Original subtitles

(birds chirping)

(dramatic music)

(dial clicking)

(leaves crunching)

(handle clicking)

- Cheese. (camera shutter clicking)

- You get out of the way.

I'm trying to photograph this tree.

- So am I, so you'll just have to wait.

(camera shutter clicking)

Oh yes, got a real cracker here, Lionel.

One for the Annual Exhibition, I reckon.

Your heap of junk hasn't got a prayer up against this baby.

- Get out of my way.

- God, I'd love to give you a good thumping.

- Help yourself.

Why don't you finish me off while you're about it?

After all, you're the one who ruined my life, aren't you?

- Don't be pathetic.

- Oh, you can forget about the Annual Exhibition.

The Committee has decided not to accept

digital images this year.

- What?

What?

(lively music)

(car engines humming)

(door bell tinkling)

- Would I be right in thinking a 1/30th at f22, Sebastian?

- Spot on, Dad.

(car engine humming)

(camera handle clicking)

(car door clicking)

- I wanna talk to you, Madrigal.

(bell ringing)

- What the hell are you playing at?

- I want to talk to you about the Annual Exhibition.

- There's five seconds, Dad.

- Will you kindly move?

- Three, two, one, time, Dad.

(camera shutter clicks)

- Dammit, Bright, you know perfectly well

I have to expose the film at nine o'clock precisely.

- What's this nonsense about digital photos

not being eligible for the Annual Exhibition?

- It was the unanimous decision by the Committee.

- The Committee?

You mean you and those old farts

who hang around in your junk shop?

You lot wouldn't know a good photo

if it jumped up and bit you on the bum.

(door bell tinkling)

- Did you see that?

Extraordinary behaviour, extraordinary.

- You'd better sit down, Headley.

You look a bit shaken up, old mate.

- The man's a psychopath.

(car tyres screeching)

- What was he on about anyway?

- Not being able to show digital photographs

in the Exhibition.

- [Both] Morning, Sonia.

- Ah, there you are, my dear.

Is there the slenderest possibility of tea, do you think?

- Headley, make it yourself.

I am going into Causton to do the shopping.

Seb, you can come with me.

- No, he can't, he's helping me in the shop.

You stay here, Sebastian.

- Help you?

Do what?

You're not gonna get any customers.

- He has to learn the business, hasn't he?

- Oh, ho, ho, the business.

I'll be better off without him anyway, the useless article.

Haven't you two got anything better to do

than hang around here all day?

Men, useless articles. (door bell tinkling)

Good morning, Philomena.

(door bell tinkling)

- Oh hello, Philly.

You off?

- Yes, Dad, just came to say goodbye.

- Leaving your poor father to fend for himself, Philomena?

- [Philomena] Only till Friday.

- Oh, I can look after myself, can't I, Philly?

- How's the course going?

- [Philomena] It's all right.

- Book-binding, funny old thing to be doing these days.

Wouldn't have thought there was much call

for it in the digital age.

- Please, Edward, do not use that word on these premises.

- So I'll maybe see you Friday, Seb.

- Maybe, dunno.

- Make some tea, would you, dear boy?

Come in to the office, you two.

I've made my decision about the poster

for the Annual Exhibition.

- Bye, Dad.

- [Lionel] Wish me luck.

- It's a great photograph, Dad, one of your best.

(gentle music)

(door clicking)

- Can I ask you something, Seb?

- Okay.

- Are we actually going out or not,

'cause I'm a bit confused?

We spend all this time together but we never, you know...

You don't seem interested in--

- I like showing you my photographs.

- Is there someone else, Seb?

Is it serious?

I see.

Well, good for you.

Bye then.

- I'll maybe see you, Friday, yeah?

- Yeah, maybe see you Friday.

(door bell tinkling)

- You had a run-in with Steve Bright as well,

did you, Lionel?

- Yes, while I was shooting my favourite oak.

We almost came to blows.

- Must be tricky for you, Lionel,

living in the same village and so on.

Bright's the reason your missus ran off to Spain, isn't he?

- Now then, water under the bridge, Edward.

Ah, here we are.

I've cut the shortlist down to two,

and I'm happy to say that both the photographers

in question are present today.

Edward, what can I say?

This photograph is everything I would expect from you.

You are without question the finest photographer

of domestic animals in the South East.

- Cheers, Headley.

- Yeah, it was a close-run thing, let me tell you,

but in the end, I had to go with Lionel.

Lionel here has been photographing

the trees of Luxton Wood for 20 years now.

- 22.

- And in my humble opinion, that dedication,

that commitment, sings out in every detail.

So here it is.

The poster for the Luxton Photographic Society

Annual Exhibition.

- Well done, Lionel.

Richly deserved, old mate.

- Thanks, Eddie.

- Look at that, eh?

Look how the light glows.

A moment, a light-filled moment,

passing for a fraction of a second

through the finest glass,

to be captured forever on a wisp of silver nitrate.

No batteries, gentlemen,

no microchips, and no damn pixels.

(lively music)

- Do you know, it suddenly occurred to me.

I see Tom every day in the office,

but he's never met Imogen (laughs).

Anyway, I thought we'd deliver

the wedding invitation personally.

- We'd love to come to the wedding,

and it's lovely to meet you at last, Imogen.

Isn't it, Tom?

- Yes.

- Harry Kitteridge is coming, Tom.

I'll stick you on his table.

You two can chat about old times, eh?

Anyway better be going.

Got a meeting with the caterers.

Thank you very much indeed for the drink.

- [Joyce] You're welcome.

- It's great to have met you both.

I've heard so much about you.

- Oh, Tom, did you get my e-mail?

I've got this report to do on restructuring

for the Chief Constable.

I'd value your input.

- Oh, the e-mail, yes, of course.

- Great, okay, catch you later, yeah?

Come on tiger, let's go.

- [Julie] Bye bye then.

- Bye. - Bye.

- E-mail, what e-mail?

- Oh don't worry, I'll sort it.

All he wants is some management guff about staffing levels.

- How do policemen like Martin Spellman

ever find the time to catch criminals, eh?

- What a lovely couple.

- Anyway, I'd better be off.

I'll see you tomorrow.

- Bye, Ben, nice to see you.

What's wrong with you?

- I'll stick you on Harry Kitteredge's table.

You can talk over old times.

Harry Kitteridge is 75 years old if he's a day.

Spellman obviously believes I'm the same vintage.

- Don't be silly, of course he doesn't.

- Well, he's no spring chicken himself, you know.

This is his third marriage.

Talk about a triumph of hope over experience.

- What about this?

I think we should go.

- Go where?

- The Luxton Deeping Annual Photographic Society Exhibition.

We're invited to the private view tomorrow evening.

- Oh, must we?

- Yes, we must.

You need to get out more, Tom.

(lively music)

(car doors thumping)

(crowd murmuring)

- And, there's early morning clouds (murmuring).

- Maybe I could coax you to come down to the studio,

have a look at a couple of shots in a grouping.

Some people think that it's a bit aggressive,

but I think that it's more of a laugh.

It's more of a kind of (hisses), kind of.

It was quite hard getting him to stay there with the paws,

as you can see he's sort of got his little claws

just caught up in there.

(man laughing)

(men murmuring)

- Those are mine.

I've photographed every meal I've eaten

for the last 10 years.

- They're all very similar.

- I have the same meal, veggieburgers and peas.

This year I've switched from tinned peas to frozen.

The change in colour has been really exciting.

- I can imagine.

Oh may I have another of those?

- Ladies and gentlemen.

Ladies and gentlemen.

(man shushing)

Thank you, thank you.

Welcome to the 78th Luxton Deeping

Photographic Society Annual Exhibition.

The Society was founded by my grandfather, Casper Madrigal,

with the aim of promoting the art of film photography.

That is to say, photographic images

produced without the intervention of computers.

(crowd laughs)

- [Woman] Exactly.

- Fine examples of which can be seen

on the walls all around you.

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

Those old farts over there would have us

living in the 20th century forever.

Well, this is the 21st century, folks,

and times, they are a-changing.

That's why we've formed the Luxton Digital Camera Club,

as of today. (crowd booing)

Join us, and join the 21st century.

- Show some bloody manners, Bright!

This isn't the time or the place.

- It's the tree-hugger.

Give us a smile, Lionel.

(camera buzzing)

(crowd laughing)

(camera buzzing)

(crowd shouting)

(camera shutter clicking)

Come on.

Come on, Bell.

Come on, Bell.

(camera beeping)

- [Man] I don't think you're allowing to do that in here.

- [Steve] The battery's run out.

(crowd laughing)

- His battery's run out.

- I'll get you one of these days, Bell.

That's a promise.

- [Man In Crowd] Ooh.

(crowd laughing)

- Useless articles.

- This is a lot more lively than I thought it would be.

(dramatic music)

What is that?

- You tell me.

- Hey, that's not in the exhibition.

- [Tom] Where on earth did that come from?

- What does this mean, Tom?

Who is that woman?

- [Tom] I don't know.

- It's Mom.

- My God, you're right.

It's my wife.

(camera shutter clicks)

- I can assure you that this photograph

was not selected for the exhibition.

- Well, I've never seen that woman before in my life,

let alone kissed her.

- Of course you haven't.

The image has been digitally manipulated.

- You can tell it's digital.

The lack of depth, the dodgy skin tones.

- Look at the shadows on your face compared to hers,

two different light sources, you see.

Two separate photos put together on some damned computer.

- And the woman is your wife?

- Yes, she lives in Spain now.

- Ran off with her yoga instructor.

He's what, 15 years younger than her, Lionel?

- Someone has gone to considerable lengths

to play a prank on you, Inspector.

- Steve Bright and his mates, obviously.

Do you know any of them?

- No, no I don't.

- Who invited you to the Private View?

- I don't know, I assumed it was one of your friends.

- Well, I assumed it was one of your friends.

- Well, I would like to apologise to you both

on behalf of the Photographic Society.

- And they say the camera never lies.

- The cameras don't lie.

People do.

- People with computers.

- Someone at Luxton Deeping bears a grudge obviously,

someone you arrested once upon a time,

and this is their way of getting back at you.

Tom, hello?

- Joyce, I know who this woman is.

- You know her?

Why didn't you say?

- Because I've only just recognised her.

Last time I saw her was 30 years ago.

Then, she used to be called Marion Nicholson.

I went out with her, once or twice, before I met you.

- This doesn't look your type.

- No, no, well that was part of the reason

why it only lasted for umm...

- Yes?

- A month or so,

five, six months.

- Took you a long time to work out she wasn't your type.

- Aha, she dumped you.

- Well, I mean I can't remember, it's 30--

- (laughs) I got you on the rebound.

- It's not, it's not funny.

- What's funny is you never ever mentioned her before.

- Well, Joyce, there wasn't really that much to mention.

- Can I ask you something, Tom?

- Well, yes of course, what?

- Are you absolutely certain you haven't seen

this woman for 30 years?

- Look I've told you, I'm absolutely sure.

- What an eventful evening.

We should go out more often.

(dramatic music)

(dial clicking)

(birds honking)

(leaves crunching)

(handle clicking)

- Is that you, Bright?

(yelling)

(camera booms)

(car engine whirring)

- [Ben] Sir.

(car doors thumping)

- Strangled by the cord of his light metre

by the looks of it.

And not too long ago, I'd say.

- The woman over there found him

when she was walking her dog.

His name's Lionel Bell.

He lives in the village with his daughter.

- Does she know?

- Not yet, sir.

The wife lives abroad.

- Yes, Spain.

I met Mr. Bell the night before last.

- There's a coincidence.

- I knew his wife, once, a long time ago.

- Hello, what's this?

Something in his mouth.

- [Tom] What's that?

- Looks like a memory card from a digital camera.

- Well whatever's on it, I want prints as soon as possible,

and let's get the film from his camera developed as well.

- Sir.

- And now, well better go see the daughter.

- I'll get back to you as soon as I can, Tom.

- Thank you, George.

- [George] Let's get him bagged up.

- So you met the victim?

- Yes, I did, and it was at an exhibition

the local photographic society were putting on.

He got into some kind of altercation with another fellow.

- What about?

- Dunno, it shouldn't be hard to find out though.

There were 50-odd witnesses apart from me.

- The last time I saw Dad was yesterday morning.

I stay with friends in London a couple of nights a week

'cause I'm doing a book-binding course.

But I spoke to him yesterday.

When I'm in London, I phone him every night.

- How did he seem?

- Fine, except...

- Except what?

- When I got back today, I found that.

He must've had a visitor last night,

but he didn't mention it when I rang him.

It's the sort of thing he would've told me.

- Did he have many visitors?

- No, not really.

He didn't socialise much,

especially since Mum, since Mum left.

The only people he saw were Headley Madrigal

and Eddie Carfax, from the Photo Soc.

The only time he was truly happy

was when he was in the woods, photographing the trees.

- We can come back and talk later if you like.

- [Philomena] It's okay.

- Philomena, your dad seemed to of got into some sort

of confrontation at the Private View

with a man called Steve Bright.

Do you know what all that was about?

- It was because the Photo Soc had banned

digital photography from the Exhibition.

Dad was just, you know, annoyed

that Steve Bright ruined the Private View.

- All right, all right Philomena.

That'll be all for the time being.

Jones, can you find the SOCO,

and get the bottle and the glasses bagged for forensics.

- Sir.

- Philomena,

do you still keep in touch with your mom then?

- No, not really.

- And you haven't seen her since she went to Spain?

- I don't like her boyfriend much.

You used to know her, didn't you?

- Yes, yes I did.

But it was a long time ago.

- When you knew her, was, was she happy?

- I think she was, yes.

But as I say it was a long time ago, Philomena.

- My friends call me Philly.

- Uh huh, right I see.

Yeah, thanks, got that.

This Steve Bright lives just outside the village

on the Causton Road.

- Does he?

Let's have a chat with Lionel Bell's mates

first though, shall we?

Come on.

Jones, something peculiar happened at this Private View.

- The bust-up between Bell and Bright?

- No, there was a photograph.

- Well, it was a photography exhibition, wasn't it?

- Yes, a photograph of me.

- Oh, fame at last.

- A very embarrassing photograph.

- Lionel was a dear, dear friend

and one of the finest photographers of trees

I've had the pleasure to meet.

Though he may have earned his daily crust

as a quantity surveyor,

but at heart, he was a true artist.

Let me anticipate one of your questions, Inspector.

Did Lionel Bell have any enemies?

The answer must be a most emphatic no.

- Well, he didn't seem to be getting on very well

with Steve Bright at the Private View.

(door thumping)

- A difference of opinion

about photographic techniques, that's all.

- Don't talk rubbish, Headley.

They couldn't stand the sight of each other.

It was nothing to do with photography.

(speaking in foreign language)

as they say.

- Could you be more specific?

- Steve Bright was chasing Marion Bell

for years. (camera shutter clicking)

- Tittle-tattle, my dear, idle gossip.

- Steve Bright will chase anything in a skirt.

- Steve was a complete pest.

Marion told me herself.

- Mind you, Marion thought everyone fancied her.

You couldn't say hello without her

reading something into it.

Well, you'll know what I mean,

being an old boyfriend of hers.

- Anyway, you are surely not suggesting that Steve Bright

was in any way connected with poor Lionel's untimely demise?

- Young hooligans from Causton, more like.

- Muggers roaming the woods, high on drugs.

- Yes, yes, Mr. Carfax.

Obviously, we'll take all possibilities into consideration.

Now Mr. Madrigal, when did you last see Lionel Bell?

- Sunday morning, here in the shop.

The Photo Society usually convenes on a Sunday.

- And you Mr. Carfax?

- The same, I reckon.

- Mrs. Madrigal?

- Yes, he was here on Sunday with this lot,

eating and drinking me out of house and home.

I was very fond of Lionel.

He was a nice man, and he took jolly nice photographs,

(camera shutter clicking)

unlike some people (sobbing).

(camera shutter clicking)

(door slamming)

- What about you?

When did you last see Mr. Bell?

- Um, the same on Sunday.

- So no one saw Mr. Bell last night?

- Last night?

No, why do you ask?

- Because he had a visitor.

They shared a bottle of wine.

- Well, it wasn't me.

I was at home.

- [Sebastian] I was in the darkroom

downstairs. (camera shutter clicking)

- Wine doesn't sound like Lionel.

Decent pint at the pub, single malt whiskey at home,

that was Lionel.

- Yes, that was Lionel all right.

May he rest in peace.

- [Ben] So this woman you were photographed with--

- [Tom] I was not photographed with her, Jones.

It was digitally manipulated to look as if I was.

- This woman you weren't photographed with,

you didn't tell me you went out with her.

Carfax said you were an old boyfriend of hers.

- Yeah, well it was a long time ago, Jones,

and god, she was lovely.

- So, you come across this fake photograph

of the pair of you,

and three days later her husband is murdered.

Bit of a coincidence, isn't it?

- That's one way of putting it.

(car engine whirring)

(door bell tinkling)

- Terrible days we live in, terrible.

Work will be our salvation, Sebastian.

- Absolutely, Dad.

(camera shutter clicking)

- So get thee to the darkroom.

By my calculation, you are at least two weeks

behind with the nine o'clock photos.

- Okay, but first I'd better box up the 28 millimetre lens

for the bloke in Yorkshire.

- Don't trouble yourself.

He no longer requires it.

He phoned yesterday.

He said he...

- He said what, Dad?

- He said he'd found one on the Internet.

- If we had a website--

- Don't even mention it.

- Okay, okay.

- Never, not while I still draw breath.

- [Steve] You're joking.

- I'm afraid not.

- What was it, heart attack?

- We're treating Mr. Bell's death as suspicious.

- What you mean he was...

Wait a minute, you don't think it had anything

to do with me, do you?

- We're talking to people who knew him, that's all.

- And you and Mr. Bell,

you weren't the greatest of friends now, were you?

- Oh, come on.

- No, you come on, Mr. Bright,

and tell us about the violent argument

in the woods a few weeks ago, and the confrontation,

shall we call it, at the Private View?

- There was a little harmless rivalry

about the Photo Society, that's all.

- "I'll get you one of these days, Bell, that is a promise."

I heard you say that to him,

that doesn't sound very harmless to me.

- I never said that.

You must have misheard me.

- Wasn't the rivalry about something

other than photography, Mr. Bright?

- What's that supposed to mean?

- [Ben] Was there something going on

between you and Bell's wife?

- Not that again.

- Not what again?

- Look, Marion had a thing for me, what can I say?

- So you didn't have a relationship with Mrs. Bell?

- No way, she's 15 years older than me,

and a nutter to boot.

- Are you married?

- Not anymore.

I'm a single man now and loving every minute of it,

thank you very much for asking.

- Mr. Bright these photographs,

they're digital photographs aren't they?

- You bet.

- And you process them, what, on that computer?

- Process them?

I can make them turn somersaults

and sing "Jerusalem" if I want.

That's what Headley Madrigal and his cronies don't get.

It's not about taking a photograph anymore.

Anyone can take a photograph.

It's what you do with it afterwards that counts.

- As with the so-called photograph of me and Marion Bell.

- That wasn't down to me.

- Mr. Bright, where were you

between say seven and 12 this morning?

- In Manchester at a trade fair.

I just got back.

- What do you do for a living?

- Fitted kitchens and making shed loads since you ask.

And if I wasn't, I'd be doing this.

I could turn professional tomorrow

if I wanted to, no trouble.

That's what Headley Madrigal and his mates can't stand.

It's jealousy, pure and simple.

(dramatic music)

- [Tom] Check the Manchester alibi.

- Sir.

- He's not telling us everything, is he?

And he lied about what he said to Lionel Bell.

"I'll get you one of these days," he said.

I heard him say that.

(cell phone ringing)

- Jones.

You what, say that again.

Okay, thanks, yeah.

They've found a diary on Bell's body.

There's an entry for last night.

- The mystery visitor?

- Apparently so.

- Who was it?

- You, sir.

(dramatic music)

(slow dramatic music)

(pipes banging)

(hammer tapping)

(pipes thumping)

(door knocking)

- [Sebastian] It's okay, come in.

- [Headley] Have you finished?

- Not yet.

- What's this, biscuits?

What about the nine o'clock photographs?

- I'll do them later, chill, Dad.

- I will not chill.

The nine o'clock photographs are a unique social document,

a visual history of Luxton Deeping,

the Madrigal Archive.

- I know, I know.

- Sebastian, now that poor Lionel is no longer with us,

I need you more than ever.

He was my ally, my one true friend.

- What about Eddie?

- Edward is a good sort, I grant you that,

but is he a true believer?

I have my doubts.

Your mother saw him coming out of that shop

in Midsomer Market.

- QuikPix?

Perhaps he was buying film.

- Film?

QuikPix do not stock film.

They are exclusively digital.

It breaks my heart to think it,

but Edward may have succumbed.

(door thumping)

- Ah Jones, look, look, look.

Looks like his handwriting, doesn't it?

- Yeah.

- So what was on the memory card in Bell's mouth?

- These.

- Oh.

Well, we need to find out who she is and who took these.

- Well, it wasn't Lionel Bell, he was a film-only man.

These were taken with a high quality digital camera.

- The same kind that Steve Bright uses.

- Yeah.

- So Stephen Bright must be the first person we go to.

What about the film in Bell's camera?

- Trees.

- Trees.

- No sign of a murderer, unfortunately.

- Morning, chaps.

I hear you've got a juicy one down in Luxton Deeping, eh?

- Looks like, yeah.

- Wish I was working on it

instead of writing this damn report.

Ah, Ben, a little bird tells me

you're collecting for the wedding present.

- Yeah.

- Can I just say the espresso machine is still up for grabs?

- [Ben] Oh, thanks.

- What?

- The fingerprints on the wine glasses.

They've found a match.

- That was quick.

- Do you want to know why it was quick?

- Yes, I want to know why it was quick.

- The prints on one of the glasses are yours.

I assume you weren't at Lionel Bell's on Sunday evening.

- No, of course I wasn't.

- Or any other evening?

- No, no.

- So how did your prints end up on one of his wine glasses?

(dramatic music)

- Because it wasn't one of Lionel Bell's glasses.

The photographic exhibition, Jones,

they served wine, a very dodgy chardonnay.

Someone could've picked up my glass there.

- Well, how come Bell's prints aren't on the other glass?

- Bell wasn't a wine drinker, remember?

Check the bottle.

Maybe it's the same chardonnay

they served at the exhibition.

- Will do.

- They've gone to a lot of trouble, haven't they?

The fake photograph, the diary, the fingerprints.

Someone's really got it in for you, sir.

You'll have to tell them about this upstairs, you know.

- Yes I know.

- Three, two, one, time, Dad.

- Thank you, Sebastian.

- Morning all.

The work goes on, I see.

- It's what Lionel would have wanted.

Cup of tea, Edward?

- Wouldn't say no.

Here, let me give you a hand.

Mom saw you coming out of QuikPix.

- Oh God.

And she told Headley?

- 'Fraid so.

- Damn.

- You haven't started you know what again, have you?

- Of course not.

(dramatic music)

Hello, what's this?

(door bell tinkling)

They're coming.

- [Steve] I want a word with your old man.

- Dad?

- What is it?

What do you want?

- I've had the police round, haven't I?

- So have we all.

They are investigating the brutal murder

of my dear friend Lionel, in case you'd forgotten.

- Yeah well, they've got hold of some nonsense

about me and Marion Bell.

- The tawdry details of your private life

are of no interest to me.

- Well, someone's been wagging their tongue,

and I reckon it was one of you lot.

It's ancient history,

so just leave it out in future, all right?

All of ya.

- I do not appreciate being harangued and intimidated

on my own premises.

Now kindly leave.

- Keep your hair on, Headers.

- Sebastian, see these gentlemen out.

(door banging)

- I know what a stirrer you are, Carfax.

So just keep it buttoned.

There are plenty of tales I could tell about you.

You too, Seb.

- Is that the new D2X?

- Yeah, here, have a go.

12.2 megapixels.

- 12.2, my god.

- You wouldn't believe the resolution.

Borrow it for the day.

Go on.

(slow dramatic music)

- Sebastian.

- You'd better go.

(door bell tinkling)

- So you think they're going to take you

off the investigation?

- Yes I do.

Well in the circumstances,

I don't think they've got a choice.

- But you're not a suspect.

- No, no, of course I'm not a suspect.

- Any news of Marion Bell?

- No, there isn't.

Tried to phone her in Malaga, but there's no answer.

- That's odd.

- [Tom] What's odd?

- Dear Mr. and Mrs. Barnaby, as valued customers,

we would like to make you this special offer.

The Golden Hinde Hotel.

Have you been there?

- No.

- Me neither.

So how come we're valued customers?

- Well, it's just a mail shot, isn't it?

(doorbell ringing)

Oh, that'll be Jones.

- I'll go.

Finish your coffee.

Two gourmet dinners for the price of one.

Maybe we should go.

Morning.

- [Ben] Morning.

- Morning, Jones.

What's up with you?

- You're not gonna like it.

- What am I not going to like?

- Spellman's taking over the investigation.

- Spellman?

- Is that bad?

- Spellman is a bureaucrat,

a desk pilot, a number-cruncher.

- Well, he's a little inexperienced, maybe.

- What do you mean a little inexperienced?

- Anyway, you're due to see him at 10, so we'd better go.

- Try not to lose your temper.

(door clicking)

(dramatic music)

- [Woman] Tom!

- Tom, what is it?

- You've just reminded me of something.

(dramatic boom)

- Tom, how nice to see you.

- Who was she?

- No idea who she was.

- Didn't you think it was a bit odd

being kissed by a complete stranger in the street?

- Well, she knew my name, and I assumed, you know,

that she was one of your friends.

You know I always get them mixed up.

- And you're absolutely sure it wasn't Marion Bell?

- I'm absolutely sure it was not Marion Bell.

- How long ago was this?

- It's four, five weeks ago.

- What were you doing in Midsomer Market?

- Someone had phoned me up wanted to talk to me

about a suspicious death.

It turned out to be a hoax.

- You think it was a set-up?

- Well, of course it was a set up.

Someone was waiting with a camera,

and they digitally replaced this woman with Marion Bell.

- It's obvious, isn't it?

- Of course it is.

I mean we believe you, don't we, Ben?

- Yeah.

- And I'm sure Martin Spellman will too.

- And the salmon is wild yeah, not farmed?

Right, thinking about wine, wine, wine, wine.

What have you got?

You're sure?

Oh.

(laughs) Fantastic, no, you're a top man.

Thanks bye, bye bye.

Caterers, Tom, nightmare.

Okay, cards on the table, eh?

If there has been any contact

between you and this ex-girlfriend,

now's the time to come clean, eh?

- I haven't seen Marion Bell in 34 years.

- Hmm, because if we look at this objectively,

it doesn't look too clever, does it?

There's the photograph of you and the ex-girlfriend.

- That's fake, as I explained.

- Your fingerprints on the glass.

- Which was almost certainly taken from the Private Viewing

at the Luxton Deeping Photographic Society.

- Your name in the victim's diary

for the following evening.

- Well, someone obviously phoned Bell pretending to be me.

- Where were you that evening, by the way?

- Home.

- With Joyce?

- No, she was at a book club meeting.

- Alone, eh?

Pity.

And the next morning, day of the murder?

- I left home at 8:15, went to Badger's Drift

to meet up with Detective Sergeant Jones.

- Badgers Drift, only a couple of miles from Luxton Deeping.

- Yes, yes, oh for crying out loud, Spellman.

There is an ingenious and resourceful killer

out there somewhere,

and you're just wasting time playing games with me.

Look, there was some sort of grudge

between Lionel Bell and Steve Bright,

and nobody will come clean about it.

Now Steve Bright and his two friends, Knox, Peters.

They have the technical know-how

to come up with stuff like this.

Now, I want search warrants for them all,

and I want them brought in here for questioning.

- Well what you want is not relevant, Tom,

because you're no longer in charge of this investigation.

(dramatic music)

You're to go home and stay there.

Do not discuss this case with anyone,

that includes Sergeant Jones.

Oh and all relevant paperwork

must be handed in to me immediately.

Every scrap, Tom, understood?

- Yes.

- Oh, Tom, Tom, Tom, Tom.

We finally tracked down this health club

where Marion Bell works, it's in Malaga.

Apparently she handed in her notice six weeks ago.

Her boss is under the impression

she's coming back to England.

Know anything about that, Tom?

- No, I do not, and in view of the circumstances,

I'd prefer it if we kept this formal, Inspector.

- Sure, if that's what you want, sir.

(door slamming)

(keyboard keys clicking)

- Well?

- Spellman is enjoying every minute of this,

sententious git, and I,

I am under house arrest.

- What?

- Yeah, well as good as.

Got anything?

- No, not yet.

Bright, Knox, Peters, no criminal records,

no connection with you as far as I can find.

- Keep looking for her.

- Should you be taking those?

- No.

- Okay.

- I bet Steve Bright knows who she is.

Now Jones, make sure that Spellman keeps on at him, okay?

- I'll do my best.

- You do that.

(door clicking)

(computer beeping)

- Yeah, the color's a bit weak here,

but I can crank up the reds like this.

And it's a bit blown-out in the highlights,

I've lost the detail.

(dramatic music)

But the beauty is, the sensor will have picked it up,

so all I have to do is (gurgling).

(head banging)

- No, no, Imogen. (sirens wailing)

Imogen, have you got the faintest idea

how much tiger prawns cost?

No, no, no, no, no, two per portion, max.

- Looks like another strangulation.

Make a note of that. - Yes, sir.

- [Martin] They're getting a free bar for goodness sake.

What more do they want?

- I never realised photography was such a dangerous pastime.

- [Martin] No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

- What's his problem?

- He's getting married.

- I don't care if they are your mother's oldest friends,

sweetheart, they're not sitting on our table, that's final.

- Tom's still under the weather, is he?

- You could say that, yeah.

- He's missing a goody here.

- Ben, haven't you moved him yet?

No wonder these investigations cost a fortune,

people standing around doing nothing.

- I thought you'd like a look first.

- I'll read your report.

I'm sure it'll contain everything I need to know.

- Well, I'd like a look inside his mouth, sir,

before the body's moved.

- What for?

- Well, there was a memory card in Lionel Bell's mouth,

so maybe there's something-- - All right, all right.

You don't have to spell it out, just get on with it.

- Well that's hardly a memory card, Ben.

Something much more traditional.

- Black and white medium format film,

not Bright's thing at all.

I'll get this processed, shall I, sir?

- Yes, of course.

- And there may be something on this organiser.

- Well, get it bagged up then.

Ben, I'm not going to hold your hand 24/7 like Barnaby.

(cell phone ringing)

Spellman.

- I hope Tom gets well soon.

- Darling, darling I did not shout at you.

- So do I.

(lively music)

(door creaking)

- No, at this rate we'll be here until Christmas.

No I will, absolutely, absolutely I will.

Hang on just 10 seconds, yep?

Peterson will you get in there

and tell him to get a shift on, yeah?

I haven't had any breakfast yet.

John, yeah about 15 minutes.

(cell phone ringing)

- Hello, Jones.

- Bright's dead, sir.

- Yes, I know.

- You do?

- How did he die?

- It looks like strangulation.

And there was a roll of film in his mouth.

- Be interesting to see what's on it.

- There's a sort of studio at the back of Bright's house.

I'm in it now.

I think it's where the photos of the girl were taken.

You know that sofa thing she was lying on?

- [Tom] Yes.

- There's one like it here,

and I found a stiletto boot.

- [Martin] Ben.

- You better hang up, I think you're needed.

- Where are you?

- In my back garden.

- Oh, lucky for some.

(cell phone beeps)

- [Martin] Jones, where are you?

(window knocking)

- I think this is the place

where the photos of the girl were taken, sir.

- Uh huh, what girl?

- The blonde, on the memory card,

that was in Lionel Bell's mouth.

- Ah.

- What's this got to do with my dad?

- Well I don't know, maybe nothing.

- Dad was only interested in black and white,

and he never took people.

- But do you know this girl?

Do you know who she is?

- No, I don't.

- Philly, can we talk about the time your parents split up?

- Okay.

- Now had it anything, anything at all,

to do with Steve Bright?

- Steve Bright, no way.

- You see because it has been suggested

that Steve Bright was pursuing your mother.

- Mom thought every man she ever met was in love with her.

Okay, she's an attractive woman.

When she was young, she must have been amazing.

- Oh, she was.

- But most of the time, it's fantasy.

It drove Dad mad.

She'd leave us, then come back, then leave again.

She couldn't live with him, she couldn't live without him.

Seb says it's the modern disease.

- What is?

- Chronic dissatisfaction.

- Ha, well, he's right!

Now, Philly when I asked you the other day

if you had seen your mother since she went to Spain,

you didn't give me a straight answer, did you?

'Cause, you have seen her, haven't you?

- Yes.

- When?

- About five weeks ago, she came to England.

She wanted me to ask Dad if he would take her back.

- And?

- I told her he never wanted to see her again.

- Did he really say that?

- Of course not.

I didn't even tell him she was here

because he would've said yes,

and it would've started all over again.

But now all I can think is, if I had told him,

maybe he'd still be alive today.

- Ah, excuse me, sir.

I'm Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby from Causton CID.

Is this your usual delivery time?

- Roundabout now, yeah.

- So you knew the man who lived here, Mr. Bell?

- What, poor old Lionel?

Yeah, I used to see him sometimes,

going out with his camera gear.

- How about last Monday?

- I did see him, as it happens.

- Which way did he go from here?

- That way, as usual.

(lively music)

- Thank you, thanks so much.

- Three, two, one, time, Dad.

- [Headley] Good morning, Inspector.

- Good morning.

- You are now immortalised in the Madrigal Archive.

- I'm honoured.

- Never seen her before in my life.

- Me neither.

- Nope, no idea.

Horrible photo though.

Digital, of course.

Look at this, Headley, enough to make you weep.

- Uh, appalling, yech.

This is what computers do, Inspector.

They drain the very soul from the image.

- But the girl, Mr. Madrigal.

Do you recognise her?

- The girl?

Oh, certainly not.

- Ask Steve Bright.

That's the sort of rubbish he's interested in.

- What do you mean by that, Mrs. Madrigal?

- Photographs of scantily clad young women,

that's what I mean.

- Tittle-tattle, my dear.

- You ask Steve Bright.

- Well I would do that, Mrs. Madrigal,

but Mr. Bright was found dead

at his home earlier this morning.

- No.

- So it can't have been him

that did for poor old Lionel then.

- Now Lionel left his home at 9:00 a.m. last Monday morning.

I was wondering if he was on your nine o'clock

photograph for that day.

- Let me see, Monday.

Oh, I was at the doctor's.

Sebastian took the nine o'clock photograph on Monday.

- I don't remember seeing Lionel,

but he might show up when I develop the film.

He pops up now and then.

- Well, I'd be very grateful if I could look at that please.

- Sure, I was going to do another batch tomorrow.

- [Ben] Oh, Martin.

- [Martin] What?

- [Ben] About the espresso machine.

- [Martin] Yeah, what about it?

- [Ben] What kind were you after?

- Italian one, specified on the list.

- Ah one of those big jobs, you mean?

- No, no, a domestic one.

We're not opening a coffee shop, for crying out loud.

- Ah, I was just checking.

(car engine whirring)

(cell phone ringing)

- Sorry about this.

Spellman, shoot.

- I've already told Tom, I don't know who she is.

- Tom?

- Inspector Barnaby.

- I'll have to call you back, yeah?

Well?

- No luck, nothing.

- [Philomena] Bye, thanks.

- [Martin] Well now what are we going to do?

(door bell tinkling)

(door clicking)

- Now then gentlemen, just a few questions.

Ah, you do wedding photos, right?

- Wedding photos?

- Yeah, we've got someone shooting a DVD of ours,

but stills would be great as well.

- I'll take some wedding photos for you.

- No need to print 'em up.

Just stick 'em on a CD and we'll--

- We do not do wedding photos, and if we did,

we would not stick 'em on a CD.

- Oh, carry on, Ben.

- Can any of you identify this woman?

- No, none of us know who she is.

We've already told Inspector Barnaby.

- Barnaby, when?

- About half an hour ago.

- Chief Inspector Barnaby is no longer in charge

of this investigation, I am.

If Barnaby shows up here again,

you're to notify me immediately, do you understand?

Ben, a word.

- Thank you.

- Did you know about this?

- No, I didn't.

- Bloody nerve of the man,

poking his nose into my investigation.

- I think it's a mistake, sidelining him like this.

- Don't you get it?

Barnaby's past his sell-by date.

His days are over.

If you want to get ahead, you get with the programme,

all right, Ben?

(door bell tinkling)

(door slamming)

(crowd murmuring)

(dramatic music)

(dramatic clicking)

- Tom, how nice to see you.

(dramatic clicking)

- Sir, are you all right?

- Yeah, this is where the picture was taken.

Look, see the health food shop over there,

there it is in the photo.

- I believe you, sir.

- How about the digital detective?

Does he believe me?

- Spellman's furious.

- Why, has he lost his laptop?

- Because you've been poking your nose in, unquote.

The prints from the film that was in Bright's mouth.

- Her again.

- They tell me these were taken with a camera

similar to Bell's.

- And I thought he preferred trees.

- I think the film and the memory card

were planted for our benefit.

The murderer wants us to think

Bright and Bell photographed this woman.

- Something happened between the Bells and Steve Bright.

According to some, Marion was after Bright,

according to others, Bright was after Marion.

- Whichever, Marion ends up running away to Spain

and Bright's wife divorces him, end of story.

- Until five weeks ago,

when Marion Bell comes back to England.

- What?

- Something I discovered while I was poking my nose in.

She wanted Lionel to take her back.

Philomena refused on his behalf.

- You think Marion killed him?

She hasn't got a grudge against you, has she?

- Jones, I behaved impeccably

during our all too brief encounter.

- Well, whoever the murderer is,

they've certainly got it in for you.

- Yeah I know that.

- You don't, actually.

Your name was in Bright's organiser.

Apparently you had a meeting with him

the evening he was killed.

(dramatic music)

- That's her, that's the woman.

(women murmuring)

Sorry, excuse me.

- [Ben] Thank you.

- Oh hello, you're in a hurry.

- What are you doing here?

- Market day, I come every week.

- I lost her.

- Who? - Ah, it doesn't matter.

- Who was it, the blonde girl?

- No, it doesn't matter.

- Take him home, Mrs. Barnaby.

Do me a favour, sir.

Stay away from Luxton Deeping,

and I'll try and keep Spellman off your back.

- Come on, I've arranged a special treat for you.

- What?

- See you.

- [Both] Yes.

- Dinner at the Golden Hinde Hotel.

We got another voucher in the post,

free champagne with the gourmet dinner.

- The last thing I want is a gourmet dinner.

- When I rang to make the booking, the man said,

"Would you like your usual table, Mrs. Barnaby?"

- I really like this one.

It's sort of, it's optimistic, know what I mean?

- And you're eating more, so that's good, Seb.

- I'm really sorry about your dad, Phil.

- Thanks.

Seb, this person you told me about,

that you're going out with,

she doesn't really exist, does she?

You made her up, to put me off.

So, I think it's better

if we don't see each other from now on.

- Okay.

- Good luck with the photographs, Seb.

They're great, they really are.

(people laughing) (lively music)

- Enjoy your meal?

Everything all right?

Yes? - Yes, thank you.

- Bonsoir.

- Good evening, I booked a table for eight o'clock.

The name's Barnaby, and we have these vouchers.

- Barnaby?

- Yes, Barnaby.

- This way, please.

(crowd murmuring)

- Voila, madam.

- Thank you.

- Monsieur. - Thank you.

- So this is our usual table, very nice.

- It's a marketing ploy, Joyce.

Like calling mashed spuds, pommes puree.

- I intend to enjoy myself this evening, Tom, regardless.

- Oh, a seafood symphony, (laughing) musical fish.

- Excuse me, sir.

I'm afraid we cannot accept these vouchers.

- Why not?

- They are not transferable.

- Well, they haven't been transferred, have they?

I mean you sent them to us, and here we are using them.

- There must be some mistake.

They are intend to Mr. and Mrs. Barnaby.

- But we are Mr. and Mrs. Barnaby.

- I'm sure you are, madam,

but you're not our Mr. and Mrs. Barnaby.

- Monsieur, would you tell the manager

that Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby from Causton CID

would like to talk to him in private, now, please.

- Certainly, sir.

- All right, you win, let's just go.

It's not worth making a fuss.

- I should've realised this would happen.

- What?

- Fake photographs, fake evidence, and now this,

a fake Mr. and Mrs. Barnaby.

- You mean it's something to do with the case?

- Of course, it's got something to do with the case.

- (sighs) Why do I get the feeling

that I'm not going to eat tonight?

- Mr. and Mrs. Barnaby were regular guests

until five or six months ago.

They favoured the William Morris suite

overlooking the garden.

- How did they pay?

- Always cash, rather unusual these days.

I'm really very sorry about this.

Your address must be on our database somewhere

and got mixed up with theirs. (cell phone ringing)

- Sorry.

Barnaby.

- It's Sebastian Madrigal here, from Madrigal Photographic.

I'm just about to print up the nine o'clock photos

you were asking about,

and there's something I wanted to tell you.

- And what's that, Sebastian?

- It's about the blonde girl in the photographs.

I couldn't talk in front of the others.

Now would be a good time, my parents aren't here.

- Right, I'll be there in 30 minutes.

- I think the least we can do

is offer you both dinner with our compliments.

- How kind, did you hear that, Tom?

- Ah yes, but I'm sorry we have to go.

We'll take up your offer some other time, thank you.

Come on.

(dramatic music)

(car alarm chirping)

(door bell tinkling)

(door slamming)

(machine whirring)

So you recognised the blonde in the photograph, did you?

- I think so, yeah.

- [Tom] Good.

- Steve Bright and his mates, Adam Knox, Lee Peters,

that lot, were into this glamour crap.

They used to go to a studio in Causton

where you could photograph models, so tacky.

Anyway, Steve had a thing with one of the models,

and his wife found out about it.

After the divorce, Steve set up a studio in his house

and tried to get people to go.

- Did you go?

- This is the day that Lionel was killed.

- Did you go to those sessions at Bright's house?

- Once.

So gross.

All these old men leching over some girl

with her top off.

- What about Lionel Bell, did he go too?

- Yes, he was supposed to report back to Dad,

get them chucked out of the Photo Soc,

but there was this girl there.

- What the blonde?

- Yeah.

Lionel was like instantly obsessed with her.

But the thing is, so was Steve Bright.

This is from the day after.

- So what happened?

- Steve warned Lionel off, but he took no notice.

So Steve told Marion that Lionel was having an affair.

- Was he?

- You're kidding, no way.

She told Lionel where to get off and Steve Bright.

- Sebastian, do you know what the name

of the blonde girl is?

- Chantelle, I think.

- [Tom] And where is she now?

- No idea.

She gave it up ages ago.

Not surprising, with Steve and Lionel drooling all over her.

- Sebastian, I do appreciate you telling me all this.

- I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner,

but my mum and dad, they're funny about stuff like this.

(pipes banging)

Could you whack this pipe with that, please?

- Here?

- [Sebastian] Yeah, just there, yeah.

(hammer banging)

(pipes thumping)

(water splashing)

- This is the photo that was taken

the day Lionel Bell was murdered, yes?

- Yeah.

- Are you sure?

- Yes, I date all the negs, it's vital.

- Because Lionel Bell left his house at nine o'clock,

just as the postman was making his deliveries.

Yet neither of them are in this photograph, are they?

- Dad was at the doctor's, so I did that one on my own.

And I was a bit late, like 10 past.

You won't tell him, will you?

He'd kill me.

- No, no, I won't tell him.

This blonde, Chantelle,

you got any idea how I could find her?

- Eddie Carfax might know.

- Eddie Carfax?

Why would he know?

- He's a sly one, is Eddie.

He's got his foot in both camps.

It was Eddie who started going

to the glamour sessions in Causton.

It was Eddie who helped Steve hire the model.

(door knocking)

- Oh, it's you, what do you want?

- I want to ask you a couple of questions, Mr. Carfax.

- What about?

- About her.

You lied to me, sir.

- We were told not to talk to you, Barnaby.

- [Mrs. Carfax] Who is it, Eddie?

- No, it's all right, sweetheart, it's nothing.

- Perhaps Mrs. Carfax can tell me who she is?

- All right, all right.

(door squeaking)

(door thudding)

- Mr. Carfax, when Steve...

(door thudding)

When Steve Bright set up the studio in his house,

you assisted him, didn't you,

in the procurement of models?

- No, I just put him in touch with Nigel, that's all.

- Nigel?

- Nigel Woodley.

He runs the Causton Camera Club.

- Does he?

And how do I get in touch with Nigel?

- He's got this shop, QuikPix, in Midsomer Market.

Look, this girl, Chantelle, Nigel hired her, right?

I barely spoke to her.

And this business between her and Lionel and Steve,

I didn't know anything about it until afterwards, I swear.

I was just doing Steve a favour.

I'm not even interested in this kind of stuff.

This is what I do, kittens, for Christ's sake.

(children chattering)

Will my wife have to know about this?

And Headley?

Because it's not fair, is it?

I was just being helpful, you see?

I didn't know people were going to get murdered, did I?

(dramatic music)

- [Joyce] Hi Ben.

- [Ben] Hi.

- [Joyce] He's in the kitchen.

- Thanks.

- Jones!

Her name is Chantelle.

Eddie Carfax lied to us about her--

- Sir.

- And I think I know how to find her,

that shop, QuikPix, in Midsomer Market.

The owner is one Nigel Woodley--

- Sir, there's a problem.

Someone rang Spellman and told him

you were in Luxton Deeping last night.

- Well that'll be Eddie Carfax, won't it?

- Whoever it was,

they claim you were threatening and abusive.

- Threatening and abusive, gosh.

- I'm to take you in to see Spellman now, sir.

It's serious.

- What's he going go to do, arrest me?

- Well, the mood he's in, anything's possible.

- Well, if he does,

at least I won't have to go to his wedding, will I?

- That's what I love about him,

always looking on the bright side.

- All right, all right, all right.

I'll go and see Spellman,

after I've had a word with this Nigel Woodley.

- Please don't, sir, it'll make things worse.

- Ben may be right.

- Half an hour, that's all I need.

Where's my warrant card?

Joyce, seen my warrant card?

- No, I haven't.

- It's always in my jacket.

- Ah, well that settles it.

You can't go around questioning people

without your warrant card.

- Well, you can do it for me.

- Hey, now hang on.

- Phone Spellman, put him off for an hour.

I'm sure you'll think of something.

- Don't be difficult, Tom.

- Look, whatever happens,

Spellman will make sure that I come out of this looking bad,

and when he's delivered

his eagerly awaited report on restructuring,

I'll be in charge of the traffic cones,

and then you two will realise

just how difficult I can really be.

- He's convinced me.

- All right.

I'll go and talk to this bloke Woodley.

And then I'm coming straight back here to pick you up.

- Course you are.

Now Jones, you find out where she is.

- Keep him here, use force if necessary.

- It'll be a pleasure.

Traffic cones, eh?

- Yes, well, I can dream.

- Are these from the famous Madrigal Archive?

- Yes indeed they are, the same spot,

nine o'clock every morning, for the past 70 years.

And you couldn't find a more boring view of the village

if you tried, could you?

- So these two weren't taken on the same day?

- No, no, they weren't.

That was taken on the day that Lionel Bell was murdered,

and that was taken on the next day, why?

- This car, you can only park there

for half an hour during the day.

I know, I got a ticket there recently.

Oh, I suppose they came back the next morning

and parked in the same place.

I'll make some more coffee.

- Exactly the same place?

I don't think so.

(cell phone beeps)

Mike, it's Tom Barnaby.

I've got a favour to ask of you, it's a licence number.

(crowd murmuring)

(door chime beeping)

- I'm looking for Nigel Woodley.

- If you're selling something pal,

you need to make an appointment.

- Detective Sergeant Jones, Causton CID.

- Is this about that drink-driving nonsense?

- No, it's about her.

Do you recognise her?

- Never seen her before in me life.

- Or we could talk about that drink-driving nonsense.

- Wait a minute, is that Chantelle?

Yes, it is.

I didn't recognise her with the wig.

- That's a wig?

- Course it is, she's as blonde as I am.

- Tell me about her.

- There isn't much to tell.

She did some modelling work for the Causton Camera Club,

which I happen to run.

Then this pal of mine, Eddie Carfax, poached her.

I haven't heard anything since.

- Have you got any photos of her without the wig?

- I can take a look.

- There you go.

The Causton Camera Club Christmas Party, 2004.

There's Chantelle.

- My God.

- You know her?

- Yeah.

And I know him too.

- Hmm, that's Sebastian Madrigal,

right weirdo, son of that Headley bloke from Luxton Deeping.

- Sebastian came to the Causton Camera Club?

- Only a couple of times.

I had to ban him, didn't I?

- Why?

- He freaked out the girls, especially Chantelle.

Reckoned he was in love with her.

He started stalking her, the weirdo.

- Print one of those for me, will you?

- Sure.

There was something about that Seb bloke,

(lively music) something creepy.

(car alarm chirping)

(door bell tinkling)

- Hello, anybody there, hello?

- Have you brought the computer?

- Yes, yes, of course what's this all about?

- Chief Inspector Barnaby and Marion Bell.

- Ah, I'm all ears.

(door chimes beeping)

- [Automated Voice] The number you are calling

knows you are waiting.

- Good, good, well, thank you,

thank you very much for your help, bye.

Mrs. Painter was in Luxton Deeping on Tuesday morning.

She remembers parking close to Madrigal Photographic,

but she definitely was not there on the Monday morning.

- [Joyce] Hmm.

- Now Sebastian's father went to the doctor's

on Monday morning, Tuesday he spent in bed,

so Sebastian was on his own both those days.

And he must have taken two photographs

on the Tuesday morning because he missed Monday.

- So where was he on Monday?

(door bell ringing)

That'll be Ben.

- In the woods, perhaps, killing Lionel Bell.

And the question is, why?

- It's for the chemicals, in case you get splashed.

- Oh good idea, this suit cost a fortune.

So what's all this about Barnaby and Marion Bell?

- I've got this CD I'd like you to look at,

which is why we need your computer.

Dad won't have one in the house.

- [Martin] If you haven't got one of these,

you're out of the game.

You tell him to get with the programme.

(cell phone beeping)

- Oh, I do, all the time.

- Have a look at these.

Take the blonde wig off,

and who have we got? (cell phone beeping)

- Oh yes, well, well, well.

Joyce look at this.

- It's Martin Spellman's fiancée.

It's Imogen.

- And there's Sebastian Madrigal, lurking at the back.

- Apparently he was stalking Imogen

and had to be warned off.

All I'm getting is Spellman's voicemail.

- Try the nick.

- So maybe Sebastian killed Lionel and Steven

because they were both after Imogen as well.

- And left the photos with the bodies

to send out the message, hands off her.

- You what?

Are you sure?

Okay, thanks.

He's gone to Madrigal Photographic.

- To arrest Sebastian?

- No, to meet you.

- [Joyce] Someone's got their wires crossed.

(dramatic music)

- Where's my warrant card?

- [Sebastian] It's for the chemicals.

(door thudding)

- Could you whack this pipe with that please?

(pipes banging)

- No, no one's got their wires crossed.

If Sebastian killed Lionel Bell and Steve Bright

because of Imogen,

then just imagine what he'll do the man

who's going to marry her.

And he'll do it with an old mallet

with my fingerprints on it,

and my warrant card will be found somewhere

very near the body.

(rubber gloves squeaking)

- It's the chemicals.

I'm allergic.

- Right, come on then.

Where's this CD?

- It's got some photographs on it.

- What of?

- Barnaby and Marion Bell.

- Ah, I knew it.

No, no, I've seen this one before.

It's the one that's been modified.

- No, keep, keep going.

- Who's that?

- She works in the health food shop

where I buy my veggieburgers.

- No, I don't get it.

- Well, I paid her.

She thought she was doing a kissogram on Barnaby.

Then I followed Philly when she went to meet her mom,

and I took some photographs of them,

and then I pasted them together on Nigel's computer.

- You did, why?

- [Sebastian] Keep going.

- Oh, she's cute.

Wait a minute, that's...

That's Imogen.

- Yeah.

They'll find all this on your computer,

and they'll think that's why Barnaby killed you.

(hammer thudding)

(Martin groaning)

Look at her, see?

That's what you did to her, you and the others.

That's what you turned her into.

That's why she doesn't want you,

because you're disgusting,

(feet thudding)

disgusting.

- Let it go. - No!

- Let it go! - No.

- [Ben] You are under arrest

for the murders of Lionel Bell and Steven Bright.

You do not have to say anything,

but it may harm your defence if you do not mention

when questioned something which you later rely on in court.

Do you understand?

Don't move.

- Imogen (sobbing).

- I'd do anything for her, anything,

whatever she wanted,

because I love her.

That's what you don't understand.

I was only doing what she wanted.

- What, Imogen wanted you

to kill Lionel Bell and Steve Bright?

- Of course she did.

- She told you that?

- I know what she's thinking.

See that's love,

something you people wouldn't understand.

Will I get vegetarian meals?

- Yeah.

- Steve and Lionel,

they were disgusting men.

They used her.

So did you.

- You little creep. - And you.

- Me?

How did I use Imogen?

- You took her to that hotel.

A friend of mine works there.

He told me all about your visits there with Imogen.

- I took Imogen to a hotel?

- Against her will, obviously.

- Interview terminated at 11:33

by Detective Inspector Spellman.

Gentlemen, can I have a word?

- See the thing is, when I first met Imogen,

I was still married, technically speaking.

Of course, we had to be discreet.

We went for dinner at the Golden Hinde one--

(machine beeping)

dinner at the Golden Hinde one evening

and decided to stay the night.

When they asked for my name,

well I said Barnaby.

I mean it was a joke.

I was a bit...

I'd had a drink.

And then of course the next time we went...

Hoo, do you know what?

I'm feeling a bit dizzy.

- Apparently the marriage has been put on hold.

- Technically speaking.

- Exactly.

Oh, would you like an espresso machine?

(gentle music)

(door bell tinkling) (men murmuring)

- Good day. - Bye.

(car alarm chirping)

- [Philomena] I've had lots of offers already.

- I bet, it's a lovely house.

- So I'm off to London.

There's no reason for me to stay on in Luxton Deeping.

In fact, I can't wait to leave.

- [Joyce] You know you can always come and stay with us

if you want a break.

- Thanks, I'd love that.

(car horn honking)

Oh God, this must be her.

- Darling, darling, darling,

are you all right?

Mwah, mwah.

- Yes, Mom, I'm fine.

- Really, really all right? - Yes, fine.

- Oh my god, Tom Barnaby!

Mwah, mwah.

Oh, I mustn't look too pleased to see you

or Preston will be jealous.

- I thought his name was Igor.

- Oh no, darling, Igor's history.

I met Preston in California where I've just been,

and I'm going back there soon, darling, to live.

- That's great, Mom, good for you.

- You must be Joyce.

Mwah, mwah.

- How lovely to meet you.

- Oh Tom, she's absolutely gorgeous, lucky old you.

- Yes, lucky old me.

- I know, let's take a photograph.

- Would you mind, Joyce?

- Not at all.

- The family that might have been.

You don't mind me saying that, do you, Joyce?

- Not at all.

Tom, do look a bit more cheerful.

- Oh, he always was a grumpy old so-and-so,

weren't you, Tom?

That's why it didn't really work out between us.

- (laughs) Hold it!

(camera shutter clicking)

(lively music)