Original subtitles

(water trickling)

(gentle music)

- Shoulda used the Redtag.

- No, no, trust me.

Killer Bug is right for the flow.

Yes!

- Gently, gently.

Delicate mouth.

- I remember watching my dad do this.

Of course, he was poaching.

(pills rattling)

- [Nurse] All right, dear?

(whimpering)

- Oh, that is so perfect.

- Look.

- What is it?

(whimpering)

(rising suspenseful music)

No, no, leave it!

(Gary wheezing)

(Gary groans)

(jazzy music)

(car horn honking)

(people whooping)

- Hang on, did you see that?

That was the drummer guy, right?

- [Announcer] We're lucky enough to have

some of the best bands around, past and present.

So, if you like rock and roll,

join us at Causton's at Midsomer Rocks Festival at the--

Hey, it's the Axeman!

(crowd cheering)

- Come on, darling, it's show time.

Hello, Midsomer!

(crowd cheering)

- [Joyce] Who does he think he is?

- Jesus. - Close.

- [Joyce] You know him?

- I most certainly do.

That the is incredibly brilliant Jack "Axeman" McKinley,

one of the great blues guitarists of a generation.

My generation.

(vomiting)

- Problem?

- The first time I saw him, he was playing with John Mayall

at the Richmond Jazz and Blues Festival.

- When was that?

- It was the year Muddy Waters was headlining.

- Of course it was.

- And then he teamed up with local heroes Gary Cooper

and Ginger Foxton, and they formed Hired Gun.

- Wonderful. (motorcycle revving)

(crowd cheering)

- I was actually at the Crawdaddy Club the night Clapton,

a very young Eric Clapton, joined them.

They did Robert Johnson stuff from the '30s.

It was wonderful.

Pure history.

- Have you seen my dad?

(Joyce laughing)

(soft orchestral music)

- [Serena] How is he?

- Sir is a little stressed today.

- Dear oh dear.

- Don't strain yourself, will you?

- Well, why don't you leave it to the gardener?

All right, all right.

- This the way to Gary Cooper's, gaff?

- What the--?!

- Gary's house?

Badger's Hall?

- It's right there.

- Ta, darling.

- A dead sheep on me tennis court,

now one of me pigs in a river?

I mean, he's trying to freak me, isn't he?

Call the police.

- But it might blur the true focus of the moment,

the relaunching of Hired Gun.

- But the bloke's trying to kill me!

- Oh, I don't think so.

- These are just rather macabre attempts to unnerve you.

Ignore them.

- What, just like that?

- We wouldn't let anyone harm you, would we, Serena?

- Of course not.

(car horn honking)

- [Desmond] Go on!

- Now, you'd better prepare to greet your old friends.

(motorcycle rumbling)

There.

The perfect gentleman.

- [Jeannie] Hey, Axe!

- [Willow] Come on, doggie, come on.

- Where's the servants, eh, Nicky?

- [Willow] Come on, doggie, time for a wee.

- Are you still deaf?

- [Nicky] What?

- Deaf, ya prat!

- Of course I'm deaf.

I'm a bleeding drummer!

- Ah!

Mimi!

(laughing)

How are you, darling?

- I'm pretty smashed. (laughing)

- No change there, then.

- Nicky!

Axe!

Guys!

Hey!

(laughing)

- Here he comes, Mr. Toad. (laughing)

- Hired Gun, they were brilliant.

They took the basic 12-bar blues format,

but within it they created

a completely new rock-blues crossover.

- That's really interesting, sir.

- There is a relevance in my reverence, Jones.

Look at that one.

That (pausing) is Ginger Foxton.

30 years ago, he disappeared.

They found his car in Lockstone Quarry,

but they never found Ginger,

hence his iconic status as rock's Lord Lucan.

- Were you running the case?

- No, you f--

How old do you think I am?

- I don't know.

I've done speed dating, not carbon dating.

- I'd just been made detective sergeant, like you now,

so I was just shadowing my boss.

But unlike you, I was making a great show

of respect and deference.

- Right, sir. - Right, sir.

Hired Gun reformed, eh?

(ominous orchestral music)

(shuddering)

- Nicky.

Nicky.

Nicky!

- What?

- You're doing me head in!

- No, and don't give Axe any grief.

Simon, how are you?

Come on, meet everyone.

I apologise in advance.

Gentlemen!

- Gentlemen? (laughing)

Are we dead already? - Yeah, shut up a sec.

- What's he saying?

- Quiet, pet! - Get on with it.

- Right.

I'd just like to say how great it is to have you all here.

And this here is our new manager,

Simon Dixon, son of our old manager,

the late great Roly Dixon.

- You were a wee sprog like a minute ago.

- [Jeannie] Hi, Simon!

- Hi. - Who?

- I just wanna say it's a privilege

to be taking on dad's greatest band ever and I really--

- I didn't even know Roly was dead.

- Yeah, unfortunately my father passed away

after a long period of-- - Hey, girlie girl!

Fill her up.

♪ Under the bramble ♪

(ominous orchestral music)

Daddy?

- What is it, pet?

- Someone's watching us.

- Who would that be?

- God.

(soft singing)

- [Nicky] She's very beautiful.

- Yeah.

- So, if it's not damaging anyone or any person,

you know, let it go, look the other way,

keep it all softly softly.

We can all enjoy the music, can't we?

Okay, best of luck.

- Sir. - Sir.

- Sir.

So, what does your flock think

of this somewhat unusual use of church lands then, eh?

- I don't care what they think.

I mean, all this will pay for a new church roof.

(laughing)

- No thanks, I'm a bit chesty.

- Testing one, two, three.

Hey, hey, Keith, Keith, get outta that tree!

- Oh, I love musicians.

They come from a different place to the rest of us.

- Indeed, they do.

- Blind Lemon Jefferson has changed my life.

- Really? - Yes.

His use of contrapuntal rhythms turned me on to madrigals.

- Yes.

A lotta people say that.

- [Nicky] I haven't put a car in a pool for 20 years.

- Haven't had a drink in 10.

Still act smashed and horrible, you know?

Keep the punters happy.

- [Nicky] And we're broke, as well.

- That Caddy?

- Yeah.

We hire it out for weddings and funerals.

That is our income.

- Do you reckon Gaz is shagging his PA?

(laughing)

What?

What?!

- [Finola] Notice to quit?

- He's chucking us off our own land!

- His land.

We sold it to him, remember?

Try to hang on to that fact.

- Well, you have to do something.

- Me?

- Well, he's your little chum.

Sort him out!

- How?

- Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something.

(soft orchestral music)

- Gary. - I'm sorry, Fin,

but I been advised-- - Have been advised.

- Sorry, have been advised that I've got to cover me--

My costs on the cottage.

- Bollocks.

- What?

- Gary, when I was 13 and welded to a pony

and you'd fled Midsomer to become the new gormless ape

on the rock scene, we were still friends, right?

- Yes.

- So, what's changed?

- Nothing.

And that's the trouble.

Your bloody husband still treats me like I'm a serf.

I want him out of my face.

- And me too?

- No, but--

- Do you want to do a deal?

I'll continue your lessons--

- Fin--

- And I'll also sleep with you.

- Jesus.

- Don't tell me you haven't been thinking about it

for the last 30 years.

I certainly have.

What do you say?

- [Hobson] Simon would like you

to look at the stage now, sir.

- I'll catch you lay-er, later.

- Afternoon. - Mrs. Harcourt.

- [Announcer] I can tell you that,

that tonight in the healing field over there,

there will be one minute's peace.

So, if you fancy one minute's peace,

the healing field is the place to be.

(ominous orchestral music)

- Lights? - Done.

- Trusses trim and safetied? - Yeah.

- And tomorrow spots on cans, please.

Health and safety are all over the place.

- Ow! - Oh God, I'm sorry.

Did I hurt you?

- Yes, bloody hell!

It's...

It's all right.

- You have to move the blood so it doesn't bruise.

- Right, you...

You know about these things, do you?

- I manage a band.

You gotta know about everything.

I really am sorry.

- Which, which band?

- Hired Gun.

You're probably too young to have--

- No, no, no.

They're...

They're my dad's favourite.

- I'm Simon Dixon, dickhead.

- Sorry?

- No, no, just Simon.

It's an inevitable nickname.

Listen, I'm...

I'm a little bit...

Do you want a backstage pass

and come to the party afterwards (pausing) thing?

(laughing)

(uneasy orchestral music)

(soft singing)

(rising suspenseful music)

(screaming)

(screaming)

(whimpering)

- [Joyce] Didn't we see them at the Marquee Club

in about 1912?

- Yes we did, but guitarists mature with age, Joyce.

Are you coming?

- Nah, I don't think so.

- But Cooper and McKinley, they're legends, Joyce.

- As are Bateson and Farnaby.

- Who?

- Madrigal writers.

Top of the charts 1623.

"Where the Daffodillies Blow."

I have a rehearsal, but you have fun.

- Cully, you coming?

- Yeah, I'll be there all weekend.

- Great! - With my friends.

- Good!

(singing)

- Dad.

Dad, Dad.

Please.

Try and maintain the gap between the generations.

(frantic electric guitar music)

(drumming)

- [Simon] Okay!

Tomorrow--

- I love olives.

- Listen, guys.

Tomorrow, we're gonna give them what they expect, pure Gun.

- How come we're on at midday?

- Get you home in time for bed.

- [Simon] It'll give you a chance to settle in.

Remember, there's a new crowd out there now.

You gotta let 'em get to know you.

- They'll be throwing bus passes at us next.

- And then Monday, we can try a couple of the new songs.

- Let's not.

- You got a problem with that?

- It's your lyrics, man!

I mean, Nicky, listen to this.

"As if waking from a dream, I'm looking in a stream."

(laughing)

- What's wrong with that?

- That's like Sim--

No, it's like bad Simon and Garfunkel.

We're a kickass blues band, man, always have been!

(blues guitar music)

- [Mimi] Here, here!

- This is my band!

- No, it's our band, man!

- Oh yeah?

Well, I'm paying the bills.

- Oh hey, right.

So, he who pays the piper, yeah?

(shouting)

- All of you, listen to me, please.

This has gotta stop.

This sort of thing's what broke you up before.

Now, you're not Floyd or Cream.

Wembley's not holding its breath.

Now, you've got a small chance of rebuilding

by doing gigs like this.

But if you can't make it through Midsomer in one piece--

- What?

- Well, let's just forget it right now.

- Yeah, let's just forget it.

I'll drink to that. (laughing)

- All going so well.

♪ As if waking from a dream ♪

- [Desmond] You should raid them!

Get out there and arrest the lot of them!

- And on what grounds would we be taking

this somewhat intrusive action?

- Drugs, of course; they're all on drugs!

- Mr. Harcourt, Gary Cooper got his MBE

for spearheading the Say No To Drugs campaign.

- PR nonsense.

- I don't think so.

- Bull's eye.

- Sitting duck.

Knocking-off time.

(bongo drum music)

- Can I arrest the bongo player?

- If you promise to break his fingers, yeah.

Good grief!

Owen?

Owen!

Is that you?

- Well, God save us.

It's young DS Barnaby.

- [Barnaby] The very same.

- Hey, looking great, Barnaby.

- And so do you, sir.

Jones, this is Detective Inspector Jenkins.

I was to him what you are to me.

- Bloody useless.

Welsh?

- Born there, brought up here, sir.

- Can't have everything.

- So, what are you doing here?

- Ah, wife died, you know, and I was hopeless on my own.

I'm at The Cedars.

I'll be there 'til they carry me out, I reckon.

(motorcycle rumbling)

- You know who they are, don't you, sir?

- Oh, I think I might have a clue.

- Oh, I'm sorry.

- [Owen] Ah, that's water under the bridge.

Anyway, come and see me soon.

- I will.

- Bye, Jones.

- Poor old Jenkins.

He had a cracking career, very good run,

until Ginger Foxton's disappearance,

and then the media decided

he was a little south of competent.

Drink?

Pint?

- Please.

- Pint please, and a scotch.

- It's the colourful locals, Nicky.

- Hey there, Mr. McKinley.

- Oh yeah, he recognises me.

I'm still famous.

- What?

- Famous!

- [Nicky] Oh, great.

- Cheers. - Cheers.

That's never an orange juice, is it?

- As if, eh?

That, my friend, is a triple voddy

with a wee drop of orange for my health's sake.

- Well, always good to have a hobby.

- (chuckling) Oh, a humorist!

Hey Nicky, we've bumped into the local wit!

And what, pray tell, sir, are your interests?

- Well, as a matter of fact, music's one of them.

- Oh!

Do go on!

- Well, I used to play it myself, and we had a--

You know, a sort of group.

- Oh, you hear that, Nicky?

In a group!

- Oh, God help us.

- You know why this depresses my friend so much?

Because everywhere we go in this miserable world,

some gadger jumps up and shouts, "Hey, I was in a group!"

I mean, do I come up to you and say,

"Hey, I was an accountant," or whatever you are?

No, I don't!

So, I suggest what you do is you butt out

and you take your group with you.

Come on, Nicky, leave it!

Can feel the tears welling up in my head.

- Couple of tossers. - I know.

- And you shouldn't serve alcohol

to people who are obviously drunk.

- Orange juice, neat.

- [Joyce] So, you can go backstage, as well?

- [Barnaby] Oh, I don't think so.

- Sorry?

- Are you sure that's a good idea?

- What?

- Well, bands, musicians.

- He's their manager.

- Well, yeah, but it's all the same thing, isn't it?

Rock and roll.

Let it go.

- Are you kidding?

- No, I'm not kidding.

- Oh, so it's all right for you to be a right old rocker,

but should your daughter want to meet your precious heroes--

- Well, that is right.

Look, I know these people.

I have an overall perspective.

You don't wanna go mixing--

- Dad.

Dad, I am going (pausing) with Simon.

I'll see you there.

Or not.

- How do I look, eh?

Lord Muck.

- Definitely

- Be for real if there was any justice.

- Blah de blah de blah.

- Brain-dead old lush.

- Ringo.

- Oi!

Don't you two start.

- Do you have everything you require?

- Yes, thank you, my man.

You may retire.

- Thank you, sir.

No thank you, ma'am.

(laughing)

- I got the stone munchies!

- I'm a farmer.

Got a place on the coast.

Do a bit of session work, but mostly I'm like something

out the Archers, you know.

- Is everything all right, sir?

- You're full of it, Hobson, aren't you, eh?

- Sir?

- All this Jeeves stuff.

Who do you think you're kidding, eh?

You've got our man on a lead here.

"Sit, Gary.

"Beg, Gary.

"Lick your own nuts, Gary."

- I really haven't the first idea what you're talking about.

- Sir.

- Sir.

(laughing)

- Thank you, darling.

Nighty night.

(laughing)

- He always was the smart one.

- You say what I say!

Somebody!

Scream!

(singing)

(pensive music)

- Do 'em good.

- [Hobson] I will.

- I've been having a bit of a rethink about the cottage.

- I thought you might be.

- She's okay.

- Of course she is.

- All right, all right, all right.

What should I do, then?

- Exercise your droit de seigneur.

- My what?

- Tenants' tithes can always be paid in kind

rather than cash.

Would you like the wardrobe door closed?

- Of course.

- Goodnight, Gary.

Sleep well.

(uneasy orchestral music)

(glass shattering) (laughter)

(jovial shouting)

- He all right?

- Oh, yeah.

(singing)

(drill whirring)

(pensive music)

(drill whirring)

(faint rock music)

(singing)

- I can smell them.

30 years, they still haven't washed.

- I'm going to be sick.

I know I'm gonna be sick.

- You all right, guys?

- I can't open.

- You always open, they expect it.

- I can't.

Axe, do Breaking Storms.

- [Axe] Ah, no way, man, no.

- I'm not opening.

- What a tosser.

- Pick a number, any number.

Mimi.

- Yeah, okay, we'll start with Mimi.

Dolls House Blues.

Can you do it?

- Hey, I'm a pro.

- Get your new frock on then, shall we, gal?

- Come on, Axe, it's gonna be great!

(soft singing)

- [Crowd] Gun, Gun, Hired Gun!

Gun, Gun, Hired Gun!

Gun, Gun, Hired Gun!

Gun, Gun, Hired Gun!

- [Jeannie] That's it, you're looking great, girl.

Come on.

This does it!

- You okay, Mimi?

- [Mimi] I'm a pro.

- Everything working, Axe?

- Yeah, cool.

- [Crowd] Gun, Gun, Hired Gun!

Gun, Gun, Hired Gun!

Gun, Gun, Hired Gun!

Gun, Gun, Hired Gun!

Gun, Gun, Hired Gun!

- I wouldn't have thought this was your sorta music.

- Anthropological interest, sir.

(ominous orchestral music)

- All right, guys.

All right, Simon.

Ready to roll?

- I think we're ready, thanks, man.

- Yeah; fantastic.

Okay, guys, have a good one, yeah?

Stay cool.

Stay sober.

- Let's do it.

- [Crowd] Gun, Gun, Hired Gun!

Gun, Gun, Hired Gun!

Gun, Gun, Hired Gun!

- Hey, Gunners!

It's been 30 years in the waiting.

Now is the time, the place, the hour.

- Relax.

- Hired Gun are shooting to kill!

(crowd cheering)

- One of rock's great drummers, Nicky Harding!

Midsomer's own, Gary Cooper!

And the greatest.

Jack "The Axeman" McKinley!

(driving rock music)

- Hello, Midsomer!

(crowd cheering)

Let's hear it for the queen of rock!

Back from the gates of hell!

Mimi Clifton!

♪ You gotta rock it in the cradle ♪

♪ Roll under the table ♪

♪ Never take it easy ♪

♪ Gotta live it nice and sleazy ♪

♪ Party 'til you drop ♪

♪ We never gonna stop ♪

♪ Got nothing to lose ♪

♪ Sing the dollhouse blues with me ♪

♪ Well ♪

♪ Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah ♪

♪ Ya ♪

(sizzling)

- What's happening? - Mimi!

- Don't touch her, Axe!

Get a medic!

- [Jeannie] Nick!

- Get a medic now!

Nicky!

Nicky!

- What?!

(sighing)

- Give us your torch.

Yeah, and yours, thanks.

Any ideas?

- It's pretty ancient gear.

I suppose they've cross-wired something.

- I don't think so.

Come on.

Now, what have we here?

Woodworm, or somebody's been drilling.

Do you suppose that someone might just

have run a live wire through that hole

and on to the mic stand?

- [Jones] Where is it now?

- [Cully] Oh, it was terrible, just standing there.

I felt so helpless.

- [Simon] Yeah, I know.

- Darling.

You all right, love?

- Yeah.

I don't want your people to leave Badgers.

And tell your colleagues

I'll speak to 'em shortly, all right?

Come on.

- Thank you.

- See, I told you, best to steer clear.

Derek!

(rising uneasy orchestral music)

- I thought you were supposed to be looking after me.

- You're fine, Gary.

- Fine?

Fine?

Geez.

- Ask Gary if he needs anything else.

- Gary?

- The light.

- Of course.

- You all right, darling?

- Fine.

Why wouldn't I be?

- I mean, yeah...

Sure, it's tragic.

Really loved her.

But whoever done it was after me.

- How'd you work that out?

- I was supposed to open on the number one mic.

- Oh yeah, I see.

- It's part of a pattern, see?

Someone's been trying to freak me for months.

- In what way?

- Dead sheep on me tennis court,

gutted pig in me trout stream,

rabbit hanging on me garage.

- But you haven't reported any of these incidents, have you?

- We considered the ensuing publicity

might be detrimental to Mr. Cooper's general wellbeing.

- Oh, of course.

- Gary is a sensitive artist.

- Gary, you got any idea who might be behind--

- Ginger.

- Ginger Foxton? - Right.

- Ginger Foxton.

Well, nobody's seen Ginger Foxton for the last 30 years.

- Oh yes they have.

Suivez moi, mate.

Right, cop this.

There, that's Ginger.

- [Barnaby] Well, that could be anyone.

- Nah, look; wait.

Watch.

Now, see his right hand?

See the ring?

That is a Hells Angels death's head ring.

He had that made specially.

That's a one-off ring.

- Where did you get this tape?

- Anonymous package.

Illegible postmark.

- I know this place.

It's Winston Chadwick, isn't it?

It is Winston Chadwick.

That's 10 minutes away from here, that.

- Well, proves it even more then.

He's back, he's been stalking me,

and now he's trying to kill me.

- Why would he do that, Gary?

I thought you two were mates.

- (sighing) Yeah, once.

Soon as we started getting anywhere,

all he wanted to do was fight.

Musical direction, money, women.

He was a nutter.

- And then he disappeared.

- Yeah.

Everybody said after the crash,

he'd just gone away and died somewhere,

but I always knew he was planning something weird.

- He took a long time getting round to it.

- You don't believe me, do you?

- It's not a matter of belief, Gary.

It's more about respect for the laws of probability.

- That is Ginger.

- And where were you the day the music died?

- In the crowd.

Not far from you, actually.

- How long have you worked for Gary?

- A couple of years.

Since he returned to his roots

and advertised for general factotum.

- Are you local?

- Reasonably.

I worked for Lord Stanwell until he died

and I was hastily set aside by his son and heir.

- But you found yourself a comfy billet here, eh?

- Coping with the whims of a self-obsessed adolescent.

Not everyone's idea of (pausing) comfy, Mr. Barnaby.

- So, your job here is housekeeper stroke secretary,

is that right?

- [Serena] Is that suspicious?

- I hope not.

Do you enjoy it?

- [Serena] It's a job.

- All right, Miss Stanton, that's fine for now.

Thank you.

- Will you be talking to Mrs. Harcourt?

She had a pretty intense discussion with Gary yesterday.

- What about?

- Gary has asked the Harcourts to vacate the cottage.

Mrs. Harcourt is taking steps to have the decision reversed.

- What sort of steps?

- You were an electrician, weren't you, as a young man?

- How'd you find that out?

- Well, that's what I do, isn't it?

That's my job, when I'm not accounting.

- Yeah.

Sorry about that.

I didn't realise you were the local man, you know?

- Oh, that's all right.

That's perfectly all right.

- See, I'm, I'm...

I'm stuck with this loony doppelganger

that pays the mortgage, you know?

So, sometimes I have to be a wee bit rude

to perfectly nice fellow citizens.

I'm sorry.

- Electrician?

- Yeah, yeah.

I'd know how to hammer the volts into a mic.

I mean, you'd just run a lead straight from the generator,

bypass the transformer, massive volts.

But I didn't do it, and I was on the stage.

- I haven't suggested you did.

- Well, I was maybe getting ahead of you.

- Mr. McKinley, do you have anything against Gary?

- Yes.

He's a pretentious twat

and he's betrayed his musical and class roots.

There.

- Where do you think Ginger Foxton is now?

- There's no way Ginger's alive.

I mean, what's he been doing for 30 years?

Living in a cave?

Gary's got a bee in his bonnet.

He's crazy, man!

So, what sorta stuff did you do?

- I'm sorry?

- In this group of yours?

- I think we ought to stick to the matter in hand.

- Merseyside covers, eh?

- No, it was not.

No, no, it certainly was not!

We followed the true blues path.

It was Johnson, Hopkins, John Lee Hooker.

- Mr. John Lee!

My man, eh?! (laughing)

(bluesy guitar music)

- Hey, go on.

Here.

(laughing)

♪ I love the way you walk ♪

♪ I love the way you talk ♪

♪ I love the way you walk ♪

♪ You're my baby, got my eyes on you ♪

♪ I love the way you twitch ♪

♪ I love the way you twitch ♪

- Wait, no, no-no, no.

Hang on a second. (laughing)

This is police investigation, it's very serious.

- Funky music white boy, eh?

- Yeah. (laughing)

- [Axeman] Hey, that was pretty dangerous in those days, eh?

- Ah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Well, life takes funny turns, doesn't it?

- Yeah, man.

- Yes, well, (laughing) I'd best be about my business.

But thank you for that.

Thank you.

(applauding)

Garden.

(chuckling)

(bluesy guitar music)

- Yeah, Ginge could still be around.

- Likely.

- He was always weird.

Always banging on about pagans and sacrifices to their god.

- Really?

- [Jeannie] It didn't mean a thing.

They were just little boys in search of a personality.

- How did you get on with Gary?

- What?

- How did you get on with Gaz?!

- The same way all mugs get on

with the people who ripped 'em off.

- Gary invested his earnings.

You pissed yours out of the window.

You were bloody lucky to be in the group anyway.

- Meaning?

- Meaning?!

Gary only kept you on for your cheeky chappie image.

- That is so not true.

- He always got a proper drummer for the recording session.

- He did not!

- He did! - He did not!

- He--

Oh, it doesn't matter.

Silly sausage. - Get off!

- Burns at point of contact.

Myocardial damage.

Tetanic muscle contractions.

The brain practically turned to soup.

Look for a heavy power source, Tom.

But I'm surprised she could even get to the microphone.

- How so?

- Filter and carburetor.

Liver and kidneys. (Jones gagging)

Completely stuffed.

Wouldn't get you around the block.

Suggest immediate trade-in.

- Different species.

- Musicians? - Pathologists.

♪ Oh mother, leave this land ♪

♪ Take me down to that promised land ♪

- Serena Stanton, Gary's PA, says Finola Harcourt

has promised to give Gary a good seeing to

if he lets them stay at the cottage.

- Did she volunteer that information?

- [Jones] She wouldn't let me leave without it.

- [Barnaby] I wonder why.

- Well, probably because she fancies him.

- That was a rhetorical question, Jones.

I'm fairly au fait with the DNA of human motivation.

- Of course, sir.

(singing)

- Roger Chapman.

Roger Chapman.

Family?

Oh, seriously.

We've got 15 minutes.

♪ Take me down to that promised land ♪

- Mimi Clifton was a huge talent

who defined a certain era of music

and will not only be sorely missed

but impossible to replace.

However, the band feels that as a fitting memorial to Mimi

they should still go ahead with their Monday--

- Excuse me.

This is a crime scene, so would you all clear the area?

Now.

Thank you.

- [Journalist] Catch you later, Simon.

- What do you think you're doing?

Well, we're a story now and I'm a manager.

- But you're going ahead without your singer?

- There's plenty of female singers.

Maybe Cully would like to audition.

What?

What?

- What did you say to him?

- Nothing.

So, what do you think?

- Well, this looks recent, very recent.

And your Mr. Axeman would have known how to rig it.

- It's all very premeditated, isn't it?

- Sir?

- Musicians function in a more left-brain impulsive manner.

This is a right-brain MO.

Somebody has thought this through very, very carefully.

- [Jones] John, this socket here.

- Oh God, what's he been saying?

- Nothing.

He's cool, just being a dad.

- Never be an only child.

- I am.

My mum took off when I was three,

so it was just me and Dad for years.

- How did he die?

- The curse of the untalented.

Those who can't play because managers,

take on everyone else's ulcers, and end up with cancer.

- So, why are you doing it?

- I guess I'm owed.

- What?

- My dad's.

Mine now.

You wanna come aboard?

(ducks quacking)

- [Barnaby] But why did you sell Burgess?

- Desmond, being workshy as well as stupid,

had lost us all of our money.

I did a very good deal with Gary.

- What was that good deal?

- If he paid us top dollar

and let us half the lodge for a peppercorn rent,

I promised to be his Professor Higgins.

- Ah.

- Men always pretend to despise

what they want to become a part of.

So, I teach him how to talk properly, which fork to use,

and how to address a duchess during sex.

Would you like me to teach you?

- No thank you, ma'am, I knows me place.

- I doubt that.

- But Gary has reneged on his deal, hasn't he?

He wants to throw you out of the Lodge.

- Below stairs is a place for uninformed gossip,

especially when that gossip comes from

a jumped-up little slapper.

No names, of course.

- Oh, of course.

Spaghetti Junction, this.

- Sir? - This place.

It's a meeting place for complex

and cleverly interwoven motives.

But which one gets us to the heart of Birmingham, eh?

- Right.

- Come on, little fella.

Get a move on.

(motorcycle rumbling)

(sizzling)

Come on, Willow.

Get a move on, darling.

(sizzling)

- [Willow] I had to find Doggy.

- Okay, darling.

(explosions booming)

(sombre music)

(flames crackling)

(soft singing)

- Willow, isn't it?

And where's your mummy?

- Where's my mummy?

Do you think I'm simple or something?

- No, no, of course I don't.

- So, why talk to me like that?

I do apologise, I just thought--

- What?

- Nothing.

How old are you?

- 12.

(soft singing)

- Hello, Mr. Policeman.

Somebody's trying to murder me.

- Or it's poor maintenance on your part.

- Not a chance!

I've nurtured and suckled that bike

since it was a wee thing.

- I reckon the pipe from the fuel tank

to the carburetor was punctured.

- No, it had been punctured.

- Which would have caused a major leak.

It only needed a spark.

- Yeah, and we would have ended up like Mimi.

So, listen, could you get this bloke before he gets us?

- Or ruins us.

Listen, pal, I need this gig.

Cash money.

Know what I mean?

- [Jeannie] I don't know what you're moaning about.

Just calm down!

- [Jones] They don't really get the respect thing, do they?

- No, they don't. - No.

- It's Ginger.

Ginger's back, for God's sake.

He's got us all here, and now he's gonna kill us one by one.

- Could I speak to you alone, please?

- Mr. Cooper prefers me to be present.

- Let me rephrase that.

- Could I speak to you alone, please?

Either here or at the station, I'm not fussed.

- So?

- So, where's the money?

- What money?

- The royalties.

- There aren't any.

We haven't recorded nothing--

Anything for years.

- Back catalogue.

- A few air time payments,

that goes straight to the accountants.

- You see, Gary, you seem to be doing all right.

- Well, I've done good.

I put away when we was big.

Property, shares, I was smart.

Call my accountants.

- According to his accountant,

Gary and Ginger's songwriting royalties

went into an offshore trust

which either of them could borrow from at 0% interest.

And Gary appears to have borrowed the lot.

- (scoffing) No wonder he's worried about Ginger turning up.

- However, if Gary died,

then his estate would have to pay back the loans

to the trust, which would then be dissolved

and the proceeds split between Gary and Ginger's heirs.

- And if there are no heirs?

- Any residual monies are to be divided equally

among surviving members of the band.

- So, everything goes to the last man standing?

- [Barnaby] Yes.

- [Jones] Who are they?

- I don't know.

They groupies?

- But what are they doing in the file?

Why them in particular?

- Now, I know this is a sensitive area for you.

- Oh, not at all, not at all.

Long time ago.

And once you take your foot off the treadmill,

it all seems a bit yesterday.

- But you do remember the case, don't you?

- Just about.

- Ginger's car goes into the quarry.

There's no sign of Ginger but a lot of his blood,

so it's assumed that Ginger has survived

and stumbled off into legend.

- Right.

"Rock star vanishes."

If it had been Joe Blow the butcher,

nobody coulda given a toss.

But as it was a bloody celeb,

I was supposed to come up with the daft bugger.

- Owen.

This was in your old file.

Now, do you remember why you kept

that particular photograph?

- Are you kidding?

I can't even remember what I had for breakfast.

Nowadays all I think about is cricket and death,

as one prepares you for the other.

- I would really appreciate your help with this.

- Oh, you would, would you?

- Of course I would.

You were one of the best.

- Well, that's true.

♪ She sold my new blue jeans ♪

- Oh, here we go. (laughing)

Big smile, eh?

No?

Wee kiss?

A knee trembler?

No fun, that fella, eh?

(laughing)

- Where are you off to?

- Landlord-tenant discussions,

unless you have any better ideas.

Fine.

- Died as she lived, falling down.

- Mimi. - Mimi.

- Ah, this is pathetic.

Let's have some proper drinks.

- No, I don't do that anymore, Nicky.

- Mimi only dies once.

- No man, I have one drink, I don't stop for months.

- Even better.

- Ah, go on inside.

Go and get us a bottle of vodka, go on!

- Yes!

- This is not a good idea.

- She's here.

Finola.

- I know.

They're having supper together.

I suggested he invite her.

- [Serena] Why?

- Better he should eat at home

where his friends can keep an eye on him.

- But if she-- - Have faith, child.

One knows what one's doing.

- Mimi. - Mimi!

How come your dad, Roly Poly,

the worst manager we ever had,

how come that fat bastard put me on such a crap contract?

- Don't you ever say a word against my dad.

- Touchy.

- It was Gary that dictated the deals, anyway.

- Gaz said it was out of his hands.

- Nothing was ever outta Gary's hands.

Mimi!

- Mimi. - Mimi.

(glasses clanking)

(phone beeping)

(phone beeping)

(soft music)

- I'm just popping out.

- [Barnaby] Where are you going?

- Simon's asked me to join him at the pub.

No, don't go there, Dad.

See you later. - Have fun.

- Why didn't you stop her?

- She's not a teenager, Tom.

Leave the poor girl alone.

(grumbling)

- Mimi! - Mimi!

(laughing)

You know what?

- What?

- I hate Gary.

- No you don't.

- I do.

He's always pissed on me.

Do you remember that bird?

- What bird?

- All the birds!

I'd bring them in 'cause I'm a nice guy

and he'd get off with them because he's the rich guy.

- Nicky, that's life, man!

- That's crap, man.

I'm gonna kill him.

He thinks it's all over.

Well, it is now because I--

I'm gonna kill him.

- Ah, geez.

Come on, better look after him, let's go.

- I've got a date.

Can you take him?

- Ah, thanks, man.

- Hello.

Had a drink, have we?

- No, just tired of being a nanny 24/7.

- Ah.

Do you work this hard at everything in your life?

- Yeah.

(moaning)

- [Gary] So...

Okay, was it?

- Gary.

An English gentleman never asks if it was okay.

He assumes his mere presence in the bed

is enough to satisfy any wife, servant, or labrador.

(laughing)

- Class traitor, you are.

- It was great.

- And was it just to pay the rent?

- Why, what else would it be for?

- Just thought there might be something more.

- How much more?

- Well, this place don't seem right

without a bit of posh ordering everyone about.

- He wants to marry the bitch!

And he thinks it's his idea.

- She's already married. - Oh, come on.

Alpha male, big loser.

What's to choose?

- I know how to handle the situation.

- You'd better.

You'd bloody better.

- [Both] We hate Gary!

- Gary is a muppet!

- Gary's a muppet!

- He's a wee muppet, that's what he is!

- [Nicky] We hate Gary!

We hate Gary!

- [Axeman] Oh, we do!

- [Both] We hate Gary!

- Shh, shh.

Nickster, is Jeannie like she was before?

- Eh?

- You know, she's like--

She goes ape if you're pissed in the bedroom.

- Oh, bloody hell.

She'll kill me!

I'll sleep in the Caddy.

- [Axeman] Good idea, my man.

(laughing)

Oh, oh, oh!

Shh.

Shh, here you go.

(laughing)

Here you go, darling.

A wee dinky blanket for the wee man, eh?

- [Nicky] I love you, Axe.

(laughing)

- Silly bugger.

- Where is he?

- He's asleep in the Caddy.

- How many?

- Enough to stun a horse.

Do you fancy a wee nightcap?

- Oh, forget it.

- 30 years, Jeannie.

- No.

(soft orchestral music)

- Daddy?

Can I get in with you?

- Shh.

It's all right, darling.

It's only your aunty Jeannie.

Your daddy and I are old friends, you know.

Rock and roll.

- [Barnaby] What you got?

- Jack McKinley's got about 500

county court judgments against him.

Mainly traffic, but there's a couple of offensive behaviours

and one for assaulting a parking attendant.

He bit him.

- He bit him?

- (laughing) Yeah.

- Hobson?

- No form.

And strangely, there's no record of him

before about 30 years ago.

- Serena Stanton?

- Said she was local.

Knew all about Causton High School,

but there's no listing of her having been there.

- Yeah, well, you keep digging.

- What's that?

- This, Jones, is something I nicked from an art dealer.

It highlights things you can't see with the naked eye.

Fentimento.

Ah.

Like that.

- [Jones] Terry...

Hailey? - Terry Hailey.

He was a hotshot photographer in the '70s.

They always keep a record of who they snap,

otherwise they can't sell 'em to the glossies.

Right, well, see if you can track down this Terry Hailey

and find out the names of those girls.

They must be in the file for some reason.

Terry Hailey married a model

who'd lived with one of the Eagles,

after they'd backed Linda Ronstadt,

but before they were big in 1972 with--

Oh...

Desperado.

- Ah. (Barnaby singing)

That should crack it wide open, then.

(birds chirping)

- Nick?

Oh, now where's he gone?

(rising uneasy music)

Oh no.

Oh.

Oh no.

No!

(slow blues guitar music)

(water dripping)

- Idiot.

Stupid bloody idiot.

- You were right.

He was five times over the limit.

But there was no water in his lungs,

so he was dead well before someone sank his vehicle.

Now, look at this.

In his mouth, two small threads.

- [Barnaby] From?

- Ah, that was the tricky one.

You see, this is totally organic.

No chemicals, no bleach, nothing, which is pretty rare.

- If we could cut to the chase?

- So, I asked myself,

what sort of people use untreated cotton?

- And what do you reply?

- Well, I had an idea so I rang a pal of mine at the BTS.

- The what?

- The British Thoracic Society,

and he confirmed my suspicions.

- Which were?

- Allergy sufferers.

So, these two threads probably came

from one of those pillowcases used by allergy sufferers.

- Thank you.

- Of course I use 'em.

I got asthma, don't I?

It's pure cotton.

Fine weave stops all the dust mites

and the stuff that sets me off.

- And I presume you have other similarly-covered pillows,

do you? - Yeah, all over the house

case I go walkabout in the night.

- Why would you do that?

- 'Cause I can.

- Where were you last night?

- Here.

- Alone?

- Yeah.

- I think what Gary means to say

is that he was alone for some of the time.

But for most of the time, he had (pausing) company.

Would you like to speak for yourself, Gary?

- Yeah, all right, all right, I had a lady here.

- Does the lady have a name?

- Finola, Mrs. Harcourt.

(knocking)

- Sir.

The blanket in the back of the caddy.

- [Barnaby] Yeah?

- There were fibres from it on your Mr. Axeman's jeans.

- Where is he?

- In there.

(pinball machine dinging)

- So?

Fibres?

Great!

I tucked the silly bugger in.

I didn't kill him!

- [Barnaby] Mr. McKinley, can we please calm down?

- Why?!

Somebody's knocking us off left, right, and centre,

and you're saying calm down!

Man, this is calm!

You don't wanna see me when I'm angry!

- No, I don't.

Last night when you left the pub,

you were legless by all accounts.

- No, no, no, no.

I was putting my stuff in the...

The thingwee.

Nicky was hammered.

Jeannie gives him hell when he's like that,

so I tucked him up in the Caddy.

Right, rug, fibres, duh!

I left him sleeping like a baby!

- And you didn't give him a pillow?

- No!

I'm not a nanny!

- And then you went to bed?

- Yeah.

No witnesses, so sorry.

- Daddy.

- What is it, darling?

- You had Jeannie in your bed.

She might be a slut, but at least she's a witness.

- Be really nice if that didn't get into the tabloids.

- [Jones] We've got him putting Nicky in the Cadillac

and banging his wife.

Not bad for starters.

- Banging his wife?

That latter, Jones, may just be,

you know, the rock and roll lifestyle.

- You don't think that maybe you're--

- What?

- Well, I know you sort of rate the guy, so maybe you're--

Well, silly idea.

- Yes. - Forget it.

- Yes.

Check the manager. - Yes, sir.

- I wasn't at Badgers.

I was keeping an eye on Axe and Nicky at the pub,

then I went and stayed on my narrowboat.

- Can anyone verify that?

- Is that essential?

- Yeah.

- I was with a friend.

- Name?

- Oh, hey Ben.

- Hiya.

(soft quizzical music)

You're kidding.

I'm leaving town.

- Well, very tragic.

Anyone's death, but, well, you know, you reap as you sow.

- You mean if you're a musician you should be murdered?

- You're willfully misunderstanding me.

Why are you here, Mr. Barnaby?

- Well, I really want to talk to Mrs. Harcourt, if I may.

- I'll leave you to it, then.

- Thank you.

- No, I'd rather you stayed.

- No, no, I really think it would be better if--

- No, it wouldn't.

Fire away.

Come on, ask your obvious question.

- Well, I was talking to Gary and he said

that you could vouch for his whereabouts

some part of last night.

- Yes.

For most of last night, I was in bed with Gary.

- Oh, woman!

- What's the matter Desmond, don't you like being a pimp?

(door slamming)

Sorry about that.

- No, no, it's fine.

Thank you for corroborating--

- Mr. Barnaby, I was born to be lady of the manor.

It's all I'm equipped for.

I want my job back.

- Do you actually like Gary?

- Yes, fortunately, very much.

And (pausing) my father had an affair with his mother,

so (pausing) he could be my brother for all I know.

- You're winding me up.

- Country ways, Mr. Barnaby.

Country ways.

- Oh, please.

- Terry Hailey had copies of all his old files.

The girls were called Jane Cameron and Ingrid Petersen.

Jane Cameron runs a model agency in Australia

and Ingrid Peterson supposedly lives at this address.

- Simon Dixon?

- On his narrowboat.

- [Barnaby] With anyone?

- A mate.

- A mate. (laughing)

Check it?

- Yeah, confirmed, yeah.

(soft suspenseful music)

- She's been with us nearly a year now.

Very little community response.

I'm afraid she may have suffered irreparable brain damage.

Through here.

- Ingrid?

It is Ingrid, isn't it?

I'm Tom Barnaby.

Can I show you something?

Yes.

That's you, isn't it?

And...

Look, Gary.

No, this one.

Gary, do you remember Gary?

- [Jones] So, I've asked them to confirm it.

- Really, Jones?

Well done!

I knew there'd be something if we dug deep enough.

Okay, leave the photo and the documents on my desk

and come get me at Badgers in an hour's time.

We have to be somewhere at 5 o'clock.

I'm just going on a little detour.

Owen.

- God Almighty, man, you could have given me a heart attack.

- Oh, I'm so sorry.

- So you should be.

What do you want?

- Owen, you taught me three things.

Number one, always keep your bloody eyes open.

So, when I see a strange white van

lurking about all over the place,

I'm gonna trace it back to you,

aren't I, in about 10 seconds flat.

- And two?

- Number two, never trust a coincidence,

like you and Hired Gun turning up at exactly the same time.

- Good, good.

Well, I'm glad you were paying attention.

- So, sir...

How's it going?

(soft suspenseful music)

- [Owen] So, what else did I always tell you?

- [Barnaby] Follow the money.

- And that's what it is here, the money.

Gary and the old manager, Roley Dixon,

screwed Ginger out of his songwriting royalties.

- That's not my information.

- Hear me out.

Now, the band all hated Ginger

because he was such a headcase.

So, Gary had a good excuse to fire him.

Ginger fakes the quarry accident,

leaves his own blood on the vehicle.

- Awful lot of his own blood.

- Yeah, so people think he got out of the wreck,

badly injured, crawled off, and died somewhere.

And the stupid police couldn't find the body.

But actually, he went into hiding, and he's now come back

and is having his revenge by killing 'em all off one by one.

Now, DI Owen Jenkins is gonna nail that bastard

and show the world I was as good as I always said I was.

- Oh, Owen.

- Think I'm nuts?

- No, no, I don't think you're nuts.

I think that you--

You have faith.

- Faith?

- Yeah, the thing that helps you make the quantum leap

from facts to fiction.

- Facts?

Oh, I'll show you facts, boyo.

Just you watch me.

Do you wanna know what Jones has found out?

- Yeah, later, 'cause I've been 30 years waiting for this.

- [Serena] This way.

- Everybody, this is Detective Inspector Jenkins

who was in charge of the original--

- Yeah, yeah, yeah, we know.

We were there.

- Here, (laughing) if it's not the ghost of failures past.

How's it going, Mr. Jenks?

- Oh, what a good memory.

- Still as useless as ever?

- Well, if you must know, Mr. Cooper, Mr. McKinley,

I think I might have solved it.

- Solved what?

- The disappearance of the rock legend himself.

I know where Ginger is.

- For God's sake.

- Is he alive?

- Oh yes, very much so.

- See?

- In fact, he's not very far from here at all.

- Crap! - Where is he?

Come on, stop jerking us about.

- Mr. Hobson, would you mind sitting down please?

- Owen. - Not now.

(slow suspenseful music)

- What the hell are you doing?

- Exposing you for who you really are.

Welcome back, Mr. Ginger Foxton.

Well, am I right or am I right?

- [Gary] That ain't Ginge.

- Yes it is.

- Nah.

Vague similarity, but-- - That's him.

Look at the hair, right colour.

- Look at the eyes, ya dipstick.

Wrong colour.

- Contact lenses.

(laughing)

I am right, it all adds up.

I've been watching you.

I saw you skinning that rabbit.

- Owen.

Sir.

Sir, you are almost right.

- What?

- Mr. Hobson is not Ginger Foxton,

but he is Ginger's brother.

- What? - Get outta here.

- James Hobson was James Foxton.

He changed his name

not long after his famous brother disappeared.

- Oh, come on, Jim, tell him this is crap.

- Aye, come on, man, enlighten us.

- Gary.

Mr. Hobson here has not only taken over

the entire running of your life, he has also induced in you

a state of extreme paranoia and dependency.

- What are you talking about?

- The Ginger tape.

I wonder where that came from, eh?

The slaughtered sheep, the gutted pig, the skinned rabbit.

- But why?

- Control, Gary; that's what he wants, control.

Create enough fear and offer salvation,

and you have the soul of your man

in the palm of your hand, don't you?

And then, of course, there was Mr. Hobson's niece.

- Don't leave now, miss.

- Niece?

- Niece, Gary.

Causton High School leavers.

Look, there's your Serena.

Fourth row back, see?

But what was the name of that girl?

Was it Serena Stanton?

Well, no, apparently not,

because the head mistress says that that was Phoebe Foxton.

- Little Phoebe? - Ginger's wee Phoebe?

- And what was she after, I wonder?

Well, I presume, her rightful inheritance,

which you so kindly have spent for her.

- Right.

- Yeah, but I didn't know.

You went off with your mum.

We forgot about ya.

- Wasn't that handy?

- Well, I'd have helped.

I'd have done anything.

And you, Jim, why all this?

I don't get it.

- You killed my brother.

- I never touched him!

- You chucked him out the band.

That was his life.

I was with him the day it happened.

Christ's sake, Ginge, slow down!

I tried to stop him.

No!

(crash thudding)

I pulled him out the wreckage.

But he was already dead.

I buried him a hundred miles away.

I loved my brother.

- But why Mimi?

Why Axe?

Why Nicky?

- Sir.

- Oh, yes.

Gentlemen, there will now be a short intermission,

but I'll be back.

Owen.

Shall we?

You sure you don't want to come along?

- No, no, no, no.

No, it's your case.

You carry on.

I'm retired now.

See you.

- Thanks for your help, sir.

- Aren't we in a hurry, sir?

- [Barnaby] Yes and no.

(slow suspenseful music)

- Do you want to tell me what we're doing?

- Another thing Owen taught me.

Never expose yourself until you've confirmed

the relative positions of your ass and your elbow.

- Right.

- We'll be fine now.

- Call if you need me. - Thank you.

Ingrid.

It's me again.

Tom Barnaby.

And this is Ben Jones.

- Hi.

- The synapses, little bridges that connect

the important parts of the brain.

There are very few still standing.

Now, Ingrid, we're going to be behind those screens

just over there, all right?

Okay, Jones.

(humming)

In there.

(softly whistling)

- That's really irritating, sir.

- Yeah, yeah, I know.

Years of practise.

- What are we waiting for?

- 5 o'clock, visiting time.

- It's two minutes past.

- Shh.

(door opening)

(soft suspenseful music)

- Mummy.

How lovely to see you.

- No.

- I made you another dolly.

- Mr. McKinley.

- How the hell did you get here?

- Maybe we should step outside for a moment.

- Daddy?

- Just going outside for a sec, pet.

You stay with your mum, okay?

- [Barnaby] It's all too much, isn't it?

- I tried looking after her on the farm,

but (pausing) she just drifted further and further away.

- So, the Axeman broke the cardinal rule

of rock and roll, eh?

Fell in love with a groupie.

- Yeah.

Man, she was beautiful.

So very, very beautiful.

- Yeah, but before she got round to you,

she'd already been damaged, hadn't she?

By your friends.

Gary dumped her, Mimi got her onto acid,

Nicky got her onto even harder stuff,

and then you came along.

- And I loved her, man.

- Yeah, and you stuck with her, didn't you?

You cleaned her up.

And she had your child.

- It was fine.

Then Willow started to (pausing) lose the plot.

Ingers blamed herself and her drugs.

So, she retreated somewhere

where they wouldn't point the finger.

- So...

Here you are, the two people you loved most in the world

irreparably damaged, eh?

- See...

There has to be some sorta retribution.

(sobbing)

Because if there isn't, none of this,

nothing, makes any sense!

And you--

You know that 'cause you're one of us.

- No, no, no I'm not.

I'm just a copper, plain and simple, whatever I may wish.

And you, sir, are a murderer, equally plain and simple.

You planned it meticulously.

(singing)

You installed the wiring the night before.

(singing)

(drill whirring)

You connected the wire to the mic stand

just before the set started.

And then you triggered the electric current

by stomping on your wah wah pedal.

♪ Got nothing to lose ♪

♪ Sing the dollhouse blues with me ♪

(screaming)

- Somebody get an ambulance!

- [Barnaby] And in the ensuing confusion,

you disappeared the wire.

Then, to deflect suspicion, you pulled the bike stunt.

(explosion booming)

- [Willow] Daddy!

- So, please, could you get this bloke before he gets us?

- I should have been onto that.

You were, weren't you?

But I had a naively idealistic view of musicians.

And then (pausing) was Nicky.

It's all too easy, really.

(soft suspenseful music)

(muffled shouting)

Nicky in his last pool.

- You don't change.

- None of us do.

- [Barnaby] And then you concoct an alibi

as sublime as it is malevolent.

- Daddy, can I get in with you?

- [Jeannie] It's only your aunty Jeannie.

- And Gary.

What suitable solution did you have lined up for him, eh?

- Stonking great drug overdose, man. (laughing)

Boy, that would have ruined his goody two-shoes image,

as well as killing the bastard.

Hey, come on.

They deserve it.

They crash through life

destroying people they don't even notice.

They don't even care.

Like you don't care.

Morality?

Redemption?

Nah.

Not on your beat, huh?

Not on your beat.

- Shall we go?

♪ Under the bramble bush ♪

♪ There was a-- ♪

(humming)

(light orchestral music)

♪ Never take it easy ♪

♪ Gonna live it nice and sleazy ♪

♪ Party 'til you drop and you're never gonna stop ♪

♪ Got nothing to lose, sing the dollhouse blues with me ♪

- Hello, Midsomer!

♪ Do the dollhouse blues ♪

♪ Let's do the dollhouse blues ♪

♪ Yeah, let's do the dollhouse blues ♪

♪ Whoa, the dollhouse blues with me, yeah ♪

Give me a drink, will ya?

(soft orchestral music)