Original subtitles

- [Announcer] 10, 99.

Take an early lead.

- Oh, no.

The world and his wife's here.

- That's kind of the idea, Dad.

Couple of drinks, though, and you won't notice them.

- Now, that's the sort of thing, Tom.

When you may be more old-fashioned and stylish.

- (chuckles) That'll be it.

Your mother thinks I need to relax more.

Weekends on the river, our own boat, perhaps.

- That's a good idea.

Do you know, there's loads for sale in the local paper?

- Is this a conspiracy?

In my job, you get 10 years for that.

- [Announcer] Congratulations to our senior gondoliers.

Next race on the water, the Veterans and Oxfords.

Attention.

(gun fires)

(water splashes)

- Right, the home team, furthest from us,

Midsomer Rowing Club Veterans.

- They're not veterans!

They're half our age, Joyce.

- [Announcer] 10, 99, take an early lead.

That they may train to be.

(crowd chatter drowns out announcer)

- [Rowing Coach] Now, heart rate down.

One, two, three, two, one.

(water splashes)

Pick it up, let's go to the line.

(man splashes into water)

- What the hell was that?

Danny?

Danny, you all right?

Danny?

- Get him out, quickly!

(solemn music)

- There's something in the water.

- I know there's something in the bloody water.

(crowd chatters)

- It's a man.

Oh my god, it's Guy.

It's Guy Sweetman.

(mysterious music)

(camera shutter clicks)

- Gentlemen, Mr. Parkway, Mr. Trent.

I'd like to see all the rowing stopped, please,

suspended until further notice.

Invite them all to a longer lunch.

That should go down well.

- Now, look here, Inspector.

Guy Sweetman was a friend of mine, a damn good one,

but the last thing he'd want is for his death

to get in the way of this regatta.

We've got a hell of a programme to get through.

- I think what he means, Inspector,

is that, well, like you, we have a duty to perform,

to the 4,000 or so people who've come for a day out.

- Why should a piffling little murder

get in the way of that?

- Precisely.

Murder, are you sure?

- Well, I don't think he hit himself on the head, Mr. Trent.

Don't worry, you'll get your regatta back

as soon as possible.

- I'm taking him back to the lab, Tom.

- Any initial thoughts?

- Yes, he's dead.

Who is he, anyway?

- He is Guy Ernest Sweetman,

chairman of the Midsomer Rowing Club, wherever that is.

- Just past the starting line.

- Sir?

- Chief Inspector Barnaby?

- Yeah?

- Clare Bonavita, the rowing club treasurer.

The boys tell me it was murder.

I can hardly believe it.

- Are you a friend or a relative, Mrs. Bonavita?

- Friend.

You know, Guy really did live up to his surname.

He was the sweetest man.

- Well, whoever killed him disagreed with you.

- Yes,

yes, some irate husband or jealous boyfriend, no doubt.

- Anyone particular in mind?

- Well, no.

Guy didn't so much play the field as the entire countryside.

- Where did he live, madam?

- Morton Shallows.

- I thank you, Mrs. Bonavita.

Right, we'll do the club first, and then his house.

- What about the press, sir?

- Press?

Avoid them.

Mrs. Bonavita, could we borrow one of your regatta launches?

(peaceful music)

- Can't this boat go any slower, Sergeant?

- That's the beauty of river boats, sir.

They slow life down, give you time to think.

- You sound like my wife.

- I'll get the drinks in, Inspector.

- If your good friend had just been murdered, Scott,

would you look so cheerful about it?

- Dad!

Dad, people are saying it's Guy Sweetman.

Well, is it true?

- Yeah.

No wonder we haven't seen him for a couple of days.

Don't worry, Het, police are on their way.

- A quick tidy-up of Guy's office might not go amiss, eh?

- Good idea, Johnny.

- I'm sorry, Het.

I really am.

- No you're not, Dad.

You're over the moon!

- Damn.

Sorry, Inspector, I didn't get the drinks in after all.

What'll it be?

- Nothing for us, thank you.

- Come meet my daughter, Hettie.

Het, Chief Inspector Barnaby.

- How do you do?

- And his, uh...

- Sergeant.

Sergeant Scott.

- Sergeant.

- Mr. Trent, how well did you know Guy Sweetman?

Rowed together at Oxford, kept up the friendship.

- Well, you would be the one to know about his private life,

then, wouldn't you?

- (scoffs) Guy's private life

is a most public affair, Inspector.

Guy Sweetman was a serial philanderer,

swore that every woman he met was the new love of his life.

The latest was called Sandra Tate.

- Is she here today?

- Um,

no, not as far as I can see,

but he has been keeping her under wraps.

- Why?

- Well, I imagine he was scared we might spill the beans.

Past loves, and all that.

Yes, you see, strangely enough,

I think Sandra was a bit special.

He even mentioned marriage at one point.

Most odd.

- Did you know him at all, Miss Trent?

- Uh, no.

Not really.

- Been any help, Inspector?

- Oh, most things people tell us are of help, Mr. Trent,

even if they don't mean them to be.

Where can I find you if I need more help?

- Hmm, well, here, during the day.

Seven Seas Restaurant in the evenings.

- I take it Mr. Sweetman had an office here,

being club chairman?

- Yes, would you care to look it over?

- Sergeant Scott would love to.

- Hmm.

It's upstairs, Sergeant.

(guests chattering)

- Sir?

- Uh,

oh, I'd like a coffee, please, if you've got one on the go.

Coffee and a chat.

Oh, I'm Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby

from Causton CID.

Vic Lynton, sir.

- How do you do?

- One coffee, coming up. - Thank you.

- Yes, very organised chap, was Guy.

- Yeah, well, he'd need to be, with a lifestyle like his.

Did your daughter have a thing with him?

- Hettie?

Why do you say that?

- Well, my boss out there would call it copper's nose.

Old fashioned, you see, I can't help it.

Anyway, did she?

- Well, I think there was some sort of...

- There you go, then.

And never trust a man with a tidy desk.

- Thank you.

- Might I give you the benefit of my observation, sir?

- I was hoping for that.

- This murder has nothing to do

with the chairman's extra-mural activities.

It's about something much closer to home.

- You're not gonna leave it there, surely?

- Moored downstream from here is a boat

called the Arabella Jane, belonging to Mr. Phillip Trent.

He, Mr. Parkway, and the chairman

had taken to meeting aboard her every Friday evening.

Last Friday,

there were words.

- What, an argument?

- A definite rumpus, sir, which I myself heard.

- What time was that?

- About 11.

It being quiet here, I'd taken a stroll along the tow path.

As I passed the boat, I heard the chairman

being verbally abused, along the lines of,

"For Christ's sakes, Guy,

"you never could be relied upon,"

and, "How dare you let us down at the last minute."

There was even, "After all the work we've done,

"I could bloody kill you," verbatim.

- Who done most of the shouting?

- Mr. Trent, sir, as per usual.

And I say this not because his credit here is under review,

I say it because it is true.

- All the same, he's got a large slate,

is that what you mean?

He's got a large slate?

How much?

- That would be a confidence too far, sir.

- So, Sweetman left the scene.

Did Parkway and Trent then go back onboard?

- Yes, yes, they did.

- Did what?

- I had a feeling,

in the way of these things,

that someone else was below decks,

trying to keep a low profile.

- Well, have you got any idea who?

- Afraid not, sir.

- Inspector, is there any chance we can crank up

the old regatta again?

- Yes, yes.

Sergeant, will you?

In the meantime,

can we have a couple of chicken sandwiches, please?

- Allow me, Barnaby.

Only members can pay here.

Yeah, usual for me, Vic,

and stick it all on my slate.

- Certainly, sir.

- It seems there was some sort of row last Friday

on board Trent's boat.

Keeps it moored down river.

Guy Sweetman, Parkway, and Trent, they all fell out.

- I could quite easily fall out with Trent myself, sir.

- Yeah, and you probably will.

What do you make of Parkway?

- Haven't formed an opinion.

- Yeah, well,

I'll bet you the other half of this very warm beer

that Parkway did a sweep of Guy Sweetman's office

very soon after we arrived.

- I saw that.

- Lynton reckons there was probably a fourth person onboard.

He's got no idea who.

They've been meeting on board that boat every Friday night

for the last two months, but why on the boat?

Why not in the clubhouse?

- I'm with Mrs. Bonavita on this one, sir.

I think there's an angry husband

or jealous boyfriend somewhere,

possibly an angry father.

Hettie Trent is also one of Guy Sweetman's,

what's the posh word, conquests?

- Well, she seems to be over it now.

- Henry?

Remember what I told you, Henry.

Long and strong, and keep your focus.

When you go past him, no settling back.

- Thanks, coach!

- Midsomer's answer to Steve Redgrave, Inspector.

- Are you his coach?

- You sound surprised.

Well, the truth is, I have no option.

Getting Parkway or Trent, or even poor Guy,

fired up enough to help was a losing battle.

- I'm told that they didn't all see eye to eye

on certain matters.

- Really?

Such as?

- Well, I'm open to suggestions.

Do you know of any reason why they should have fallen out?

- If I were you, Inspector,

I'd take what Vic Lynton tells you with a pinch of salt.

- Barmen, Mrs. Bonavita,

yeah, they know all the gossip.

- [Announcer] Attention!

(gun fires)

- [Man] Come on, Henry!

- [Announcer] Week three of the men's singles scull.

Representing High Beach is Steven Sigil,

and for Midsomer, we have Henry Charlton.

- Go on, Henry!

Go on!

Go on, Henry!

(Clare cheers)

- Hello, it's Vic again.

Any sign of Sandra?

And no message from her?

No, no, it's okay.

You're probably right, she's stopped off somewhere.

I'll phone again tomorrow.

- Sandra Tate, sir?

The girlfriend Vic Lynton mentioned,

there are no records of her

on any of the usual databases.

That's CRO, Voters Register, or the NHS.

- Well, unless we find her quick, Scott,

she's either a main suspect or another victim,

in which case, she'll bob up somewhere down river

in the next couple of days.

You got anything else?

- Yeah, according to the custody sergeant,

Clare Bonavita was also one of Guy Sweetman's conquests.

- Was she?

- This time last year, her husband, Freddie,

threatened to kill him.

Made a start by belting him on the jaw.

- Then waited a year to finish the job?

- All the same, you do wonder why

that friendly barman didn't mention it?

- "A confidence too far," Scott.

- Right then, he was killed about 2,500 metres

from where he was found, and that's based on

time in the water, rate of flow, weight of body.

He was struck on the head twice

by a piece of local stone.

Here are the bits.

Then, he was dragged to the water's edge

and held under til he drowned,

dragged through long grass,

from the state of his shoes.

- [Scott] So, where are we talking about?

- My guess is Morton Shallows, near his house.

Next question is when?

- Anytime between 10 p.m. Friday and four a.m. Saturday.

- That's just after the row aboard the Arabella Jane.

Right, Scott.

Thanks, George.

Get a team to Morton Shallows,

the whole length of the village.

If there's any signs of struggle on the riverside,

people who saw anything, the murder weapon.

- [Scott] I do know the drill, sir.

- Typical family day out, really.

We arrive somewhere, and 10 minutes later,

a serious crime is committed.

Exit the old man.

- I think he plans it that way.

- And he took the car.

- Come on, we'll walk to Morton Fendle and take the bus.

(gentle music)

That one would be too modern for your father.

He'll want brass and mahogany everywhere.

- Like that one, for example.

- It's a bit tatty, Mum.

- Nothing a coat of varnish won't cure.

- Good evening, ladies.

(Cully sighs)

- Do you think he heard us?

- No. (giggles)

- We said seven o'clock.

It's 10 past.

- Well spotted, Ivan.

Have a drink.

- I'd rather get down to business, Trent.

- Right.

Well, I was going to suggest that Guy Sweetman's death

was a blessing in disguise.

- In what way?

- It means we can carry on as if nothing had happened.

(sombre music)

- All right, then, would you like to just come with me.

Will you come over here with me?

It won't take all day.

- They reckon he was killed

somewhere down this path to the river, sir.

There was blood on the grass and gouges in the mud,

presumably where he was dragged.

- Any murder weapon?

- That'll be in the river, I should think, sir.

Shall we call the divers?

- No, not yet.

Which is Guy Sweetman's house?

- This one here, sir.

You're gonna love his nextdoor neighbour.

This is the gentleman I was telling you about, Mrs. Sharp,

Chief Inspector Barnaby.

- Oh, yes.

Ask me anything you like, Inspector.

Guy and I were great friends.

- Mrs. Sharp, did you know a girlfriend,

a ladyfriend of Mr. Sweetman called Sandra Tate?

- Oh, yes.

Yes, we were great friends, too.

- Only we're having a bit of a problem finding her.

Do you know where she lives

or where she works, perhaps?

- No.

No, no, I don't,

but she did tell me where her parents live.

Funny name.

It'll come to me during the day, I bet you.

- Can you tell us how old she is, Mrs. Sharp?

- Well, that's hard to say.

She could be more 30 than 40.

I'm not very good with ages,

or heights, if you're going to ask me that.

Taller than I am, shorter than you.

- Did she visit here often?

- Oh, yes, she moved in with Guy about two weeks ago,

then moved out again.

- When?

- Friday, Friday afternoon.

At least, I think it was Friday.

- Well, thank you.

Thank you, Mrs. Sharp.

If Sandra Tate comes back,

could you give me a call, please?

Here's my card.

- Oh, thank you. - Thank you.

Clare Bonavita said that Sweetman lived up to his name.

Pity Mrs. Sharp doesn't live up to hers.

- Ah,

the classic little black book, sir.

(pages rustle)

It's going to make interesting reading.

(gentle music)

- How do we get across, Sergeant?

- Well, one of us is gonna have to row, sir.

And the smart money's on me.

- Don't dip the oars so deeply, Sergeant.

You're rowing, not ploughing.

Henry, show him how it's done.

Any news about Guy, Inspector?

I gather he was killed sometime on Friday.

I saw him that afternoon.

- When exactly was that?

- Uh, five-ish.

He came over on regatta business.

- How did he seem?

Was he worried or distracted?

- No.

No, he was his usual flirtatious self.

Come on up to the house.

I'll make us some coffee.

- Thank you.

Actually, Mrs. Bonavita,

it isn't you we've come to see.

It's your husband.

- Freddie?

Well, I'm afraid you're out of luck.

He's gone to our villa in Malta.

- Oh, has he?

And when will he be back?

- I'm afraid he won't.

Oh, don't worry, Inspector.

It's been a perfectly amicable split,

but we have decided to call it a day.

- When did he leave?

- Friday morning.

Why do you ask?

- Because he once threatened to kill Guy Sweetman.

- Oh, Freddie threatens to kill everyone

when he's had a few drinks.

I take it you are referring to the punch up at the club?

- Yes, I am.

I imagined you were the reason for it,

you being one of Guy's conquests.

That's the word my sergeant is using.

- How diplomatic of him.

Well, all I can say is that Guy and I separated

well over a year ago.

- And was that an amicable split, too?

- Very.

- There is one other thing you could help us with,

Mrs. Bonavita.

Perhaps you could tell us why Guy and Phillip Trent

and John Parkway had taken to meeting

on board the Arabella Jane most Fridays?

- I think they were using it as some sort of committee room.

- Why not the club?

- Well, knowing those three,

they probably went on into the small hours.

Regatta business.

- Well, thank you, Mrs. Bonavita.

Thank you for your time.

- No coffee?

- Yeah, no thanks.

Must rush.

Can you tell me where I can find Mr. Parkway?

- If he's not on regatta duty, try him at home.

It's 8 The Maltings, Morton Fendle.

- Thank you.

(suspicious music)

- Hope I'm not lying for you in vain, Freddie.

- You didn't do it for me, Clare.

You did it for yourself.

You don't want them keeping me here in England.

I'm sure Henry doesn't either.

- All Henry cares about is becoming a champion.

I can make that happen for him

if I can just keep him focused.

- Well, as soon as I've gathered all my documents,

I'll be off, and you can focus together as much as you like.

By the way, much as I dislike Guy Sweetman,

I didn't kill him.

Hats off to whoever did, though.

- [Announcer] And now for the men's pairs,

gone best and drifting downward.

- Go on, Midsomer!

- [Announcer] Attention.

- Oh, come on. - Come on, John!

(gun fires) - Come on, Midsomer.

- Come on, Midsomer.

Good morning, Het.

- Come on, Midsomer! - Come, Midsomer.

- Dad, I've been meaning to ask,

have you found a house yet?

- Um, no.

No, the old regatta's rather gotten

in the way of all that.

You still happy at the flat?

- Very, yeah.

I was just thinking about going on holiday

for a couple of weeks, if that's all right?

- Well, absolutely, yes.

- Bit of a problem, though.

The usual one.

- Oh, blimey, Het.

What do you do with it all?

- Same as everyone else, Dad, spend it.

- How much this time?

- Well, 800 would cover it.

- Bloody hell, I should hope so!

Where are you going?

- Well, I was gonna go to Bali,

but if you're going to be stingy about it...

- No, no, it's just that things have been

a bit tight lately.

The Arabella Jane needs tarting up

and your mother's been gnashing her teeth again.

- Oh, Dad, tell her to shove it.

Her new boyfriend's loaded.

- Yes, he also happens to be a solicitor, love.

Leave it with me.

I'll sort something out.

- Thanks, Dad.

(gentle music)

- The Maltings.

Very nice, too.

Hello, Mr. Parkway.

- Good morning.

- Hey!

- Oh, that's an ex-pupil of mine.

I lent him some money, and, well,

good as his word, he's paid me back.

- Money for what?

- For the bike.

(bike revs)

Come in, please.

- Thank you.

What's his name?

- David, David Cooke, with an E.

- Have you got an address for him?

Save me looking one up?

- Why, don't you believe what I've just...

No, I don't know where he lives.

Please.

- Thank you.

- He works at Midsomer Sawmills, up at Morton Woods.

Terrible thing about Guy.

- Yeah.

- The last man who deserved it,

in spite of his faults.

- Tell me about his faults.

- Well, actually, only the one, that I'm aware of, women.

- There was a row on board the Arabella Jane

on Friday night.

The four of you fell out.

- You make it sound like a real bust-up.

We only had a...

Besides, there weren't four of us, only three.

Myself, Guy, and Phil Trent.

- What was the row about?

- Well, Guy had forgotten to recall last year's trophies,

so some of them won't be presented on Saturday.

Something and nothing, really.

I mean, the club has always been immensely proud

of its attention to detail, but,

well, I guess we overreacted.

It's hardly a hanging offence.

- Nor is murder, Mr. Parkway,

but it isn't quite so easily glossed over, is it?

- Teacher, pupil, money changing hands?

What's all that about?

I don't know, but whoever the fourth person is,

they're not too keen for us to know

about him or her, are they?

- Yeah, why not?

- Let us into the secret, tell us what they're really up to,

because, sure as hell, they didn't fall out

about un-returned trophies, did they?

(crowd cheers)

(water splashes)

- [Clare] You rowed a good race today, Henry.

- [Henry] Thanks, coach.

I can't say it was that much trouble.

- You going out?

- Yeah, just to Causton, couple of hours.

- Who with?

- No one in particular.

You should go out, too, Clare.

- Henry, listen to me.

I never wanted to be a governor of Causton College.

I was sort of drummed into it,

and I certainly never thought that I'd find

a champion rower in the making.

- Look, it was a lucky break for me.

I mean, without your support and coaching,

I couldn't have done any of this.

- That's part of it, yes,

but the rest is down to hard work and dedication.

- I have worked very hard.

- I saw them there today, Olympic scouts,

and they're not here for the beer.

They're looking for potential champions.

I'm not saying you have to do full workout,

but I do think that you should have a decent meal,

stay off the booze, and get an early night.

- You're the boss, coach,

an early night it is.

- [Phil] Hello?

Anyone at home?

- Come in, Phil.

- Congratulations, young Henry.

Damn good show today.

- Thank you, Mr. Trent.

- What can I do for you, Phil?

- Well, I'm afraid it's the same old story, Clare.

The good news is that Freddie will be getting it back.

- How much does she want this time?

I take it it is for Hettie?

- [Phil] 800.

She wants to go on holiday, Bali.

- When I was her age, I'd never even heard of Bali,

let alone taken a holiday there.

Look, I'm not exactly rolling in it myself at the moment.

Anyway, why does Hettie need a holiday?

(Phil scoffs)

It's nothing to do with Guy Sweetman's murder, is it?

- How do you mean?

- Well, he did dump her rather brutally.

- Oh, no, now, hang on, Clare!

I mean, she may be a spoiled brat,

but she's not a murderer.

- No.

No, of course not.

Sorry.

(solemn music)

(dishes clatter)

(window squeaks)

(gentle piano music)

- This is my way of apologising for yesterday.

You don't mind if Scott joins us, do you?

I'm trying to domesticate him.

- No, not at all.

- This way, please.

(Clare knocks at door)

- Henry?

(door creaks)

(gentle piano music)

- Thank you.

Would you two ladies excuse us for a minute, please?

- What for?

- Won't be a sec, promise.

Scott?

- Ah, gentlemen.

- Mr. Trent, sorry to trouble you, sir,

but we're having some difficulty finding an address for you.

All we get is care of Midsomer Rowing Club.

- Well, that's because I'm between houses, Sergeant.

Looking, but not finding.

Camping on the Arabella Jane meanwhile.

- And working here?

- Oh, well, I wouldn't call this work, Inspector.

No, this is a labour of love.

Keeping my hand in, well, both of them. (chuckles)

- Do you take requests?

- Yes, yes, what would you like to hear?

- Your explanation of the row aboard the Arabella Jane

the night that Guy Sweetman was murdered.

- I don't like the way

you put those two things together, Barnaby.

Guy forgot to recall the trophies from last year.

Now, it may not seem like much to you,

but the committee's always been immensely proud

of its attention to detail.

- And it was just the three of you on the boat, arguing,

no one else?

- Yes, me, Guy, John Parkway.

- Thank you, sir.

I know something,

they made up that story about the trophies.

He used exactly the same words as Parkway.

- You mean they've always been proud

of their attention to detail?

- Immensely proud.

I don't like Mr. Trent.

I wonder why.

What's he up to?

- Dad, this was supposed to be a quiet evening out, family.

- You know who that chap is, Cully?

He owns the boat we were looking at yesterday evening.

- You know, Scott, while he's playing that piano,

I fancy a shufti at the boat.

Won't be long.

- Sorry.

(bird caws)

(dishes clatter)

- That is the biggest mousetrap I've ever seen.

(gentle piano music)

- Bills, credit cards, bank statements.

What does that say to you, Scott?

- That he's up to his neck in it.

Most of these are at the limit.

- And not a sign of an estate agent's brochure.

Is he really between houses or simply homeless?

- Come and say hello to the rats, Henry.

They're very friendly.

- [Henry] The rats, oh my god.

- Don't be so soft, they won't hurt you.

He's got rid of most of them anyway.

- [Henry] All right.

But supposing he comes back unexpectedly?

- I told you, he's at the restaurant,

slaving away for our holiday money.

- Oh, that's another thing.

You can forget about Bali,

your old man can't afford it.

- Who told you that?

Come on.

- He came to see Clare this evening before I left,

asked her for money.

She must be loaded, they're all doing it.

John Parkway's touched her a couple of times.

- Well, he's a teacher, he's bound to be skint.

Come on.

- [Henry] Het, you're gonna laugh at this,

but it's the rats.

They're the one creature I can't abide.

- Not such a tough guy, after all, then.

Fine, let's go back to mine.

(Scott sighs)

- Sir, you are the luckiest man I've ever worked for.

- Well, let's hope it lasts.

Scott, tomorrow morning,

I want you to go to Clare Bonavita's house.

- What for, sir?

- Well, if Clare Bonavita has lent Trent and Parkway money,

she'll know the state of their finances, won't she?

I'd like to know them, too.

- Do you think it's got a bearing on the murder?

- Scott, two men who are broke have a row with a third man,

who's dead two hours later.

I see definite possibilities.

Go on.

(gentle music)

(water splashes)

- [Announcer] Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.

Welcome to semi-finals day.

The opening race is the first semi-final

of the men's single sculls.

Representing Midsomer Rowing Club

is Henry Charlton in lane one,

and lane two is Jeremy Ryan of Blue Lagoon Rowing.

(Scott knocks at door)

A reminder that the champagne

and men's bar is already open.

For those of you who like to get an early start,

light refreshments can also be found in areas

such as the lawn and courts.

(suspicious music)

Attention.

- Come on, Henry! - Go, Henry.

- [Man] Come on, Henry!

(gun fires)

(crowd cheers)

- Come on!

(crowd cheers)

- Aren't you supposed to be in Malta?

- Aren't you supposed to be a policeman,

not a house-breaker?

- Your door was open.

- Since when is that a reason to just walk in here?

- I'll tell you what,

we'll answer each other's questions

down at the police station, shall we?

- I'm not going to any police station.

- Oh, yes, you are, of your own free will or under arrest.

And bring your passport.

(water splashes)

- Why are you going to Malta, Mr. Bonavita?

- Back to my roots.

- Those boxes on your living room table,

are they going with you?

- Business records, nothing more.

Would you like to go through them?

There's only about 100,000 documents there.

- I think we should do that, given your police record.

What is it, fraud,

malicious wounding, ABH,

that latter so serious it got you five years.

- A long time ago.

- You run a finance company, don't you, Mr. Bonavita?

Crusader Holdings?

Have you ever lent any money to Phillip Trent?

John Parkway?

Guy Sweetman, even?

- All three, against my better judgement .

They're Clare's friends, not mine,

and she appealed to my better nature.

- How much did you lend them?

- To be honest, I can't remember, exactly.

I think Guy needed 30,000,

Phil Trent, 50, and Johnny Parkway, two, three.

- Have they paid you back?

- Guy and Phil should have done by now,

but I shan't hold my breath.

Is this to do with Guy Sweetman's murder, by the way?

- Possibly.

You see, my sergeant thinks he was killed

by a jilted lover or an angry husband.

That'd be you, too, wouldn't it?

- But you disagree with him, by the sound of it.

- Well, I did, until now.

Why did your wife lie to us?

Why did she say you'd left the country when you hadn't?

- I asked her to.

I didn't want you digging into my past,

coming up with reasons to keep me here,

which you seem to be doing.

- You threatened to kill him, didn't you?

What was that about, jealousy?

Injured pride?

- Neither.

- Only my next question was going to be

how do you cope with Henry Charlton?

I mean, he's moved in to your house,

and your wife seems very attached to him.

- The fire went out of our marriage years ago.

That's why I'm leaving.

No hard feelings, no broken bones,

just end of the road.

So, if you think I killed Guy Sweetman out of jealousy,

you're mistaken.

(crowd chatters)

- Thank you, Vic.

- My pleasure, madam.

- You wanted to talk about Henry?

- Yes,

yes, the semi-final.

- Another notch on his gun belt, hey?

- He only just won, you know,

and he should have left the other boy standing.

Now, I'm not saying it's your fault in any way,

but he didn't come in until two o'clock this morning.

- Had you waited up?

- I heard him because he was drunk.

This is not the way to become a champion,

and Henry is a potential champion.

- Out of whom you'll make a fortune, Clare.

You know, maybe there's another reason you're doing it.

Something to do with the years passing,

and men like Guy Sweetman dropping you

at the first sign of a wrinkle.

- And what did Guy Sweetman ditching you

so unceremoniously prove?

- Guy and I had our fun, and then went our separate ways.

Me to Henry, and him to Sandra Tate,

the new love of his life,

the one he was actually going to marry.

Try and keep up with the gossip.

Or have you and Henry just been too busy for that?

- [Announcer] Attention.

(gun fires)

(gentle music)

- That's the one, Scott.

Pull in over there.

- Can I help you?

- I do so hope you can, sir, Mr.?

- Stevens. - Mr. Stevens.

I'm Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby from Causton CID,

and that is Detective Sergeant Scott.

- Ah, morning.

- This way.

I don't know when this room was last used, Inspector.

It could do with a dust and polish.

- Ah, yes.

Yeah, that's perfect.

And thank you, Mrs. Stevens, for letting us use it.

- I'm chair of the local River Watch, as it happens.

Anything to help.

So, what's the form?

- Well, there'll be someone here round the clock,

starting this evening.

- I expect Sergeant Scott'll want to take the first watch.

- Oh, yes, of course.

And if we could use the bathroom,

that's really all we need.

- I'll put some fresh towels in.

- If I remember rightly, Morton Woods,

is that west from here?

- Out the front door, straight up the lane facing you.

- Morton Woods?

David Cooke, sir?

But the car's on the other side of the river.

- Bit of exercise, Scott, do you good.

(birds chirp)

(saw buzzes)

- [Scott] Good afternoon.

We're looking for David Cooke.

- Up there.

- David Cooke, with an E.

I'm Inspector Barnaby, with a Y.

Why did you rush away

from John Parkway's house the other day?

- I was late for another appointment.

- Oh, yes, well, you look like a man with a full diary.

He was going give you some money, wasn't he?

The money in his hand?

- No, you've got that wrong, mate.

- He was holding 500 quid, at least.

That's a lot for a teacher.

- And blackmail is a crime, David, as I'm sure you know,

but I will set that to one side

if you tell me what you've got on him.

- What do you mean?

- Has it anything to do

with the murder we are investigating?

- Murder?

What, has he murdered someone?

- That is what I am asking you, David.

Do you know something I should know?

- No, I don't know, what you're talking about.

Leave me alone, all right?

I'm done, and I want a solicitor.

- Oh, what you want, really, is a bloody good slap, mate.

- [Barnaby] Sergeant?

- Some other time, perhaps.

(ominous music)

(phone clicks)

- It's Vic again.

Has Sandra turned up yet?

Well, you're her bloody parents, for God's sake.

What are you doing about it?

That's not good enough.

- Do you know anything of Guy Sweetman's history,

Mr. Parkway?

- Well, before he came to Midsomer,

he sold agricultural machinery in Suffolk.

Being Guy, he was found in bed with the M.D.'s wife.

Then, he came here and went to work for Summerley's.

M.D.'s a bachelor, so no pitfalls.

- And he was still working for them, was he, when he died?

- Yeah.

Probably not the life he would have chosen,

but then, that can be said of most people.

- You included?

- Actually, no.

By some curious stroke of fate,

I'm doing the job I always wanted to.

- You're happy in it, are ya?

In spite of a brat like David Cooke with an E,

blackmailing you?

- You've got that wrong, he isn't.

- Yes, he is.

You tell me why, and I'll stop him.

(John clears his throat)

- I was 19.

My parents didn't have any money

and I wanted to go to Loughborough.

It seemed impossible.

Then I saw an advert in a magazine,

wanted for specialty film.

Young men, fit, clean, and presentable.

I applied and got the job.

- A specialty film, a so-called adult movie?

- Yes.

By today's standards, of course,

it's as tame as a teddy bear.

In fact, it's almost laughable.

If I was in any other job, it wouldn't matter,

but I'm a teacher of young children.

- Were many copies made?

- Oh, no, it was hardly "Emmanuelle".

David Cooke's father has a copy.

- Oh, is it David Cooke's father, not-

- Oh, no, no, it's David who's blackmailing me.

Entrepreneur in the making.

He was such a nice little boy, too.

- Okay, I'll be in touch.

- This makes the last one.

Been after him for days.

Hi.

- What did you want to see me about?

- Well, dad and daughter stuff, really.

- [Scott] Where are we going, sir?

- To see Mr. Cooke with an E.

- Oh, good.

(Scott's knuckles crack)

What's wrong?

- Scott, there will be no violence on my watch.

- Oh, I was just- - None whatsoever.

- Yes, sir.

- It's about the holiday, Het.

I'm afraid the old money is a wee bit tied up at the moment.

Try me again in a couple weeks' time.

- You know me, Dad, I probably will.

- There was something else.

The police, I mean, well,

Barnaby's not just your average country plod is he?

- Hadn't really thought about it.

Why?

- Het, he will get round to you.

I mean, what you had with Guy,

the thing you had together.

Where were you Friday night?

- Well, it depends when on Friday.

Dad, it isn't the police that want to know, it's you.

- Yeah.

- You think I had something to do with Guy's death.

- Of course I don't.

Did you?

(Hettie scoffs)

Het, wait, look, I just want you to be ready for them.

- Well, thanks, Dad, I will be.

(suspicious music)

(Barnaby knocks at door)

(dramatic music)

- What do you want?

- The tape, please.

- What tape, what are you talking about?

- The tape you've been blackmailing Mr. Parkway with.

I could ask your father, if you prefer.

Or doesn't he know what you've been up to, eh?

Perhaps I should tell him.

Is he in?

- No.

They've gone to the regatta.

- Then the tape, please.

Go with him, Sergeant.

And bear in mind what I said in the car.

- After you, Mr. Cooke.

- "This highly desirable craft

"is in the process of refurbishment."

In other words, it's a wreck.

"It offers accommodation in economical form."

You can't swing a cat in it.

"As a vessel"-

- Cully, you said you were going to help.

- I will, I will.

- [Barnaby] Hello!

- [Joyce] Hello, Tom.

- There you are.

- Cup of tea? - Yes, please.

Thank you.

Oh, I spy boats.

Some of them marked.

- Yes, I think we ought to go and look at one,

when you've got time.

- That's fair enough.

Take your thumb off the price.

(phone rings)

- Are you in?

- No, I'm not, not unless it's Jocelyn, the solicitor.

- Hello? - Mum says you'll haggle.

- Yes, yes, he is.

- [Barnaby] I'll arrest the man for extortion.

- It's Jocelyn, the solicitor.

(ominous music)

(camera clicks)

(Barnaby knocks at door)

- Oh, sir.

- Scott, how goes it?

- Well, Phillip Trent's just gone onboard, sir,

but then, he would if he lives there.

Have you got anything on your end?

- Oh, yes, I just spoke to Guy's solicitor about the will.

- Did he leave you anything, sir?

- Strangely, no, but he did leave Sandra Tate something,

his house.

- Why would you leave your cottage to a woman

you've known for less than a month?

- Well, she was the great love of his life,

wasn't she, Scott?

Trent said he was gonna marry her.

Point is, it puts her right at the very top of our list.

- All we've got to do now is find her.

Hello.

John Parkway showed up.

(camera clicks)

Anyway, why are you here, sir?

- It's a generational thing, Scott.

I've brought you some cake and some coffee.

I thought, you know, growing lad, peckish.

- Thank you, sir.

I'll make sure I eat it before the relief turns up.

Did Mrs. Barnaby make this?

- I wouldn't do that to you, Scott.

(Phil sighs)

- Where's Ivan?

- Having second thoughts?

- Don't think so.

He needs this more than we do.

- It's not so much that you've stopped me

smacking David Cooke, sir,

but, well, you've bent a few rules yourself.

We broke into the Arabella Jane, didn't we?

- Well, that, Scott,

that was the proper prosecution of a legitimate inquiry.

Whereas you, thumping Cooke with an E,

that would be personal.

- And me breaking into Freddie Bonavita's house?

- That was for the good of the investigation, too.

I mean, look what you found.

Freddie Bonavita, plus the fact that his wife lied for him.

- Hey, someone else has shown up.

(suspicious music)

Who the hell is that?

- Don't know.

That's the man Vic Lynton told us about.

The fourth man.

(camera clicks)

- [Scott] Sir?

- Oh, I'm sorry.

I must have nodded off.

- That custody sergeant knows everybody in the world,

and then a few more.

His name is Ivan Hawkins, sir.

He owns a jewellery shop in Causton.

- Is he known to us?

- Yeah, CRO gives him form back to 1982,

theft of 12 Cartier watches.

Oh, and there's a repossession order on the shop.

He hasn't paid his mortgage.

- And this man was meeting Guy Sweetman and the others

aboard the Arabella Jane?

- All four of them in debt,

three of them to Freddie Bonavita.

Would you want to owe him money?

- He did say he didn't expect to see his money back,

didn't he?

- Yeah, he may have lied to us, sir.

- What are the doing on the boat?

Do you think we are looking at an insurance scam, Scott?

How about that for a theory?

They were planning to rob Ivan Hawkins.

Still are, and with his collusion.

When, though?

- Well, this week's a pretty good bet, isn't it?

I mean, half Causton's pissed every night,

and we're stretched to the limit.

(ominous music)

- Guy?

Guy?

(door handle squeaks)

Guy, is that you?

Oh, Mrs. Sharp, you gave me a shock.

- It's Sandra, isn't it?

Yes, yes, of course it is.

Oh, dear.

- What's wrong?

- [Mrs. Sharp] Oh, dear.

- Anything overnight?

- No, sir.

The Arabella party broke up at about two.

They all went their separate ways.

- Barnaby.

Oh, Mrs. Sharp.

We'll be right over.

Sandra Tate's turned up.

(gentle music)

- Mr. Barnaby, I've told her about Guy.

- Didn't she know he was dead?

- Not just dead, Inspector, murdered.

- So he was.

- [Sandra] Inspector Barnaby?

- Yes, thank you, and this is Detective Sergeant Scott.

Ms. Tate, I'm so sorry that you had to learn

about Guy's death in the way you did.

- Who did it?

- Well, we don't know yet.

- One of those dreadful rowing club people, I expect.

- Do you have anyone specific in mind?

- Any one of them.

They're a cliquey, immoral bunch of self-serving...

I'm sorry, I shouldn't lead off like that.

- Ms. Tate, did you know that Guy

had made a will in your favour?

- Yes, I did.

- Leaving you this house?

Nice little nest egg.

- And it therefore follows that I killed him for it?

Please.

- People have been murdered for less.

- Plus, we began to get a bit worried

when we couldn't find any official record for you.

- I was born and brought up in France, Sergeant.

That's where I've been for the last few days, Deauville.

- I said it was a funny name.

- If you'd looked under my married name,

you'd have had more luck.

- And what is that?

- Lynton.

My ex-husband is the steward at the rowing club.

- Yeah, we know him.

- Or we thought we did.

- Good luck, you.

- Puts it about a bit, our Henry, doesn't he?

- An expert speaks.

- Come on, Midsomer!

- [Announcer] Where Midsomer takes on Morton Fendle.

- Go! (gun fires)

(crowd cheers)

- Go on, Midsomer!

Great start.

- Sir? - Mr. Lynton,

you are now what I call a strong possible

for Guy Sweetman's murder.

We've just met your ex-wife.

- You mean Sandra's turned up?

- Yes.

- Thank God, how is she?

- She's upset, as am I.

Why didn't you tell us you'd been married to Sandra Tate?

- You didn't ask me, sir.

- You can see our point, though.

Your wife gets off with Guy,

how does that make you feel?

Jealous, angry enough to kill him?

- I was delighted with the arrangement.

I have always wanted what was best for the ex-Mrs. Lynton,

and the chairman was one of the best.

- You were out there on the tow path

the night he was killed.

Did you follow him home, brick him over the head?

- I came back here to finish my tour of duty.

- This, let's try this for size.

The day we first met, you weren't so much

pointing the finger at Trent, but away from Sandra.

Why was that?

Did you think that Sandra had killed Guy Sweetman?

Or is that another confidence too far?

- Coffee, sir?

- Yes, please, sir.

And put it on Trent's slate.

- We're supposed to closing cans of worms, sir,

not opening them.

Now we've got Sandra Tate alive and well

and dissing members of the club.

- Not to mention her being left Guy's house in his will.

Did we ever do a CRO check on Lynton?

- Yes, sir.

Vic Lynton, staff sergeant, Royal Artillery,

stationed at Karlsruhe,

left the army five years ago, married, then divorced,

no children, no police record, lives in Causton,

on his tod, keen fisherman.

- Well, he's certainly played us.

- [Scott] Well, if it's not a jealous husband, sir,

it's an ex-lover.

- [Barnaby] And who is the next conquest on the list?

(doors slam)

- It's like coming home.

- You must live in a very strange house.

- Miss Trent, Hettie,

we'd really like to know where you were

on the night Guy Sweetman was killed.

- At the club, til three in the morning.

- With who?

Henry Charlton?

- Yeah.

We took a taxi home.

You can ask the driver, if you like.

- How organised are you?

Or should I say, prepared?

- I prefer organised.

- The thing is, Hettie,

you're in Guy Sweetman's address book,

along with about 500 others,

and we're asking them all how it was.

So, how was it for you?

- Look, can we do this somewhere else?

I'm due for a coffee break in about five minutes.

- How did your dad feel about you and Guy?

- He didn't like it.

I never thought he would.

- Did he try and stop it?

- He wouldn't have dared.

And he's not the murdering type,

if that's what you're getting at.

- And when are you off on holiday?

- I don't know who told you about that,

but it's been cancelled.

Apparently, Dad isn't as well off as I thought.

- Guy Sweetman was also in debt, did you know that?

- I was his girlfriend, not his bookkeeper.

Now, if you'll excuse me,

I really should get back to the shop.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

I seem to have forgotten my wallet.

Would you mind paying the bill?

Thanks.

(playful music)

(ominous music)

(courier knocks at door)

- All right, all right.

(Sandra screams)

- [Mrs. Sharp] Sandra?

(Mrs. Sharp screams)

How is Sandra?

- She's still unconscious, I'm afraid.

That's why I need to talk to you.

Can you describe her attacker for me?

- It was a motorcycle courier.

- And who do we know with a motorcycle, Scott?

- Henry Charlton, David Cooke.

What did he look like, Mrs. Sharp?

Leathers and a helmet?

- I believe they have to wear a helmet these days.

- Yes, they do.

What colour was it?

- I'm not very good with colours.

Dark.

- Well, you've been very helpful, Mrs. Sharp.

- I think you're a bit young to be watching this.

- Where has this come from?

- This?

Some oik is using this to blackmail one of my suspects,

the suspect playing the lead.

(woman on TV moans)

- Is that him?

- That's him.

Early night?

(Joyce laughs)

- [Announcer] Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.

Welcome to the Midsomer Regatta.

It's finals day, the culmination of the regatta season

and the Olympic selection at the ambition of the lucky few,

so we can promise you some top-class racing

involving the very best of our athletes.

The weather is set fair, the water is good,

and the committee on to a day to remember.

(gentle music)

Attention. (gun fires)

(ominous music)

(camera clicks)

(cell phone rings)

- Barnaby?

- Sir, Trent, Parkway, and Ivan Hawkins

have just left the Arabella Jane.

Trent went back for his car keys.

- Right, I'll meet you at the shop.

- Sir.

- Pull in, Phil, will you?

- For God's sake, Parkway,

you should have had one before we left.

- I can't do this.

- Jesus, talk about timing.

- Did I hear you all right?

- I'm sorry, I can't go through with it.

- I knew you were flaky, John.

Guy was flaky, too.

And look what happened to him.

- Don't threaten me, Phil.

There's no need, I won't be going to the police.

- Get out.

(crowd cheers)

- They'll go through the back, sir.

There's a place to park and it's not overlooked.

- Well, there's no one left to overlook them is there?

All down the regatta.

Have you posted a lookout?

- He will call us.

- [Barnaby] Good.

(water splashes) (crowd cheers)

(suspicious music)

(cell phone dials)

(crowd applauds)

(keys jingle)

- [Announcer] And now, our final event, single sculls.

Tony Ford for Hatcher in lane one,

Henry Charlton for Midsomer in lane two.

(crowd cheers)

Attention.

(gun fires)

(crowd cheers)

- How's he doing?

- Fine, fine.

- [Hettie] Come on, Henry!

- What?

- I'll do the rest.

- Steady!

(crowd cheers)

- Come on!

- You want to go over your story again?

- No, no, I'm fine with it.

- Feet together.

Yeah, it's not totally convincing, is it?

- [Ivan] What isn't?

(Ivan groans)

- When you're asked,

you can say that's how I got the combination.

(water splashes)

And that one was for luck.

- What the--

(crowd cheers)

(glass shatters)

(gate squeaks)

(jewellery jingles)

- Pull now, pull, Henry!

Come on, come on! - Come on!

(crowd cheers)

(Ivan groans)

- Come on!

- You bastard, Trent!

(crowd cheers)

You absolute bastard.

- Well, it's certainly a point of view.

(crowd cheers)

- [Announcer] It was on to the final tie

for the men's single scull.

The winner, Henry Charlton, Midsomer Rowing Club,

by the verdict of a length and a quarter.

- Mrs. Bonavita?

- Yes.

- We understand you're Henry Charlton's coach.

- Yes.

- May we have a word.

- Well done!

You did so good.

- Fantastic race, Henry.

- Oh my god.

- Well done, I knew you could do it.

- Let's have a win.

- Here are the Olympic scouts, do you hear that?

- Really?

- Henry, these two gentlemen

are from the British Olympic Committee.

- [Henry] Hi.

- Very well sculled, Henry.

Very well done, indeed.

- Thank you so much.

I really appreciate you coming.

- [Announcer] Time through for the men's single scull final.

Congratulations, Henry Charlton.

(upbeat jazz music)

- The robbery,

you pulled out at the last minute, didn't you?

- En route to it, yes.

- Wise move.

- I wasn't afraid of being caught, Sergeant,

so much as facing the kids I teach.

- There's only one thing on this tape

you could be arrested for, it's your mullet haircut

and the flares you wore briefly in the first scene.

But, though I agree,

school governors might see it differently.

Look, this might be an excellent time for you to tell us

what the row aboard the Arabella Jane was all about.

Oh, it's not the honour among thieves thing, is it?

Don't you be so stupid.

They're in custody,

and we've been two steps ahead of you all week.

- Guy came aboard the boat that Friday.

- [Phil] A drink?

- No, no, I'm afraid I have some bad news.

- What's wrong?

- I'm calling the robbery off.

I'm sorry, I know you were all depending on it.

I was, too, but--

- You may want that, Sweetman.

That doesn't stop the rest of us.

- Oh, yes, it does.

If it goes ahead, I shall inform the police.

(Phil laughs)

- You're serious, aren't you?

- [Barnaby] And the row went on from there?

- Trent was furious, wouldn't let it go.

Lynton was there with his dog.

- [Phil] After all the work we've done,

I could bloody kill you!

- I mean it Phil, that's an end of it.

- For Christ's sake, Guy,

you never could be relied upon.

Trust you to let us down at the last minute!

(suspenseful music)

- [Barnaby] And two hours later, Guy Sweetman was dead.

- Yeah.

- Did he give any reason why he was pulling out?

- No, although I think I know why.

He'd told Sandra Tate about the robbery.

She didn't like it, said she wouldn't marry a thief.

- And he pulled out on her say so?

- Out of character, I know, but that's what I believe.

- If that's right, sir, that means Sandra Tate

knew all about the robbery.

Is that why someone tried to kill her?

- More to the point, will they try again?

- Oh, Barnaby?

(suspicious music)

- The other day,

you didn't tell us about the robbery, did you?

- Yes, I should have done, I know,

but I didn't want you to think badly of Guy.

I'd every reason to believe the robbery had been called off.

- When did you give him the ultimatum?

- Friday morning.

The day he was killed, and I meant it.

If the robbery had taken place, I'd have left him.

- [Barnaby] What happened afterwards?

Do you know where he went?

- Yes, I do, and who he meant to see.

- Sir?

Vic Lynton has entered the building.

(Lynton groans)

- [Barnaby] What are you doing here, Mr. Lynton?

- Visiting my ex-wife, sir.

Is it a crime?

I didn't know that.

- Vic?

- [Vic] You're back with us.

Thank God.

Who did this to you, Sandy?

- That's what we're here to find out.

(motorcycle engine rumbles)

- Oh, Barnaby, listen,

how much longer are you going to keep me here?

I mean, I've got a problem with confined spaces.

- Have you?

Well, in that case, as long as possible, Mr. Hawkins.

Now, will you please tell us

about this pathetic excuse for a robbery?

- Well, isn't it obvious?

This man, who I now know to be Phillip Trent,

came to my house in a balaclava and threatened me.

If I didn't take him to the shop, he'd kill me,

then kill the missus, who's down at her sister's.

So, I cooperated.

(Barnaby laughs)

What's so funny?

- This is you going on board the Arabella Jane

on Wednesday night,

and this is you leaving again.

And this is you this morning.

- And who's that with you?

Oh, look, it's Mr. Phillip Trent.

- [Constable] The prisoner said he was hungry, sirs.

Said he missed his breakfast.

- [Barnaby] Yes, all right, Constable.

- [Constable] The condemned man ate a hearty one.

- Condemned.

I shouldn't count your chickens.

Furthermore, I asked for ketchup.

This is brown sauce.

- Mr. Hawkins has very kindly given us his account

of this morning's remarkable events.

May we have yours?

- What, so you can play us off against each other?

(laughs) You'd be lucky.

And where's my solicitor?

- Why was John Parkway aboard the Arabella Jane with you?

Given the fact that he didn't take any part in the robbery?

- Solicitor.

S-O-L-I-C-I-T-O-R.

(footsteps clunk)

- Oh, I wasn't expecting you to be here.

- Well, here I am.

How does lobster Thermidor sound?

- Well, it sounds like a celebration.

- It wouldn't be a proper celebration without

a bottle of, ta-da.

You thought I'd be out celebrating

with Hettie Trent, didn't you?

Well, maybe you're right.

Maybe she's not the girl for an Olympian after all.

Oh, what do you think?

- Well, I always knew you'd see sense one day.

- To the best coach a man could have ever had.

- Here's to the future you deserve, Henry.

- Cheers.

So, Italy, here I come.

- I thought it was Bali?

And I thought it was all off.

- No, not that, training camp.

John, the scout, said I was a dead cert for the team,

but could I pack up and go

and meet the others by next Friday?

- Well, what about me?

- Well, you'll get to stay here.

That's what you always wanted, wasn't it?

- How do you know what I've always wanted?

- Well, I know what you said.

- You don't get it, do you?

This was never about me staying here.

- Well, I can't have two coaches.

They're offering me the best in the world.

The best for the best, John said.

- What about all the work that I've put in?

- Well, I'll always be grateful,

but, I mean, let's face it.

We were just getting too close.

That's why I was able to stay out late and muck about,

get drunk with Hettie.

I won't be able to do that

with the likes of John overseeing.

- Will you shut up about John?

- Sorry.

Dinner will be an hour.

- Well, it's all yours,

and I hope it chokes you.

(cards flick)

- So, going back to the David Cooke thing,

sir, were you blackmailing John Parkway with his own tape?

That was--

- For the good of the investigation.

- There's one other thing that bothers me, sir.

- What's that?

- Every time you deal, I get a really lousy hand.

- Well, that is pure coincidence.

(motorcycle engine hums)

(suspenseful music)

Vic, Vic!

Lights!

- You can hit that as much as you like,

it's an NHS bolster.

Scott!

(crowbar clatters)

- Sergeant Scott recons this is all

about good old fashioned jealousy.

I've always thought it was about money.

What's your opinion,

because you're the one who knows.

- I'd say life is never as clear cut as you both imagine.

- Maybe not, but I think I'm looking at

an irate spouse or jealous partner,

the very words you used

on the day we found Guy Sweetman's body.

I told you, Guy was a friend.

- He was more than that.

You were a conquest of his, weren't you?

And then he ditched you for a precocious,

grabbing, silly little girl, Hettie Trent.

- That was Guy, anything in a skirt.

- And then, he meets Sandra Tate and he falls for her,

hook, line, and sinker.

- Don't give it so much dignity, Sergeant.

She was just one more in the line.

- Oh, no, she wasn't.

Because unlike any of the other women he knew,

including you, she could tell him what to do.

She told him to call off the robbery, and he did.

Was the robbery your idea, Mrs. Bonavita?

- You tell me.

- I will, it was.

I think you're a very high-maintenance lady.

I think you've been very expensive to keep,

and once in Malta,

Freddie wouldn't have to do that anymore, would he?

- Freddie's left me the house.

Do you know how much it's worth?

- Yes, I do, but it's in the company's name.

You can't get any capital out of that.

So, you went to Guy Sweetman with a plan,

a plan to rob Ivan Hawkins.

Collect the insurance money, sell the stolen goods,

but Guy pulled out, at Sandra's insistence.

- He let me down, Inspector.

In more ways than one.

That night, I went to his house.

He wasn't there, so I waited.

Guy?

Guy, I really need to talk to you.

- No point, Clare, I won't budge.

- Well, what's happened to make you lose your nerve?

- I haven't lost my nerve, I've had a change of heart.

- I really need that money, Guy.

- You'll manage somehow.

I must've been mad to even contemplate--

- Who's been getting to you?

Some new girlfriend with a righteous streak.

Has she got money?

- No, but her parents do.

More than that, Clare, she puts you in the shade.

I mean, fancy falling for a beautiful young thing like that

when I could have you for the asking?

(ominous music)

(Guy grunts)

- Then, I dragged him down to the river.

(Clare groans)

(Guy grunts)

(water splashes)

- Heat of the moment stuff, was it?

- Yes, yes, you could say that.

- So, why did you try and kill Sandra Tate?

- Two reasons.

She knew all about the robbery,

and would tell you all about it, as I'm sure she has done.

- And the second reason?

- She spoiled my life, Inspector.

- Made in the 1960s, mahogany skin, brass fittings,

in need of some refurbishment,

being sold for personal reasons.

- Which means they'll take an offer.

- (scoffs) Might not take mine.

- Mr. Tapley said number 17.

- Well, here it is.

Look.

- Hey, that is Phillip Trent's boat.

Can I tell you about the personal reasons?

- Well, we should at least have a look at it.

Come on!

- All right, all right.

- I don't think it needs too much work, Tom.

- Bit of a clean, bit of varnish here and there.

- It'll need new curtains, of course,

and new upholstery.

- Mr. Tapley says the engine is just fine.

- Well, Mr. Tapley would, wouldn't he?

- I can see us now,

way up river, and then we'll park, moor, the boat

at one of the Midsomer villages

and we'll go round the antique fairs,

maybe a farmers' market.

Oh my god.

- Mum, what?

(mysterious music)

- Thank you.