Original subtitles

Oh, good God!

Vicky!

Afraid you scared him off, Mrs. Crabbe.

Did I?

Mink.

Animal libbers let 5,000

out of a firm farm up at Haybury.

Can´t keep the damn things out of the ponds.

You all right?

Oh, yes.

Okay to catch a lift back then?

Yep.

Face it, Margaret, you´ll never get used to the countryside.

No problems with the last batch, I hope.

Oh, no, no. Henry couldn´t be happier.

It´s that time of year again.

The V.A.T.

I did ring and ask your dad for an appointment.

Oh, well, that explains it.

Ever since darling Jean showed up,

I don´t think dad knows what day it is have the time.

Margaret!

Hello, Bill!

Dad, you might have told me Mrs. Crabbe was coming.

Oh, sorry, didn´t I?

Bill, darling?

Bill!

His mistress´ voice.

Thank you, darling.

Oh, hello.

Oh, Jean, this is Margaret Crabbe

from Pie in the Sky.

Aw, yes!

Hello.

You do a bit of cooking.

Only the books. I´m an accountant.

That´s clever.

Well, Jean´s had some sad news.

An elderly aunt in Eastbourne -- heart.

- Funeral´s tomorrow. - Oh, I am sorry.

Yes, well, none of us last forever, do we?

Very nice to meet you, Mrs. Crabbe.

Shall we get on?

Oh.

Bye-bye, darling.

Well, he´s completely lost his marbles.

Hmm

Bill, of course.

Oh, yes, of course.

You realize he´s only going to make

that wretched woman a partner in the business.

Do you know, I seem to remember

you mentioning something about that.

Can´t have been more than 50 times a day

for the last three days in fact.

Anyway, they´re getting married, aren´t they?

Ha ha ha!

In Bill´s dreams.

She´s gotta get a divorce first.

What about this gammon, Steve?

I´d give that a couple more minutes, chef.

Where did he meet her in the first place?

Oh, he was on holiday in Portugal.

According to Vicky,

she just turned up at Gatwick

along with the excess baggage.

Taste.

Oh, my God!

A bit strong, is it?

Perhaps you´re right.

You know, that old Mediterranean moonlight

has been the downfall of many a good man.

Oh, yeah? Yeah.

Voice of experience, is it?

What is that stuff?

Horseradish cream --

for the smoked trout.

Oh.

I was wondering if you could have a quiet word

with Bill, you know --

something man to man.

Not a chance.

Oh, come on, Henry.

Margaret, no.

No.

Look, the stomach is my speciality.

Affairs of the heart,

I´ve learned to leave well alone.

Anyway, I don´t see why you´re taking this so personally.

Bill is a friend, isn´t he?

And she´s obviously only interested in his money.

Oh, money. What money?

His Springbrook Farm is hardly Rio Tinto-Zinc.

That´s all you know.

Oh, yes.

What´s that supposed to mean?

Hey, Steve, look.

This one´s got something stuck in its gullet.

Margaret?

Well, he got an offer on the farm, that´s all.

Who from?

London firm called Captain Fish.

Captain Fish?!

Apparently, they´re mostly into

frozen seafood and boil-in-the-bag stuff.

But they´re cash-rich,

and they´re looking to expand up-market.

He´s never going to accept that.

Could be.

Ah!

Oh, yeah.

Really suits you.

What do you make of that then?

Well, as I understand it,

fish are always attracted to things that sparkle.

You know, I think the dreaded Jean

was wearing a pair of these last Monday.

I suppose I better give it back to Vicky

the next time she calls.

It´s all right.

I´ll take it.

Upon mature reflection, I think perhaps I should

have a word with Bill after all.

Hello, Bill!

Henry!

I didn´t mean to startle you.

Just wanted to return this.

We thought of putting it on the menu --

tuite a la surprise.

Sorry.

Steve found it in one of your fish.

Oh! I see.

One of the girls must have dropped it, I suppose.

Thanks.

Is something wrong, Bill?

No. No, not at all.

Oh, it´s shrimp!

Yeah.

So, that´s the secret, eh?

No secret to good fish, Henry.

Just wholesome food, clean water,

and don´t get greedy.

That´s what I always tell people.

It´s good advice, too --

though not many take it.

Like Captain Fish, for example?

Oh, ah.

You´ve been talking to Margaret.

Oh, he´s full of good ideas, their managing director.

Wants to double the acreage of the plant,

increase the stocking ratios,

put in a new freezer unit also.

All to do with cost-price margins apparently,

and something called vertical integration.

Sounds like a total nightmare.

Oh, makes a lot of sense actually,

once you get past the jargon.

And they´re offering an awful lot of money.

All right?

So far, so good.

A little experiment.

Juniper

and apple wood.

The burn is not as consistent as the oak,

but there´s a tang to it I rather like.

So, you´ve decided to accept then?

No.

I told him "thanks very much,"

but I´m not quite ready to retire just yet.

Oh, good.

Well, that´s a great relief.

I´m a silly old bugger, aren´t I?

And Jean´s happy here.

At least...

Wait a minute.

This is one of hers.

Yes, that´s what Margaret thought.

Yeah, but...

Henry...

Good grief.

How does she do it?

Ugh.

Cambridge!

Tell me, am I wearing

some sort of electronic tag or something?

Actually, sir, it wasn´t you I wanted.

Oh!

Bill, what have you been up to?

Mr. Pritchard,

would you mind coming with us, please?

We´ve got some questions we´d like to ask you.

Cambridge?

Would you mind, sir?

You don´t mind if I tag along, do you?

Well, I don´t really suppose I can stop you,

can I, Inspector?

No, Sergeant, I don´t suppose you really can.

Dad!

What´s going on?

There´s no cause for alarm, Miss.

Come on, Cambridge. Give us a hint.

Well, I´d imagine Inspector Browning

would prefer to explain things personally,

wouldn´t you?

Oh, Browning -- but of course.

It would be Browning, wouldn´t it?

Don´t worry, Vicky.

It will be all right.

Come along, Constable.

Move up! You don´t need all that space.

I don´t think we need detain you any longer, sir.

Thanks for your help.

Ronnie?

That´s Ronnie Barratt --

Jean´s husband.

What the hell is he doing here?

Oh, Inspector Crabbe is a personal friend

of Mr. Pritchard´s, ma´am.

He simply thought he might be able to help.

Oh, did he?

That´s Jean´s car.

Yes, sir.

Well, what´s it doing down there?

Good question.

Has there been some kind of accident?

No, no, we think someone´s made

a rather unsuccessful shot at hiding it.

Not you, by any chance?

Me? Of course not!

Henry, what --

Stay out of this, Crabbe.

William Edward Pritchard, is that right?

- W.E.P. - Sorry?

Those are your initials?

Yes!

We found this under the driver´s seat.

Look...

What´s going on? Where´s Jean?

Well, that´s another good question, sir.

She seems to have disappeared.

Are you saying...

This is a murder inquiry, isn´t it?

Henry,

that earring...

The ponds,

you don´t think...

What´s he talking about?

Oh, my God.

What earring?

Crabbe?

What are they doing out there, Henry?

What the hell is taking them so long?

It´s slow work, Bill.

It always is.

You just have to be patient, I´m afraid.

Patient?

Nothing yet, ma´am.

What about her?

Well, she claims

she spent Tuesday night

at the Young Farmer´s Disco in Barstock.

Stayed over with a friend.

Should be easy enough to check.

Hmm.

And she wants to speak to her father.

No chance.

I need to get in there to see my father.

Right, sir.

Let´s try and get this sorted, shall we?

Now, you say that you had no idea

that Mrs. Barratt was missing.

And that you haven´t, in fact,

seen her since Tuesday night.

Yes -- No, I told you,

she rang on Tuesday.

She left on Monday for her aunt´s funeral.

So, you haven´t actually seen her since Monday?

That´s right.

Thank you, Crabbe.

I think we can manage without your help.

Look, I love Jean!

I´d never do anything to harm her.

It´s all right, Bill. Nobody´s saying that you did.

But it´s what she thinks, isn´t it?

Isn´t it?!

The earring that was found

in the batch delivered to the restaurant yesterday,

Wednesday --

Wednesday, yes.

Is one of the pair you say

she was wearing when she left.

- On Monday morning. - Yes.

So, she must have come back,

mustn´t she?

Must have done, and yet you say

you never saw her.

No!

Do you expect us to believe that?

Look, Bill --

I told you to stay out of this.

Oh, come on, sir.

What really happened on Tuesday night?

You quarrelled, didn´t you?

We do know about that, you know?

She came back, there was a row.

You lost your temper.

No, no!

Henry?

I´m warning you, Crabbe.

Ma´am, they found something.

Clothing, ma´am.

Jacket and skirt.

They fit the description.

And this.

Right, then.

You gonna tell us where you put the body?

We´ll find it anyway. We always do.

All right, William Edward Pritchard,

I´m arresting you on suspicion of murder.

You do not have to say anything,

but anything you do say may be used in evidence.

Henry! I want to speak to Henry.

Don´t say anything, Bill.

Don´t say anything without a lawyer present.

Get him out of here.

How did the press get onto this so fast?

Beats me, gov.

No one knew what was going down

until a couple of hours ago --

only the Inspector.

Oh, really? Yeah.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Bon appetit.

Pie in the Sky? Good evening.

No, he´s not available at the moment, sir.

I´m used to being on the other side, you know.

But when they arrested Bill,

such an awful look of...

triumph in their faces.

I just kept thinking, "My God,

have I looked like that all these years?"

There must be something we can do.

Well, I mean, who else would want Jean Barratt dead?

What do we actually know about her?

According to Vicky, she used to be a nurse.

You know...

the person with the best motive is Vicky.

She had the most to lose.

Vicky?!

Margaret, anyone can commit murder.

Anyone at all.

But Bill...

Oh, what now?!

Well, you´ve not paid yet.

I caught her trying to leave without paying, Mrs. C.

I was not!

There he is! Inspector?!

Oh, for heaven´s sake.

Oh, come on, you´ve got to give us something.

Look, you´re wasting your time. I´m not even on the case.

Have you found the body yet?

No comment.

Steve.

Well, why did he do it, at least tell us that.

He didn´t, all right?!

He´s innocent, and my husband´s going to prove it.

So, you can put that in your blasted paper!

Right.

Thanks very much.

Oh, dear.

I know, I know.

I´m sorry. I don´t know what happened.

It just slipped out.

So I heard.

Have you taken leave of your senses?

I hope not, sir.

"Maverick cop Henry Crabbe...

"yesterday launched a personal crusade

"to save the Barstock man accused of

butchering his former lover."

I think what I actually said was "no comment."

You should never have been talking

to the press in the first place.

I wouldn´t if you hadn´t turned this case into a media circus.

What the hell do you mean by that?!

Oh, I think we know exactly what I mean by that, don´t we?

Or do you want me to prove it?

All right, Inspector. Thank you.

Thank you.

Sir!

You´ve still got a body to find, haven´t you?

I suggest you get on with it.

Bad form speaking to the press like that.

But then no one´s leak-proof these days, are they?

Not really planning some sort of crusade, I take it.

No, sir. I would like to talk to Bill, though.

Yeah, wouldn´t we all?

He hasn´t said a word since we brought him in.

Well, he might talk to me.

Yeah.

How´d it look, Henry?

He´s a friend of yours, I understand.

Yeah, I´ve known him a long time.

And his fish really is outstanding.

Fish?

Fish.

Oh, yes, yes.

Well, it´s tricky for you.

You´re best off out of it.

Well, I better go and face

the howling mob, I suppose.

I´ve taken over

the media end of things personally.

Yeah, now that´s a surprise.

What´s that?

I said "Well, that´s very wise," sir.

Out the back way if you wouldn´t mind.

Wouldn´t want you bumping into

any more reporters, would we?

Not avoiding me, are you, Cambridge?

No, sir. Of course not.

How´d it go?

Well, Mr. Fisher intimated

I´d best leave well alone.

Good advice.

Can´t afford emotional involvement.

Well, you know that, sir.

Why are you all so sure Bill´s guilty?

Come on, sir.

You saw his reaction when I turned up yesterday.

Yes, but I mean, I´d be upset

if the police came and told me

my fiancee was missing.

Except that he claims he didn´t know

she was missing then, doesn´t he?

And he´s definitely lying about Tuesday night.

She went back.

We have the petrol receipt

from a garage she used in Haybury

timed 8:42 P.M.

Then there´s the earring.

And the wood where the car was dumped

is only a half-hour from the farm cross-country.

Hmm.

I suspect the daughter´s lying, too,

although I can´t think why.

Her alibi checks out.

Have they identified the murder weapon?

Most likely a shotgun.

Punctures in the jacket are consistent.

We think the knife was used to dismember the body.

Forensics say that the traces of blood

on the gutting shed workshop were type A-B,

same as Mrs. Barratt´s.

Well, it all sounds marvelously convenient.

What do you mean by that, sir?

I mean that either Bill Pritchard

was spectacularly bad at covering up his tracks

or someone wanted it to look that way.

Like whom?

Well, I don´t know.

But then, I don´t know all the facts, do I, Cambridge?

Oh, come on, Cambridge.

This thing didn´t start with some yokel

finding a car in the woods.

Now, who was it that put Browning onto it

in the first place?

No, sir.

Really, I can´t.

Well, think of it as a...

delayed payment, if you like.

Sir?

You know, for all those happy hours

spent as my guest at Pie in the Sky.

Well, you know, there´s no such thing as a free lunch.

Or breakfast...

Or dinner.

Come on.

Please.

Ronnie Barratt.

Ah, yes. The husband.

I was wondering about him.

Hello, Pie in the Sky.

Um, just a sec.

A Mr. Fremantle wants to speak to the boss.

He says he´s Bill´s solicitor.

Hello. Hello, Mr. Fremantle,

I´m afraid my husband is not available at the moment.

I wonder -- I wonder, could I help?

Mr. Barratt?

Spot on.

Sophie not with you?

Sorry?

You have come about the house?

Um...no.

I know who you are.

You´re Pritchard´s pal, aren´t you?

Crippes.

- Cribb? - Crabbe.

Right.

Well...

I suppose you better come in.

Thanks.

Inspector?

Apparently, I need your permission

to leave the premises.

Where do you want to go?

My friend´s place in town.

That seems reasonable.

Just a minute.

What´s in the bag?

My overnight things.

A couple of t-shirts,

some clean knickers.

Want to look?

That won´t be necessary.

Thanks a lot.

Follow her.

It´s Fraser, ma´am.

He thinks he´s found her.

Drink?

Not for me, thanks, no.

I take it this isn´t official.

I read your little bit in the paper.

Well, I was slightly misquoted.

I dare say.

I dare say you´re also wondering

why I don´t chuck you out.

Well, I was rather.

No point, is there?

I mean, you didn´t kill her.

Go on, then.

Ask me anything you want.

Right.

Thank you.

You told the police that...

Jean had phoned Bill

from here that Tuesday night after she came back

from her auntie´s funeral.

That´s right.

Well, I thought you two were separated.

We were.

She decided to come back. That´s why she rang --

to tell him it was over.

Wasn´t it rather sudden?

Not really.

It was only a question of time.

I always knew that.

That´s where they met,

my bloody boat, would you believe?

Look, I can´t stand it in here.

I was in the garden, is that all right with you?

Sure.

Well, there´s not much left of her, I´m afraid.

Did she wear glasses, do we know?

Yes, reading glasses.

One of those

chain things around her neck.

Oh, good!

Sintra it was. Portugal.

About 16 weeks ago now.

He was on holiday there.

We found him moping about in some tourist bar.

Took pity on him.

Asked him aboard for a proper drink.

After that...

I was out on business most days,

Jean was on her tod.

Well...

you know what they say about holiday romance.

What business are you in, Mr. Barratt?

Holiday flats.

Villas, that sort of thing.

You know, helping people find

their little place in the sun.

Well, you´ve done quite nicely out of it.

Yes, I suppose I have.

No use to me now though, is it?

Not after this.

How did you feel about the affair?

How do you think I´d feel?

Like cutting his miserable heart out,

as a matter of fact.

But then you try and keep things civilized,

don´t you?

Do you fish at all?

No.

You should try. It´s very calming.

He wasn´t the first, you know.

But she´d never actually left me before.

Mind you, I always knew she´d come back.

I always knew that.

That leaf over there.

The yellow one, see it?

But she did, didn´t she?

It´s all a question of how you present the fly, you see?

People forget.

The trout is basically a hunter.

You gotta persuade her

that she´s making all the running.

Mrs. Crabbe, so sorry to keep you.

Not at all.

Um...

It´s rather awkward, this.

I did try contacting the police.

An extraordinary woman called Browning

simply didn´t want to know.

And, I mean, normally, one wouldn´t

dream of discussing a client´s affairs.

But, well, Bill

is a very old friend.

And when I read what your husband

told the papers,

well, naturally, one wants to do whatever one can to help.

Naturally, Mr. Fremantle, yes.

You told the police that they quarrelled

on the phone.

Because it was bloody ridiculous.

She said he was hysterical.

Couldn´t live without her.

All that stuff.

In the end, she agreed to go over.

Try and calm him down.

But you didn´t go with her?

I had a flight to catch. Business meeting in the Algarve.

And, anyway, I didn´t know what he was capable of then.

Apparently, no one did.

Anyway,

I rang her a couple of times from Portugal,

couldn´t get an answer, but I didn´t worry.

I wasn´t worried until I got back on the Wednesday night

and she still hadn´t come home.

And that´s when you called in the police?

Exactly.

Right.

Is that it?

Yes, I think so.

Um... Oh, by the way,

do you own a shotgun, Mr. Barratt?

Well, yes, I do, as a matter of fact.

But I think if I was going to kill anyone,

it would have been him, don´t you?

I´ll take that.

God!

This looks like one of those really difficult stains.

Henry!

Henry!

I know who did it!

Really?

I´ve just been talking to Bill´s solicitor.

And he gets it all -- Ronnie Barratt, I mean.

The husband.

What are you talking about?

The £300,000 --

Jean´s share of Captain Fish´s

offer on the farm, of course.

Look, put that down, will you?

I don´t know who I´m talking to here.

Sorry.

There we are.

Now...

Start again, Margaret, please,

from the top.

Right.

Well, it was David Fremantle,

you know, Bill´s solicitor,

who drew up the agreement between Jean and Bill.

You remember?

Yes, yeah.

Well, he didn´t like it any more than I did.

And he told Bill that if he made that partnership

before Jean had got the divorce,

there was nothing to stop her

just walking off with half the business.

I mean, he put it more diplomatically than that, but --

Margaret --

Wait!

So, in the end, he persuaded him

to add a thing -- a codicil.

Here. Here.

It´s just a copy.

I persuaded him to give me that.

I mean, it goes on a bit.

But the gist of it is

that if Jean changes her mind about the marriage

or if the whole thing falls apart

after two years, then all rights to the farm

revert to Bill.

But what if she dies?

Ah! Well, that´s the point.

He was going to cover that by making another will,

but they never got around to it.

And so as her legal husband...

Ronnie gets the lot.

Exactly.

Margaret.

I know.

It´s the perfect motive, isn´t it?

Hello, Pie in the Sky.

Yeah, he´s here somewhere.

Hang on, I´ll have a look for you.

Ah, he´s here.

It´s for you, chef.

It´s not more journalists, is it?

No.

Crabbe.

Yes, sir.

Henry?

Yeah, I understand.

No, don´t bother.

I´ll drive myself.

Thank you.

Fisher.

He says Bill´s ready to confess.

Forensics are going through the ash

from the smokehouse now.

It´s definitely human.

And the blood on the jacket looks like type A-B.

I´m sorry to put you through this, Henry,

but he refuses to talk to anyone else.

You do know this is a formal interview, don´t you?

Everything recorded.

I understand.

Wouldn´t want any slip-ups, Crabbe.

It´s still my case.

Hello, Bill.

I loved her, you see, Henry.

Those few weeks we had were truly wonderful.

For the first time since Elizabeth died,

I felt really alive.

She was willing to give up everything for me.

I was so grateful.

I knew she´d started seeing him again, of course.

Little things.

I pretended not to, but...

I knew I was losing her.

When she rang that night, it was just so sudden.

Now, this was the Tuesday night.

Yes.

And what time was it?

Oh, Vicky had already gone out.

About 8:00, 8:15.

She said she was leaving me.

I made rather a fool of myself, I´m afraid.

Take your time, Bill.

Go on. Go on!

In the end,

she said she would come over to the farm.

Yes!

I waited.

I suppose I had a few drinks -- scotch.

It seemed like hours.

I felt...

I don´t know.

Then I started to get angry.

What happened next?

I don´t know.

I swear to you, Henry.

I remember walking out by the ponds.

It was dark.

I remember her car on the drive.

The headlights coming towards me.

Are you sure it was Jean´s car?

Oh, yeah.

Well, at least...

I´d been drinking.

I just remember the lights, and then nothing.

Nothing.

Vicky found me in the morning by the pond.

I must have blacked out.

I was cold, frozen.

I couldn´t remember.

Vicky doesn´t know anything, Henry.

She wasn´t involved.

She just thought I´d been drinking.

I mean...

she must have guessed that

we´d had some kind of bust-up, but she didn´t ask.

And I...

I tried to carry on as if nothing had happened.

I told myself...

I was so afraid.

Why afraid?

The jacket.

The old one I use for work.

Vicky found it in the gutting shed

and there was blood...

And then I knew.

Knew what, Bill?

She was dead?

That you´d...

killed her?

Please, out loud for the tape.

Oh, yes, yes!

God help me.

Yes.

I killed her.

It´s all right, Bill.

It´s all over now.

Steve says they´re coping fine.

No more reporters.

Good.

Not your fault, Henry.

You did what you could.

No, I didn´t.

You were right, Margaret. I should have talked to him.

Wouldn´t have made a difference.

Well, I know, but...

You know, I´ve been thinking, isn´t...

isn´t it odd that Bill

doesn´t actually remember killing her?

It just seems to happen

that way sometimes.

Sort of defense mechanism, really.

The memory shuts itself down.

All the same...

Well, it happens, Margaret.

He´d been drinking, Henry.

Didn´t you say he´d been drinking?

Yeah, so?

Well, suppose he just passed out?

It could still have been Ronnie.

Oh, no, Margaret.

Ronnie was in Portugal.

So he says.

Margaret!

No, listen.

Suppose when Jean turned up that night

and told Ronnie that she wanted to come back to him,

well, suppose Ronnie didn´t want her back.

You mean, he didn´t want her,

but he did want the money?

Right!

I mean, we´ve only got his word for it

that she ever went back to the farm.

Yeah, okay.

So, he lets her make the phone call to Bill.

Then he kills her.

And then he drives her back to the farm himself.

Well, but still, why not drive her out

a few miles and kill her in the countryside?

Then all he has to do is dump the clothes in the pond.

And dispose of the body in the smokehouse.

And dump the car in the woods.

Yes, and then he just walks home

free and clear.

Yes. Yes!

No.

What do you mean, "no"?

Well, how could he get away with it?

I mean, because Bill is sitting in the house

waiting for her to come back.

But he wasn´t, was he? He was out stone cold.

That´s the whole point.

But how would Ronnie know that unless...

What?

What?!

Come on.

Get your coat.

What is it?!

I don´t suppose this is entirely legal,

is it?

Ha ha.

I do so love these quaint country customs, don´t you?

Ah.

Yes.

Brand new.

Hasn´t even been opened.

So?

So, he said he´d been drinking scotch.

Well, maybe there was more than one bottle.

Maybe he´d finished it.

Maybe.

But it would still be around here, wouldn´t it?

You go upstairs.

So, I´m looking for an open bottle of scotch?

Exactly.

Any luck?

No.

What I don´t know is

is that good or is that bad?

It´s good, Margaret. It´s good.

I think.

Do you know what´s odd about this room?

No. What?

Well, it´s obviously their bedroom,

you know, Bill and Jean´s.

Where is she?

I mean, all her clothes are in the wardrobe,

but there´s nothing else personal in here.

It´s the same in the rest of the house.

It´s as if all the time she was living here,

she was only visiting.

Of course!

What now?

Henry?!

Just visiting, Margaret.

Just visiting.

Hello.

Cambridge?

Hello, sir?

You -- um...

You´re not eating, are you?

Not what you´d call eating, no.

Well, the thing is

I need to know if you found a bottle of whiskey

when you searched the house.

Whiskey? Yes, yes.

An open bottle of whiskey.

Could you check your notes, please, it´s very important.

Hang on just a minute.

Henry, please,

will you tell me what´s going on?

You said it yourself, Margaret.

You said it yourself.

Hello?

Yes, Cambridge.

No, nothing except for those in the kitchen cupboard.

Oh, great. That´s marvelous.

Is that it?

Um, well,

there is just one small, tiny favor

you could do for me, Cambridge.

Evening, Mrs. Crabbe.

Evening, Sergeant.

I can´t say I´m terribly happy about this, sir.

But you did give him a ring?

Yes, I´ve arranged an appointment

to interview him about a whiskey bottle,

just as you asked me to.

And?

Well, he didn´t break down and confess

to any murders?

It´s only a question of how you present the fly.

You see, Cambridge, the trout has to think

he´s making all the running.

That´s a little tip I got from Ronnie Barratt.

And I think we´ve got a bite.

Drive on, Sergeant.

What is all this about a whiskey bottle anyway?

Look.

The only scotch that was in that house

was brand new and completely untouched.

Obviously, somebody had been in there and swapped the bottles.

Why?

Well, because they didn´t want the police

to find the bottle

that Bill had been drinking from, of course.

I hate it when you start

all this Sherlock Holmes rubbish.

Oh, all right then.

The recipe for today --

take one bottle of medium-grade scotch,

add 12 sleeping pills,

stir thoroughly until dissolved.

Voila!

Trout farmer in aspic.

Do you mean it really was Ronnie?

Mm-hmm.

He can´t have.

According to airport records,

he checked in for the 22:30 flight

from Gatwick to Lisbon at 21:15.

And he was definitely on board.

Well, anyone with an alibi that good

has got to be suspicious.

Obviously, he had an accomplice --

someone with free access to the house.

He´s turning off.

All right, well slow down. Slow right down.

The boat.

I thought it was in Portugal.

How could you have been so stupid?!

Just leaving it there like that!

Well, you can´t have!

Well, how else could the police have found it?

It´s a bit late now.

God, I could bloody murder you for this!

Oh, not again,

Mr. Barratt, surely!

Ronnie!

Ah, good evening, Mrs. Barratt.

You´re looking remarkably spry under the circumstances.

What about the ashes, Henry?

They were human, weren´t they?

Oh, definitely, yeah.

Jean´s unfortunate Aunt Gwynneth, I´m afraid.

Who?

You remember, the funeral in Eastbourne.

Oh, yes, of course.

And Jean had been a nurse,

so I don´t suppose she was too squeamish

about donating the odd pint of blood.

Oh!

It was remarkably easy to arrange all that.

Oh, was that one there?

No, sorry, just a ripple.

I don´t believe there are any fish

in this river.

I don´t suppose the romance

lasted any longer than the Portuguese trip,

at least, not on Jean´s part.

And, normally, that would have been the end of it.

But then Bill offered Jean a half share in the farm.

Exactly.

And so Ronnie saw a chance to recoup his losses.

Well, yeah.

And, of course, David Fremantle

started his legal shenanigans

and Jean realized she´d actually have to marry Bill.

Well, of course, that´s the last thing

that she and Ronnie wanted.

I still can´t believe it.

I mean, to put dad through all that

just for the money.

Oh, I don´t think it was just for the money.

I think Ronnie wanted revenge on your dad

for taking Jean away from him,

even though it was just a holiday romance.

Yes.

It was a crime of passion really --

just like all the best murders.

Henry!

A little something for you.

Oh, thank you.

Oh, wonderful!

Come smoked, you know, like salmon.

Very nice.

Look, Bill,

are you really going to accept this offer

from Captain Fish?

Absolutely!

Terrible bloody business this.

Up to your rubbers in freezing water

half the day, sweltering in a smokehouse the rest.

Anyway, it wouldn´t be the same somehow.

And, besides,

they´re making Vicky manager.

Yeah, Bill --

Stop gassing, Henry.

Right.

And don´t scoff that straightaway, mind you.

It needs at least 24 hours to mature.

And don´t slice it too thin.

I hate that.

I won´t, Bill.

And don´t drown it in lemon juice either.

Bill, it´s me.

Oh, and let me know what you think.

I will.

And, Henry?

Yes?

Thank you.

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