All language subtitles for Midsomer Murders S15E06 - Schooled for Murder

Can you take notes?

Ladies, shall we commence?

(revs engine)

First item on the agenda, new admissions.

Well, it won't come as a surprise to any of you

that we are oversubscribed.

Those whose children make the shortlist

will still be subject to an interview.

I'm sure you remember yours. I know I do mine.

Standards must be maintained, Beatrix.

Oh, of course. I was just...

You snotty little bitch!

Debbie, what the hell do you think you're doing?

That's what I was going to ask you.

Firing off your little letters.

What I do with my life is none of your business

and it's nothing to do with the rest of your coven.

If only that were true, Deborah, and yet here you are,

washing your dirty linen in public.

Well, maybe I should air everyone else's.

Sunlight is the best bleach. Don't you think, Bea?

I don't know what you're trying to suggest.

What do you think, Miss Mountford?

Maybe we should have a little chat

about what's really going on here.

- Is that some kind of threat? - You're damn right it is.

Ladies! Ladies!

Meeting adjourned.

Deborah Moffett was always a problem child.

- Now she's just a problem. - I don't think so.

She said her piece. It's finished.

Hope I can trust you to handle this.

(phone rings)

Who's this? What do you want?

Fine. I'll see you there.

Working too hard.

Well, I'm here.

Hello!

So, come on, then! You wanted to have it out!

I should have known you wouldn't have had the guts!

(scraping)

What are you playing at?

Because I'm not in the mood for games, not today.

No!

(knocking)

(woman) Mr Brantner!

(knocking)

(knocking)

Mr Brantner!

(knocking)

Mr Brantner! We need to service your room.

Can you come back later, please?

Very well, sir.

I just don't understand it.

I mean, he's never been an aggressive dog.

- Why would he pick a fight? - I don't know.

How big was the other dog?

Well, you know, bigger than him.

So, have you had any further thoughts

on what you want to do for our anniversary?

Well, I'm not sure I want a fuss.

15 years. I think that's worth fussing about.

OK. Well, let's do something nice.

I'll see if I can think of something.

Let's have Kate and Ben over for dinner.

I was gonna think of something nicer than that.

Oh, come on. It'll be lovely. You can show off in the kitchen.

I'll get some nice wine. You can decide what you're gonna cook.

I'll take care of it. And he can come to work with me.

Are you sure that's appropriate?

It'll be fine. I wouldn't be able to concentrate anyway.

- I'd be too worried about him. - John?

You are gonna be late for work.

- I'll see you later. - Bye.

Don't look at me like that. It was an accident.

(phone rings)

Thanks.

- Sir? - Yeah, he's been in the wars.

- Oh, poor little... - Who have we got?

Debbie Moffett, sir.

Found this morning by one of her colleagues, Jim Caxton.

- So what is this place? - (Jones) Cold.

That's a lot of cheese.

It's not just cheese. Midsomer Blue.

One of the world's finest.

It's up there with Stilton, Roquefort, Gorgonzola.

Bit of a connoisseur, are we, Ben?

I know what to put on a cracker. What's your favourite cheese?

You know that stuff that comes in those little foil triangles?

Midsomer Blue is made at the local dairy

and that's where Debbie worked.

That's quite an aroma. Initial thoughts, Kate?

Probably pinned down by the shelves

and then finished off with a blow to the head.

- Have we got a murder weapon? - You're standing in it.

Ah.

No chance of fingerprints, then?

- No, sir. - DNA?

Not unless the killer stopped for a tasty snack.

Be nice to know what the victim was doing up here for a start.

- Any sign of her phone? - Not on her body.

But we're just about to search the car.

- We'll need her next of kin. - Hello.

Find out where she lives.

Hello. Hi. Can I go in now?

Mr Caxton, I'm afraid not. It's still a crime scene.

When are you gonna get her out of there?

Please don't worry. Debbie's in good hands.

We'll make sure she's looked after.

No, you don't understand. It's the cheese.

You see, these caves are a natural phenomenon,

with this unique balance of bacteria

that you won't find anywhere else in the world.

Can you imagine the effect a dead, putrefying body

is having on that?

I don't think I want to.

See, my cheese, it's aged over 12 months,

and some of it is on the verge of perfect maturity right now.

This balance of lactic acids and naturally forming mould,

it's at a critical point.

Are you aware that Debbie Moffett is a murder victim,

not just a hazard to food hygiene?

I'm sorry. I don't understand the question.

I'll take a guess that you and Miss Moffett weren't that close.

We worked together.

What would Debbie be doing up here at the caves?

She wouldn't. This is my... She's no reason to be here.

Sir.

And just out of interest, where were you last night?

- Home. - With your wife?

No, I'm... I... I'm not married.

What about Debbie? Was she married?

- Did she have a boyfriend? - No.

No, just her and Holly.

- Holly! - Hi, Poppy!

Poppy, what did I tell you about that girl?

She's my friend.

Yes, but girls your age don't always make

the best choices when it comes to friends.

She won't be at the school much longer.

- Why? - What about Isobel?

You could be friends with her, invite her round for tea.

Oh, dear. Go on.

Don't forget to bring your homework back.

- Hi! - Oh, hello, Poppy.

- Gonna get in so much trouble. - Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Remember, you're little girls. You're not dodgem cars.

Sorry, Miss Mountford.

- Mrs Moffett? - Yeah.

I'm DCI Barnaby. This is Sergeant Jones.

40 years in this school, I thought I'd seen it all.

40 years? You must have taught most of the village.

That has been my pleasure and my honour.

- Did you teach Debbie? - Yes.

Deborah was quite a bright spark.

It's a young age to lose a parent.

Small comfort, but I believe Holly already spends

a great deal of time with her grandmother.

Maybe she'll know where Debbie was going last night.

- She was here. - And why was that?

She was attending a meeting of the parents' council.

The parents' council is involved with all the school decisions,

the financial dealings, admissions policy, curriculum.

We'll need to speak with anyone who was at the meeting.

I'm sure they'll want to speak with you.

Thank God you're back.

I was going to call, but I didn't want you driving home

if you were upset.

I can barely function myself.

Why? What's happened?

It's Debbie.

- She's been killed. - Oh, my God.

Jim found her at the caves. It's so awful.

Yeah, awful.

There'll be grief counselling

for anyone who feels they need it

but our priority has to be the children.

They will have lots of questions to ask.

- We need to be as consistent... - Beatrix.

- I'm so sorry to interrupt. - Poor Debbie.

- You OK? - No, Helen, I'm not.

Why not?

The police are crawling all over the caves.

It won't be for ever.

I can't stand them poking around up there.

Try not to think about it.

It's not as if you haven't got

anything else to be getting on with.

What?

We can't carry on. I told you, It's too risky.

Jim, I need you to do this for me.

I know. I... I can't.

Then I'll lose it all. The farm, everything.

If they find out, you'll lose it all anyway.

I have to try. So do you.

You have to do what your brother couldn't.

- Phil did his best. - It wasn't good enough.

That's why I need you, Jim.

- Helen... - Just leave the worrying to me.

You just do what you do best.

(Mountford) Debbie wouldn't want you

to dwell on the sadness of her death.

She'd want you to think about the joys of her life.

It came as such a shock.

It's so hard losing a member of our community this way.

- How long had you known Debbie? - We were at school together.

- This school. - So you were close?

The thing about Debbie was that she never changed.

And why was she here last night?

Oh, she was contributing to the meeting.

Debbie was a member of the parents' council?

Our meetings are open to all parents.

So why was she here last night in particular?

Like I said, we're a community. She was just being part of it.

Thank you, Mrs Ordish.

Well, I wonder if we're looking at a terrible accident,

not an actual murder.

After what I've heard, I can't imagine why anybody

wanted to kill Debbie Moffett.

Yeah, absolute saint apparently.

Sir.

(Barnaby) Happier times.

Hey, Wes.

Alright, boys, that's enough. That's it. Off you go.

I hear you found Debbie. Are you OK to work?

Fine.

Still, you know, tough day all round.

I was thinking maybe we should give everyone the day off.

What would that achieve? She'd still be dead.

- Right. - Right.

Greg, I've just spoken with the estate agents.

I wanted to know why this place

didn't have a for sale sign on it yet,

why it wasn't listed in the property sale pages.

I mean, what's the point of having a dairy to sell

if no one knows about it?

He said you told them to take it off the market.

I was going to discuss this with you.

I just want you to think about it some more.

You promised me! Six months and then we'd be back in London.

- It's been six months. - That's not long enough.

Not for me to do what I know I can do with this place.

And what am I supposed to do?

I haven't written one word since I came here. Not one word.

Why not? This place is perfect for you.

It's peaceful. There are no distractions.

Of course. How could you possibly understand?

Put simply, the victim was killed by a blow to the head

from a large wheel of cheese.

Hard cheese.

Any chance it was an accident if the shelving collapsed?

The brain showed injuries to suggest

her moving head hitting the floor.

But there's a separate injury suggesting a further blow

when she was stationary on the ground.

She was trapped by the shelves

and her attacker made sure she stayed down.

Have we got a time of death?

It's difficult to be precise, as always,

but the constant temperature in the caves helps us.

It gives us a window of between 8:30 and 9:30 last night.

Shame you can't tell us why she was there.

I've checked her phone records.

She received a call around 8:30 from a blocked number.

Maybe someone asking her to come up to the caves.

It would have to have been someone she knew and trusted.

I certainly wouldn't go there to meet a stranger.

This was found in Debbie's pocket.

Oh.

"Dear Miss Moffett, we regret to inform you that as of next term

Holly will no longer be a pupil

at Midsomer Pastures Preparatory School."

The ladies didn't mention that in their heartfelt tributes.

No, they didn't.

"This is as a result of a serious contravention

of the school's constitution."

"This decision is final."

"We wish Holly every success for the future."

Signed: Sylvia Mountford, headmistress,

and Beatrix Ordish, chairwoman of the parents' council.

Let's find out what young Holly is supposed to have done.

Yes, sir.

Oh, and I'm sure you already have plans for Saturday night,

but Sarah wanted to invite you both for dinner.

- But if you're busy... - No. I'm free.

Sounds lovely. What's the occasion?

- 15 years of married bliss. - Ah.

So just bring yourselves and a bottle.

15 years. Wow.

- That's pretty... - Terrifying.

- I was going to say inspiring. - Aw.

- He looks a little perkier. - You think so?

Yeah, he's almost back to his old self.

(Barnaby) I'm not so sure.

I'd like to keep an eye on him

for a little while longer,

for my own peace of mind.

If you think that's necessary.

- I went to a PTA meeting today. - And you came out in one piece?

- Well, it was a little... - Unnerving?

Infuriating? Mind-numbing?

- All of the above? - Don't hold back, dear.

I have had actual nightmares where I've been trapped

in a roomful of uncomfortable plastic chairs,

cheap biscuits and parents whining

about the lack of adequate parking

outside the school.

Well, I found the ladies

of Midsomer Pastures Prep School parents' council

to be restrained and intriguing.

Sylvia Mountford's yummy mummy squad.

I've heard all about them.

These were more Stepford wives than yummy mummies.

A roomful of perfect women and not another man for miles,

except for Jones, and he doesn't count.

Well, John, you should have said.

I'd be more than happy to spend my days

baking the perfect sponge

and choosing perfect wallpaper patterns,

and generally just being perfect.

No, you wouldn't.

Anyway, what do I want with perfection

when I already have you?

No, hang on. That didn't come out right.

(Sarah) You're right there.

(sighs)

Oh!

Oh!

(children) ♪ Summer is a-coming in

♪ Loudly sing cuckoo...

Obviously we won't be pursuing Holly's expulsion now,

not in the circumstances.

Very decent of you, but it doesn't answer my question.

Why was she being expelled in the first place?

- What had she done? - Nothing.

Miss Mountford, I'm at a loss here.

It wasn't Holly's behaviour that we were concerned about.

It was Debbie's.

Lady Elizabeth Rodney.

She's the wife of Sir Henry, the original owner of the dairy.

She devoted herself to improving the social conditions

of Midsomer Pastures by building this school.

very generous of her.

She also introduced the dairy scholarship,

entitling dairy workers' children

to a place at the school, all fees waived.

That continues today,

as do the behavioural requirements

for parents of children at the school.

"Parents of those receiving the dairy scholarship

must refrain from intoxicating liquor, bawdy language..."

"Brawling, games of chance, dice and playing cards, blasphemy

and congress outside of wedlock."

With respect, this is from a time

when they still covered up piano legs.

And obviously we won't expel a child

whose parents enjoy a G&T and a hand of bridge.

So how exactly had Deborah Moffett transgressed?

She was involved in an inappropriate relationship.

A married man.

- Who? - I don't know.

The parents' council received a communication

from a concerned member of the community.

Not concerned enough to put their name to the accusation.

Deborah was invited to a meeting to discuss the situation.

She chose not to come. It was out of my hands.

Debbie Moffett was having an affair.

I found these on her phone.

She took them to send to someone, obviously.

Presumably not her mother.

(Jones) Two numbers in her phone she dialled regularly.

Greg Brantner, he runs the dairy, and Oliver Ordish.

- Ordish. Any relation to... - Beatrix's husband, yeah.

But it was Greg she was calling on the night she died.

Four calls between 5:32 and 7:55.

He was her boss.

You're my boss, but I don't feel the need to call you

all hours of the day and night.

Let's keep it like that.

So who are the photos for, Greg or Oliver?

Very pretty.

They're for Debbie's mother.

Do you think that's necessary?

I think it's the very least I can do.

- Never ceases to amaze me. - What does?

How you manage to find pointless little things to fill your day.

I wish I had time for such distractions.

I thought you did. All sorts of distractions.

Once again, I won't be accused in my own house.

Is that why you spend so little time here?

And yet I still manage to pay the mortgage.

Then perhaps you should have the place all to yourself.

Where would you go? Back to the state I found you in?

I don't think you could manage these days.

- (doorbell) - Get that, would you?

(Oliver) It's one of the few downsides

of living in such a close community.

Every loss is felt so very keenly.

Don't you think, darling?

Mrs Ordish, I wonder if I might trouble you for a cup of tea?

Oh, yes, of course.

Oh, sweetheart?

I'm fine, love.

Mr Ordish, I need to ask you about the nature

of your relationship with Debbie Moffett.

She's a friend of my wife's.

Bu we would encounter one another on a professional basis.

- I work for the cheese board. - I'm sorry?

The British Board of Cheese and Dairy Products.

Government quango promoting UK cheeses.

Midsomer Blue obviously plays a big part in that.

So you've been meeting Debbie on a regular basis recently?

That's right. My job is to put cheesemakers

in the right room with the right people

so they can build rewarding relationships.

And just how rewarding

was your relationship with Debbie?

Not sure I understand the question.

We found some very interesting photographs

on Debbie's mobile phone.

Would I, by any chance, find those same images on yours?

It's another of the downsides

of living in such a close community.

It's very difficult to keep a secret.

Were you aware that Debbie's romantic life

was under discussion at the parents' council?

My name was never mentioned?

No, just Debbie's name dragged through the mud.

It's funny how often that happens.

She had a lot less to lose than I did. What I mean is...

I think your meaning is very clear.

Where were you at nine o'clock on the evening that Debbie died?

(Oliver) Driving back from Causton station.

I leave my car there when I go up to Westminster.

Which train were you on?

The 6:30 out of Paddington. Listen to me.

I may have been... spending time with Debbie.

Is one way of putting it.

I didn't kill her.

It was just a fling. No strings, no consequences.

It was just sex.

We spoke all the time, at all hours.

- Only about work? - Debbie was my right hand.

I wouldn't have lasted six weeks here without her,

let alone six months.

Bit of a rock, was she?

I had no idea what we'd taken on.

When we got hold of the books...

But Midsomer Blue is famous. It wins awards.

Awards for small amounts of cheese

made in a labour-intensive way.

There had to be sacrifices on all sides.

Hayley and I had to sell the main house

and move into here, for a start.

And all this was new territory for me.

- What did you do before? - You're not a rugby fan, then?

I've chased a few eggs, a few England caps.

Really?

- Why did you stop playing? - Glass shoulder.

Hadn't thought of anything but tries and tackles

since leaving Oxford.

Then Hayley's father died

and here we are.

But there was Debbie, a friendly face.

Debbie was the only one that got

that I was trying to save this place.

- What about Jim Caxton? - The cheese wizard.

But you've met him.

How do you think he'd be talking to customers?

Debbie had all that, the chat.

That's why I promoted her over him.

So your relationship with Debbie

remained purely professional throughout?

No.

Helen, we've talked about this. We tried to negotiate.

When Debbie offered me less money per pint

than it cost me to produce the milk?

That's not negotiations. That's a bloody insult.

- Market forces. - Oh, I understand that.

Your lovely contract with Conglomerate Uni-Dairy.

Such a romantic name.

Puts me in mind of rosy-cheeked milkmaids.

- Helen. - Problem is,

my cows don't seem to have got the message.

They still need milking and feeding

and I'm left wondering What to do with all this milk.

So I decided to do this.

Hey!

Helen!

Mrs Caxton, Detective Sergeant Jones.

I suggest you stop that.

Immediately!

Poppy, will you please eat something?

- I don't like it. - You're being silly.

You have it every week.

- I don't want it any more. - And why not?

I don't think we should eat animals.

Now you really are being silly.

I'm not. They have feelings too.

And how they're killed, it's cruel and...

...bar... bar...

- Barbaric? - That's right, Daddy.

Where do you think she's getting this from?

- It can't be. - Who have you been talking to?

Nobody.

You remember that conversation we were having, about lying?

It just gets you into more trouble.

OK. I'll be in the pub if you need me.

I can't imagine we will.

How about some beans on toast, instead?

There we are, sir.

Shh, shh, shh. Everything's gonna be fine.

Mummy's gonna make sure of that.

(sighs)

Just about sums you up, you cold bitch.

Fine. I'm going back to the bloody pub.

Who's there?

- What are you doing? - Feeding the dog.

Is he on a diet?

I just wanna make sure

we're keeping him healthy.

Well, I don't think he appreciates your concern.

John, what happened when you took him to the vet's?

- What do you mean? - You've been so worried.

- Should I be worried too? - No, no, absolutely not.

He's... He's fine.

Oh, so I spoke to Ben and Kate. They're on for Saturday night.

So I'd better think about the menu. Any special requests?

- I'll do all your favourites. - That'll be lovely.

And lobster's so expensive this time of year.

Lobster? I didn't even know you liked it.

Well, 15 years and I'm still surprising you. See you later.

- Bye. - (phone rings)

Jones?

- Bit of a nasty one, sir. - Aren't they always?

- Kate, what have we got? - Something very odd indeed.

They aren't from decomposition, are they?

I wouldn't expect to see that for another 12 hours or so.

Time of death was somewhere around 10 o'clock last night.

(Jones) According to the landlord of the Spotted Cow,

he was there till about 9:30.

So the maggots?

I don't think they're even blowfly maggots.

I need to get them back to the lab.

Could they be related to the cause of death?

Not as far as I can tell.

So they were put there deliberately.

Why?

Maybe they're maggots with a message.

Mrs Ordish, I'm very sorry,

but I'm afraid we have to ask you some questions.

What time did your husband go to the pub last night?

It was around seven o'clock.

And you didn't wait up for him?

No.

(Barnaby) Were you and your husband on good terms

when he left for the pub?

Were you aware that the allegations

about Debbie Moffett's private life also involved your husband?

- I'm not stupid. - No, I didn't think you were.

Then credit me with enough intelligence

not to kill my husband where my daughter might find him.

Yes, you're cleverer than that.

Clever enough to anonymously tip off your own committee

about your husband's mistress.

And in the circumstances, did you really expect Debbie

to show up at that meeting?

Nothing that woman did came as a surprise to me.

Does that include her turning up dead, Mrs Ordish?

(Jones) It's a simple case of a woman scorned.

First she kills the mistress.

Then her husband meets a sticky end to finish the job.

- And the maggots? - Like you said, a message.

That Oliver Ordish was a cheating maggot.

The way the killer lay in wait, bided his or her time,

that's not a crime of passion or outrage.

So what's your theory, then?

Everything in this village centres around the dairy.

It's muddled along for over a century

and then in comes Greg Brantner.

And Jim Caxton's pushed aside.

Yesterday's man.

Greg's ambitious and driven.

Perhaps Debbie and Oliver's affair

got in the way of his plans.

But Greg's got an alibi for the night Debbie died.

Why don't I make sure it stands up?

Any news?

(man) PC Milton, are you receiving? Over.

Milton receiving. Please stand by.

Standing by.

So Greg Brantner was supposed to be speaking

at the rugby club dinner the night Debbie died.

- We knew that. - It was cancelled last minute.

He still checked himself into the hotel for the night.

He ordered champagne for the room.

That's not something you drink on your own.

I've arranged to meet him again.

I want to speak to someone

who doesn't rely on the dairy for their livelihood.

How about someone with an axe to grind?

Always useful.

This is it. It has to stop.

- It's too much. It's too much. - Jim, calm down.

No! That won't work on me, not this time.

I knew this was wrong in the first place.

- I should've stopped it then. - Yeah, but we didn't.

- And now we've gone too far. - No, you've gone too far!

- What's that supposed to mean? - The way they found Oliver.

- Jim! I didn't... - I don't wanna know!

I know too much already!

Jim, how can you even think that?

It's over, Helen.

What are you gonna do? Jim.

- Mrs Caxton? - Yeah?

Could I have a word?

Hello, Poppy.

(Jones) You know it was cancelled?

(Greg) I knew it was cancelled.

They called me the night before.

Something about a flooded function room.

But you still went to the hotel. Why?

- I had a business meeting. - With who?

It was Debbie.

You told me your relationship with her

was purely professional.

It was.

Look, I know how this sounds.

It sounds like you're not telling me the truth.

OK, if I tell you something, it can't go any further.

I can't make any promises.

Debbie and I were supposed to be celebrating.

We pulled off a very big deal with a national supermarket.

The sort of deal that secures the future of Midsomer Blue

for years to come.

That's why I ordered the champagne.

I take it Midsomer Blue won't be made

in the old-fashioned way any more.

But it still has to be made in Midsomer Pastures

so that we can use the name.

It's just that we'll be using more up-to-date food technology.

And less employees.

You understand why Debbie and I

had to keep things on the down-low.

Didn't want to give the Luddites a heads-up.

Did Oliver Ordish know anything about your plans?

Of course. He made the introductions.

He helped broker the deal.

So, you see, all above board.

Clearly. Why did you keep it a secret from your wife?

She's the one who inherited her family's dairy.

Won't she have something to say about these changes?

Hayley's one of those creative types.

She doesn't have a head for business.

And?

I didn't wanna bother her with it when she's trying to write.

- OK? - Uh-huh.

Oh, by the way, can I see your last set of accounts, please?

(door opens)

Mrs Ordish, can I get you anything?

Where's Poppy?

Poppy?

Poppy, are you in there?

Poppy!

Where's my daughter?

Years of doing business with the dairy and it meant nothing.

You know, the day I buried Phil, I still made the milk delivery.

I wonder why I bothered now.

- Phil? - My late husband.

I'm sorry.

- Do you mind me asking how...? - Suicide.

Apparently he'd rather take a handful of sleeping pills

than face our problems, so he left me to face them on my own.

Still, what can't be cured must be endured.

Can't all take the easy way out.

I don't think suicide is ever the easy option.

It's not exactly a picnic for those of us left behind.

- Did you consider selling up? - Oh, yeah.

Might have even been able to pay off the debts,

but only if I could've sold it as a going concern.

But Greg and Debbie put paid to that.

Greg doesn't owe me a thing, but...

Hayley's from Midsomer Pastures. She should know better.

But she just stood by and let me go to the wall.

Give it 12 months, there won't be a dairy farm

in these pastures.

They'll all be in tins of dog food.

- That must be very distressing. - Oh, don't worry about me.

I'm not about to reach for the sleeping pills... yet.

(phone rings)

Excuse me.

Barnaby.

Hard not to think the worst.

She can't have got far, not in this amount of time.

- If she's been taken... - Then this is a different case.

And we're looking for a very different kind of killer.

I was holding her. I don't understand how this can happen.

Could she have gone to see someone, a friend?

No, she knows better than that,

and all her friends live too far away.

What about family? Is there anyone nearby?

No, there's no one. She just has me now and I just have her.

Mrs Ordish, I'm sorry to have to ask you this,

but can you think of anyone who might wish to harm Poppy?

She's just a little girl.

Perhaps in connection with your husband or yourself?

No, and you're talking like she...

- She's not, OK? She can't be. - Beatrix?

Hayley.

Poppy's gone missing.

Beatrix, I was coming to say how sorry I was about Oliver.

I'd no idea.

I think I'll join the search, sir.

Now, tell me, when did you last see her?

Jim? Jim?

- Please. - No, I have to make sure.

I should never have got involved in this in the first place.

I just can't help wondering what I've done to deserve all this.

- First Oliver and now... - You mustn't think like that.

I mean, what could you have possibly done that was so bad...

Absolutely nothing.

I do hope you're not encouraging Beatrix to think negatively.

- Especially at this time. - Of course not.

That would be rather insensitive, don't you think?

I was just...

Perhaps you could do something useful.

Do you still know how to make tea?

Of course. I'll just...

I talked you into it.

I shouldn't have taken advantage of you.

Oh, no, it's not that. It's just I...

I can't think when I'm around you, Helen.

You confuse me. You always have.

I'm sorry.

- Oh, I'll keep going. - You don't have to, not for me.

(Jones) Poppy!

Poppy!

Poppy?

Poppy, are you in there?

No, I'm here.

- Where have you been? - I went for a walk.

(Jones) A walk?

Come on. Come up here. You go first.

(Poppy) OK.

Do you know how worried your mummy's been?

Sorry.

- Who were you with? - Nobody. I was on my own.

For all this time? Are you sure?

Are we going home now?

I think we better had, don't you?

Mrs Ordish.

Poppy.

There you are, you see? No need for all the histrionics.

She thought her daughter was dead.

I wasn't talking about Beatrix.

I don't think you'll be needed now.

Perhaps you should go.

Cause of death is strangulation.

Small haemorrhages around the eyes are consistent with this.

The killer used a garrotte

made of something very strong and very fine.

- A cheese wire? - Well, that would do the job.

Quick and nasty. And the maggots?

I found traces of organic matter on them

and around the victim's mouth.

Organic matter?

I think the maggots are cheese fly larvae.

Though I'm waiting for that to be confirmed by an entomologist.

Cheese? We are sure they didn't occur naturally?

There's a lot of cheese in Midsomer Pastures.

- It could be something he ate. - No.

Stomach contents were meat and vegetables.

There was no cheese or larvae in his oesophagus,

suggesting that the maggots were placed postmortem.

Why?

Well, he would have swallowed by reflex, had he still been alive.

Thank you, Kate.

Oh... Are you very busy this afternoon?

- Mmm. - This way, guys.

- This is it. - Greg.

Go ahead and do whatever you need to do.

- Greg? - Ah, Jim.

I really didn't expect you to be here.

Look, this is nothing for you to worry about.

What do you mean?

I've already had the police traipsing through here.

This is a delicate environment. You just get them out of here.

Hey.

- Ow! You're hurting me. - Good.

Then you might actually listen for once in your damn life.

- It's over, Jim. - What are you saying?

Things are about to change around here

and you are surplus to my requirements.

Oh, really? You don't have a clue...

It's true. That's why I've got these people to help me do it.

And they'll do it faster, cleaner, bigger

and with a lot less whining.

So time to move on, eh?

These are the accounts for the dairy.

Greg Brantner was telling the truth.

The place had a couple of months at best.

Supermarket deal saved the day.

Good for Greg.

But while he was struggling

to pay the dairy farmers,

he was making large, regular payments

to a company called Papaver Holdings.

- What do Papaver Holdings do? - Nothing, as far as I can see.

There are no invoices, no delivery notes.

But guess whose address the company is registered to?

Papaver. Latin name for poppy.

Nice of Oliver to be so sentimental

about his corruption.

I paid Oliver a consultancy fee.

Nothing illegal in that.

Turns out he was being paid quite a few consultancy fees.

He was working for Conglomerate Uni-Dairy too.

How much pressure did he put you under

to order all your milk from them?

That's the thing when you start paying bribes.

There's a point where they become hush money.

And there is a way of ending a business relationship like that.

This is all pure conjecture. You have nothing on me.

Not yet.

- What's this? - I thought we should talk.

Yeah, if you email me anything you find.

Yeah, that's great.

Thanks.

I wasn't expecting that.

When's the last time you had your dressings changed?

Let's try and make you a bit more comfortable, shall we?

Hmm.

How is he?

See for yourself.

That can't be right, can it?

What's the boss up to?

You do understand why I was angry?

Sure.

You've lied to me, hidden things.

I didn't think you were interested.

You never gave me a chance.

You kept telling me how much you hated this place,

how you couldn't write here.

I managed a couple of chapters this morning.

- See? It can't be that bad. - I suppose.

I think we could have a real future here, Hayley.

- It's not what I imagined. - I know that.

But if it's what you really want, then I'll give it my best.

You won't regret it. I won't let you.

- (Poppy) Yes, that's very nice. - Sweetheart!

Mummy needs to go out, but Emily's here to look after you.

- Where are you going? - Nowhere that need worry you.

I'll say you later, alright?

- Hi. - Hi.

She's gonna ruin my day.

- Hi. - Hi.

What?

(sighs)

Jake!

Jake!

I was very sorry to hear about Oliver.

When's the funeral? I'd love to pay my respects.

Stay away!

And I don't want you anywhere near Poppy, do you understand?

What do you think I'll do to her?

Nothing. I...

I just don't want you confusing her.

- About what? - She's just a little girl.

I don't want her head filled with your vegan nonsense.

- It's not nonsense. - For God's sake!

We live in a village that's famous for its bloody cheese!

Do you know why I became a vegan?

To make life even harder for yourself?

That's your job.

On dairy farms, they're only happy

when a baby cow is born if it's a female.

Those cows are kept with their mothers,

nurtured and looked after.

But the male calves, nobody wants them.

So when a bullock is born, he's taken away and shot.

Murdered. Because he's worthless.

Absolutely worthless.

(alarm blares)

(alarm stops)

(clanging)

Hello!

(clanging)

Who's there?

(thudding)

Who's there?

(clanging)

Am I supposed to be scared?

Did you get the spatter patterns?

- Yeah. - Oh, great. Thank you.

- Do you have any spare gloves? - Morning, sir.

Looks like he disturbed an intruder

and it all turned nasty.

- Is there anything missing? - Not even a petty cash box.

- Single stab wound. - What is that?

A cheese needle, apparently.

Usually used for making holes in cheese, not cheesemakers.

Very effective, though.

A small, sharp point requiring relatively little force

to push it through the flesh.

(Barnaby) Any sign of a struggle?

The scene doesn't suggest that. Minimal spatter and staining.

It the track of the weapon took it through the heart,

it would have stopped the heart.

Who discovered the body?

His wife. She's being looked after at the house.

I came down and the kitchen door was wide open.

I went out to see what was going on and there he was.

So the security alarm didn't wake you?

I'd had a bottle of wine. We lived in London for years.

I can sleep through all sorts of alarms.

That's one of the reasons why Greg wanted to come here.

He thought the countryside would be safe and quiet.

And look at what's happened.

Debbie, Oliver and now Greg.

It must be very distressing.

Only a couple of days ago I had someone creeping around

and looking through the window.

- When was this? - The day after Debbie died.

- Can you describe them? - It was a young man.

I didn't really get a good look.

And you didn't think to report it?

No, I'm sorry.

Do you think if I had, would Greg still be alive?

Oh, God.

If Greg Brantner had died protecting his property,

I would have expected signs of a struggle.

A fatal wound sustained from the front, not the back.

I would have expected something to be missing.

The alarm went off

because the killer wanted to get Greg outside.

Another murder connected to the dairy actually at the dairy.

I think we should be talking to Jim Caxton.

(Barnaby) Mmm.

Look at this.

Debbie Moffett, dead.

Beatrix Ordish, widowed.

Hayley Brantner, widowed.

It's like they're being picked off and punished.

And then there's Helen Caxton.

Also widowed and pretty bitter about it.

This started with Debbie's death

after a row at the school.

I wanna know more about Sylvia Mountford's establishment.

OK.

And dig deep.

(children singing)

Ah, John, I've had some information back

from my entomologist friend.

The maggots?

He's pretty sure they're not indigenous to the area.

They're usually found in Sardinia.

- Italian maggots? - Yes.

It's all a little bit mafioso, don't you think?

Oliver Ordish sleeps with the fishes.

Well, I suppose they're easier to clean up than a horse's head.

Thank you, Kate.

Oh, and how is Sykes this morning?

Um, on the mend.

That's good. I've seen quite a few dog attacks.

They can be pretty nasty.

I do hope you've reported the other dog.

See you later.

Sorry to do this in your lunch hour.

It's OK. If I can be of any help...

I'm supposed to be looking into a local school,

but then I realised I already knew an expert.

I'm not sure I'd call myself an expert, but fire away.

I've looked at all the official information

about Midsomer Pastures Prep, but what I really need...

- Is the gossip? - Yeah.

- Going somewhere? - Away from here.

I thought this was your domain, your precious cheeses.

Not any more. Greg's seen to that.

And now someone's seen to Greg.

Sorry?

I assume you know what this is.

Yeah, of course. I work with them every day.

They're pretty vicious-looking.

You know they're only designed to go through cheese.

Not hearts?

Greg Brantner was found dead this morning.

Oh, my God.

Well, I haven't been back to the dairy. I didn't know. I...

I just wanna make cheese.

We've had a lot of their kids bounced over to Causton comp

after being excluded.

You get Sylvia Mountford's rejects?

Except I wouldn't call them that.

No, no, of course not.

No, it's not out of political correctness, Ben.

I expected problem kids,

but they all have fairly easy-to-solve problems.

I mean, a little bit of extra help in maths or science,

maybe a little extra literacy work to help them catch up.

But certainly not the behavioural issues

that would usually lead to an expulsion.

And I would imagine expelling a kid

has a pretty negative effect.

Usually, but a lot of these kids

seem glad to get away from the place.

- Why? - I don't know.

I mean, I suppose it's a high-pressure environment.

It would have to be to maintain those grades.

I wondered if we should talk.

I didn't think you'd be doing dairy business

today of all days.

I'm not. I just...

I think it's time, Helen.

I brought you this.

Sorry, I shouldn't have.

Beggars can't be choosers.

All donations gratefully received.

Go on, then.

- I just wanted to say sorry. - For what?

For not getting in touch when I heard about Phil.

My dad called me as soon as he heard.

Yeah, well, your dad was a decent bloke.

I can't say the same about your late husband.

I'm sorry about the farm... and the contract.

When I get everything sorted, I'll see what I can do.

But at the moment it's all so hard.

But, then, I don't have to tell you that.

What, you want the "welcome to the widows' club" talk?

Maybe.

Or maybe I just think there are other things

we should get off our chests.

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

Come on, Helen. You know what went on.

Debbie's gone. There is no need to be scared any more.

That's what this is about? Ancient bloody history?

It's something I need to do.

If I've learned one thing since we were at school together,

it's that you don't always get what you need.

Instead you get a husband who doesn't give a damn about you,

so much so that he kills himself

and leaves you up to your eyes in debt.

That's when you need your friends,

but they don't come anywhere near you,

because being around you reminds them of sad things,

like overdoses and suicide.

So you need a distraction, something to keep you so tired

you don't have the energy to even think.

Something like a crappy dairy farm!

- Helen, I told you, I'm... - Shut up, Hayley!

Then someone will come round and take that away from you as well.

And then they have the brass neck

to come round to your crappy little farm

and tell you what they need?

Maybe it was a mistake, me coming here.

You think?

This is a pleasant surprise.

Thank you for seeing me.

However, I do believe I gave a full account of myself

to your superior officer.

Actually, I wanted to talk about your school.

You must be very proud of your educational achievements.

Proud, but not complacent.

There's always room for improvement.

Well, you could look at your high expulsion rate,

for a start.

17 children in the last three years alone.

Obviously that's not something we're happy about.

I'm sure it's just a coincidence,

but they were all children with a free place at your school.

I'm not sure what you're suggesting.

Highest school fees in the area,

yet you have to give away that expensive education for free

to those damn dairy brats.

Well, it's a long time since I've heard that expression.

I have no issue with these children.

Really?

I'll have you know

that the chairwoman of my parents' council

came to this school on a free place.

Beatrix Ordish?

She had a very challenging life.

And I'm extremely proud of what she's achieved.

- Challenging? How? - There were obstacles.

I really don't think it's up to me to say.

I'd admire your discretion if I wasn't investigating

multiple murders, Miss Mountford.

Well, it was after she'd left my school.

Yes?

She got involved with a boy

and I'm led to believe that nature took its course.

Go on, then.

Beatrix Ordish has an illegitimate son.

Jake Yapley.

When Poppy went missing,

Beatrix told us there was no other family.

Well, he was brought up in Midsomer Pastures,

but he's been living with his father in Scotland

since September 2002.

(whines)

- In a minute. - He also has some convictions.

For criminal damage and threatening behaviour.

- What for? - An animal rights protest.

At the headquarters of Conglomerate Uni-Dairy.

You think he's a suspect?

I didn't, until I saw this.

It's based on a description Hayley Brantner gave

of her mystery stalker.

Speak to his father.

See if you can get an idea of his recent whereabouts.

- Yes, sir. - (barks)

This better not be another false alarm. Come on.

Jake Yapley's father hasn't seen him for weeks.

Sir?

Helen?

Helen?

Helen? Oh! Wake up!

- Phil? - No, it's Jim.

That's good. I'm glad it's you.

Are you? What's the matter?

It should've been you from the start.

You can't lie here. We've gotta get you up. You can't stay here.

I love you, Jim.

I love you too.

No, no, get back. Go on!

Get... Get back!

- A nasty accident? - I don't think so.

Helen Caxton sustained head injuries

that are not consistent with her ultimate death by cow

but are, however, consistent with this shovel.

I found traces of blood on it. I'll get it tested.

But I'll be happy for you to assume

it's Helen Caxton's blood.

Come and have a look at this.

One of the boys smelt something odd

coming from the back of Jim Caxton's van.

Oh, what is that?

I believe that is casu marzu.

- A Sardinian delicacy. - Even in that state?

They use the maggots as part of the maturing process.

They liquefy the cheese to intensify the flavour.

It doesn't explain why he's got a vanload of it.

Casu marzu is illegal to import and export,

which makes this a highly sought-after product.

Is that why he's been so evasive?

He's dealing in illegal cheese?

Jim had the expertise. Helen had the milk and the money problems.

So are we caught up in some sort of cheese turf war?

Nothing to do with cheese.

The maggots on Oliver Ordish's corpse

were put there deliberately

to throw suspicion onto Helen Caxton.

Another girl from that photograph was being punished.

There's only Beatrix and Hayley left.

Well, let's talk to them, then,

and to the woman who knows how to push their buttons.

Thank you for coming, Beatrix.

- You heard about Helen? - Of course. It's terrible.

I agree. I think the whole thing is terrible.

I think it's high time it was stopped. Won't you come in?

- Beatrix. - Hayley.

Well, I think we can all agree that things have got

a little out of hand over the past few days.

I'm not sure what that has to do with me.

- Or me. - Oh, girls.

You forget I know you better than you know yourselves.

This whole chaos has your names stamped all over it.

Need I remind you that I've just lost my husband?

So have I.

Oh, a corrupt philanderer

and a domineering dolt

who cares more for sour milk than he did his wife.

Am I wrong?

Perhaps whoever killed them was doing us a good turn.

- Perhaps she did. - Why are you looking at me?

Well, I think we all know what you're capable of, Beatrix.

After all, you sent your own son away.

- Don't you dare start with... - That's enough!

I became tired of you two

trading accusation and counteraccusation

in this office a long time ago.

I have no desire to revisit the past.

It's not going to be a problem, Miss Mountford.

I'm leaving Midsomer Pastures, and this time it's for good.

I can't help feeling that that's for the best.

I really don't give a damn what you think, either of you.

Oh. That's one thing sorted out.

Is there anything else that needs tackling?

I don't think so.

No other historical issues?

- No, Miss Mountford. - I'm pleased to hear it.

- Hi, Poppy. - Hello.

- Is your mummy home? - No.

You're not on your own, are you?

Emily's baby-sitting, even though I'm not a baby.

Do you know when she'll be back?

She was supposed to be back ages ago.

- Is she late? - Really late.

Emily's really annoyed.

She was supposed to be going to the pictures with her boyfriend.

Now she's taking it out on me.

She made me eat my yogurt,

even though I told her I was a vegan now,

because of the baby cows.

- Ah. - Could you arrest her for that?

I don't think so.

My brother says meat is murder.

Your brother? Jake?

Poppy, when was the last time you saw him?

Ooh.

No, there's no sign of Hayley Brantner either.

Did Poppy say what Jake's been doing here?

She wasn't very clear, but I think he's been living rough.

I think he's been back in the village for a while.

I wouldn't know where to start looking for him.

- Help! - Jake!

- She needs an ambulance! - I'll call you back.

- Jake's here with Beatrix. - Quick!

Jones? What's going on? Jones?

The ambulance is on its way.

What happened?

We were at the school.

Hayley and Miss Mountford.

She should never have come back.

Who? Hayley?

We got rid of her.

Miss Mountford didn't want her here.

Like the others.

The things we did...

I need to make a call.

Stay with her.

You're gonna be alright. I should go.

Please stay.

You let Oliver send me away.

I'm so sorry.

Jake, please.

(china smashes)

You don't look very well, Miss Mountford.

Was there something unpleasant in your tea?

Here, let me help you.

She was at the school with Hayley and Miss Mountford.

I think she's been drugged or poisoned.

Hayley's nowhere to be seen.

Beatrix said Miss Mountford didn't want Hayley around.

They forced her out and I think they did that

to a lot of children.

I think Sylvia Mountford is about to become

a victim of her own success.

- I'll meet you there. - OK.

It's a long time since I've been in here. I hated science.

That was the only class we were all in together. All four of us.

Hayley, it's a long time ago.

That's what everyone keeps saying,

as if I don't have to live with it every day.

Like it doesn't affect everything I do,

everything I think!

- Well, I didn't know. - Liar!

You knew. You just didn't care.

They were useful to you, your little troop of bullies.

Just like your damn parents' council.

Standards must be maintained.

I never lived up to your standards, did I?

That's why you let them make my life a bloody misery, every day,

until I couldn't bear it any longer

and then you just calmly suggested to my father

that I'd be happier elsewhere.

Made it sound all my fault, like I asked for it.

Always the victim. Nothing changes.

Well, things are going to change, Miss Mountford,

especially for you.

You were the one who found me in here, remember?

I begged them, anything but that.

I couldn't stand small spaces.

They made me feel like I couldn't breathe,

like the air was running out and choking me.

- Can you imagine that? - Please, Hayley, please.

Oh, it's OK. You don't have to imagine.

(gas hisses)

- Where's Sylvia Mountford? - You'll never find her.

Even if you do, it'll be too late.

Tell me where she is.

Miss Mountford!

Miss Mountford?

Miss Mountford?

So, you think you've won.

Everybody got what they deserved.

- You don't know what they did. - I've met your type before!

Excuses for everything.

- Every little failure. - Oh, shut up!

And all because it's so much easier

to blame someone else for your own weaknesses, isn't it?

No! It was their fault,

their choice, and so they had to pay.

- You'd all grown up. - Debbie, lording it over me?

Keeping secrets from me with my husband?

No!

Beatrix still thinking

she was so much better than me?

And Helen?

If she'd just found it in herself to say sorry...

Nothing had changed... except me.

I don't let people push me around any more, like Greg.

I told him, six months and no more.

I didn't want to be here.

You were never wanted here,

especially not by Miss Mountford.

She told me she'd given everything to this school.

Now she really has.

Really? And do you think that you can win this time?

Because you weren't quite bright enough back then

to keep her school at the top of the league tables.

I don't think anything's changed.

I've changed.

I'm the one in charge now.

Yes.

You've got your own back.

You've put her in her place.

Yes, where she belongs.

Not me.

I don't let people put me in places I don't want to be.

Not any more.

Is that what the girls did, Hayley?

They put you in some place you didn't want to be?

I begged them not to put me in there. They did it anyway.

They knew I didn't like the dark.

- And that smell... - What smell? What was it?

Like rotten egg.

Sulphur. Science. Was it in a science lab?

It's too late now.

- Get her outside! - Yes, sir.

Miss Mountford!

(coughs)

Miss Mountford! Miss Mount...

(muffled cry)

I'll take her back.

(coughing)

Well done, sir.

Thank you, Inspector. I thought it was all over for me.

It is. I hope it was all worth it, Miss Mountford.

- She been read her rights? - Yes, sir.

Anyone for cheese? Guaranteed free of foreign bodies.

- I think I'll give it a miss. - (Kate) It looks good to me.

This has been the perfect evening.

And it's not quite over yet.

We said we weren't doing presents.

(Barnaby) I can always take it back.

Oh, John.

- Oh, it's beautiful. - (whines)

Thank you.

Mmm.

He's a remarkably fast healer, isn't he?

- Um... - Sykes.

There isn't a mark on him.

- Oh. - What happened?

- So how did you find out? - Kate changed his bandages.

(Sykes whines)

I think it was a ploy to keep Sykes close to him.

In a way, you know, this was all your fault.

How?

I picked up the ring during my lunch hour.

Yeah?

So I was admiring the ring in one hand

and I had my sandwich in the other hand

and Sykes at my feet.

How was that my fault?

Because that was the moment

when you phoned me up,

and, somehow, in the confusion,

I fed the rest of my sandwich and the ring to the dog.

- We're not that off duty. - Sorry.

Look, nature took its course. There's no harm done.

And no one need ever be any the wiser.

OK.