All language subtitles for Midsomer Murders S14E01 Death in the Slow Lane

It's Silverstone Saturday,
and all the best drivers are here.

Tony Brooks in the Ferrari.
Peter Fossett in his Lotus.

And there's Stirling Moss.

They get away cleanly
and Brooks sets the early pace.

But soon it's Number 47, Duncan Palmer,

with Peter Fossett challenging strongly.

Final lap. Fossett makes
a last effort going into Lothium,

but Palmer goes on to win in the Cooper!

Bad luck, Peter Fossett.

Bravo, Duncan Palmer!

It's fantastic!

What is it?

I don't know.

Eugh! That's horrible!

That's Haskins, the electrician.

Son's a bit of a tearaway.
Over charges on call-outs.

Oh, and that's a nice cafe.

- Hello, Mr Douglas.
- Good day to you, Mr Jones.

Benefit fraud.

- Hello, Ben!
- Oh, hello, Peggy.

I hear you're running the show now.

- Well, actually...
- I did like that Mr Barnaby.

But, well... He wasn't really one of us, was he?

Twenty years. We barely got acquainted.

This is the new DCI Barnaby.

Cousin of the other DCI Barnaby.

Oh. Well...

I must be off.

Oh, look at that. A 1929 Bentley.

Four and a half litre.

Identical to the one
raced by Tim Birkin at Le Mans.

Hi, Jonesy. Won't be a sec.

Jamie Cameron. Local businessman, councillor.

A bit useless, but okay.

Beautiful lines.

Darnley Park is a girls' boarding school,

run by a terrifying woman called Harriet Wingate.

- Private school?
- Oh, yeah.

No peasants here.

What's going on?

Concours d'Elegance.

Ah, it's a fancy car show.

Classic cars from all over the country.

Look at that.

Are you interested in cars, sir?

Only if it's got a flashing light
and gets me home quickly.

I got hooked four years ago.
They found one in the barn here.

A Cooper T45 in a terrible mess.

I was running the case.

Then I got involved
in the restoration of the car,

and suddenly discovered
this whole world of anoraks to join.

- The case?
- Oh, suicide.

Remains of this racing driver,
Duncan Palmer. Been there since the '60s.

The DCI was on holiday so I was running things.

- Tom took a holiday?
- Joyce threatened him.

- Jones, dear boy!
- Mrs Wingate.

- And who's this?
- DCI Barnaby.

Why didn't they give the job to this chap?

How can we help you, Mrs Wingate?

Well, as you can see, we've got
a car charity thing this weekend.

And, our school being a charity,

got Peter Fossett to come and judge!

Know him, do you?

- No.
- He's a famous racing driver.

And you would like us to keep an eye on things?

Yes. With a particular eye on
the yobs from the Moor Park estate.

I know a girls' school

is an irresistible magnet to young men.

Eh, Jones? Ha, ha!

Anyway, the other day,

one of the fellows from the estate
was found in the chapel cloisters.

A Thomas Brightwell, by all accounts.

Wouldn't say what he was doing there,

but I suspect he was trying to sell
illegal substances.

What makes you think that?

That's the sort of thing
those types do, isn't it?

I know his family. We'll look into it.

Good boy. Oh, chocks away!

Governors' meeting. Nice to meet you, Torn.

- See what I mean?
- Yes.

The suicide, Jones. Duncan Palmer.

- Why here?
- Nobody knows.

- How did he do it?
- Shot to the head.

The revolver was lying next to the car.

And the body wasn't found till 40 years later.

Yeah.

Isn't she beautiful?

Perfect.

Just like you, dear girl.

All you have to do is look
at the figures in front of you.

We are haemorrhaging cash and losing clients.

Uh, pupils.

Students. They're not clients.

This is a place of learning, not a dentist's.

Whatever. They just aren't
coming to Darnley anymore.

Then we have to modernise. Upgrade.

Harriet, Harriet. The banks,
they don't want to know.

So, what do we do?

It's on the table. It has been for a year.

No!

The Education Department
will take over our debts, our mortgages...

- And turn it into a state school.
- It would still be Darnley Park.

No! It would not!

Jessica, what do you think?

I'm afraid I have to agree with Jamie.

It's the figures, Mother.

Look at the girls that have come out of Darnley.

Cabinet ministers, MPs,

academics, scientists.

This weekend, Kate Cameron,

European businesswoman of the year,
is coming down.

What? You've invited my ex-wife?

Well, often years, Jamie.

Surely you're not still squabbling!

Oh, God.

The point I am making is

that we have never given in.

So are you really going to spend
the rest of your lives

hiding your heads in shame

because you saw fit to vote it out of existence?

Well, are you?

Right. Let's have a vote.

Those who want to fight on,

raise your hands.

Jolly good.

The place isn't too bad.
Only a handful of idiots.

Hello, Freddy. How's it going?

If you ain't got the footage, mate,
it weren't me!

Car chopper. Does drama classes
with Jessica Wingate.

Really?

Yeah, Council funds a lot of arts
programmes in poorer areas.

- Is that good?
- Oh, yeah.

There's some really fine actors
and artists in Causton nick.

- Liberal thinker, are you, Jones?
- Definitely, sir.

Counsellors and cuddles all round, I say.

- And Thomas Brightwell?
- Yeah, he's in with Jessica's lot too.

Comes from a duff family though.

You're the local. You take it.

Thomas, it's not a hard question.

What were you doing up at Darnley Park?

I was lost, weren't I?

Don't wind me up. A waste of time.

- Peddling a little dope, were you, Thomas?
- Are you kidding?

Selling drugs to school kids?
Do I look totally stupid?

Just passing through. I didn't do nothing.

And that's it? All you have to say?

Yeah. Are you done?

Stay away from that school
or you're in big trouble.

- What was the play?
- What?

Guys And Dolls. I was Sky Masterson.

- Directed by Jessica Wingate.
- Yeah.

Maybe you were going to see her.

No. I wasn't going to see anyone.

Bye, Thomas.

- 3:24.
- Sir?

Should we ever have to find out
who he called the moment we left.

Oh, yeah, right.

Welcome to Darnley!

Harriet Wingate, my father Peter Fossett.

- Mr Fossett!
- Peter, please.

My pleasure.

Katie was telling me what an attractive
woman you are. By golly, she was right!

Oh, yes, yes, yes.

I know all about you racing car chappies.

Come along.

Let me show you round.

Excellent. I can't wait to see
Duncan's old Cooper.

Ah, well, there's this old barn, you see...

Kate! What are you doing here?!
This is my weekend!

I'm not here for her!

I'm here to beat you to best in show.

- Oh, you're such a number!
- Aren't I, darling?!

Just you stay out of my way!

- Don't touch my car!
- Nor you mine!

Hi, Mummy.

Bring nice presents from Europe?

How did you do with the last lot?

- That's it?
- Market prices.

Got the key, then?

I think I should deal directly with your friend.

Why?

Because I'm not sure
I'm doing the right thing, as your mother.

Are you sure you don't want a hand?

No, no. There's just a couple more
bits to unpack and I'll be set.

Well, I'm going to go back to school,
help with the cars.

- See you later, then.
- Okay.

Hello. You haven't unpacked much.

The thing is, I totally see
Jones's point of view.

Ambitious lad, talented.

Now blocked by some old bloke
being dumped in his parish.

I'd be hacked off too.

So how do I handle it?

Slap him down? Try and get him on-side?

Play it by ear? Yeah, you're probably right.

The Robinsons have moved!

- Yes?
- Mr Barnaby?

I'm June Carter, three doors down,

and I brought you a "welcome to Causton" cake.

It's lemon drizzle.

Thank you. Most kind.

I could murder a cup of tea.

Or shouldn't one say that to a policeman?

Oh. Oh, no.

Sorry, it's, urn,

my medication time.

Sorry.

Thank you so much.

Bye.

Bye-bye.

So did you know Duncan Palmer well?

Yes. I knew Duncan.

He was my best friend.

Must have been a terrible blow
to hear of his death.

It was bad enough when they found
his car in Coniston Water,

but when they discovered him here,

all those years later.

I was confused.

- Whole thing made no sense.
- Mr Fossett.

Local copper. Jones.

It's a great privilege.

Mr Jones. I also helped with the restoration.

Do tell!

Well, the chassis was solid enough.

But when we hoisted the engine out,
we found it was completely seized.

So we had to start from the bottom up,

replacing parts from contemporary salvage jobs.

- Who owns it now?
- A tricky one.

When Mr Palmer died, he didn't leave a will.

So we're just sort of looking after it.

I mean, a pristine Cooper
is worth about £100,000.

Yes, thank you, Jones.

I must drag you away. The other judge is here.

Oh, uh, yes. Who is it? I know most of them.

Yo! Yo!

Wassup, my bitches?

I don't know that one.

You ready for the Doggy Dog man
giving you some boom boom cha!

Yo, Jessie! My main ho! How you shaking, baby?

I'd like you to meet your co-judge.

Mother, Mr Fossett,

this is Dave Dogboy Day.

You can call me "Doggy".

How you been? You're going to have to give me

the knowledge on this car stuff,
man! I'm well keen, innit.

Oh! You got to give me the dope on this baby.

What are you playing at?

You suggested we get a local celebrity.

I meant a novelist
or a weather forecaster or someone.

Where in God's name did you find this creature?

He's doing voluntary work at Moor Park with me.

He's also a well-known DJ.

Jessica, I don't pretend to
understand your perverse needs.

But I do not want our girls contaminated

by the dross that crawls out of that estate!

Understand?

Show us again.

Oh, my God, isn't she a shocker?!

I bet they didn't mean us
to film them doing that!

A video diary is meant to be a true account
of events as they are presented to you.

Oi! Charlie's Angels! In here now!

Does everyone dress like you in your village?

- We dress all right.
- Of course you do.

You're gorgeous.

We're very privileged to have you here.

I've got a new mission for Charlie's Angels.

You're to take this to my little
povvo friend on the estate.

- Ain't he got a screwdriver?!
- It's not a screwdriver.

- It's a sword drawn from stone.
- Excalibur-like!

Right. And he's the young King Arthur,

and he must perform great deeds
to win the fair Guinevere.

Fantastic!

- Do you accept your mission?
- Oh, yes, Charlie.

We'll be brilliant.

Well, bye-bye, then.

Come on, girls! In we go!

The thing about classic cars

is they're as much a work of art
as pictures in a gallery.

Yeah, I got your vibe, man.

It's like my mojo.

So preservation and provenance
are equally important.

Yeah, whatever. You give it to me, man,

like the knowledge. Know what I'm saying?

Ice?

See, if I was handling the questioning,

I'd have followed up stronger
on the Jessica Wingate line.

Oh, yeah?

Yeah, but he says, "We're not here to police
the morals of the middle classes.

Let them eat their skis," he says.

He's weird.

Oh, no wonder.

Look, our new DCI has a degree in psychology.

Well, pardon me for being such a thick prat.

His team also had the most successful

serious crime clear-up rate
in the southern counties.

For ten years in a row.

Yeah, well, he was in Brighton, wasn't he?

Fish in a barrel!

Why would a man stage his own death
in the Lake District

but actually do the deed down here?

Mr Barnaby, hello. Welcome to the neighbourhood.

Dandelion wine?

Thank you.

So you have to make sure
their engines fire at first crack.

Right.

So you advance the ignition,
or spark, as we call it.

You pump the accelerator to prime the engine.

You make sure that the handbrake
is on and the car isn't in gear.

Course.

Then you cup the crank in your hand.

Don't grip it with your thumb.

Because when the beast starts,

it could kick with a force
that could break your bones.

One firm crank.

Presto. We have lift-off.

That is cool, man!

Respect!

Yes, and respect to you too!

Thanks. Cheers.

I thought if I was going to get to know
the place, I ought to start in the pub.

Nice to meet you.

So, a bit of a stitch-up, was it?

- What?
- You getting the job here.

Being a member of the Barnaby dynasty, like.

Oh, no, no.

I got the job through the normal channels.

And by sleeping with the commissioner.

That's a joke, ain't it?

Absolutely not.

That's a good 'un!

That's a good 'un!

You, uh, want a hand?

- Who are you?
- Dave Day. Dogboy Doggy.

The other judge with your old man.

Dear God.

Do you know anything about cars?

Not much. Just doing my bit
for the school charity.

How much do you want?

- I'm sorry?
- To give me best in show.

How much?

I can't take bungs. It's for charity.

Damn brute won't start anyway.

The thing is to get the spark just right.

Then you sort of tickle her into life.

Know what I mean?

Look, I have to attend a game of lacrosse.

Why don't you just get her started?

- Me?
- But guard her with your life.

These people are very competitive.

How long are you going to be?

Yo, Jazz!

Yo, Jazz! ls that you?

Oh, my days, it is you! What are you
doing dressed up like a St. Trinians, girl?

Where's the party at?

Oh, my clays. You're still in school, innit?

You're a bad girl.

It's all right, it's all right.
Your secret's safe with me.

I won't say a word to no one about nothing.

"She said she was 25, Your Honour."

Well played, Charlie!

- God, this takes me back.
- I bet it does.

Darnley did so much for me.

Well, maybe you could do something for Darnley.

I'd love to. But with my company
on the verge of collapse,

I can't spare a penny.

I was actually wondering if you'd
like to be on the board of governors.

Me? Why me?

I need some support.

Strong girls together.

What about Jamie? Isn't he chairman?

Well, for the moment.

I'm your girl.

You always were.

- What?
- This is your sword.

Charlie says you've got to
go and slay a dragon for her!

Or you won't be getting any.

- She never said that!
- That's what she meant though, wasn't it?

Of course I can't do it. I haven't got the key.

She's my mother.

I do not steal off my mother.

Well, only big stuff.

Just do it, Thomas, or no sweeties.

Did you get it going?

- No. I think it's, um...
- Plugs.

The gaps have to be .019.

Right.

Look, I have to go out for dinner.
I'll be back about elevenish.

If you've got her going,
who knows what will be in store for you.

Phones are quiet.

After five, sir.
Villains are having their tea now.

Get back to work later.

Right.

- Evening!
- What are you doing?

- Trying to start your wife's car.
- Ex-wife.

Whatever.

In the middle of the night?

She promised to give you one, has she?

What? No. Honest.

I'm surprised. That's her usual way
of getting what she wants.

No, really.

Just remember, she likes to kill and eat
her mates when she's finished with them.

I'll bear that in mind.

Right. Pump accelerator.

Advance ignition.

Check not in gear.

Cradle in palm of hand.

Say a little prayer.

You beauty! I adore you!

I am going to shag your mistress!

Yo! Hello!

I'm just observing.

Looks like an accident.

Started the car in gear
and got shafted by the crank handle.

Right. Right.

So let's check for fingerprints, then.

Why?

Because that's what I want.

All going well, is it?

- Fine.
- Good.

Fingerprints, for some reason.

As I said, Peter, tragic accident.

It was me who showed him
how to use that damn crank.

- If I hadn't...
- You cannot blame yourself.

- Can I get to my car, please?
- Not yet, Mrs Cameron, no.

- But I have to check it.
- I'm sorry.

- Where's the crank handle?
- It's...

You can have it back later.

Don't touch anything you don't need to!

- So stupid.
- I beg your pardon?

You left a novice in charge of a five-litre tank!

He knew what he was doing! He was a judge.

He was a local DJ!

- Well, I didn't know that.
- Of course you didn't.

Stop it! Please! A man has died here!

Sorry, Jessie. You're right, of course.

It's not my fault. Will you stop that, please!

Yes, please, girls. Come on.

So, who's going to, uh, do the judging now'?

You're still going ahead with the event?!

Well, I'm sure that's what Mr Day
would have wanted.

Come along, Peter.

It's the boarding school thing.

Leaves them unacquainted
with normal human emotions.

Psychology studies, is that, sir?

Common sense, Jones.

Look forward to reading your report.

Hello, girls.

- Hello.
- You take a lot of photos.

- Oh, videos.
- We have to make a video diary.

So you see everything that goes on, eh?

Oh, yeah!

Not that anything really happens round here.

Well, keep it up.

- Oh, Jamie.
- Hi, Jess.

- Are you okay?
- Yes.

- Just a bit...
- I know. I know.

It's awful.

He was doing really well in London.

But he always came back to help out.

- And...
- And he was one of you.

Halfway decent people.

- You okay?
- Oh, yes.

Ooh, you naughty girl.

Yes.

- Oh, wait. Wait.
- What?

I meant to tell you.
My mother was talking to Kate.

She wants Kate to help her save
the school and oust you from the board.

- What? Jess.
- I'm sorry, I was going to tell you.

But once you started... I'm sorry.

It's fine. It's okay.

Women like them always find each other.

It's not your fault.

- Did you get it?
- I certainly did.

Good boy!

So are you going to keep your end of the bargain?

- That's enough for now.
- Oh, come on!

Peasants don't get their princesses

until they've finished their daring deeds.

See you Friday night. Pick me up
at the usual place around 10:00.

So you want to sign off on this, do you?

Accident?

The final's down to the coroner.

But they usually go along with what we tell them.

Why the fingerprinting?

Just being thorough, sir.

We found plenty of Doggy's.

His fingers were oily
from fiddling with the engine.

What about the prints on the gear lever?

There weren't any.

Sir?

How did he put the car in gear
without leaving any prints?

And, small point, you can't
crank-start a car if it's in gear.

Yes, I know that.

So, I guess he must have got the car started,

then put it in gear,

set the throttle on slow,
wiped the prints off the gear lever,

then ran back round to the front of the vehicle,

dropped to his knees and let the
crank handle run through his chest.

So it was either a really complex suicide, or...

Someone else put the car in gear.

Now there's a thought.

- It wasn't me!
- Oh, come on. The whole lot's gone!

- Nobody else knew.
- Maybe it was that dead Doggy bloke.

He was too stupid!

Do something.

Mrs Cameron! What are you doing?

That could have been involved in a crime!

You said it was cleared.

Would you stop that?!

- The presentation is this afternoon!
- Let go!

What is going on here? Jones?

The cause of Mr Day's death
has not been fully verified as yet.

Has he cocked it up?

Mrs Wingate, this is now
a criminal investigation.

In due course, we would like
to talk to you. Meanwhile, thank you.

Whole family are bolshies!

Jones, would you like
to have a chat with Mr Fossett?

- Yes, sir.
- I have to do the judging.

That's okay. We can talk as you go round.

Charlotte, I need to talk to your mother.

See you, Mummy.

- Charming girl.
- She's got balls.

Unlike her father.

What caused the break-up of your marriage?

What's that got to do with anything?

I like to look at the big picture.

When we first met, we were both mad about cars.

And Jamie was thrilled that
the great Peter Fossett was my father.

It looked perfect.

But Jamie was never a real player.

He was too dumb.

He told me about deals he was involved with,

and then got miffed when I got in ahead of him.

- How very careless of him.
- Oh, yes, I know.

I'm a bitch.

And he was rubbish in bed.

- Really?
- Couldn't get it up.

Said I emasculated him.

So I had to play away.

Well, thank you.

You wanted the big picture.

- Not that big.
- Oh, I do love the middle classes!

So quaintly moralistic.

What is your business?

I'm the only woman in the country
running a major trucking company.

Contrary to my kind, I believe in hard work.

Doing all right, is it, this company?

Today? You're kidding.

Fuel prices, EU regulations,
East European cowboys.

I'm hanging on by my teeth.

And this is an expensive hobby.

Life's expensive, Mr Barnaby.

We all have to pay for it somehow, don't we?

So you didn't know Mr Day before, then?

Did you know that there were only six original

Bugatti Royales ever made?

I have read that, sir.

However, by collecting spare parts
from all over the world,

they were able to build up a whole new one.

Of course, we weren't allowed
to accept it as a genuine Royale.

Do you think that's some kind
of metaphor for modern life?

Mr Day, sir?

He told me he came from
this estate place originally.

Then when he'd made a few bob,
he went back to help them out.

I think he was a thoroughly decent fellow.

That mudguard has more filler than a pork pie.

Honestly, I think they must think I'm senile.

Do you have any idea why
Duncan Palmer ended his life here?

No, I don't.

But I do think it's an amazing coincidence

that Duncan and his car

should end up in a barn
in my daughter's old school.

In fact, it would have been there
when your daughter Kate was at the school.

Yes, I suppose you're right.
I never thought of that.

That's rather spooky.

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

Just me being a bit senior.

Kate is a ball-busting bitch!

All she ever does is stab people in the back.

And her bad points?

Ruthless corporate raider.

Look at the way she's mopping up
her opposition during the recession.

Where is she getting the money for that?

Probably sleeping with
venture capitalists from here to Prague.

How does she get on with her father?

Those two, thick as thieves
with their little secrets.

She was always saying
I was nothing compared to Daddy.

That's how she judges everyone.
By their tangible successes.

Never mind their character or common decency.

And do you know a lot about common decency?

I'm learning.

Taking lessons, actually.

Gentlemen, here's a thing of great beauty.

A real showstopper.

And the car ain't half bad either!

So let's give her the onceover.

Daddy going to give you first prize, is he?

- If I ask him to.
- Obvious bias.

I'll object. Make a fuss.

- Are you sure?
- Yeah.

Gentlemen, here's a bit of a turn-up.

Kate Cameron has shown
her true and decent colours

by insisting that she rule herself out

from winning best of show.

Because the main judge, me,

also happens to be her father.

I think such a noble sacrifice
deserves a round of applause.

What are you up to?

Mr Barnaby.

I don't believe it!

- What's your problem?
- I told you I didn't want to see you here.

I'm not doing anything wrong.

I'm a member of the public looking at old cars.

I love old cars.

See that MGA? It's up for sale.

I might just get in there.

I'm watching you.

All afternoon. Wherever you are.

Girls.

This one was owned by the Sultan of Brunei!

Richest man in the world, he is.

So, what do you do with your video diary?

Upload most of it onto the English
Studies computer for assessment.

Not all of them!

- Nerys!
- What?

So some bits are not suitable
for general viewing, eh?

No, it's just... She's a bit simple in the head.

I am not!

You're such an idiot! Come on!

Why do you have to open your mouth all the time?!

Well, it was a close one today.

We had a splendid array of fine classics,

and judging best of show
was a very hard task indeed.

But we finally decided on one

that was not only excellent in every way,

but seemed to have captured
the heart of the local community here.

A car that I knew when I was a young man.

A car that belonged to the best pal

a chap could ever have.

And even though it came here

in a circuitous and seemingly tragic route,

we have no hesitation in awarding best of show

to the Cooper T45!

Yes!

And now, I'd like to present the cup

to the Causton restoration group.

Yeah!

You should join them.

Congratulations. There you are.
You're taking it? Well clone.

Thank you, sir. Well done.

This Duncan Palmer thing.

I hate coincidences.

So did your predecessor.

Right. He taught me, "John, if it smells..."

"It's probably off." Yeah.

The estate, the school, what's the relationship?

Wary. Harriet hates the estate kids,

while Jessica wants to encompass them.
Share the privileges.

She's not just trying to stick it to her mother?

There could be a bit of that.

And there have been rumours of more
personal liaisons across the social divide.

- Jessica?
- Yeah.

Aye-aye.

Look at that! Little toe rag!

Where is he getting the money?

Better ask him.

I will. Are you coming?

I'm going to go through this again.

There's nothing in there.

I expect you're right.

See you later. Mother?

You stupid, stupid girl!

I don't think you should talk to me like that.

Watch this.

Lyn Wilson was ploughing through
her class's video diaries,

when she came across this.

Thought I should see it.

Now I see why my own daughter was betraying me.

It wasn't enough that you should carry on

with those ghastly creatures from the estate.

- That's not true.
- But you also had to conjoin

with a hostile member of my own board.

This has nothing to do with you.

I love Jamie.

He loves me.

See?

Don't be ridiculous!

What would a man like him
see in a woman like you?

In me?

In me, he sees someone
who doesn't abuse and humiliate him.

The same thing as I see in him.

- I don't know what you mean.
- No.

You don't.

That's your problem.

You've never seen what you really are.

Well, you'll have to go.

I can't have you here after this.

The girls, the school.

Imagine the damage
if this got into the gutter press!

- He's not here.
- How are you, Gran?

He's not here.

- Have you see him today?
- He's not here!

He's not there.

Oh, Nick The Money. You after him as well?

- No.
- Don't tell me he doesn't owe you.

Not a penny. Paid it all off.

Bought himself a fancy motor and all.

So?

So he must be engaged in suitable employment.

Or is he dealing?

Or did his auntie leave him
a gold mine in South Africa?

See, that's the problem
with you people round here.

You think you're so smart.

Yeah, we heard you got passed over
for the top job.

- It's because I was too young!
- Course you were. We knew that.

Only you that didn't.

Usually photographed with a hat on.

Why do you suppose that was, Sykes?

A-ha. That's why.

Look at that.

See? He was only 30,

but half his hair was gone
and the rest was ginger.

Maybe it was suicide after all.

My wicked old uncle used to say

they're all sex-mad and bad-tempered.

Ah, now. See, she...

She would call herself "auburn".

But we know, don't we?

Ah, Jones. Can I help?

Sorry, I thought you were talking to someone.

I was talking to this dog.

He's a Sprechhund.

That's German for a dog you talk to.

I discuss cases with him.

Sort of thinking out loud.

Yes. Yes.

You could always do that
with a person, if you liked.

Hm, I suppose I could.

So, what did you learn at the estate?

Thomas has got a lot of money
and seems to have done a runner.

So what do we make of that?

I am so sorry, Jess.

It doesn't worry me.

That's the way I like it.

Whatever happened to
Miss Shrinking Violet of yesteryear?

I dumped her. For you.

That must have been about two weeks ago.

See? Golf club tie. Midsomer Parva Cup day.

Who took this?

Some little horror from upper fifth.

They're doing a video diary project.

So, what do you think of my plan?

Suppose she calls your bluff?

She won't. I know her.

We could do all the things we've talked about.

You've talked about.

Please!

The Robinsons have moved!

- Yes?
- Henry Parsons, rugby club.

- How can I help?
- Just saying hi.

Welcome to the neighbourhood.

I heard the old duck brigade had been round.

Thought I should present a more normal side.

Oh. Right.

Well, come in.

You girls, inside.

Prep time.

What's gotten into her?

Probably some bit of rough off the estate.

I have nothing more to say to you.

Well, I have plenty to say to you.

I don't think that's wise.

First, I'd like to thank you for this DVD,

which I have decided
I am going to release to the local press.

Or maybe the national dailies.

You're not serious?!

Lam.

That would destroy you!

So? Who am I?

Nobody at all.

But you, Mummy dearest,

are a well-known educationalist.

Chairman of the Headmasters' Conference.

Won't look too good in your world

when they see that members of your staff

shag the parents all over the premises.

Please don't be crude.

Sorry.

- You won't do it!
- Yes, I will.

I promise you.

Jessie, after your father left,
I found it very hard...

Mother!

You won't even tell me who my father was.

So don't try that line of emotional blackmail.

- It won't wash.
- What do you want?

- We want you to retire.
- What?!

That old racing car seems to be worth

a surprising amount of money.

So we want you to sell it,

assuming it's yours to sell.

And swan off to your place in Brittany,

leaving Jamie and I to bring in
the local education people,

and turn this place into a proper school.

For everyone.

Or you'll...

Yes.

I just wanted to mould you

in the Darnley tradition.

But it didn't suit. Did it?

I'm so sorry, Jessie.

I'm sorry I got it so wrong.

So you don't play any sports, then?

No, I don't think so.

Chess? That's not... No.

You go to a gym?

Actually, no. No, not gyms.

It's just that there's a gang of us guys,

you know, golfers, rugger-buggers,
a few local businessmen,

we kind of get together some evenings,

as a group of

men.

- Are you Masons?
- No! No.

It's a bit more... It's a bit more fun than that.

Can I bring my wife?

She's a teacher, you see. She's joining me

at the end of the summer term,
when she moves to Causton.

To live with me. Together.
But she likes to get out and meet people.

You look amazing.

- Yes.
- What is it tonight, then?

The club where the royal prince is?

Eyebrows.

- Are you going on the train?
- No.

I'll have my little minder take me.

Frock, please.

Oh, watch the hair.

I could kiss you myself!

Coat and bag.

- Right, who's covering for me?
- I am, me.

I'll be in your bed tonight.

I love that.

- Good night, angels.
- Night, Charlie!

- She's amazing!
- Just get in the bed.

Give us a lift?

You seem a bit distracted.

Something is puzzling me.

Like who broke the lock on your battery box?

Well spotted.

Maybe we should go back to the hotel.

Yes, Daddy.

Why not?

Charlie and her chum are scamming me.

They were just raking a bit off the top.

But now they've got very greedy.

It's the sort of thing I'd have done.

Naughty though.

Someone's going to get a bit of a slap.

You're not going to sleep, are you?

Not on your life.

Track rod in from the steering
column almost cut through.

First turn of the wheel, it shears
off, causing total loss of steering.

Hence the poor boy not making the bend.

- Where does this road go?
- Right past Darnley Park.

Do you think he was headed there?

Maybe. Maybe going to see his drama coach.

- Do you think so?
- I told you there were rumours.

Shall we go and ask her?

You ask her.

Why would Thomas be coming to see me?

I just thought, what with
your connections to the estate,

that...

That what?

That, urn,

with all your good work there, maybe...

Oh, dear God.

Contrary to popular opinion,

I am not some desperate woman
who'll get it wherever she can.

- Oh, I didn't mean to imply...
- Of course you did.

I hear the snide stuff too, you know.

"Jessie's very friendly
with the estate boys, isn't she?"

Well, look at this.

That's me.

- And that's my lover.
- Yes, right, thank you.

Does he look like someone from the estate?

No.

Do you mind?!

Murder inquiry, Miss Wingate.

Sorry.

I feel terrible.

I virtually told her she was a slag.

Well, we can't always be sensitive,
caring, and diplomatic.

Sometimes we're just woodentops.

Get this down to Bullock
and get him to find out all about it.

- Bullard, sir.
- Thank you.

I'm going to have words with Harriet Wingate.

Your starter for ten.

- What?
- Who is he?

Duncan Palmer.

Who else is he?

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

It was the Sixties.

How many times have I heard that
as an excuse for interesting behaviour?

He was very attractive.

But hopeless.

I could never have married him.

Did he ask you to?

Well...

Yes.

That's why he killed himself here.

He wanted to be close to me.

And his daughter.

- Yes.
- Does Jessica know?

We've never

talked very well together.

She's always been a bit unlikely as my daughter.

I bet.

But lately, she's taken

a more positive line in her life.

In what way?

She's fired me from my own school.

- No, no. Down.
- You've got to move it so...

Down.

Ahem.

- Hi, girls.
- Hello, sir.

I've been looking at some of
your class video diaries.

- What did you find?
- The rude bits.

- Oh, God.
- It's just a joke.

But it's what I didn't find
that really interests me.

You're Charlotte Cameron's friends, aren't you?

Not so much her friends as her pets.

Scholarship girls, we are.

You mean she patronises you to death.

She's really nice to our faces.

But laughs at us behind our backs.

So, urn, what else have you got?

Jessica is Duncan Palmer's daughter?!

Yes, but I don't know if Jessica is aware

of this interesting little snippet.

- Are you going to tell her?
- Oh, God, no.

Not police business.

Personal stuff,
I stand aside and let the bus go by.

Well, that would explain
why he suicided in the school barn.

Not necessarily.

- Why not?
- It's too pat, too neat.

What?

Tom Barnaby couldn't bear a death
not being a murder either.

Well, it does sort of undermine
our raison d'étre.

But in this case...

DS Jones.

Sir, West End Central.

Can we confirm a Charlotte Cameron
is one of ours.

- What's she done?
- Hang on.

Tried to sell cocaine to an undercover.

Tell them to keep her in isolation

till we get there. No lawyers.

- Is that legal?
- Don't know, don't care.

Keep her in isolation
until we get there. Thank you.

What's going to happen to me?

What's going to happen to me?

You had a sizeable stash.

Dealer sizeable.

Of course, any co-operation
will be taken into consideration.

It was Thomas Brightwell.

He made me take the stuff
round the smarter clubs.

I had the kind of connections
he'd never get near.

He threatened you?

Yes, that's right. He threatened me.

Well, I'm afraid Thomas was killed last night,

in a vehicle accident.

- Really?
- I'm sorry.

- Oh, my God.
- Was he coming to meet you?

Urn, yes.

So why were you carrying the drugs?

Because of you.

He said you were always on his case

and he couldn't get caught carrying.

He said...

He said he'd cut my face
if I didn't do what he said.

It's all right, Charlotte. It's all right.

Poor kid.

Still, family money,
good lawyer, should see her right.

Are you serious? She is lying
through her perfect little teeth.

- Really?
- Yes.

- She seemed genuine to me.
- That is because she is a pretty girl,

and you are a young man,
and your brains are still in your trousers.

- Thank you, sir.
- I, on the other hand,

being a desiccated old goat,
don't fall for that crapola for one second.

Oh, good.

I don't know, Jonesy. I
don't know anything at all.

Honest.

- What are you doing?!
- Answer my simple question,

- or I jump up and down.
- All right! I was just kidding!

There's no need to get all Sweeney on me!

- Talk!
- All right.

There's very good stuff all over.

I'm not grassing him up because he's dead,

but Thomas was definitely the man.

Thank you for your co-operation, sir.

But if the product was so good,

why wasn't Thomas cutting it?

It's where he's getting the Class A's
that I can't figure.

Oh, I'm as blind as a bat!

Sir?

It isn't always the poor preying on the rich.

Sometimes the water runs uphill.

Sorry?

Lao-Tzu. He founded Taoism.

- Not round here he didn't.
- Via my place, please.

He hasn't had a walk for days.

Harriet, what the hell are you talking about?!

I've changed my mind.

I've been wrong all these years.

Training thoroughbreds is easy.

The real challenge would have been to get amongst

the mongrels and bring them up to the mark.

What patronising tosh!

You've been got at.
What's Jamie been saying to you?

Nothing. I haven't even spoken to him.

- I've been talking to my daughter.
- Who's having an affair with Jamie.

Same thing. Two washouts together.

Don't talk about Jessie like that.

She's a fine girl.

You've given up, haven't you?

The great Harriet Wingate
has finally folded her tent.

Or finally seen herself for what she really is.

I need to talk to Charlotte.

She's not here.

What?

She wasn't at breakfast.

One of the scholarship girls
said she'd gone clubbing.

- Again.
- Harriet!

Ha! Don't look surprised. She is your daughter.

This place really is falling apart!

- Does he not walk?
- Of course he walks.

He just doesn't follow.

And I can't find his lead to drag him.

Right, Sykes.

Okay, find, find.

I wanted him to be a sniffer dog,

but he says he has sinus problems.

Right, let's pretend we have a warrant.

Ever seen The French Connection?

Gear in the rocker panels.

Let's hope these people were watching.

What the hell do you think you're doing?!

Hm, nice.

- I said...
- Mrs Cameron,

your daughter has been arrested

on drug-dealing charges.

She has told us everything.

I don't believe you. And I have nothing
more to say without a lawyer present.

And I demand to be allowed
to speak to my daughter.

Okay.

We'll arrange that.

Then, if you could present yourself
at Causton police station this afternoon,

we can start the formal questioning.

Very well.

Well, she didn't fall for that one.

Sir, if she talks to her daughter, they will
turn up with fully synchronised stories.

I hope so. I like to give people
all the rope they need.

Call Bullard. Get him down here
with his spectrometer

and cover every nano-inch of this beast.

Then go and pull Jamie Cameron's chain.

- See if he's in it.
- Yes, sir.

Sykes!

Thanks for bringing me the good news.

She's been bailed into her mother's care.

Were you aware
of your daughter's activities, sir?

She's no daughter of mine.

Mrs Cameron would like to say
that her daughter is totally innocent.

And that it was she, Kate Cameron,

who inadvertently introduced
the seized substances into her car.

So she admits to the presence of substances.

You said that your people had found traces.

Oh, yes. I did.

Mrs Cameron did not know
that the drugs were there,

and can only presume they were planted
by Thomas Brightwell or one of his associates

when the car was being shown
in either Paris or Prague.

That Thomas got around.

My client presumes Brightwell removed
the drugs from the car when it arrived here,

and then proceeded to bully Charlotte Cameron

into introducing the drugs
into certain London clubs.

So Charlotte and Thomas didn't conspire
to cut Mrs Cameron out of the deal.

Charlotte was manipulated by Brightwell.

Who can't, obviously,

deny or confirm any of this.

No.

And where does.

Charlotte's father

come into all this, Mrs Cameron?

Is Charlotte's father

a part of the story?

Do go on.

Mrs Cameron would like to state

that her family do not deal in drugs,

and that she would like all charges dropped

against her and her daughter forthwith.

Forthwith, eh?

Can we go now, please?

Are you going to terminate the interview?

Urn, in a tick.

Jones, why don't we bring our young friends in?

And the gizmo trolley.

Behind you, sir.

Ah, thank you.

It's all right, girls.

- What's going on?
- Who are these girls?

Nerys and Bethan.

- They're friends of your daughter's.
- I know them.

Well, let's have a look at what they've
been doing with their video things, shall we?

We've transferred the material
for your easy viewing.

Jones.

How are you going with that estate boy?

- He's gagging for it.
- Well, keep it that way.

This was some time ago.

What Katy Did Next.

Today's mission, should you wish to accept...

Now, here's Charlie with her little angels.

Some time later.

- Angels?
- Oh, yeah.

And finally... For now, at least.

Pretty much completes the circle.

Supplying, selling, and receiving.

And of course, our wee scholars have lots more.

But they do get a bit repetitive.

You are so dead!

Guess we weren't so stupid after all.

- Snotty cow. Bitch!
- And your mother's a prossie!

- Yes, yes, thank you, girls.
- Sit down.

Mrs Cameron,

anything to add?

My client would like
to consult with me in private.

It's got to be her!

Doggy Day recognises Charlotte
from the London clubs.

Probably knew she was dealing,

so Kate has to shut him up
to protect her daughter. One down.

Then Thomas and Charlotte
steal a whole shipment from Kate's car.

Kate can forgive her daughter,
but not some yob from the estate.

So she sabotages Thomas's car, which sorts him.

Motive, opportunity. Got her!

Nah.

- Why not?
- Statistics, Jones. Psychology too.

What about their daughters?

Daughters.

Now, daughters are another mystery

within this mystery.

You know, when I told Jamie Cameron
his daughter had been arrested,

he denied her.

He said he didn't have a daughter.

Brilliant, Jones. Well clone.

Thank you, sir.

And well done for digging up these magazines.

Especially this one.

Come on. We have to upset Mr Bullard again.

Duncan Palmer's skull wound.

The bullet enters on the right, low down.

Exits high left.

Totally consistent with
a hand-held pistol-shot suicide.

Mm, but somehow we have to encompass

this little news item.

"Palmer was never keen on driving

"the Lotus X4 because, being a left-hander,

he found the positioning of the gear
lever more awkward than usual."

See, right-handed head shot,

easy-peasy, bang as per your photos.

But as a leftie,

damn near impossible. Conclusion...

Precisely.

See you later.

How could you miss that?

Your case. How could you miss it?

Hi, DCI Barnaby. How are you today?

Good. I was wondering if we could meet up later.

Yes, I know the place.

Meet me where we first made love.

So you picked it, then.

Ages ago. Subconsciously.

But been a bit slow with the everyday brain.

Ah, there you go.

So, Duncan Palmer.

Not just your best man,
but your wife's lover as well.

He was a total swine.

And when did you first realise

that Kate wasn't your daughter,

but Duncan's?

Not too hard to pick.

No red hair in my family.

Where's he gone, then?

- I don't know.
- Doesn't tell me.

Sits, thinks, charges off on his own.

Tells his dog more than he tells me.

You'd better let me down.

Oh, I will.

Pull this lever. Good night, Irene.

Good night.

Palmer also had an affair with Harriet Wingate.

He had a daughter with her too.

Did he really?

Fertile little beggar.
Oh, but hang on. You knew all that.

- Did I?
- Yes.

That's why you killed him here.

- Hattie?
- You lured him,

with a fake message from the young Harriet.

What a romantic suicide.

Within sight of his one true love.

And then you had the fallback position

of him disappearing in the Lake District.

Just muddying the waters.

But no-one found his body here.

So you kept quiet and carried on as normal.

Your wife died.

And your daughter, Kate,

grew up and married Jamie Cameron.

Useless character.

Impotent and infertile.

Not a single working seed!

Ah. So where did Charlotte come from, then?

You'd have to ask Kate.

No, I wouldn't.

You told Kate that you weren't
her real father, didn't you?

Ergo, not a blood relative at all.

So?

So there would have been no genetic problem

if Kate were to have a child

by the man she also called "Daddy".

That's a disgusting accusation!

But rather a fine posthumous revenge
on Duncan Palmer.

He seduced your wife, who had his daughter.

So you slept with that daughter,

and lo, there was Charlotte.

Daughter, granddaughter.

And much loved in both capacities.

And that's why

you had to kill again.

Starting with Mr Dave Doggy Day.

He was an aberration.

An offence to mankind. An impertinence!

You took advantage of your own teaching.

Yo! Hello!

Foot down and impale him on the crank handle.

He could have exposed Charlotte.
He knew her from the clubs.

And Thomas Brightwell?

Now, there was someone who really offended you.

Jumped-up nobody from the estate

thinking he had the right to own a classic car!

An ill-gotten gains man.

And how did you know that?

You were waiting for Doggy.

But caught Thomas
taking the drugs from Kate's car.

He could destroy both Kate and Charlie,

so he had to be eliminated as well.

And your expertise
certainly knew how to fix his wagon.

Literally.

He was no loss.

He was trash.

They're all trash!

Peter, you're a psychopath.

Oh, you really do want to die,

don't you?

You've got to go some time. I've had a good run.

Yes, that would have
covered your murder very well.

Oh, be quiet. I'm not stupid.

I can see an amateur psychologist at work.

Amateur? How dare you!

I've got a degree!

You're trying to bend my head around a post!

Well, you can't! So shut up
and prepare to meet your maker!

- I don't believe in God.
- I do!

Ahem.

Have you killed him?

- No.
- Good.

- Should I, uh...
- Get me down?

I should get some photos of the crime scene.

Not if you ever want to have children.

Tom said you were the right stuff.

Thank you, sir.

Of course, if word of my suspension
ever gets out...

- Oh, I don't suppose it will, sir.
- Good.

Not while my career maintains
its steady upward trajectory.