Original subtitles

(wind blowing)

(soft knocking)

(bell rings) - Hello, who's this?

- [Julie] It's Julie.

- [Presenter] Hello Julie, how are you?

- [Julie] I'm fine thanks.

How are you?

- [Presenter] I'm very well thank you.

Thanks for your call.

- Hello? - I have to ask do you want

a dedication or a request?

- [Julie] I would love one.

Yes.

(soft knocking)

- Hello?

Stan?

Nesta?

(kettle whistles)

(sombre music)

- Thank you.

- Well, it's blood all right.

Whether it's human is another matter.

- And this is how it was found?

- Yeah, same as the other cottage: breakfast on the table,

tea still warm, kettle on the hob,

no sign of the occupants.

- If that isn't human blood,

George, what is it?

- Four people live in these cottages.

No sign of any of them.

- I'll get the lab to run a check.

- Didn't the postman call this in?

- Noticed the bloodstain, apparently.

- Where is he?

- On his rounds so far as we know.

- That big house we passed on the way here.

- The Priory. - Yeah.

See if there's anyone in.

So, George, in this cottage,

we've got Nesta and Stanley Goodfellow;

what about the other?

- The Thomases, Molly and Colin.

- Did you know them?

- I did the post mortem on their 10 year old son, Peter.

He ran away from home after an argument.

Found wandering Monks Barton woods

for a couple of days.

He was alive when they found him,

but he died soon after.

- Suspiciously?

- No, no, no, no.

He'd died of hypothermia.

When they found Peter he was gibbering;

no one could understand him.

The locals had it that he was speaking in tongues.

- Isn't there some kind of mystery surrounding

Monks Barton woods?

- I don't know any details, Tom.

The man you want is Wallace Stone,

the local historian.

He's the vicar over at Bow Clayton.

Bit of a hell fire and damnation man, too.

They call him Brim-stone.

- There's no one in at the Priory.

I made some inquiries, though.

It's owned by a Lynton Pargeter,

he lives in London but the place

had been in the family for as long as anyone can remember.

- Who lives there now?

- He does, last of the Pargeters.

- Big place for a weekend retreat.

- Not if you're rich.

- Is he?

- Well, I had a look through the window;

the place is stuffed with antiques.

- Right, check his details and give him a ring.

- You drive, drop me off at Bow Clayton vicarage.

I want to talk to Reverend Stone.

- Monks Barton woods are haunted, apparently.

- By what.

- The ghosts of monks, Mr. Barnaby.

Men of the cloth who died violent deaths.

There was once a thriving religious

community at Monks Barton.

The abbey was destroyed during the dissolution

of the monasteries.

- And The Priory is all that's left.

- When the soldiers arrived, the monks fled

into the woods.

They were hunted down and slaughtered.

Local legend says that their death-cries

can sometimes still be heard.

This village is obsessed by Monks Barton legends.

We're plagued by ghost-hunters,

fanatics and freaks, half the villagers among them.

I'm a man of God, Mr. Barnaby.

There's no place for superstition

in my religion.

Sarah!

- Could you tell me, please sir, about Peter Thomas.

- The boy had a silly argument

with his mother, ran away, got lost, died of exposure.

Sarah!

- It was said that when he was found he was--

- Speaking in tongues, yes.

Utter nonsense and near-blasphemous

nonsense at that.

I preached a sermon against it.

Did you press my jacket?

- Why was he not found sooner?

The woods must have been his playground.

- No, Colin and Molly Thomas lived all their lives

here in Bow Clayton.

They only moved to Monks Barton after Peter died.

Molly got the idea that she'd be nearer

to her dead son's spirit up there.

She thought she might be able to get in touch,

ask for forgiveness.

She had a breakdown; wasn't in her right mind.

Country people, Mr. Barnaby.

Simple minds can be easily ensnared

by the talk of ghosts and ghouls and the walking dead.

Frankly, I'd have preferred a city parish,

but it seems I'm not thought suitable.

Odd, don't you think, to be spurned

for the strength of one's belief?

- Did Molly Thomas, did she,

come to you for help?

- No, she spoke to my wife, for all the good it did.

- Do you think that Mrs Thomas was unbalanced.

Mrs. Stone?

- She was a woman in grief.

- What do you know about Monks Barton?

- Monks Barton?

Well, apart from the two cottages,

it's just The Priory, now,

with Stanley Goodfellow and his wife to look after it.

- Colin and Molly Thomas?

- Colin's the manager of Benyon's woodyard in Bow Clayton.

After Peter died, Molly insisted they move up

to Monks Barton.

- Did you know them?

- I was part of the investigation

into the boy's death.

Molly was in a bad way.

- So the Goodfellows are, what?

Caretakers?

- They manage the Priory and the woodland

that surrounds it.

Stanley Goodfellow used to be a gamekeeper up

on the Farley estate.

- So, a normal couple.

- Nesta was known to be a bit of a goer.

They say she had a couple of affairs.

You know, just the usual.

(phone rings)

- Hello?

Yes, just a moment.

Can we pick this up later?

- Okay.

Drink after work?

- Yeah.

Great.

Mr. Pargeter.

- Pargeter's on his way, yeah? - He is.

Keys to The Priory, just where he said they'd be.

- Where's the post?

The postman called this morning.

Where's the post?

- Got scared and forgot to leave it?

- We'll ask him.

- I'll check for returned post.

Nice telly!

Plasma screen, every moment of footballing

magic in high definition.

- It's expensive?

- 1,500, two grand.

- On a labourer's wage?

- In a line move together.

Forward.

Forward.

(howling)

- What?

- You didn't hear it?

- It's a fox.

- Didn't sound like a fox to me.

- Oh alright, it's the howl of a werewolf,

ravening for blood.

- Lucky I'm here to protect you then.

(dramatic music)

- Now then.

- What's that?

- Oh that, Jones?

Is an iron maiden.

It's a mediaeval instrument of torture.

A slow, lingering death in exquisite torment.

Different interrogation techniques

in those days.

Right, you take the rooms upstairs,

I'll look down here.

And make it quick.

Chop chop.

- You don't expect to find them?

- Not unless they're all dead.

- Oh, yeah.

Jones?

Jones, can you bring me the keys?

(muffled yelling)

(tapping)

- You slammed the door.

- Yeah.

Any punctures?

- No, you slammed the door!

- No punctures?

No punctures?

Ah that Jones is because this version

of the iron maiden uses a mechanical device to do its work.

See.

See?

Instead of being impaled immediately,

the victim would suffer the slow advance

of the spikes.

It's neat.

It's a good job this is the more sophisticated version,

isn't it otherwise, you know.

Got the keys?

Thank you.

Come on.

- Break in. - Yeah, seems so.

And take a look at this.

- Something's taken the polish off the table.

Water-stains?

- It could be.

I dunno.

Ask forensics to pay us a visit.

- Detective Sergeant Jones?

Lynton Pargeter.

We spoke on the phone.

- Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby, Causton CID.

- Chief Inspector.

Oh, dear.

Did you do this?

- No, Sir.

We did not.

Those are signs of a break-in.

Perhaps you'd care to take a look

around and see if you've got anything missing.

- Apart from my tenant-workers, you mean?

- Just in time.

I got you a chicken jalfrezi.

Didn't have time to cook.

- Thank you Lord. - What?

- Busy day, love?

- Yes, I went to a fascinating talk

at Bow Clayton village hall.

With Cyrus LeVanu.

- Oh for crying out loud.

- He's a very interesting man.

- He's not an interesting man,

he's a con, a charlatan, a complete phoney.

Have you seen his television show?

- Yes!

- Well, it, it, it's laughable, isn't it?

I mean what does he call himself?

The ghost buster?

- Ghost hunter.

- Ghost hunter.

- You have a closed mind, Tom.

- I do not have a closed mind, love.

I'm a copper.

I can spot a phoney a mile away,

and Cyrus LeVanu fits the bill exactly.

What's he doing in Causton?

- The ghostly monks.

He's here for the anniversary.

- What anniversary?

- Of the massacre.

It's tomorrow.

He's holding a ceremony of spiritual healing

in the woods.

- Oh thank you, Lord.

- Did I order that?

- Unquiet spirits speak to me.

I feel something.

something tremulous in the ether.

Something that speaks of bloodshed and darkness.

Spirit voice find my help.

- Oh wonderful.

- We are in the company of troubled souls.

- Excuse me.

Mr. LeVanu?

- Are you a seeker after truth?

- No.

Yes.

Well, not in...

I'm a police officer.

Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby, in Causton CID.

And these woods, Sir, are off limits.

- Is this a crime scene?

- Well, no, it isn't-- - Quite.

These woods are full of the voices

of tormented souls, Mr. Barnaby.

And I am here to bring them peace.

With the express permission of Mr. Lynton Pargeter.

- Pargeter?

- Full and express permission of Mr. Pargeter.

Our mission begins.

Restless spirit, speak to me.

Unquiet spirit, speak to me.

(yelling)

(screaming)

- My God!

What was that?

- A spirit presence calling for help.

We must go deeper.

Always deeper.

(dramatic music)

- How long has he been dead?

- Well, it's a shallow grave,

so some insulation.

Given the state of the body,

insect infestation and so on.

at least three days.

- You must have known Colin Thomas.

Is this him?

- I met Molly, once.

But never Colin.

- Ah, Gail.

See if you can identify the body.

- Oh he'll be able to help,

what with being able to talk to the dead.

- So is this Colin Thomas or Stanley Goodfellow?

- Neither of them.

I've never seen that man before.

- I was drawn to him, Barnaby.

Called by the dead.

- Erm, this officer will take your statement

Mr. LeVanu.

Then you can go.

- Go?

Go where?

It must be plain to you that I'm needed here.

I am blessed with a great gift.

- So, this man isn't one of my tenants?

- No, we don't know who he is yet.

We'll be asking you to view the body,

in case you can identify him.

- Me, why would I know him? (phone rings)

- It's just for elimination purposes.

- Excuse me.

Yes, Gail.

- Mr. Pargeter?

I understand that you've given Cyrus LeVanu full access

to the woods.

- Yes, I have.

- Well, it's making my job very difficult, Sir.

You know that some people think

that Mr. LeVanu is a charlatan, a fraud.

Do you share that view?

- On the contrary, I think Cyrus LeVanu

is a gifted psychic.

If the troubled souls of those who were murdered

are still wandering these woods,

perhaps LeVanu might find a way of bringing them rest.

- My granny used to read tea-leaves.

She saw a ghost once.

It walked through the wall.

- Why they don't use the doors like everyone else?

Any news on those stains by the window?

- The lab report says they're water stains

with minute traces of blood.

- Oh, not ectoplasm, then?

- Someone clearing up a bloodstain.

- What about the bloodstains

in the Goodfellows' cottage?

- Definitely human.

- Oh a scientific fact at last.

Did you ask about the postman?

- Sam Nelms, lives in Bow Clayton.

And, yes, there was a delivery made that morning.

(dramatic music)

- Charlatan!

Anti-Christ!

How dare you come to my parish with your unholy

gibberish, your witchcraft.

- And you are?

- The Reverend Wallace Stone.

I am the guardian of the moral health

of the people of this parish, people you seem happy

to corrupt with your wicked talk of psychic powers.

- There are more than one path to the truth, Reverend Stone.

- Blasphemy.

If there are restless souls in Monks Barton woods

then it's God's task to give them

their rest, not that of an unscrupulous mountebank.

- That's slander.

You'd do well to watch your tongue.

- I forsee big trouble between those two.

And I don't need a crystal ball for that.

- Anybody in?

- What?

- Causton CID.

What do we know about Mr. Nelms?

- He's been a postman in Bow Clayton for three years.

Before that, a delivery driver: sacked.

Before that, a milkman: sacked.

- Why?

- Thought to be on the fiddle.

- I gave a statement.

- We know that, Mr. Nelms.

May we come in?

- It's a bit difficult just now.

- We know that, too.

- She's, um...

- None of our business, Mr. Nelms.

Unlike the postal packet you were supposed

to deliver to one of the cottages up at Monks Barton.

- The what?

- There must have been something to deliver,

or why would you have gone there?

And it must have been a packet or why not put it

through the letter-box?

- It was so spooky, finding the place

deserted like that, I forgot about it.

Later, I realised I still had it.

Still, it can't be worth much, can it?

Little plastic statue.

- That is, is a Netsuke.

Look Jones, look how beautiful that is.

- What is it, valuable then?

- Have you seen anything unusual

up at Monks Barton cottages recently?

- Recently?

No.

Course, I've seen the lights in the woods

of a dark morning and heard those weird noises.

But seeing as the woods are haunted,

that's only to be expected.

- You believe those stories?

- Do I look simple?

Listen.

Be better if you could keep quiet about things, you know?

- Keep quiet about a theft?

- No, about my friend.

- Your boss will have to know about this.

- Yeah, well, jobs are easy enough to come by,

but she's a specialty act.

- What did you call it?

A net what?

- A Netsuke.

Some of them are worth a fortune, others are not.

- And this one?

- Go and ask the expert.

"As discussed, John Temple."

- Yes, I remember.

She came in asking for a valuation.

- And?

- No, it's not ivory, it's not old.

1950s or thereabouts;

and carved from whale tooth.

80 quid, perhaps, 100 at best.

I made her an offer over the phone,

she turned it down and I returned it by post.

I don't haggle.

A Mrs. Smith, Sergeant Jones.

- Mrs. Smith.

- Keep in line.

- Creatures of darkness, hear me.

Creatures of darkness, hear me.

Creatures of darkness, hear me.

(yelling)

- The netsuke was taken to Temple Antiques

by a Mrs. Smith.

Obviously Nesta Goodfellow or Molly Thomas.

- Yeah, well, whoever took it,

I'm certain it came from the Priory.

I think the present Mr. Pargeter is a bit

strapped for cash.

You say some kids called in the station?

- Yeah, up here on a dare.

They saw lights in the woods.

- Oh that'd be the wandering souls

of the dead.

Is the entire population of Bow Clayton suffering

from ghost-fever?

- Let my words reach you.

Let the flame of love be your balm.

Speak to me out of the darkness--

- I want you out of these woods!

All of you!

And out now!

- Mr. Barnaby, we are conducting a healing ritual.

Anger has no place in the circle of the phoenix.

We were expecting a spirit presence.

- Were you?

Yes, well I'm sorry but this area really is now off limits.

So I'd be very grateful if you'd all leave.

And I'll arrest you if you don't.

(howling)

- You heard that!

We all heard that!

The dead are speaking to me.

- You must have heard it, Sir.

- It was a fox or it was a bird or whatever.

- Didn't sound like a bird.

- No, you're right,

it didn't did it?

- No.

(doorbell rings)

(dramatic music)

- And who are they?

- I told you, no, no!

- [Woman] Let the children stay.

But I would never leave them to this scum of Corinth.

No, they'll be my very own assassins.

They'll take the princess a gown of silk.

A golden crown.

but these I'll drench in poison so strong

that anyone who touches them will die in agony.

But the thing that tears my heart

is what must happen next.

I shall kill my children: kill them both.

No one shall save them,

no one shall own them.

and when I've brought both Jason and his house to ruin,

I shall leave this land, unnatural woman.

Flying from the death cries of my darlings.

From their blood,

their blood, their blood.

How is it I can bear such guilt.

But not the laughter of my enemies?

- [Man] I thought you said your dog didn't bite?

- Who's dog? - Your dog.

- [Man] Yeah, but that's not my dog.

- 12 bore shotgun, apparently.

Shot in the back.

- It was Molly Thomas, wasn't it?

- Positive ID from Mr. Pargeter, yeah.

Bullard thinks she'd only been dead a few hours.

So what do you think?

- I think that, um, she goes to the phone.

She doesn't make it, she pulls the table over,

turns the radio on full blast to try and attract attention.

I think the effort of reaching for the radio,

must have finished her off.

So the question is: how did she get back here?

And where from?

And why did she come back?

Where's Pargeter now?

- He went back to The Priory.

- Right.

She was shot in this room wasn't she,

but she was shot in the back.

- She wasn't running away?

- It looks as if she was facing the wall.

Whoever killed her, couldn't look her in the face

when they pulled the trigger.

- Speak to me and I will bring you peace.

- To those who worship false gods,

I say: hearken and tremble

you root of all evil, you author of pain,

you begetter of death.

You will be cast out with every Satanic power,

with every unclean spirit

and your voice will be stilled and your hand

will be stayed and your eye will be blind.

Turn from the way of darkness,

turn from the devil's path,

or you must suffer the torments of hell

through all eternity.

Well?

That was my rehearsal, for Sunday!

- Oh.

I'm sorry, Wallace.

I wasn't really listening.

- So you were out walking, Mr. Pargeter,

am I right?

- Yes.

- In the woods.

- They are my woods, Barnaby.

- Yeah, so you're not intimidated

by the talk of ghosts, then?

- I frequently walk there.

I've come to no harm.

- But you've seen the lights;

heard strange cries?

- From time to time.

My family have lived with these phenomena

for many, many years.

If there are ghosts, it would seem

I have come to terms with them.

- So you're coming back from your walk,

you hear the radio, you go into the cottage

and you find Mrs. Thomas?

- Yes.

- You didn't see anyone?

Hear a car driving away?

- The place was deserted.

Just Molly Thomas lying there and, um the radio on.

- You're quite a collector, Mr. Pargeter.

- In a small way.

Mostly pieces acquired by my family over the years.

Course some of them have gone

to my least favourite charities.

My ex-wives.

Also collectors in their way.

- So, you've got valuable antiques here,

family heirlooms and no alarm system?

- I did have one.

It tended to go off three or four times

a week for no good reason.

Stanley and Nesta Goodfellow kept an eye on things.

- Yes, but they're not here now,

are they Mr. Pargeter?

We've got two murders, three people missing.

Don't you think you'd be safer staying at the pub

in Bow Clayton?

- But there's no alarm, Barnaby,

as you've pointed out.

- And all these valuble things

as you said.

- Did you see that?

- Indeed I did.

I think Jones, whatever is in those woods,

it's time we met it face to face.

Come on.

- Do ghosts have faces?

- Oh I think they do, yes.

Except the headless ones.

- Stay close.

- I will.

Did you hear that? (howling)

- Where's that coming from?

- I think it came from over there.

- Ah, there's an echo, isn't there?

Hard to tell.

- Jones, where are you?

- I'm here sir, where are you?

Sir?

- Jones?

- Sir.

(howling)

- Are you there sir?

(yelling)

- Jones?

(howling)

(yelling)

- Who's there?

- Sir? - Jones.

Jones.

- I heard you call for help.

- I did not call for help, I was attacked.

By an owl.

- I saw something.

- What?

- I don't know.

- Well, whatever it was, Jones.

It was not a ghost.

Someone has been tracking me.

But now I am the tracker.

Come on.

(soft chanting)

(babbling)

- Stanley?

It's Stanley Goodfellow.

- Excuse me.

I'm looking for Dr. McKay?

- Oh, Mr. Barnaby? - Yes.

- I'm Mary McKay.

Stanley is upstairs.

- Thank you. - This way.

Stanley is suffering from dissociative trauma.

He experienced something so terrifying his mind

has simply closed down on him.

It's a defense-mechanism, of course.

- Well, at the moment, Stanley Goodfellow

is the only man who can solve the disappearance

of his wife and two other people.

My problem is that he can't speak.

- Well, he's not saying anything anyone can understand.

Words are a danger to Stanley just now.

His subconscious is telling him to reject

speech, because whatever happened to him lies

beyond description.

- Well, when will he be--

- He's lost touch with reality, Mr. Barnaby.

It isn't possible to say when he'll want to return, if ever.

- Oh excuse me.

Jones.

- Mystery body in the woods, Sir.

Positive ID from the Met.

Terence Paul Lowther.

Part of a well-organised London gang

that specialise in nicking antiques.

- Good work!

I'm just leaving The Pines now.

Nothing yet from Stanley Goodfellow.

- Well, if you're on your way back.

- I'll pick you up.

I want to go down to the village;

pick up all the local gossip.

- Yeah ok, we'll talk then.

Bye.

Gail?

Are you free this evening?

After work.

for a chat?

- Yeah.

Where shall we go?

- Ah pub.

- Yeah.

Yeah, lovely.

(sombre music)

- And here endeth the first lesson.

And here beginneth the second.

- The Met said Lowther could be linked to half

a dozen robberies involving antiques.

- That antiques shop fella.

- John Temple? - Yeah what did he have to say

about the netsuke?

- Well, he reckoned it was worth about 100 quid.

He said it was a modern piece, nothing special.

- Did he now. - Meaning?

- Well, maybe he was trying to con

her into selling it to him for a song, you know.

Well, in either case, it must have been taken

from The Priory.

Why didn't Pargeter report the theft?

You seen that?

- Hmm, I'll follow you in.

- Yeah ok.

- Excuse me, could I?

- This village is ghost-crazy,

if you ask me.

There you go mate.

Look out, here's the law.

- Hello, Mr. Nelms.

- A man of leisure thanks to you lot.

Gardening leave.

- Yeah, don't let me interrupt you, sir, you carry on.

what were you saying?

- I'm saying there's something weird

going on all right, but spirits and spooks,

I don't think so.

- Shall we sit and wait for him to come outside.

- Jones.

- Detective Chief Inspector.

- Mr. Pargeter.

I was intending to come see you.

- I heard.

- You did, about what?

- Stanley Goodfellow.

You've found him.

- Yes indeed.

In your woods.

- Is it true that he's lost his mind?

- He's under medical supervision

at the moment, Sir.

I'm hoping to be able to speak to him in due course.

But this is what I wanted to talk to you about.

- Ah, yes, yes.

- It was supposed to be delivered

to the Goodfellows.

Not really their thing.

We wondered if they were taking it in for you?

- No, no, no.

This has no great value, but it's nice enough.

I'm going to an antiques fair in France

for a couple of days.

I'd be grateful if The Priory could be kept

under police surveillance while I'm away.

- Mr. Pargeter, two murders

have been committed, both bodies were found on your land.

A visit to France is out of the question.

- This is outrageous.

I have business to attend to.

- A friend of yours?

- Who?

- Who?

Jones.

(ominous music)

- Not his netsuke, then.

- Oh no.

Oh yes of course it is.

He's up to something.

Are we mobile yet?

- Pit stop wheel change, Sir.

- Oh good.

Time in the Traffic Division not wasted then.

Thank you.

(speaking in foreign language)

(howling)

(horse howls)

- I adjure you, Satan, yield now to God.

Depart accursed one, depart foul fiend!

Depart!

If there are restless souls

in these woods, they are the souls of Godly men

and it is the work of God's minister

to bring them deliverance.

- And you saw no one.

- No.

Just...

He was sitting up in his grave as if it

were Judgement Day.

- Gases.

Post-mortem gases causing expansion

and consequent movement.

Sometimes happens in the morgue.

- Really?

- A body rising under a sheet.

- But he was buried.

- Yeah, it's a shallow grave,

like the other victim, he was barely covered in earth.

Whoever buried him must have been in a hurry.

- Or didn't have the tools to do the job.

Do we know who he is?

- Yes, it's Colin Thomas.

Positive ID from Stephens.

- Cause of death, George?

- Shotgun wound: 12-bore by the look of it.

- So, we've got two people dead, one mad,

one still missing.

Why these people?

What was it about them that made them

the victims, eh?

There's something we're still not seeing, isn't there?

Right let's start again and let's have another

look round the cottages.

- Sir.

Ticket to Florida, in the name of Nesta Goodfellow.

with a note.

- Saying? - "See you at the airport."

- Is that note signed?

- "Sex-bomb."

Our over-eager postman, perhaps?

- I wonder if her husband knew.

What?

- Someone's in there.

- Oi, hey, hey!

(frantic music)

- Don't kill him, Sir.

- He'll kill himself if he goes on like this.

- How fast is he going?

- He'll come out on the Bow Clayton road, won't he?

- Whoa!

(car horn honks)

Lost him.

- Not necessarily.

- Take a look round the back.

- Please don't say it was a hunch.

- Observation.

Saw it the first time we called.

Didn't you?

- Make sure he doesn't jump out of the back

window on a skateboard or something.

- Muddy ride was it?

- Did you find anything?

- Nah.

Few coins in a jar.

Thought they might have a few other bits

and pieces hidden away.

- Why were they hidden?

- They were at it, nicking stuff up

at the Priory.

Little nick here, little nick there.

- You had a look around in the Goodfellows'

cottage as well didn't you?

Did you see anything you fancied in there?

- You can't get a 40-inch plasma screen

on a mountain bike.

- I am the way and the truth and the light says the Lord.

But tempters and blasphemers abound

and those who love evil are in our midst.

The times are out of joint,

where wrong-doers prosper and the spawn

of Satan multiply.

Where the virtue finds no respect,

for who does not know that in the face

of such evil it takes a man of courage to stand up

unafraid and say "I am for divine justice and retribution."

- Stanley.

(babbling)

Did you know, Stanley,

that Nesta was getting ready to run off

and leave you?

I wonder if, I wonder if you knew that?

You hold the key, Stanley.

Somewhere inside.

Sorry.

What happened to you, eh?

- The number plate of that SUV

was on the computer, stolen from an address in Chelsea

a week ago.

- Right.

Let Chelsea know it's been spotted here.

And get our traffic division to watch out for them.

- Yes, Sarge.

I'll see you later.

- I don't know why you're coming.

You've already said you think he's a fake.

- Well, he's a prime suspect,

for starters Joyce.

It's a bit odd isn't it,

him suddenly turning up in Midsomer?

It's a bit opportune, don't you think?

Maybe all the psychic drivel is a cover

for something more sinister.

- Don't be so ridiculous, Tom.

Why on earth would he want to kill anyone?

- Give him someone to talk to.

- The powers with which I have been gifted

led me to the grave of a man

who had fallen victim to the forces of evil.

I intend to use these same powers to envision

the whereabouts of a missing woman,

Nesta Goodfellow.

- I'm so glad I came.

- Shh!

- The knife of light, will point the way.

I shall fall into a trance

and concentrate on the strong psychic

projection of her fear.

And I shall seek her out

in a dark night of her distress.

(chants)

(yells) I can see her.

She lies beneath the sign of the witch.

Oh!

Of the witch!

- Oh for goodness sake.

Come on.

- I mean to talk to the dead.

How stupid is that?

I mean what is the point of talking to someone

who is incapable of listening?

- You might do worse than follow up

on what he said.

- Oh, you mean, the inspired vision.

Well, look, let's see: a dark place, he says.

Three people have died, two were buried

in shallow graves.

Of course he talks about a dark place.

- And the sign of the witch?

- Well, witches, stock in trade for the phoney psychic.

Of course witches are bound to be top

of the agenda, aren't they eh?

- He fainted!

- Of course he did and how theatrical that was?

- It's fine.

All clear.

(bugs chirping)

(howling)

(sombre music)

- Last one.

- Got your message. (yells)

Jones!

- Sorry, Sir.

You all right?

- Of course I'm all right.

I just wasn't expecting you to ambush me.

What happened?

- Pargeter and the other two loaded

some furniture into the SUV, then drove off.

- That's why he had to stay in the house.

Half those antiques, he's got down

there are stolen.

- He's still in there.

Good chance to nab him.

- No, no.

We should wait.

He doesn't know we're on to him and I don't want

to scare off the delivery boys.

Didn't it occur to you to follow them?

- I made a quick phone call.

They won't be looking for a woman driver.

- Uh huh?

I see.

What and you're absolutely certain?

Okay.

Thank you.

- Morning, Jones.

- Morning, Sir.

Call from the lab.

The blood in the Goodfellows' cottage:

definitely not Colin Thomas'.

- Not? - Nope.

- So it's not Lowther's, it's not Colin Thomas'.

that poses a few questions.

- Yeah Pargeter's got more than a few to answer.

- Where are you going?

- Well I thought we were.

- No, no, no, I think we'll give Pargeter

and Temple a little more rope.

Come on.

- Maybe if we get off the track.

- Maybe what?

- Of course I could be wrong.

- Surely not.

- And after the news, here on Radio Causton,

I'll be talking to psychic

and ghost-hunter Cyrus LeVanu,

whose latest book, "Talking to the Dead"

has just been published and asking him

about his recent, sensational experiences

in the famously haunted Monks Barton woods.

- Yes.

Ooh that was close.

We're getting near.

(humming)

Gotcha!

The sound you're hearing, Jones,

is the sound of a radio signal being blocked.

Somewhere up in that tree.

Well, it's not going to be me.

- Right.

- Oh Jones?

We've got another one here.

(groans)

Ah, there you are!

What you got?

(groans)

Ah I think we'll find this little gizmo

is well-stocked with mysterious noises.

And I reckon we'll find a few others like this,

courtesy of Cyrus LeVanu.

- How did you know? - How did I know?

Well, last night, after my car got stuck,

I had to walk about half a mile through these woods.

And I could hear the cries and I knew

there must be some sort of rational explanation,

and I thought how convenient

all this was for Cyrus LeVanu.

Obviously the woods weren't full

of his supporter stooges whispering on cue.

and then I thought I heard this buzzing sound, and I...

You all right Jones?

- Yes, I'm absolutely fine, Sir.

Thanks for asking.

- Yeah well come on.

And then I thought it's not ecoplasm eruption

we're talking about here, it's radio waves, what...

- And then you found the body,

I mean, wow, that must have been one hell

of a shock, wasn't it?

I mean you-- - Not if, like me,

you have been gifted with special powers.

(phone rings)

- Gail.

Oh, yeah?

On now?

Thanks for letting me know.

- What's that?

- This.

My last meeting was a complete sell-out,

so I will be holding another one,

tonight at Bow Clayton town hall.

And although there are those who would prevent me,

I have every intention of returning

to Monks Barton woods.

- Where you'll be talking to the dead.

Well that's all we've got time for,

so it's a big thanks to our guest,

the psychic adventurer Cyrus Le--

- Where's our psychic adventurer staying?

- The Monks Retreat.

- I shall go there and I want you to go to Temple Antiques.

- For whatever was shipped over there last night.

- Yep.

(humming)

- Local radio shows might seem small beer

for someone like me, but the most important thing

is to get the message across loud and clear,

- Loud and clear Mr. LeVanu,

like the signals from your transmitters.

- Barnaby, what are you talking about?

- Do you not know, Mr. LeVanu?

I'm talking about the mysterious cries

in Monks Barton woods.

But, of course, there's a logical explanation

isn't there, as you well know.

Where do you transmit from, Sir?

Your room here?

Your car?

Or do you have an accomplice who helps

you with your special effects?

- I've never seen these objects before in my life.

- The thing I find offensive about people

like you, Mr. Le Vanu is that you feed off other

people's anxieties and their pain.

You trade on their weaknesses.

(howling)

Oh, listen to that.

How spooky is that?

It frightened me to death.

- Detective Inspector Jones, isn't it?

- Sergeant.

I was wondering whether you'd had any more

contact with Mrs. Smith?

The woman who--

- Brought in the netsuke, no.

I did agree to phone if I had any--

- Yes, I was just passing and thought it just as easy

to pop in. (phone rings)

- Will you excuse me?

Hello?

Yes, yes erm.

Yes I think we could leave them 4th of April.

No well if you could bring it

in in the morning.

- Oh Gail!

There's pictures on here of some items of furniture.

Let's see if Art and Antiques can recognise something.

- Right.

Sarge, are we still on?

It's just that last night.

- You were on extra duty.

of course.

Gail?

Gail?

Look.

- What?

(sighs) No workplace involvements?

- It's just tough to have a proper working relationship

if we also have a relationship.

- You think so?

It's never been a problem for me in the past.

- Vile and untruthful accusations

have been made against me and those who I considered

steadfast have abandoned me,

even thrown aside their beliefs.

- No!

It's you they've thrown aside.

Why?

Because you've been exposed as a liar and a cheat.

- That's slanderous.

- Not if it's the truth.

And it is, which is why your slavish followers

have abandoned you.

- I never put transmitters in trees.

- No, of course not.

Look, now everyone's seen you in your true colours,

why don't you pack up your tricks

and your hocus-pocus and leave?

- Leave?

I won't be leaving.

I'll be returning to Monks Barton wood

in the hope of bringing peace to souls in torment.

- Poison, LeVanu!

Your fake philosophy is poison,

your ridiculous rituals are poison.

You are poison.

(dramatic music)

- Jones!

- Sir, quick response on the photos I took

at Temple Antiques.

Four items definitely stolen, two suspected.

The table with the water stain is part of a haul

taken from a large house in Devon.

The Devon police are pretty sure a London

gang was involved.

They turned them over, but no result.

So the stuff must have gone to a receiver

the next day.

- Pargeter fences it to dealers?

- Including John Temple.

- He's got the outlets in this country

and abroad, that's why he wanted

to go to the antiques fair in France.

- And the guys in the SUV

are his distributors.

- Now all we have to do is find the murderer.

(phone rings)

Barnaby.

- You've checked the buildings and the grounds?

- Thoroughly.

He's not here, I'm sure of that.

- On the phone you said, you'd found a weapon.

- Oh yes, it's here.

- Has no-one touched it?

- No.

- There's blood on the blade.

- What kind of a knife is it?

- It's a, a kris.

It's a collector's item.

- An antique.

- Got backup?

- On their way.

- He's here alright.

It's time to put the squeeze on Mr. Lynton Pargeter.

Bet he's in a hurry.

- Right, you take the upstairs rooms,

I'll look down here.

And be careful.

(dramatic music)

(howling)

- I heard one of those cries.

- Yes, I know.

It was me.

Take a look at that.

Yeah I seriously misjudged Cyrus LeVanu.

It was Pargeter, not LeVanu

who was responsible for the strange noises

in the woods.

His way of keeping the locals out

when he was taking delivery of stolen goods.

And the mysterious lights.

must have been from the vans delivering

the dodgy antiques.

- Well, he's packed his suitcase,

so it looks like he'll be back.

- Oh he will.

Airline ticket.

Guess where to?

- Florida?

Pargeter and Nesta Goodfellow?

- What's that?

(dramatic music)

(sirens blaring)

- There he is Jones.

- In the woods behind The Priory.

Now!

- Down at The Priory.

Into the woods.

(dogs barking) (yelling)

- Gone.

- Yeah, gone to ground.

Come on.

(babbling)

- How long can you keep this up, Stanley?

Another week?

Very good Stanley, very good.

Had me fooled.

Where is she, Stanley?

Where is Nesta?

Stay with him.

(sombre music)

- Dear God.

Nesta?

Jones!

- Right, I'm going to talk to Mr. Goodfellow,

whilst you pay Mr. Temple a visit.

- Yes Sir.

- Once it had started, no going back.

- Pargeter was a fence, a receiver of stolen goods.

You knew that.

But he knew you knew.

- We could see what he was up to.

What could he do?

As long as we didn't take too much,

he wouldn't worry.

- All of you.

Colin and Molly Thomas, too.

- Colin was up for it,

but Molly was unhappy.

She tried to get him to stop.

- If she'd succeeded in that he wouldn't

have got involved in the murder of Terry Lowther, would he?

- I didn't mean to kill him.

- He broke in.

He knew that Pargeter was in London,

so he didn't expect to see anyone there, did he?

And you took him on.

The water-stains on the antique table

and the carpet, they were caused when you mopped

up the blood.

- Then we buried him in the woods.

- Then Colin lost his nerve, didn't he?

- It'll be all right.

- How can it be all right?

He's dead.

- He went home to Molly and told her

everything that had happened.

- We've talked it over, Stan.

It's the only thing to do.

- They wanted to go to the police.

- We buried him.

- But you killed him.

- We hid the body.

You think the police are going to be understanding?

- That's it, Stan.

You can do as you please.

- No, Stan, please no.

- I didn't know what to do.

But I wasn't going to prison.

I knew that much.

(gun fires)

We was on to a good thing up there up at The Priory.

If only they'd listened to reason.

I thought I'd keep them in the woods, until they saw sense.

And then Colin decided to have another go at me.

- No, no, please, please!

No! (screams) (gun fires)

- Thing was, I didn't mean to kill him, either.

It was just one thing after another. you know?

Just one thing after another.

- You buried Colin Thomas,

just as you'd buried Terry Lowther.

- I made the women do it.

Get up!

Now, I was going to go back later and make a proper

job of it.

But I knew I couldn't trust them.

So, we had to keep moving around the woods,

stay ahead of the police.

But I had to find somewhere to keep them.

Somewhere safe.

- So you thought of this shack.

- Well, I used to work as a keeper

on the estate before I worked at The Priory.

I know every inch of these woods.

- But something went wrong, didn't it, Stanley?

Molly Thomas had now managed to escape.

- They thought I was going to kill them.

But I hadn't thought about that.

I hadn't thought about anything much.

Molly ran indoors.

But I was close behind.

- No, stay down!

- I saw where she went.

There was nothing for it.

Well, no way back, not then.

But I, I couldn't.

- You couldn't look at her, could you?

- Turn round.

(gun fires)

- My dear Lord.

What have you done!

- Perhaps I should have killed Nesta, then.

Yeah.

I should have killed her.

But I didn't.

- The fact is, Stanley, you very nearly did.

- That was your fault.

I put her in the well to keep her out of trouble.

Then you caught me.

And she was stuck down there.

- And she must have been down there when we found

you the first time,

but she didn't even have the strength to call out.

And this is my fault?

- Definitely.

(chuckles) Oh, yeah.

That was down to you.

- Stanley, you could have told someone where she was.

- She was getting ready to leave me,

I knew that.

Stealing things to pay for it all.

- Did you know it was Lynton Pargeter

that she was having an affair with?

- Not until he come at me with a knife.

I wasn't expecting it,

otherwise he'd never have got close

enough to do me harm.

- What have you done with her, you bastard?

Where's Nesta?

Is she dead?

- Then it was him or me.

No choice in the matter.

- You caught up with him at The Priory.

What I don't understand

is how you got there so quickly.

I mean all he had to do was grab his case,

chuck it into a car and he'd be gone.

- I've lived round Bow Clayton all my life.

I know every track and every shortcut.

His bad luck.

He got back first, but I came across the fields.

He wasn't quick enough.

(screaming)

- John Temple is very anxious to co-operate.

- Is he?

- Shouldn't be long before we find

Pargeter's delivery men.

- Good.

Was he? - Forthcoming?

Yes, surprisingly so.

Except, perhaps not such a surprise.

- Sir?

- He could have been miles away by the time

we found the body.

And yet, when we chased him, where did he come?

He comes back here, where we'd found him

in the first place.

- Perhaps he wanted to be caught.

- Or perhaps he wanted her to be found.

- See, it's all your fault, really. (laughs)

- Still doing his mad act, then.

- I'm not sure he's acting.

Not now.

- A horseshoe over water.

A witches' sign, my Welsh granny used to say.

- She's in a dark place.

It's dark, dark.

She cannot speak.

She cannot see.

She lies beneath the sign of the witch.

- No, it's nonsense.

- I preached to the people, Sarah.

Now the truth has been heard.

The blasphemer is unmasked.

Sarah?

- I'm sorry, Wallace.

I've had enough.

- What do you mean?

I don't understand.

- No, of course you don't.

- Surely it's too late for the postman.

- No, perfect timing.

- So it was your fault.

- What was my fault?

- It was your fault that Cyrus LeVanu was accused of fraud.

- Well he is a fraud.

- You're such a cynic.

- Joyce, people like ghost stories.

They enjoy being scared, it's basic human nature.

You don't believe in them do you?

- Well why not?

I have an open mind.

Unlike some people.

- Right.

Come on.

- I don't care how you rationalise it,

there's definitely something spooky here.

- Yeah, so people say.

Accounts of the mass-murder in Monks Barton woods

have been handed down from generation to generation, Joyce.

There is a theory that the very stones

of the priory, even the earth where the victims fell,

is somehow imprinted with psychic recordings

of those terrible events and Cyrus LeVanu traded

on that theory.

I was wrong about LeVanu in just one respect.

It was Pargeter, not LeVanu who put speakers

in the trees to scare off the locals.

Right, let's see if we can summon up a ghostly

presence for you.

(screaming) What?

Joyce?

Joyce!

What is it?

Are you alright?

Hey, what's the matter?

What's the matter?

(ominous music)

(dramatic music)

- Very strange and difficult to explain, really.

- Is it George?

Stan Goodfellow encounters him

in the woods, thinks he might raise the alarm

and kills him to keep him quiet.

- No, Tom.

This man died recently, this morning in fact,

long after Stanley Goodfellow was arrested.

No, it's, it's the manner of his death.

I've heard of it and never seen it.

Parasympathetic rebound.

It happens when someone is so terrified

that the whole metabolic system reacts

and tries to calm itself down.

The problem is, it can make too good a job of it,

and the heart simply stops beating.

I don't know what it was he encountered

in Monks Barton woods, and, frankly,

I hope I never find out.

(yells)

- Parasympathetic rebound.

You're telling me that Cyrus LeVanu died of fright?

(soft music)