child to poverty.

I didn't touch the razor.

What an utterly useless waste of a day.

I don't know, sir. We cleared

quite a few people out the way.

Cleared so many, we've got no suspects left.

- (phone rings) - DCI Barnaby.

Oh.

- Where's this place again? - It's over there.

Two cups of Rosy Lee. Help yourself to sugar.

That's a pound. Thank you.

- Cheers. - Cheers.

- How's that bacon coming on? - Almost done.

- Yes, gentlemen. - Mr.Green.

Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby.

This is DS Troy.

Good of you to get in touch about the van.

Yeah, well, I recognised it

as soon as I saw it on television.

You see that alleyway over there?

I saw it several times, going in, coming out.

And always that poor lady driving.

- Agnes Grey? - Yeah.

Right, Troy. I'd start at that end.

- There you are. - What are you gonna do?

I'm going to sample Mr. Green's bacon sandwiches.

Hello, sir. Trying a spot of breaking and entering, are we?

I think we should discuss this down the station, don't you?

Sorry, Sergeant.

Well, now you're here. you can make yourself useful.

All the rest of these garages need checking,

starting with this one.

Sir.

I'm sorry I had nothing ready, Harold.

It's not like you to be home at midday.

The life of the mind

is what nourishes, Doris.

The creative tumult in which the genuine artiste

must sink or swim.

This is coarse clay by comparison.

- Is there any pudding? - Oh, yes.

Rhubarb cobbler, left over from Sunday.

I was wondering, Harold, will you be going to the funeral?

- What funeral? - Ess...

Oh, Esslyn. No, certainly not.

Casting Vanya is taking up all my spare time.

In fact, that's what I'm going to do right now.

Pardon?

I'm going to pay a call on Nicholas.

I have to get him into training. One cannot start too soon.

He has an antic disposition, but we'll soon stamp that out.

Yes, Charlie, yes, right. Press

conference six o'clock tomorrow.

The arts and antique mob from the Yard

should've got in touch by then.

Pictures, yes, pictures.

No, an arrest is not imminent.

So you reckon this is a work of art, then?

Good God, man, of course it's a work of art.

I thought it might have had

something to do with religion.

- Maybe it was once. - Once?

Churches have been robbed for years.

Stuff like this ends up in museums

or with private collectors.

A 17th-century St Jerome was found in a lake on a plinth

transformed into a fountain.

- Nice one.

- But Agnes Grey was a Catholic.

Any likeness of the Madonna would be sacred.

Now, I don't know how she came by it,

but I can't see her selling it on.

So that's soap, unscented, wholemeal loaf, tomatoes,

a lemon and marmalade.

- Chunky. - OK. Chunky.

Are you sure you're gonna be alright?

What?

Er... I'll be fine. I'll be fine.

It'll do you good to get out into the fresh air.

OK, if you're sure. I won't be long.

I thought I might pop in at the Blackbird.

Oh, yes?

See you soon.

Congratulations, dear boy.

Nicholas.

Mm-mm. And, remember, it was us that believed in you first.

Thanks for all the support and encouragement.

And the room. Well, everything.

Hey, it was our pleasure.

I'll never forget you.

We shall expect front-circle seats

- for all your opening nights. - (phone rings)

Did your disappearances have anything to do

with this audition?

- Yes. Coaching. Voice lessons.

Blackbird Bookshop.

Sorry, wrong number.

We thought you were having an affair.

- What? - With Kitty.

I couldn't make love to Kitty. She can't act.

Is there any more champagne?

No. We've spoilt you quite enough already.

And it's time we reopened the shop.

I feel... I don't know,

as if I'm on the verge of something wonderful.

(knocking)

Oh, God, it's Dracula's mother.

You're not letting him in?

He won't go away until we do.

Thank you.

I have the most thrilling news.

Oh, you've heard already.

Nico's won a place at drama school.

Tomorrow morning I sign

a ten-year lease on a real theatre.

And I'm sure you'll be very proud to know, Nicholas,

that I have chosen you to be my new leading man.

- But Tim's just told you... - Lear looms, dear boy.

Oedipus. Hamlet. There is no reason why you shouldn't play

all the major roles under my expert guidance.

You don't listen, do you, Harold?

This is the realisation of a dream for me.

There were times when I thought it would never come to pass.

Oh, I had my dark nights of the soul.

And my enemies, as great men always do.

And they are vanquished,

as the enemies of great men always are.

Well, Avery, I look forward

to your designs on Uncle Vanya

and your ideas on lighting, Tim.

Nothing fancy. It is Russia, you know.

Best get on. Dusters are under the sink, Nico.

- Nicholas? - What?

Oh, yes. I will. Promise.

I have to go now, but when I get back, OK?

Do you think he will remember us?

Course not.

He's on the verge of something wonderful.

It's from Agnes Gray's bank.

A weird-sounding lot paid into her account.

Alekbar Georgiades.

Count Gottfried von Schell.

I wouldn't like the job of tracking this little lot down.

- Should they prove to exist. - Sorry?

Probably false names maybe covering a syndicate.

Iffy money too. Offshore accounts.

- Jersey... - (phone rings)

DCI Barnaby.

Oh, good afternoon, sir.

Yes, yeah. I thought it would be.

Yeah, I'd appreciate that.

Yes, thank you, sir. Bye.

Do they know what it is?

A 16th-century religious figure.

Stolen from a country church near Innsbruck

11 March this year.

So she's got this nice little number going. Why share it?

Because she needed help.

I'd say she needed somebody in haulage.

I'd say that looks like pretty heavy freight.

Import export.

- How could I be so blind? - Harold?

("Night on Bald Mountain" by Mussorgsky)

You said Harold would definitely not have had the time.

That was before I realised there were two razors.

- Two razors? - Two razors.

The first was already in the tray.

The second one he took in with him.

Listen, and I'll tell you exactly why

and how he swapped them round.

We know that Harold went backstage

twice during the evening,

just before the show began

and at the end of the interval.

He must have made the first switch

moments before curtain up,

swapping the original razor

with his substitute one.

This way, a casual glance at the props tray

would reveal nothing wrong.

Excuse me. Thank you.

He must have known it was going to be a fiddly job.

The interval gave him the perfect opportunity

and ample time to remove the tape from the actual razor.

- Trouble? - Flickered, then went out.

- I didn't notice anything. - Don't you start.

And then, just minutes before Act Two,

taking advantage of Dierdre's absence from the wings,

he swapped 'em back.

Where's the three-minute buzzer?

- It's only just... - How dare you answer me back.

Poor old Esslyn. Never had a chance.

- So we bring Harold in? - Yes, we do.

(phone rings)

Blackbird Bookshop.

You mustn't ring here.

I shall do more than bloody ring there.

If you don't meet me right now,

I shall be round to tell that poofy little tub of lard

just what the great love of his

life does on his afternoons off.

Why are you being so spiteful?

Please.

(Avery sobs)

- [Tim] You'll set me off in a minute. Don't.

Look, I don't love her.

- I love you. - (sobbing continues)

(siren wails)

I wonder how they first got together, Harold and Agnes.

I doubt we'll ever know the exact circumstances.

But I think we know how it ended.

(chuckles)

(screaming)

(classical music)

- [Esslyn] Vi saluto.

Doris!

(clattering)

Doris?

- Martyr Warren? - Yes, that's it.

Harold, I... I won't say anything. I'll go away.

Yes, I think that would be for the best, Doris.

I'm changing my life quite considerably.

There'll be no place for you here.

Oh, yes. Right.

I'll go and... I'll go and p-p-p-pack.

Pack. Pack.

Pack. Pack. Pack.

My dear, I don't think that will be necessary.

(Doris screams)

- Get an ambulance. - [Officer] 371 to base.

Tom, I didn't know you were here.

- Harold. - Well, what a kerfuffle.

Still, it couldn't be helped.

They would try to stop me, you see.

Agnes Grey, Doris, Esslyn.

Two stupid women and a man with delusions of grandeur.

Well, all back to normal now.

- Who's this? - That's a friend.

Oh.

And we'd like you to come along with us.

- What, now? - Yes.

Oh, no, it's impossible. I'm casting Vanya tonight.

Scofield will be along in a minute.

I've offered him Serebryakov.

But, Harold, the press are waiting.

Huh! That moron on the Causton Echo?

No, no, no, the real press. The Times, The Guardian.

Michael Billington.

Michael...

Tom, is this true?

Oh, yes.

I must have my hat.

Thank you.

I knew this would happen, Tom. I knew they'd remember me.

- That was delicious, Joyce. - Cully helped.

I'm sure I could have helped a bit more, Tom,

- with this awful business. - Nico.

What?

Joyce, I'm sorry. I didn't think.

It's alright. Really, I'm fine.

In what way, Nicholas?

Esslyn was always boasting that he'd make a great director.

Harold never gave him a chance. If you'd known...

It wouldn't have saved Esslyn's life.

Was that the blackmail deal, then?

Yes, complete control of the new theatre and the company

or exposure of the business with Agnes Grey.

Do you actually have proof of that?

Yeah. Kitty found Esslyn's disc.

It had details of all the transactions on it.

And Harold confessed in the last of his lucid moments.

Last of...?

He'll never come to trial.

Poor Harold.

Can you believe that anyone would commit murder

for the sake of the theatre?

- Dad! - Tom!

Right, the theatre it is.

- [All] The theatre.