Original subtitles

(trolley creaking) (dramatic music)

- Can I help you, madam?

- Oh yes, hello.

I'm so sorry to bother you but I was just

clearing out my loft when I found this.

I don't know how it got there, but it's rather nice.

- I don't generally look at paintings

found in people's lofts, madam.

There are several house clearance firms locally

if you'd like to try there.

- Yes, I know.

I'm so sorry, but it is rather nice.

I've got no space on my walls

but I thought someone might like it.

(Prideaux sighing)

- No.

I'm sorry, this isn't something I could help you with.

- Oh dear, but it's so pretty.

- The frame's rather nice I suppose.

I could possibly give you something for that.

Shall we say, 50 pounds?

- 50 pounds!

How wonderful!

There's a bird bath down at the garden centre

that I've had my eye on.

Now, I can buy it.

Excellent!

- A bird bath!

How lovely.

I'll just get you some money.

- Thank you so much!

I'll just pop down to The Causton Gallery

and see what they think.

And if they're not interested, we've got a deal!

- I have to tell you that, sadly,

the gallery you mention does not have

an honest reputation at all, sadly.

No, I couldn't recommend the place.

Look, how about I give you 100 pounds for the frame?

Now, how would that be?

- 100 pounds, are you sure?

- Yes, yes, absolutely.

You could buy two bird baths, huh?

- How generous!

Thank you so much!

I don't believe the Causton Gallery could better that!

- He's a shark, he'll trick you!

- Surely not.

(thudding)

(trolley creaking)

- Look, here's 200 pounds, hm?

Take it.

Come on, here's 400 pounds.

Look, I'll give you a thousand pounds!

- Mr. Prideaux, is there something about this painting

you're not telling me?

(dramatic music)

(wind rustling)

(footsteps thudding)

- Yes, madam at 600 pounds.

700 pounds, thank you, sir.

Do I hear 800?

725?

No?

All done then at 700 pounds.

- This is a very fine example of a Henry Hogson,

the 18th century landscape artist

who lived and worked in Midsomer.

The scene is of Bishop's Drift, a local stretch of river.

The figure is almost certainly Bishop John Fletcher.

As you can see, he's fly-fishing.

(footsteps thudding)

- Look mate, don't believe what people tell you.

I'm a nice guy, honest.

Ah, Tilly, come, tell the man I'm a reformed character.

- Leave me alone, Graham.

Haven't you caused enough trouble?

Just go home!

(footsteps thudding)

- Clear off.

- Oh dear, oh dear, Mr. Spate.

- Pleasant fellow.

- Why's it called Bishop's Drift?

- Good question.

- Sorry I'm late. - You can see

where the Bishop used to drift his fly downstream,

hence the name still used for the spot today!

- Knows his stuff.

- He certainly does.

- When did you first realise that the painting

was by Hogson, Mr. Prideaux?

- Well...

- When he first laid eyes upon it.

- Yes, yes, it was obvious.

- I bet.

- In fact Hogson developed arthritis in his early 60s

and I have been able to date this painting to 1792

because of the subtle changes in his brushwork.

- Yes, yes.

And that date coincides with a payment of 50 pounds

made for an artistical work (thudding)

that I found in Bishop Fletcher's papers,

along with a preparatory sketch of that painting.

- Ladies and gentlemen, Mrs. Patricia Blackshaw,

President of the Hogson Society,

who will be bidding on behalf of the society tonight.

And let us hope she is successful.

- Thank you.

And let me assure you that if we win,

Bishop's Drift will go on public display for all to enjoy.

(people clapping)

- Yeah and how much have you,

how much you've raised so far, Patricia?

- Oh, I'm sure the Treasurer of the Society

won't thank me for giving you that information.

But I can tell you that Joyce Barnaby and her team

have worked tirelessly to fill the coffers.

(people cheering)

- Ah!

The moment has arrived!

Let us take our seats, ladies and gentleman,

in the bidding room.

(muffled chatter)

(coughing)

- Hello Matilda.

- Hello.

- Just wanted to say I'm sorry about

all that unfortunate business.

My hands were tied.

- Yes, but by whom, Neville?

- Doesn't she run the Simms' art school

where they do the art therapy?

- Yes, Matilda Simms.

- One of her ex-students tried to muscle

his way in here just now, Graham Spate, one-man crime wave.

He was up six time-- - Sssh!

- [Auctioneer] Now, ladies and gentlemen,

shall we settle down?

- Excuse me.

My name's Alan Best.

- So who's gonna get the painting then, eh?

Our frozen food man, he seems very interested?

- Alan Best.

Ah, he's got money to burn.

- How much you got?

- 120,000.

(gavel pounding)

- Ladies and gentlemen, we now come to the main lot,

the oil on canvas Bishop's Drift by Henry Hogson.

It goes without saying this is a very rare opportunity

to acquire a work by a master landscape artist.

Let's get going.

Who will start the bidding at 70,000?

Thank you sir, I have 70,000.

Do I have 80?

80.

90.

100.

100,000 pounds I'm bid.

Thank you, madam.

Do I have 110?

110.

One hundred and twenty, madam?

Thank you.

130 to Mr. Best.

(Joyce sighing)

- He's got it.

- 140 to the Hogson Society.

- We haven't got that kind of money!

- 150.

160.

- Patricia, we haven't got a 160,000 pounds.

- Shh, quiet.

- [Auctioneer] To the Hogson Society.

- Sir?

- Hm?

- I am the treasurer of the Hogson Society

and I am obliged to say that the Society

hasn't the funds to cover those last two bids.

(people murmuring)

- I shall continue the bidding in a private capacity.

- What on earth are you talking about?

- I have to have it!

- Very well, I have 160,000 pounds

to Mrs. Patricia Blackshaw.

Sir?

- No.

(thudding)

- That's 160,000 pounds.

Going once, going twice.

- 170!

(gasping)

- Who's that?

- It's George Arlington.

He owns half the Hogsons in the world!

200,000.

- Stop this.

We'll end up living in a barn!

- 220.

- You can live in a pig stye, I don't care.

300,000!

- At the back?

Sir, are we all done?

- 400,000 pounds.

(people murmuring)

- That's enough!

- Selling at 400,000 pounds, any more?

- Oh, just give him the painting!

- At 400,000 pounds, for the last time.

Sold! (gavel pounding)

(people applauding) (upbeat music)

- I don't believe it.

- That smashes the record.

Felicity?

Congratulations.

- Felicity, what are you going to do with the money?

- You money grubbing degenerate!

Damn you!

- Patricia, please!

- The gentleman asked what I plan to do with my windfall,

and I will tell you.

I will take 2,000 pounds for a short holiday.

The balance I will donate to the Arnold Simms School of Art

which is run by my dear friend Matilda Simms.

As many of you know, the Simms school does vital work

with delinquents and the mentally ill

but has recently lost its funding from the Midsomer Council.

I have had a good life.

And, my gift will allow Matilda

to continue with her important work,

and I ask you all please to support her.

(people clapping)

- Mr. Arlington!

May I take the opportunity to congratulate you?

My name is-- - I know who you are.

- Oh.

- Come to my hotel tomorrow, 10.

We have some business to discuss.

- Yes, of course Mr. Arlington.

I'll be there, not a minute late.

(bicycle whirring)

(rustling)

- Well, better luck next time.

- There won't be a next time!

George Arlington has pushed the price

of Hogson's work through the roof!

Still, at least Matilda will put the money to good use.

- Does she need it, love?

I mean, I thought her daddy left her a fortune?

- That's all gone.

The last few years she's been reliant

on a grant from the council.

And with that gone, she was in trouble.

- Would I be right in thinking

it was Patricia Blackshaw's husband,

as chairman of the Arts committee, who removed her grant?

- Yes, but it's just so lovely

that it's finally worked out for Matilda.

Dear old Felicity, what a wonderful present.

(car revving)

- Nice work.

Daddy would be proud of you.

- I think so.

Sleep tight.

- Oh, I will.

(door thudding) (dramatic music)

(leaves rustling)

(car revving)

(phone ringing)

- Genius.

(phone ringing)

Hello?

(engine whirring)

(rustling)

(clicking) (dramatic music)

- Hello?

Hello?

(clicking) (thudding)

(tense music) (rustling)

(sighing)

(phone ringing)

- Hello?

Felicity Law.

- Felicity, "The Black Book," it's missing.

Someone got into the safe.

- No.

- [Simms] Should we call the police?

- We can't.

- You're in terrible danger.

You must be very careful.

- I understand.

Don't worry, I'll be fine.

(creaking) (tense music)

(gasping)

(glass clanging)

(siren blaring)

- She died about eight hours ago.

And Tom, signs of torture.

I think someone held her hand on the hot plate?

- No sign of a forced entry, sir.

I wouldn't be surprised if she was the type

that left the back door open.

- Or else she knew her killer.

(tyres screeching)

(birds tweeting)

- No, please, let me through.

Let me through.

What's happened?

- Hello, madam, I'm sorry.

You can't come in, this is a crime scene.

Ms. Simms, I'm sorry to have to tell you

that Felicity Law is dead.

- Oh no!

How?

- We're looking at a murder investigation here.

Ms. Simms, I'm Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby.

I'm in charge of this investigation.

Now listen, could you tell me please

when did you last speak to Felicity Law?

- Last night, I called her.

- What time was that?

- About 11:30.

- Why did you call?

- To thank her.

She sold a painting and she gave the money to the school.

Oh God!

Who'd have done such a thing?

(bell chiming)

- Three, four, five.

Mr. Barnaby!

- Mrs. Blackshaw.

I'm here in my official capacity I'm afraid.

I have to tell you that Felicity Law is dead.

She's been murdered.

- Murdered?

- Now I was at the auction yesterday,

and you were very upset, weren't you?

You were very angry.

- Yes, well, of course I was.

We all worked very hard to raise that money.

- Where did you go after the auction?

- Home.

I may not have liked Felicity and her degenerate friends

but I would never wish--

- I'm sorry, what do you mean by degenerate?

- You must be aware of the rumours?

- No, I'm not aware of the rumours.

- Ah.

Back in the 70s, there was a great deal

of liberty up at the art school.

Arnold Simms, Matilda Simms's father,

was known to work on several canvasses simultaneously.

Felicity Law was one of them.

- And your point is what?

- Merely that beneath that sweet little old lady demeanour,

Felicity Law was, clearly she thought

nothing of carrying on with a married man.

- That was 40 years ago.

- I'm sure Matilda Simms remembers it like yesterday.

Believe me, this is not what it seems.

All that show about giving the money to Matilda's school?

Do people really do things like that

out of the kindness of their heart?

(engine whirring) (birds tweeting)

(footsteps clicking)

- Ms. Simms.

This is Detective Sergeant Jones.

Thank you for seeing us.

- Not at all, come in.

- Thank you.

Oh this is very splendid.

When did your father purchase this place?

- 63.

It was virtually abandoned.

This is my father's work.

- It's very beautiful.

Who's the model?

- One of my father's pupils.

- It's very intimate.

- She was his lover at the time.

- Oh, right.

Nice rods.

Split cane.

- They belonged to my father.

I'll show you round.

- 'Scuse me!

(playful music)

Thank you.

- This is our workshop.

Come to the office later on.

- So, what inspired your father

to set up this therapeutic school?

- Arnold thought that life is cruel, short and painful.

Criminal behaviour is often a manifestation

of mental illness, a fear of life, a withdrawal from pain.

My father's message was simple.

Make pain your teacher, not your master,

and then you can become yourself.

The school has a very high success rate.

- Was Graham Spate a success?

- Graham Spate was one of only a small number

of students who got nothing from their time here.

- How many students have you got here?

- It varies, around 30 usually.

- They live here?

- Some of them.

Quite a few come straight from the streets.

It's the work they do that helps sort out their problems.

- Yeah.

- Can I help you with anything else, Mr. Barnaby?

- Yes.

Could you tell me about Felicity Law?

She knew your father, didn't she?

- Yes.

- How well did she know your father?

- Very well.

She was his lover.

She was in a ménage with my father and my mother.

- How did your mother feel about that?

- It's hard to explain.

My father was such a generous character,

the normal rules didn't seem to apply.

He had so much love in him, there was plenty to go around.

- Yes, I can imagine that.

- She does have the most wonderful body.

Doesn't she, Mr. Jones?

What do you think, Mr. Barnaby?

- I think she's lovely, Ms. Simms.

- Isn't she!

- I understand there's been a lot of local opposition

to the work you do here.

Is that right?

- Yes.

It all came to a head over the Graham Spate episode.

- Oh, Graham Spate.

- Caused a lot of trouble, that boy.

- Graham came to the school

after being released from prison.

He showed great promise as a painter.

But it was all too much for him.

He reverted to criminality.

He was the excuse the Arts Committee were looking for

to cut off funding.

- So the sale of Bishop's Drift comes

at a very opportune moment, then?

- You could say that.

We were scraping along before,

but Felicity's gift pulled us out of trouble.

Her death came as a terrible blow.

(sombre music) (gravel crunching)

- What's wrong? - Sh.

(creaking)

(thudding)

(gun cocking)

(tense music)

- Alan, don't do anything stupid.

- Sh!

Be quiet.

(engine revving)

(gun firing)

- [Best] I want them caught.

- Why, yes, well.

We'll do our best, sir.

- Well you do that.

- You got an alarm system?

- Well, of course.

I've got sensors on the windows and on the doors.

They must've found some way of bypassing it.

- How did they manage to do that?

- I don't know.

You're the detective, you tell me!

- Oh, sir.

- Sorry.

It's just all been a bit of a terrible shock, actually.

The painting was here.

- I was at the auction the other night.

Well, so were you.

So you'll know that another Hogson went for 400,000 pounds.

How much do you think your painting would fetch?

- I think in today's market,

it must have been worth 500,000, maybe more.

- Five... (sighing)

What was it insured for?

- 200,000. - Oh.

- I was going to speak to my insurers

this week about upping the premium.

- Mr. Best?

- Yeah?

- Your neighbours report hearing gun shots last night.

Was it the thieves that fired those shots?

- No.

- Who fired the shots?

- Things are bad enough as they are.

Look you have to understand, Hogson,

when you get into him, he changes your life.

I loved that painting.

- So, the price of Hogson's work goes through the roof,

and Alan Best has his painting stolen.

Coincidence?

- Hm.

Here's something for you.

I saw Graham Spate being thrown out

of the Auction Rooms the day of the sale.

- Now you're talking.

- Yeah.

I'd like you to pay him a visit.

- Yes, sir.

- And I, I'm going to do some research.

If we're going to get anywhere with this case,

I have to know my Hogson.

Bit of research.

Two centuries have passed and, look,

it's pretty much the same, isn't it?

- This is where he placed his easel.

- And this field here is still used to raise pigs.

Different kind of pigs but otherwise, it's just the same.

It's remarkable.

- That's why local people love Hogson so much.

He ties the present to the past.

- Well, it's a chocolate box.

- Ah, now that's where you're wrong.

Lush it may be.

Fecund.

But there's a social realism there, too.

Take another look.

The man on the horse is the land owner

surveying his magnificent estate.

He commissioned Hogson to paint Midsomer Meadow

as a wedding gift for his wife.

But look here.

- Children playing?

Sweet.

- Take another look.

They're not playing, they're digging up roots to eat,

because they're starving.

You see?

They collected them in a basket.

- Well, I have to say I wouldn't have seen that,

not at first glance I wouldn't.

- Never underestimate Hogson.

His work's full of it.

Look.

This picture's called The Parson Preaching.

It hangs in the National Collection.

But notice where his gaze is falling?

- On the old woman's purse.

- Exactly.

Silver tongued Parson James retired in some style

after being left a fortune by his parishioners.

- That's nice work if you can get it.

There's a lot to his stuff, isn't there?

- His oeuvre, Mr. Barnaby, his oeuvre.

- His oeuvre, Ms. Simms.

(dramatic music)

(car door thudding)

Mr. Arlington, isn't it?

- George Arlington.

- How do you do, sir?

I'm Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby from Causton CID.

Now don't you worry sir, I'm just here

for a little art appreciation.

- Congratulations on your purchase, Mr. Arlington.

- Thank you, ma'am.

- This is Matilda Simms.

She runs the local art school.

- Yes, I know about your work.

- So this is Bishop's Drift?

- This is the spot where he set up his easel.

River's changed course a little,

but otherwise that's about it.

- Your father was a keen fisherman, wasn't he?

- He was, yes.

- I heard what happened to Felicity Law.

Is there any news in the investigation?

- Well, it's early days yet, sir.

But as they say, we're working on it.

(engine whirring)

(cows mooing)

(knocking)

- Hello, Graham.

Can I come in?

So you been behaving yourself, have you?

- Absolutely.

I'm a reformed character.

- [Jones] And you don't know anything about the theft

of Alan Best's Hogson?

- Alan who?

- Did you do all these?

- Yeah.

- I don't know much about art,

but I reckon you've got talent.

- You're right, you don't know much about art.

- Well, Matilda Simms thinks you could have gone

a long way if you'd carried on.

- What does she know?

She's just a spoiled little daddy's girl.

- Oh, I think she's quite interesting.

- Got her hooks into you as well, has she?

- Aha, is that why you stopped painting?

- No.

- So why'd you stop?

- Crime's more creative.

- Well, I'm sorry you think that, Graham.

I thought you'd turned a bit of a corner with art.

It sort of shines a light into the dark areas, doesn't it?

You never know what you're going to find, do you?

- I suggest you stick to plodding, mate.

Because you'd make a useless shrink.

(dramatic music)

(paper rustling)

- It is a nice picture.

I like it.

- You can imagine Wordsworth or Houseman

coming over the brow of the hill, can't you?

- Yeah.

- You see, that's the secret to understanding Hogson.

He was an early romantic.

He was a contemporary of George Crabbe, you know.

And very lush, he may be very fecund,

but with just a touch of social realism.

- Yeah, very fecund.

- It's amazing what you can pick up

in an afternoon with Matilda Simms.

- You met up with her?

- Yeah, I told you, research.

- I talked to Graham Spate about Matilda Simms.

He got very defensive.

I got the impression they'd been close.

- It's interesting. - Isn't it?

- He's done the pigs really well.

- My uncle had pigs. - Did he?

- They're Tamworths, I think.

Good pig the Tamworth, easy to rear and a nice eater.

- Quite the porcine expert aren't we Jones, eh?

Do either of you know anything about Anthony Prideaux?

- He's got a gallery in the high street.

- Stephens, you check up to see if he's got form?

- Yes, sir.

(rustling)

- One, two, three, four, five, six!

(bells chiming)

- Hello again!

- Good morning.

- Good morning to you.

How's business?

- Brisk. (chuckling)

- The auction has stirred the waters.

Yes, we've sold several prints of Bishop's Drift already.

- Have you?

When I think of the pleasure the local people would have got

out of seeing Bishop's Drift on public display here.

Breaks my heart.

Still life's full of tragedy.

- Yes, indeed, like the death of Felicity Law.

- Though I shared little with her in this life,

I abhor the manner of her passing.

- If I remember rightly at the auction you mentioned

a preparatory sketch that Hogson made for Bishop's Drift?

Do you still have that?

Of course, come with me.

- How did you come by this sketch?

- Aha!

I had a tip off that Bishop Fletcher's descendants

had dumped his papers into a skip outside their house.

I took the whole lot home and I spent

a summer going through them.

And, I found this among them.

The thought that, somewhere, out there there might be

an undiscovered Hogson?

I couldn't sleep a wink for a week!

Now, that was in 1979 and I've been searching

for Bishop's Drift ever since.

- And there it was all the time in Felicity Law's attic?

- If only she'd have come to me first,

instead of that snake, Anthony Prideaux.

Excuse me.

- Yes.

- Can I help you?

(distant chatter)

- Oh dear.

- Well, I think I'm too late.

I was on my way over for the auction

when all hell broke loose and I got held up in New York

and missed the sale of Bishop's Drift.

I was hoping to acquire a Hogson locally

and thought this might be a good place

to find out if other works were coming to market?

Ideally something, you know, big?

- I wouldn't know I'm afraid.

- Sure.

Tell me, is it true Bishop's Drift went for a song?

- If you consider 400,000 pounds a song,

then yes, it did.

Perhaps you'd like to go and see

the exhibition in the gallery?

- Oh, great!

Thanks!

- Hello.

- Hi.

- I'm sorry I couldn't help but overhear.

You're looking for a Hogson, are you?

- Yes, I was on my way over for the auction

when all hell broke loose on the markets.

But I'm here now.

I just had to see Hogson country.

- Oh, welcome.

- Thank you.

Are you a Hogson buff?

- Oh, you know, I dabble.

- Well, if you know of anyone that wants to sell,

my name's Christine Miller

and I'm staying at the Golden Hind Hotel.

- Well I will certainly keep my ear to the ground for you.

- It was a pleasure to meet you Mr...

- I'm Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby from Causton CID.

- Well, like I said, it was a pleasure to meet you.

- Likewise.

- Good-bye.

- Goodbye and have a nice day.

- Who's that?

- That, Jones, is Christine Miller,

newly arrived from New York.

- Or so she says.

(tense music)

- The car's owned by an insurance company

based in London which specialises in fine art.

(computer beeping)

- So she's not a fund manager from New York.

She's an art insurer from Fulham.

- And what is she up to?

(rustling)

So.

- So what?

- You were snooping around Alan Best's house

taking photographs.

Why?

- My company insured Alan Best's painting Midsomer Meadow.

Obviously, we're not keen to pay out the 200,000.

- Look if you're trying to get the painting back

by offering thieves money,

may I point out to you that paying

for stolen property is a criminal offence?

- We call it a finders fee.

- Do you really?

- It's no defence if you're holed up in court.

- We're exploring all options.

It's possible that Best is in financial difficulties

and he arranged for the painting

to be stolen for the insurance.

- Now look.

A Hogson was recently sold for a record fee, 400,000 pounds.

Why wouldn't he just put his painting up for sale?

- A gallery or auction house can ask up to 40%.

- 40%. - Selling is risky.

What if nobody wanted the painting?

- Ms. Miller you do know, don't you,

that the owner of a Hogson has recently been murdered?

And we think whoever stole Midsomer Meadow was involved.

You're dealing with killers here.

- I know all about that, but I have a job to do.

- Ms. Miller, I'm prepared to offer you a deal.

(dramatic music)

Excuse me.

- Ah, Mr. Barnaby.

How can I help?

- Could you let me have everything

you've got on fly-fishing and pigs?

- Fly-fishing and pigs?

- Fly-fishing and pigs.

(dramatic music) (rustling)

- You can't take those.

They're reference books. - I'll bring them back!

Jones, I have a result.

This, Jones, this is a painting of Midsomer Meadow.

Now, you correctly identified the breed of pig

in the painting as being Tamworths.

Now these got their name from the founding father

of the British police force, Sir Robert Peel of Tamworth,

who brought some pigs over from Ireland in 1809.

But the breed didn't fully establish

itself in England until 1865.

Hogson died in 1810 which means, does it not,

that the painting pre-dates the pigs.

- Which means?

- It's a forgery.

- Exactly.

And if Alan Best did arrange to have his Hogson stolen,

we now know the reason why.

He knew the thing was worthless.

(phone ringing)

- 'Morning, Stephens.

- 'Morning, Sir.

- Susan.

- Thanks for calling.

Christine Miller's just had a phone call

from a man with a Hogson for sale.

She's meeting him in half an hour.

- Did he say who he was?

- Said his name's Toby Smith and that he had

a Hogson for sale at, quote, a reduced rate.

(knocking)

- Keep him talking.

Jones, come on.

- [Miller] Come in Mr. Smith.

As I think you know, I'm in the market for a Hogson.

You say you have one for sale?

- [Smith] First perhaps, we might establish

your credentials as a buyer.

I mean, I need to know you're serious of course.

(phone ringing)

- Sorry.

- The Keystone Cops I presume.

- Mr. Prideaux.

(clanging)

Right, Jones, take a look around.

See if you can find any more iffy Hogsons.

- You'll need a search warrant.

Show me your warrant.

- If you're going to carry on like that, sir,

I'll take you down to the station right now

and charge you with receiving stolen goods.

(clears throat)

- Thank you.

Carry on, Jones.

So which Hogson were you hoping

to sell to Christine Miller then, Mr. Prideaux?

- I think there's been a misunderstanding here.

It was merely an exploratory meeting.

I was merely suggesting that if she was in the market

for a Hogson, I could introduce her to someone

who might, perhaps, have a Hogson for sale.

- It would help you and it would certainly help me

if you were to answer my questions truthfully.

- I am answering your questions truthfully.

- Because as you know Felicity Law was murdered.

And this is a very serious matter.

- So, own up or we have ways and means et cetera, et cetera.

Well, you've chosen the wrong man this time, Barnaby,

because I am made of sterner stuff.

- I know, Mr. Prideaux.

- (scoffing) What do you know?

- I know, Mr. Prideaux, that Midsomer Meadow is a forgery.

- No.

Now that is where you're wrong, completely wrong.

Might I suggest you leave art to the experts

and concentrate instead on matters

within your intellectual grasp?

What makes you think Midsomer Meadow is a forgery?

- Graham Spate told us.

- That name is unfamiliar to me.

- He says it was your idea to steal

Midsomer Meadow from Alan Best.

- I never knew it was stolen!

I know nothing about this Spate or his crimes!

I'm a professional with an impeccable reputation.

- And two previous convictions for receiving stolen goods.

Where's the painting now?

- Under his bed!

(dramatic music)

(goats bleating)

(door thudding)

- Graham?

Graham Spate?

- He's in here!

(distant chatter)

I'll organise a full search of the house sir.

- Repeated blows to the skull with a blunt instrument

and not so long ago.

The body's still warm to the touch.

- And more signs of torture again.

- Very nasty.

Any ideas?

- No.

Except whoever did it, must have known

that painting was a forgery otherwise

they would have taken it with them, wouldn't they?

- Mm.

- Good news, Mr. Best.

- Yeah?

- [Barnaby] Yes.

- We've got it back.

I don't believe it!

- Excellent.

- Aren't you pleased?

- I'm thrilled.

- You don't look it.

- What is that on it?

- That's blood.

- Blood?

- There's been an incident.

- I'll get a J cloth.

- Now, Mr. Best, you must upgrade your alarm system.

- I will.

I'll talk to the insurers about it next week.

Thank you so much.

- Mr. Best, do you know a Graham Spate at all?

- The name's familiar.

He's a local tea-leaf isn't he?

- That's the man.

You ever spoken to him?

- No.

- 'Cause Graham Spate has just been found murdered,

Mr. Best, and according to his phone records,

he spoke to you several times

on the night Midsomer Meadow was stolen?

- Well, I get a lot of crank calls.

- Yeah, I'm sure you do.

Curious thing, isn't it,

about the Tamworth pigs in your painting there.

That weren't introduced into this country

until years after old man Hogson had died.

But I think you know that, don't you?

- I bought this painting in good faith.

- Look, Mr. Best, I think you should tell me

everything that happened.

- Somehow Spate discovered that Midsomer Meadow was a fake.

And he was going to reveal it to the world

unless I paid him 50,000 quid.

He knew about the pigs and some of the other errors

the forger had made.

- Other errors?

- Yeah.

- Can you point them out to me?

- The four swineherd.

Look closely.

- Yes?

- They're The Beatles!

(upbeat music)

- [Barnaby] Oh yes.

George, Paul, John and Ringo!

- I knew he wasn't going to be happy

with 50,000 quid so I offered him a better deal.

If he stole the painting and destroyed it,

he could have 100,000 pounds of the insurance money.

- So what did he do?

Get greedy, try to sell the painting on

instead of destroying it?

- Yeah.

- You do understand, don't you Mr. Best,

that you are now a suspect in this case.

- When was he killed?

- He was killed sometime this morning.

- Well, that's me in the clear, then.

Because I've been in church all morning with Yvonne.

We've been rehearsing our wedding.

- Mr. Best?

I heard the news.

I'm really pleased for you.

Where did you find it?

Oh that's a long story.

But there it is.

Mr. Best, don't you think we should up your premiums?

- No, I don't think so!

- Oh, why not?

- 'Cause this is junk!

(clanging) (Yvonne gasping)

(rustling)

(dramatic music)

- Found these.

What do you make of that?

- Ah.

- Wish she was my art teacher!

Forensics have found prints all over the shop.

- Have they?

- He was murdered?

Oh god.

- Matilda, Ms. Simms, if I were to take your fingerprints,

would they match those we found

all over Graham Spate's cottage?

- Yes.

- What were you doing there?

- I still have a key.

I went there last night.

It was awful.

- Why didn't you call us, Ms. Simms?

- I was looking for these pictures.

- Well, by the look of it, you were very keen on Mr. Spate?

- I was in love with him.

Beneath all the anger and violence,

there was something very tender.

- Would it be fair to say that he hurt you?

And he damaged the reputation of your school.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

- Are you suggesting that I?

No, I didn't kill Graham.

I couldn't kill anyone.

- Okay.

What's does a woman like that doing

with a pratt like Graham Spate?

I mean, come on!

- Must know his way around the ladies, sir.

- Thank you, Jones.

- Where are we going?

- Felicity Law's cottage.

(dramatic music) (birds chirping)

What do you notice about this cottage, Jones?

- I think you're about to tell me, sir.

- Yes, I am.

Felicity Law told Prideaux she found

her painting in her loft.

But there ain't no loft.

- It's just an expression though, isn't it?

It's not evidence.

- Oh, right.

Now, Jones, you're the fisherman.

Look at the loop shape the Bishop has made with his line.

There.

- Yeah, it's a Spey Cast.

- Yes, it is, and?

- Well, you're the expert now.

- Well I can tell you Jones, as a result of my research,

that that kind of casting, the Spey cast,

wasn't used or known about until 1850.

That's 40 years after old man Hogson was dead.

So--

- Bishop's Drift is a forgery too?

- Yes.

And I think Felicity Law knew that.

And I think she knew the identity of the forger too.

- Patricia Blackshaw?

- No, I've seen Patricia Blackshaw's paintings

at the Hogson shop and she's truly awful.

But whoever painted this is good.

Very good indeed.

We're looking at a sophisticated proper artist here,

not a talentless amateur.

So, intimate local knowledge,

profound appreciation of Hogson and a superb technique.

Now, who could that be?

- Tell you what it is, painting is hard.

- Yeah.

(dramatic music)

- Hello again.

- You forged Bishop's Drift, didn't you?

- Matilda, the life drawing class is waiting for you.

- Tell them to start without me.

Come with me.

- Where are we going?

- To my father's studio.

(creaking)

My father forged Midsomer Meadow

and Bishop's Drift in this room.

He developed a deep respect for Hogson.

He saw him as a fellow radical,

an artist struggling against materialism.

- Why turn to forgery?

- It was an accident!

He was particularly in awe of Hogson's brushwork

and in order to understand it better,

he made a copy of The Parson Preaching.

A gallery owner from London happened to see it,

mistook it for the original

and he offered my father 20,000 pounds.

- So you're telling us

that he couldn't resist the temptation?

But your father was a famous artist.

He had a considerable reputation.

And he was earning lots of money.

- His paintings sell for silly money now,

but back then we were broke.

He was desperate to keep the school open.

So from time to time, he'd paint a new Hogson.

- But what about the mistakes he put in?

Like the Tamworth pigs and the Spey casting.

What was all that about?

- I think at first he wanted to be found out.

But when the so-called experts began to lap them up,

(sighing) it became a game for him.

- Yes but on the other hand he was at great pains

to cover up his tracks, wasn't he?

I mean, the preparatory sketch for Bishop's Drift.

Did he deliberately put that into the Bishop's papers?

- Yes!

So that when the work appeared at a later date,

no one questioned it.

My father left me several forgeries knowing

I'd need the money whenever we ran out, I'd sell a painting.

- And that's what happened when Midsomer County Council

cut off your grant, is it?

- Yes, Felicity and I decided to sell

the final forgery in my possession, Bishop's Drift.

We'd pulled off the same scam several times.

- Until Mr. Graham Spate discovered your little secret.

How did he do that?

- My father made a record of all the errors

in a notebook, "The Black Book."

- What was that?

- "The Black Book."

It was a sort of insurance policy.

I kept it in my safe.

But on the night of the auction, it was stolen.

- By Spate?

- He knew where I kept the key to the safe.

(door thudding)

- Spate could have contacted George Arlington

and told him he'd paid 400,000 for a forgery.

Arlington could have murdered Felicity in revenge?

- And if there are forgeries in Arlington's collection,

he could lose millions.

- So Spate was killed for "The Black Book"

and not the painting.

- Whoever's got "The Black Book" now got great power

but could also get themselves killed.

(suspenseful music)

- Mr. Arlington, could we have a word, please?

Mr. Arlington, did you kill Felicity Law?

- That dog don't hunt.

Why in heaven's name would I do that?

- [Barnaby] Because you were angry, sir,

because she'd sold you a fake painting.

- Fake?

What the hell 're you talking about?

- Half your collection of Hogson paintings are forgeries.

Did you know that?

- My entire collection has been examined

by the top art historians in the world.

You really should check your facts

before making wild allegations.

- May I see your book, please?

Thank you.

"The Salmon Fly" by George Kelson, published in 1895.

I see you've taken the trouble to find out

about the technique of Spey casting, sir.

Developed in Wales and Scotland

long long after Mr. Hogson was dead.

- Unless I'm under arrest, I intend to leave.

Good day, gentlemen.

- "The Black Book."

See, you know about "The Black Book," don't you?

That book has already killed two people.

Think you better go home, sir, before it kills you, too.

(dramatic music) (thudding)

- Ah.

(phone ringing)

Arlington.

- Mr. Arlington, it's Anthony Prideaux here.

- What do you want?

- You know what I want.

You have until midday tomorrow, George.

Or I will ruin you.

Good day.

Paul, Ringo, John, George. (chortling)

(dramatic music)

(engine whirring)

- The cause of death seems pretty obvious, don't you think?

- Yes, indeed.

- No sign of a weapon, Tom.

- Sir, the last call Prideaux made was to George Arlington.

- Now, there's a surprise.

Ah, and here he is.

Mr. Arlington.

Not a pleasant sight, is it?

- I had nothing to do with this, I swear to ya'.

I've been in the pub all afternoon.

- Come on, please.

You haven't been entirely honest with me, have you?

Now look, you can see what the situation is.

Now, will you please tell me what was going on

between you and Mr. Prideaux?

- He was blackmailing me.

- He was blackmailing you?

- That's right.

He had "The Black Book."

He'd identified every forgery in my collection.

The forger had made a small error in each painting.

- You're an expert and you didn't notice that?

- We see what we want to see, don't we?

Was he trying to sell you "The Black Book?"

- He wanted a million pounds.

- But, you gonna pay it?

- What choice do I have?

A great deal of my wealth is tied up

in my Hogson collection.

- When was the exchange to take place?

- Tomorrow.

You people sure know how to ruin a vacation!

- I do apologise, sir.

- I'm heading home.

- No, no, sir, again I'm sorry.

You can't do that.

- And why not?

- Because whoever did that to Mr. Prideaux

almost certainly has got "The Black Book" and it won't take

them long to work out that you're the best

because you're the richest blackmail target.

Now listen, when they contact you,

you get in touch with me immediately.

I want you to say that you'll pay them the money.

- Arlington's alibi checks out, he was at the pub.

Downed half a dozen double whiskies apparently.

- Yes, I bet.

- Forensics have got some interesting fibres,

but don't hold your breath.

- So, Graham Spate steals "The Black Book"

from Matilda's safe.

He realises Midsomer Meadow is a fake

so his first port of call is Alan Best.

He steals the painting and offers it to Prideaux.

Look, you go through Prideaux's phone records.

See if he's made contact with any other Hogson owners.

I mean, he might well have been blackmailing

other people, too, mightn't he?

And whoever killed him must know about "The Black Book."

- [Receptionist] Mr. Arlington.

- Thank you, ma'am.

(suspenseful music)

(rustling)

- "Collect two million pounds in used 50 pound notes.

"Place the money in a shopping trolley and place

"a plastic bag of groceries on the top to hide the money.

"Leave the trolley beside desk three of the reading room

"in Causton Library at exactly 11 A.M. tomorrow.

"You'll find 'The Black Book' on the desk.

"Take it, go home to America,

"and never come back here again."

Can you raise that kind of money in the time?

- Two million is a lot.

(bags rustling) (tense music)

- [Barnaby] What's happening?

- An old lady sitting near desk three.

- Whoa!

He's on the move.

He's got the money.

He's leaving the bank.

- Roger that.

It's all quiet here.

No Bla..

Wait a minute, the book's there!

He's taking "The Black Book" and he's left the money.

- Well done, you.

Thank you.

What's happening?

- Nothing.

I can still see the trolley by the table.

Roger that.

Come on, George.

Come on.

Tuck yourself in there.

(engine whirring) (suspenseful music)

The blackmailer's picked up the money.

It's Neville Blackshaw.

He's heading your way.

- Neville?

Neville Blackshaw.

- Mr. Barnaby, how are you?

- I'm very well.

And you are under arrest.

Take your hands off that.

- What?

- Where's my money?

- It's in there, sir.

- What are you doing?

That's my shopping!

(trolley creaking)

- It's gone!

My money's gone.

- Mr. Blackshaw, where is the money?

- Right, that's it.

- What money?

I don't know what you're talking about.

I just went into the library to pick up some shopping.

What did you forget it?

Or did someone ask you to go in there

and collect it for them?

- Patricia rang half an hour ago.

She said she'd got home, realised she'd left the shopping

in the library next to desk three.

Well, I work just round the corner

so I popped out to pick it up.

- Patricia Blackshaw must've switched the trolleys.

How could you let her do that?

(bell ringing)

- Oh no!

- What?

- She was in there.

- Who?

- The old woman at desk three.

(laughing)

(car whirring)

(bags rustling)

- You must be Mrs. Blackshaw.

- Yes.

- My name's Melony.

I'm here to show you aboard.

May I take your bags?

- No, thank you.

That won't be necessary.

- What are you going to do with your car?

- Nothing.

- Right.

The flight plan has been cleared for your trip to Florence.

(upbeat music) (whirring)

- There was a little radio transponder

in the bag with the money.

Failed to spot it when your husband walked out

with his basket but, once you were on the move,

we could track you.

Patricia Blackshaw, let me put it to you.

You killed Felicity Law, Graham Spate

and Anthony Prideaux, didn't you?

- That's a ridiculous suggestion.

- No, it's not.

How did "The Black Book" come into your possession?

- I don't know what you're talking about.

All I'm prepared to say is that my actions

were entirely honourable.

I merely sought to expose little Matilda Simms

for the criminal that she is

and rid the world of fake Hogsons,

thus ensuring his reputation for posterity.

Now if that is a crime, I'm guilty as charged.

- Ensuring his reputation for posterity.

That is just not the true, is it?

Your actions were driven entirely by greed.

And by a passionate hatred of Arnold Simms.

You were his pupil, and you were also his lover.

It is you, isn't it?

You in the painting hanging in the hall?

- This is the last painting.

I've sold all the rest.

- You loved him but he rejected you.

Tell me about that.

- That's no business of yours.

- You did love him, didn't you?

- It's all too long ago.

- He was your teacher, you admired him.

- I did admire him, yes.

He was older, but so brilliant, so alive.

Yes, we became lovers.

I was so happy.

I wanted to paint.

Live a bohemian life of adventure and daring. (chuckling)

Oh, I loved him so much.

- But he rejected you.

How could he do that?

- He said it was because I had a bourgeois mind.

- And Felicity Law took your place?

- Hm.

That was the final humiliation.

Despite my perfect beauty, he preferred her!

And Felicity Law got a life of art, laughter.

Sexual adventure.

And all I got was jam, Jerusalem

and bloody Neville Blackshaw!

- Patricia, when did you first realise

that someone was forging Hogsons?

- Oh, Felicity told me.

After the auction, I went round her cottage

to make my feelings plain.

And, things got a little out of hand.

(tense music)

You greedy old witch!

You should have sold it to me!

(hand slapping)

- Please Patricia, no more, I beg you.

I was doing you a favour!

It was a forgery!

- I'd long suspected there were forgeries floating around.

Well, paintings kept popping up.

And it occurred to me that if I could get Felicity

to tell me who the forger was, I could,

well, I could blackmail him or her.

- You tortured her, didn't you?

- No, no, no, no, ah.

- She was so tough.

She wouldn't tell me a thing!

- Ah!

- So you killed her.

- What choice did I have?

- The painting, Midsomer Meadow,

that was stolen from Alan Best,

did you suspect a connection then?

- Well, it was very coincidental.

- Why did you suspect Graham Spate?

- Felicity told me enough for that.

He knew his art.

He could have been the forger,

so I took him a bottle of wine.

And while he was looking for a corkscrew,

I hit him over the head.

By the time he came around, I got him well tied up.

(groaning)

- Are you the forger?

- No.

- Then how do you know it's a forgery?

- "The Black Book."

It lists all the forgeries her father ever made.

Please, no more!

- [Patricia] Where is it?

- I don't know.

Ah!

Anthony Prideaux's got it!

We're working together.

Please.

- I suspect that you've got no qualms

about killing Graham Spate?

- Nope.

He was such an unpleasant young man.

- [Barnaby] But then all you had to do

was to find "The Black Book."

- (chuckling) Paul, Ringo, John, George.

- [Barnaby] And write a little note to Arlington.

'Cause you knew he'd do anything in the world

to protect his collection, and his reputation.

- Precisely. (giggling)

I nearly got away with it, you know?

- Well, Mrs. Blackshaw, I hope when you're in prison

that will be of some comfort to you.

- Two million pounds, all there.

If you just could sign this receipt for me please, sir.

- Sure.

- What are you gonna do with it?

You've missed the banks.

- My hotel has a good safe.

- You want one of my men to escort you?

- No, that's very kind of you.

I'll be fine.

You could call me a taxi?

(whirring)

(dramatic music)

(tyres screeching)

- Jones!

- Sir?

(rustling)

(suspenseful music)

- Where's Arlington?

- He left for the hotel, sir.

- That's not the book.

He switched it at the library.

(clanging)

- Cab company says he's not going to the hotel.

He's heading for the art school!

- And Matilda Simms is the only one

who can prove his that half his collection are forgeries.

- The students will have gone for the weekend.

- She's on her own.

Come on!

(dramatic music) (rustling)

(engine whirring)

(doorbell ringing)

- Who is it?

- Come on, come on.

Answer.

(phone ringing)

(tyres screeching)

(thudding)

- Matilda!

Try the studios.

- Right.

- Matilda!

- Ms. Simms?

Ms. Simms?

(paper ripping)

(fire crunching)

- It's okay, sheriff.

Ms. Simms and I are doing a little business.

- You tricked me, sir.

You stole "The Black Book."

(paper ripping) (fire roaring)

- Ms. Simms and I have reached an agreement.

- [Barnaby] Have you?

(wood cracking)

- I will remove the remaining forgeries

in my collection and destroy them.

In return, she will destroy the remaining forgeries

that her father left thus bringing an end

to this unhappy chapter.

- You told me that Bishop's Drift was the last one.

- Did I?

- Yes.

Sir, if you go on doing that, you'll lose yourself millions?

- Since the auction, the value of my collection has doubled.

And once the art world discovers

that half of my collection has been lost,

why I anticipate that the value of my collection

may well double again.

- You've got your murderer, Tom.

Can't we just leave it at that?

- No!

What about Patricia Blackshaw?

I mean, do you think she'll keep quiet about all this?

She knows everything!

What about the other forgeries

in other people's collections?

- Who would believe the rantings of a deranged murderer

against the opinion of every art critic in the country?

(clanging)

How about we all go downstairs and have a drink?

- Well, that's a very nice suggestion,

but we're still on duty and I've got

a mountain of paperwork to do.

- I've got to be going too.

I've a flight to catch.

Would you be so kind as to take me to my hotel, Barnaby?

- Oh yes!

Certainly.

Glad to be of service.

(footsteps clicking)

- Thank you, Tom.

- Oh there's nothing to thank me for.

- I shall be running a new course

next term on Henry Hogson.

And since you've acquired such an interest,

why don't you sign up?

- You know there's nothing in the world

I'd like better than that.

But I can't.

- Why not?

- I mustn't.

But, I know someone who'd enjoy that course very much.

- Oh good.

- Thank you.

(lips smacking)

(engine revving)

(dramatic music)

- Oh Tom, what a lovely present!

A course on Hogson.

How thoughtful of you.

- I knew you'd like it.

- I shall look forward to it.

That Matilda Simms is so interesting.

- Yes, she is.

(dramatic music)