Midsomer Murders (1997) s03e04 Episode Script
Beyond the Grave
THEME MUSIC By 3:30 that afternoon, the fighting was over.
The battle of Aspen Tallow had been lost.
Royalists had fallen round the King like ripe corn but Jonathan Lowrie was not among the dead.
Now, this way, please, and keep up if you will.
Follow.
He had fought that day bravely for King and country, paying dearly for the privilege.
But who would care? He was a wealthy man, much in the King's favour, and had few friends in this Roundhead part of the world.
He made his way down this very lane and paused here to gather strength and draw water from the well.
BELL RINGS Stand aside, please, I'm coming through.
Do mind the gradient, Miss Bunsall.
He drank and moved on.
Follow.
Follow.
MUSIC RESUMES When he reached this point, Cromwellian thugs on the rampage caught sight of him from yonder.
For the first time in his life, Jonathan Lowrie ran.
Blood poured from a wound to his left shoulder, leaving a trail.
But on he pressed.
Until here before him stood the family home, Aspen Hall.
Afternoon.
And as he entered the great hall, he called out to his wife, "Florence, Florence," and as he reached this spot, so a Roundhead musketeer at the door shot himdead.
And in accordance with his wish to be buried where he fell that day, this became his last resting place, though I know for a fact he is not at peace.
You're not trying to sell us a ghostie, Mr Bradford? Why? Don't you believe in such things? Well, have you seen it? Many have.
And before he walks abroad he gives fair warning, tolling the church bell mournfully.
We are blessed with a fine portrait of Jonathan, crafted at the height of his powers by the artist Robert Walk - Wh You're a policeman.
Do something.
OMINOUS MUSIC Who says justice is dead? "George Burton fell off the twig while being interviewed about his book.
" I gather you and George weren't close.
Yeah, last of a gang.
Hijacked four lorries in Dover, Nailed one of the drivers to a fence.
Ugh.
And then wrote a book about it? That's all the rage, isn't it? What time did Cully eventually get in? Two .
.
ish.
They've got a favour to ask you.
They? But, Dad, the lease on Nico's flat has just run out.
I don't care.
He's not moving in.
What about the box room, Tom? I mean, we could put your stuff in the garage.
Stuff? It's only for two weeks.
Why is it when I say no, you both hear yes? Oh, good morning, Nico.
There's something else.
There always is.
He's got a part in a soap opera.
Is it a speaking part? It's a police drama.
I'm a detective sergeant.
We were hoping you'd let him shadow Gavin, see how it's done.
(JOYCE LAUGHS) Suppose a nice, juicy murder's too much to hope for then? The best I can offer is a vandalised painting at Aspen Tallow Museum but so far, your detective sergeant is absolutely believable.
Terrific.
Why? You've observed rule number one - always keep the guv'nor waiting.
Morning, sir.
Yes, morning, Angel.
No wonder they broke in, sir.
Fake alarm system, single mortise lock on the door, windows that don't close properly.
Where's Sergeant Troy? Inside, sir.
This way, sir.
Yes, thank you, Angel, I can manage.
Right, sir.
Someone's had a go at this painting, sir.
Rule number two - always treat the boss as if he's blind and stupid.
Troy, Nico will be following you around for a week.
What for, sir? I'm Inspector Barnaby and you are, sir? Alan Bradford, curator.
I'm surprised you've got anything left to curate, Mr Bradford.
Fake alarm system on the front wall, single mortise lock on the door, windows that won't shut properly.
Why don't you hang up a notice saying, "Please burgle me"? It's a question of the reddies, Inspector.
We're not everyone's idea of a fun day out.
What would that mean, then? Tell me what happened here yesterday.
I was doing the Jonathan Lowrie death tour with half a dozen or so punters.
The portrait was fine when we left.
Hi, Alan.
Sorry.
Sandra.
Wonderful to see you.
Come on in.
This is - Inspector Barnaby.
That's Detective Sergeant Troy behind you.
Hello.
Oh, erSandra MacKillop.
I'm here to repair the painting.
MacKillop as in MacKillop Software? That's us.
I'm Charles MacKillop, I'm Sandra's brother-in-law.
And guardian angel.
Why do you need one, Mrs MacKillop? Well, mmy husband died last year and, um Sandra, you said it.
That's marvellous.
Brilliant.
Oh, sorry, Inspector.
Alan, Charlie's turning a room into a studio for me but it isn't quite finished.
Is it OK if I start work here? It's marvellous.
We can rope you off, turn you into an exhibit.
Jonathan Lowrie, royalist, philanthropist, classical scholar and all-round excellent egg.
NICO: Yes, 1591 to 1644.
How do you know? It says so over there where he's buried.
SANDRA: Somebody really meant business.
Can you fix it? ALAN: Of course she can.
What did he look like, as a matter of interest? We turned him into a postcard on here.
Sold like hotcakes.
EERIE MUSIC Are you alright? Yes.
When do I start? There's nothing here for us, Troy.
File it under 'forget'.
Did you notice a smell in there, sir? It's a museum, Troy, it's full of stuff long past its sell-by date.
I did, Sergeant.
Fish.
Your average villain's gone soft, carving up paintings.
They'll be breaking the speed limit next or dropping litter.
Why choose that picture? Why not one of the others? And having broken in, why not nick something? Have you got something against us having a quiet day, sir? What's your opinion, Nico? Me? Come on, man, you'll be doing this for semi-real in a couple of weeks.
Maybe it's a grudge against the Lowrie family.
Going back 350 years? Never.
A man dies, his wife's a picture restorer trying to get back into the game.
Lo and behold, a portrait is damaged and she's called in to fix it.
Job creation? Or is that my nasty, suspicious mind? No comment, sir.
Have you got a comment on that? Yeah.
Someone took a shortcut across the graveyard and it fell out of their shopping bag.
A shortcut where? The museum's a dead end.
Sir, two minutes ago there was nothing here for us.
Now the world turns on a packet of smoked mackerel.
Put it in the canteen freezer.
Label it carefully or it will end up on the menu.
Look after this.
STIRRING MUSIC Morning, Jim.
Morning.
Anything in the papers? None of it worth reading.
Come and sit down.
Tell me all the news from the village.
All the gossip, you mean.
Oh, alright, tell me all the gossip and if there isn't any you can make some up.
Well, Michelle's had her baby and he certainly doesn't look like anyone I know, least of all her husband.
They've called him Leonardo, after that actor.
And then there's the painting, of course, that's got people going.
Yeah, what's the feeling about that? Is it deliberate or casual or a ghost from Alan's past? Well, Kate's his favourite.
Where do you want me to start today, Jim, up or down? Why don't we start with coffee? George Burton.
All things come to him who waits.
The book.
What book? Basically, the job of a DS is to keep a check on his governor.
I'm lucky - old Tom's a good bloke to work for but he does look for trouble where there isn't any.
He's also coming this way.
Troy, what do you think of Alan Bradford? I've handed it back to uniform, sir.
I thought there was no further action.
I want to show Nico how we work, you know the free exchange of ideas.
Bradford.
Over the top, easily rattled, born to carry the can, otherwise harmless.
Nico? He's a bit theatrical but, yeah, I agree with Gavin, harmless.
Well, I've got news for you both.
The excellent, wonderful and marvellous Mr Bradford has got a record.
Sir, you said, "Troy, there is nothing here for us.
File it under 'forget'.
" That was before we found the smoked mackerel.
TENSE MUSIC BUILDS CREAKING (SCREAMS) What's wrong? I'm going outside.
I'll be alright.
I'm sorry.
I thought you said she was better.
PHONE RINGS Good afternoon.
Hiya.
How did it go? It went well, yes.
Good.
Only a couple of things for you to sign.
Must be a nice place to work, the museum.
If you like ghosts, yes.
Not that old chestnut, surely.
I'm trying to be sensible, Charlie, but look at him.
Is it just me? Oh, come on, Sandy, the set of the eyes, I grant you, but there the similarity ends.
The nose, the chin, the way he's standing.
No, you're making too much of it.
In any case, even if he does look a bit like David, so what? (SHOUTS) So now you think he does! Come on, let's go home.
I'll cook you something exotic.
Or would you rather talk it over with Linda Marquis first? I mentioned to this policeman that David had died and Alan Bradford was thrilled.
Just because I used the word.
And then it all came flooding back? Yes, and then he showed us this postcard.
I've known that portrait all my life but I've never made the connection.
Does it remind you of anyone? Well, yes.
David.
Vaguely, I suppose.
But, Linda, Charlie says no.
Which is it, for God's sake? It doesn't matter.
The point is, it triggered your memory.
Not of the good times that you and David had shared together but of the months of agony when you couldn't accept his passing.
You forgot the 3-D mantra that we worked out should his name be mentioned.
Can you say it for me now? David delight departed.
Now mean it, Sandra.
David.
Delight.
Departed.
And again, with no doubt whatsoever.
David.
Delight.
Departed.
There are no ghosts in Aspen Tallow Museum.
Not in paintings, in rocking chairs or under stone slabs.
They're only in your mind.
ATMOSPHERIC MUSIC LOCKS DOOR KNOCK AT DOOR Gentleman caller at this time of night? That'll give my neighbours something to talk about.
I won't keep you, Annie.
Don't be daft, Jim.
(LAUGHS) What can I get you? No, I just want to say this then I'll go.
I'm selling the cottage, Annie.
What for? Oh, it's a long story.
Well, for one reason or another I've missed out on certain things like a wife and family.
I've regretted it.
Well, I'm too old for kids but not for a wife.
Good-looking man like you, Jim, you could take your pick.
I have done.
CHURCH BELL TOLLS Jonathan Lowrie? You don't believe in ghosts, do you, Jim? It'll be the wind.
Those bells must weigh a ton.
Jim .
.
you mustn't.
BELLS CONTINUE CREEPY MUSIC (GASPS) (GROANS) DRAMATIC MUSICAL FLOURISH It was just here.
I took a few steps forward, paused, looked round and wham, fist to the face.
Did you see the owner of that fist? Not really.
Dark hair, I think.
Dark features.
Dark clothes.
But then it was dark.
Why were you here in the first place? I heard the church bell.
It's a sign Jonathan Lowrie is up and about.
And you came to meet him? Of course not but someone was ringing the bell.
Who were they? What did they want? Mr Tate, you found him, yeah? That's right.
And what were you doing here? Bit of a party, was it? We heard the same thing that Alan did so we came over to investigate.
I don't think I've had the pleasure.
Anne Quarritch.
Ah, yes, you clean the museum, yeah? And before you ask if I've seen any dodgy characters hanging around, no, I haven't.
Mr Bradford.
Till just now.
Things are warming up, Mr Bradford.
First the painting, now this.
You think they're connected? then two crimes in two days.
Of course they're connected.
DOGS BARK We're pulling a crowd, sir.
Oh, God.
Marcus, I didn't realise you were so out of condition.
Take some deep breaths before we get down to business.
Can I help you? Yes, you can chain my tricycle to that fence.
Actually, that was a polite way of asking you, what are you doing here? We're police officers.
Really? Well, then you're the ones who need help, not me.
Do let me know if I can be of any assistance.
You can.
With names.
What's yours? I am Marcus Lowrie, Jonathan's great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great great-grandson.
Close, were you? What are you doing here, Mr Lowrie? The bell tolled in the middle of the night.
Jonathan is risen and we have a question to ask him.
Well, tough.
The museum is closed and you can't go in.
Alan, dear, don't be peevish.
What would you mother say? She'd say, "Leave me alone.
I've been dead for 10 years.
" Dead is an un-word, as well you know.
Your mother is right here with us now and she says, "Don't be unkind to Eleanor, let her into the museum.
" And I can hear my old mother too, saying, "Don't let this lady come the old acid until you know who she is.
" You're in the presence of Eleanor Bunsall, self-appointed queen of Aspen Tallow.
What was the question you wanted to ask Jonathan? Is that any of your business? Oh, please, indulge me.
I need to know what he did with the family's money.
I'm sorry? It went missing shortly after he died.
We've scrimped and saved for 300 years but not anymore.
In that case, be my guest.
Thank you.
Jonathan Lowrie, I am Eleanor Margaret Bunsall.
What have you got to say for yourself? Do you believe in life after death Mr Bradford? Of course not.
You told one of my colleagues, PC Angel, that you did, that you'd seen this Jonathan Lowrie.
That's strictly for the punters.
They love it.
Sh! I know you're there, Jonathan, so don't play silly games.
Yes, go on, speak to her.
Quiet, Marcus.
We need your help with the family silver, Jonathan.
Any ideas? I know where it is.
Sh! (SIGHS) Oh, really, this is too much.
Noises from you, chattering in the stalls and now a late entrance.
Sandra, quickly, take a seat.
Sorry, Miss Bunsall.
Sorry.
SCRAPING NOISE MARCUS: He's here.
(DOG WHIMPERS) Everybody out.
What is it now? Fire extinguisher.
SHOUTING Come on! Out! Just when we were getting somewhere.
Hope it works.
Mrs Bunsall, out now.
Stand clear.
It's under control.
You alright? Just a shock, that's all.
Where did she go? Who? Sandra MacKillop.
She's down there.
Troy.
Troy.
Who do you want? Eleanor Bunsall or Alan Bradford? Bradford, sir.
Good man.
Ask her how she started the fire.
It's Go on.
Mr Bradford, word if I may.
Would this be a good time to mention your criminal record? Not if I have a choice in the matter, no.
You mean that Mr Tate, chairman of the trustees, doesn't know about your passion for valuable bronzes? I didn't think he'd be interested.
I think he'll be fascinated.
No, Inspector, please.
But you stole a bust of Oliver Cromwell from an auctioneer in Bristol valued at ã13,000.
Not for money, for love.
It's the old crime of passion, is it? Who was she? Not that kind of love.
Love of one's subject.
History, the Civil War, Cromwell, our chief of men.
Mr Barnaby wondered if you had any ideas on how the fire started, Miss Bunsall.
Heat, Sergeant.
Yes, but did you have anything to do with it is what he meant, I think.
Do I look like a pyromaniac? I'm not saying you're the Brinks Mat type but you did spend six months inside Reading Jail.
Did you make any friends while you were there? Or, more importantly, any enemies? You mean you think I'm a target, Inspector? Well, someone doesn't like you, do they? I mean, the painting, the nose.
Perhaps that's why they moved the packing case.
And the packing case, Inspector, it's not where I left it last night.
Nico.
Sir.
I mean, yes, Tom.
Sir will do just fine.
The Marcus family silver.
You say you know where it is? Well, the inscription on the burial slab, it's Greek.
"Jonathan Lowrie (Speaks Greek)" "Here lies Jonathan Lowrie and all his worldly goods.
" Sir.
Did you tell Marcus? He wanted to know.
Inspector.
I gather you've had quite a day.
We certainly have.
Let me get you a drink.
Oh, please.
Why did you let old Miss Bunsall loose in the museum, Inspector? Professional curiosity, I suppose.
I don't believe in ghosts, just people with dark motives.
Is that how you explain the burning packing cases? At the moment I don't explain it at all.
I can tell you it was helped along with a little paraffin.
Hardly the work of a ghost.
It's not a joke, Charlie.
Something's going on there otherwise why is Inspector Barnaby here? Actually, I came to ask you - why did you rush away in such a hurry this afternoon? Is that a crime? (FAINTLY) Sorry.
So sorry.
I was frightened.
I was - I needed to find Charlie.
Anything else? Yes.
Why did Mr Bradford choose you to repair the painting? Because I'm the only restorer within 30 miles.
Seems odd that as you're trying to get back into the swing of things someone wrecks a painting.
I resent that! Resent what? His implication.
Which is? You saw what happened this afternoon.
I'm in no mood They have to ask these things.
I don't have to listen to it.
Will she be alright? The short-term answer's yes.
As regards the long-term, I really have no idea.
Why is she like she is? When David, my brother, died, Sandra couldn't believe it.
Literally.
She had a kind of a breakdown, so I moved her in here with me and tried to protect her, if you like.
From what? Oh, you know, garden-fence gossip.
David was the fittest man you'd ever meet.
Some people suggested he might have taken his own life.
But he didn't? No.
He wasn't the sort, Inspector.
You and he were business partners, yeah? Yeah, and he left quite a gap, I can tell you.
Sandra may have lost her husband but I lost somebody who meant more to me than I realised.
Tell me about Eleanor Bunsall.
(SNORTS) Rider of broomsticks and minder of other people's business.
Is she harmless, do you think? So long as you don't listen to the rubbish she talks.
Unfortunately, Sandra thinks the world of her.
DRAMATIC MUSIC Hello.
What's that, Jim? It's a metal detector.
I want to put an article in the parish magazine - there is no silver in Jonathan Lowrie's grave so don't waste your time digging it up.
I love this place, Annie.
I don't really want to leave it.
Then why are you going? No choice.
I'm going to France, I've got a house there in the south.
It's miles off the beaten track .
.
but there's olive trees for shade, vineyard for wines.
The sea's just a stone's throw.
What do you say? Me? Think it over.
METAL DETECTOR BEEPS Sounds like I've just struck gold.
DOOR OPENS Buried treasure? Yes.
You come to claim your share, Inspector? No.
My sergeant here is a very practical man, as a rule, but there's a tiny piece of him that's willing to believe in ghosts and their ability to set fire to packing cases.
It's almost this time yesterday, almost to the minute.
Troy, give me your hand.
Pardon? Give me your hand.
(WINCES) Ow.
That's how it happened.
Old glass.
Maybe 200 years old.
Uneven with a prism in it, which means - what does that mean, Troy? Whoever moved the packing case knew this place very well.
Like a curator.
Or a trustee.
Or a cleaner.
The police think I cut the portrait myself to get the job of repairing it.
I'm sure they don't.
I must finish the job, for Alan's sake.
For your own sake.
Well, yes, yes.
Yes, of course.
Is it a problem? I don't know where to do it, at home or at the museum.
Oh, I see, the museum has taken on another dimension? Yes.
I keep thinking I see David standing over me, that he's actually there.
Well, let's tackle that.
If you stay away from the museum your imagination will make that feeling worse.
If you go there, you can deal with it.
Do you feel the need to prove that you're not actually going mad? I need to see David.
That's what frightens me.
Alright, boys and girls, finish up what you're doing.
Time we moved on now.
Sandy! I need some rivets for this chap's gauntlet.
I'll be across in my office.
Two minutes.
EERIE MUSIC MUSIC INTENSIFIES David? Is that you? Sandra.
Sandra? You alright? Oh! Yes.
Yes, of course.
You're quite right to call me in on this, Sandra.
Why didn't you do so earlier? I should have, I know.
I used to tell you everything in the past, buter It's Charles, isn't it? Typical man.
Thinks he's the only one who can help.
Well, even he thinks I'm going mad.
He's too polite to say.
Madness is an unword, dear.
It does not exist.
There are only varying degrees of sanity.
Yours and mine just happen to be more varied than most.
Now, what can I do for you? Well, all these strange things that have been happening - the portrait, the rocker moving, the bell, the fire - people say it's Jonathan Lowrie but I think David's trying to reach me.
Well, we'll soon find out.
David.
What the devil is going on? Out with it, man.
Bastards! You stole it.
You stole my inheritance.
Give it to me.
Give it to me, I said.
Inspector, who has done this terrible thing? I don't know, Mr Bradford, I've only just got here.
To think, I could be lying in there.
CAMERAS CLICK It's Marcus Lowrie, sir.
He came to dig up the family fortune.
Someone got there before him.
Only I don't think there was a fortune, Tom.
Pennies in a leather bag though.
God, they've made made a mess of him, haven't they? What with? Corner of something solid and square.
He'd been hit six times.
But not with this? No blood and it doesn't match the dents.
Who reported it? Eleanor Bunsall, sir.
Oof! Break out the body armour, Troy.
DOG BARKS Lowrie's dog, sir.
We can't just leave him here.
Put him in the car.
Put him in the car.
Come on.
A security system, Mr Tate.
I believe I did mention it.
I can hardly get it installed overnight.
Nevertheless, I'd like a proper chat with you, please, some time.
What for? You thought there was money in that grave, didn't you? Your metal detector told you as much.
You'll need a statement from me as well, Inspector.
Why? Did you kill him? No, no, of course I didn't.
Brilliant at making you feel guilty, isn't he? What were you doing in the graveyard at midnight, Miss Bunsall? Is that any of your business? Indulge me again.
Insomnia.
I often walk at night.
In a graveyard? Alone? I have so many friends there.
So there you are, chatting away with a few old friends, you hear Marcus scream, you run inside and there he is dead.
Not dead, Inspector, merely murdered.
Oh, I'm sorry.
Dead is an unword.
Did you see anyone else? Such as? I had in mind his un-killer.
He must have still been there, in the museum.
If I'd have known that I'd have stayed on, had it out with him.
I'm very glad you didn't.
I was armed, Inspector.
Sir, this is CS gas.
Yes, I picked it up in France at the World Cup where it came in very handy, I tell you.
Miss Bunsall, it is illegal in this country and I'm confiscating it.
In that case, I shall refuse to cooperate further.
It's too late.
You've already told us all we need to know, except, of course, for who was with you last night.
My lips are sealed in accordance with my version of the Hippocratic oath.
Oh, the Hippocratic oath, hey? So you were there professionally? Who with? Any more questions? Sensible ones? Yes.
Does nothing die in your world, Miss Bunsall? You know, people, plants, animals? You're smarter than you look, young man.
We are all part of an endless saga.
We fade, yes, but only to reappear in ever-brighter colours.
So you can talk to Jonathan Lowrie, the dickie birds or even a Christmas tree just as easily as you can talk to us? More so, because they appreciate what I say.
Oh, right.
Well, thank you.
(DOG BARKS) Miss Bunsall, thanks for your time.
You're not going already? Is there something else you want to tell us? No, but he hasn't finished mending my puncture yet.
Oh, hello, what are those two up to? Inspector, come and join us.
If I was to ask you where your sister-in-law was at midnight, sir, you'd say in bed, I take it? Well, she was.
Wasn't she? We think she was in the graveyard with Eleanor Bunsall trying to contact her dead husband.
Oh, please, no.
Inspector, have you ever known anyone like Sandra - with her symptoms, I mean? What exactly are they? The usual stuff associated with a breakdown.
Mood swings, uncertainty, sudden panic.
That's so unlike the real Sandra.
I mean, I've always thought of her as strong, determined, capable.
People change.
Especially after losing a partner.
But you told us, Charlie, Sandra told us herself that she was getting stronger.
Now in the space of a few days all that's gone.
Can you explain that? Not really, but one or two things do bother me.
Like what? The portrait gets slashed.
Sandy's the obvious choice to fix it.
Put that the other way round, though - she'll be chosen to repair it, so let's cut one up.
Are you saying you think there might be some purpose in all this? Go on, Mr Bradford.
What's more, it's a portrait that reminds her of her dead husband.
You were there the day I showed her the postcards.
You alright? Um Yes.
When do I start? The portrait does bear an uncanny resemblance to David, yes.
Which puts him firmly back in her mind.
But she's known that portrait all her life.
Why is it suddenly so important? Because of other things that happen around it.
Bells ring in the night, the packing cases catch fire.
Yesterday I left her alone in the museum for two minutes during which time a bust of Charles I fell to the ground.
Sandra says it moved of its own accord.
And she went straight to Eleanor Bunsall, Troy.
She did, too.
How do you know? Because I've been following her around for the past couple of days.
I'm worried! Sandy? Thank God you're here.
What on earth are you doing here? Miss Bunsall? Is he dead? Yes.
But how? There's no-one here.
Leave, both of you, quickly and quietly.
Quickly.
You were there, Mr MacKillop? Thank God.
Supposing he'd lashed out at Sandra or even Miss Bunsall.
In Miss Bunsall's case he'd have regretted it.
Where's Sandra now? In bed.
I can go and wake her if you like.
No, no, don't.
Well, thank you, gentlemen.
We'll leave it for now.
So now Sandra's being got at, is she? But not in your book, obviously, Troy.
Right.
OK, tell me this, why was Marcus killed? For the family dosh.
There wasn't any.
Well, the killer didn't know that.
Well, he would have by the time Marcus walked in.
Dug down as far as the skeleton, hadn't found so much as a gallstone.
Alright then, he was pissed off.
All that work for nothing.
So he swings round, clobbers him, turns him into cat's meat.
The way you tell it, Troy, so graphically, one might almost be there.
Annie, I don't mean to push you on this, but - It's alright, Jim.
I've thought it over.
The answer's yes.
I'll come with you.
You won't regret it, I promise you.
When do we leave? Well, I think we should go soon, like in a couple of days.
Why? What's the panic? Barnaby wants to talk to me.
Jim, you haven't done anything daft, have you? Like killing Marcus? No, no.
I just don't want the police trampling all over my past life.
There's one or two things you should know about me before we go, Annie, just in case you disapprove.
Why don't you tell me about them somewhere more comfortable? Hop in, Anne.
Ta.
Oh.
(GROANS) Hold on.
There you go.
Elbows.
Jim, Mr Barnaby's here.
Jim, we Blimey, they've been going at it some, whoever they are.
Troy, upstairs.
Go on.
Nico, front room.
Was he going on holiday? Kind of.
He was gonna take me with him.
What do you think's happened to him? Where to? France.
France for good.
What, he's leaving all this? Selling up? Sir! Yep.
Who is he, Annie? I'll bet you money his name isn't really James Tate.
It's a mess upstairs as well, sir.
They've really turned it over.
But he's not there? No.
What is going on, Annie? He's in that book.
George Burton.
Last of a gang on whom our Mr Tate was keeping a very close eye.
Suitcase packed, ready to go.
To France, you say? Whereabouts in France? South.
Olive trees, vineyards, sea.
That's what he promised me.
And that takes money.
Lots of it.
Doesn't seem real, does it? No.
But he was there, we all saw him.
Marcus was a greedy, lazy old man, Sandra.
If he hadn't been, he'd still be alive.
Hello, you two.
Hi, Alan.
We've come for the painting.
We're going to finish it off in my studio.
Ah, morning, Inspector.
Morning.
Sergeant Troy.
That piece of china that got broken, where did it live? Right here.
Landed there in a dozen pieces.
You've no idea why it fell? None whatsoever.
Mrs MacKillop, do you have any ideas? I'm sorry, no.
Just in case you had any doubts, there were no ghosts here.
Just human beings with all the usual foibles - greed, envy, malice.
Someone opened this window from the outside and then they pulled on a nylon thread, a bit of fish line maybe, which was looped around the top of the figure and when the figure smashed they pulled the thread clear.
Simple as that? But why, Inspector? Troy.
Do you smell anything? Fish.
Do you have a cellar here? Yeah.
Well, show it to me.
Oh.
Right.
Here we are.
(STRAINS) (YELLS) (YELLS) You alright, sir? Get after him.
Come on.
Who is he? I don't know.
You must have known he was here.
I didn't, I swear it.
We've lost him, sir.
You're paid to catch him, Troy, not to lose him.
Rule number 24, don't expect any sympathy.
Who was he, sir? He, Nico, was a ghost with a weakness for fish.
No real damage, Tom.
You'll have a nasty bruise though.
Arnica.
A spade, you say? I didn't know gardening could be so dangerous.
This was ghost-busting, Cathy.
Thanks a lot, Tracy.
I'll call you next week, OK? OK.
Old friend? New friend.
Right.
Well, give my love to Joyce and Cully, won't you? Cathy, I wouldn't ask this unless it were important and I know you've got a waiting room full of people out there but if I wanted to drive someone over the edge, could I do it? I'm living proof of that, sir.
Seriously.
Yes, of course you could.
Even to suicide? That would depend on your victim but you can induce paranoia in all sorts of ways.
Psychologically, chemically, surgically.
Who are we talking about? Sandra MacKillop.
Ah, that's why you came here, not to Causton General.
Well, Sandra, as I'm sure you know, is a patient of mine, so don't expect any details.
Even though she might be in danger? I would like to help you, yes, but - I did send her to a counsellor over the death of her husband.
Now she might be less ethical.
What's her name, Doctor? Linda Marquis.
She's good at her job but she may already be known to you.
The cellar dweller's gear, sir.
Ah-ha.
Have you got a name for him? No.
Nor any sign of the murder weapon.
Pencil and paper, Nico.
Here.
One round of sandwiches.
Pilchard(SPEAKS THROUGH BLOCKED NOSE).
.
going off with a vengeance.
You think Sandra MacKillop's life is in danger, sir, or just her sanity? That's a good question, that, Troy.
One pocket-knife, army, Swiss thereof.
Have you heard back from the MacKillops' solicitor? No, he's playing hard to get.
One donkey jacket, blue.
Then lean on him.
Look, sir, we've got a real body, Marcus Lowrie, and a couple of real suspects, favourite being this geezer.
Shouldn't we find out who he is and where he's gone? He has gone to ground, Troy.
Don't ask me where but I think I know who he is.
You do? Yeah, and if someone would do a spot of house breaking for me I could prove it.
You're too kind, Troy.
Ta, sir.
Thank you.
Have you heard anything, Mr Barnaby, about Jim? I've had a forensic team at his cottage, Annie.
They found some blood on one of the chairs.
There was a fight, certainly, but we don't know the extent of it.
So where is he then? He's ditched me, hasn't he? Like every man I've ever met.
I'll let you know the moment we hear anything.
Now get us a pint and a white wine.
There you go.
Why this pub, Tom? What's the matter, don't you like it? I love it.
Now you answer my question.
I'm meeting Troy here.
If he doesn't get caught, that is.
Doing what? Breaking into Anne Quarritch's house.
It's delegation, Joyce.
Troy doing that, Nico and Cully Yes, where are they this evening? Jim Tate's cottage, in search of his past.
Evening, Mrs B.
Hello, Gavin.
We're on, sir, with a slight variation.
Which is? The smoked mackerel.
I did put it in the canteen freezer and I did label it clearly.
Don't worry, I nicked in to the supermarket on the way here, bought us some more.
Won't be a moment.
Go on.
Oh, ta.
What can I get you? I'll have a large straight answer.
This is a till receipt.
I found it pinned to a board in your kitchen.
On it, you'll find smoked mackerel at ã2.
13.
That is a packet of smoked mackerel, price ã2.
13, found in the graveyard.
You were taking it to the man who's been hiding in the museum cellar.
Should have turned him in, Annie.
Why didn't you? Because he threatened to kill me.
Who is he? I was once married to 'im.
Ralph Edward Bailey, doing 10 years for manslaughter.
Absconded from Durham Jail four weeks ago.
You divorced him June 1987, went back to using your maiden name.
And he's killed again, by the looks of things - Marcus Lowrie.
You've been harbouring a very dangerous man.
How did you know it was me, Inspector? Remember when we gave you a lift to Jim's cottage? You dropped your shopping? You were a bit heavy on the smoked fish.
Who is it for? Me.
No, it's for Ralph in the museum.
Well, he's not there now so where is he? He's hiding out at Jim Tate's cottage.
There we go.
I'll say one thing for that (VOICE BECOMES MUFFLED He sure can tidy up.
What exactly are we looking for, though, Nico? I don't know.
What are you looking for? Only, I might just have it.
Let's start at the top and work our way down.
FOOTSTEPS METAL CLANGS TENSE MUSIC SIREN SIREN WAILS Cully! Cully! Where is he? Attic.
ENGINE STARTS WHEELS SCREECH It's alright.
It's only a car.
Good morning, Mr MacKillop.
You're up bright and early.
Morning.
Um, must look odd, Inspector, but Sandra's not the only one who's needed counselling.
It's been a tough time for me too.
I can imagine.
Is this a professional matter or a personal one, Inspector? I'd like to know who's got it in for Sandra MacKillop.
I thought you were investigating a murder.
Oh, we are.
What sort of a business do you think I'm running here, Mr Barnaby? A very successful one, by the looks of things.
First client, 8.
30am? Mr MacKillop.
People have busy lives.
I try to accommodate them and I never betray their confidence.
No, no, you are very good at keeping secrets, especially your own.
Do I have any? Oh, you have a humdinger and you fit the description so perfectly.
Heroin chic.
It was a long time ago.
A short two years ago.
Alright, but it's over now.
And for that, more power to your elbow or just above it but what would the likes of Charles MacKillop and Sandra say if they heard about that? They'd say it makes me more understanding, more of a human being.
Right.
I'll ask them.
No.
If I tell you something, will she know that it came from me? Mr Bradford.
I'm keen on history too, especially yours.
It seems that in the dim and distant past you and Sandra MacKillop were an item.
Then David MacKillop stepped in, pots of money and you were sidelined.
And we'd like to know how that made you feel.
Bitter? Angry? Vengeful? Not so long ago you saw me as the victim in all this, inspector.
Slashed portrait, fist in the face.
I've changed my mind.
How did it make me feel? Relieved.
Oh, come on.
Passionate romance with a beautiful woman.
Suddenly drops you, you're beside yourself.
You've been trying to get back at her ever since.
That's simply not true, Inspector.
Yes, I did once throw my cap at Sandra, but mainly for my father's sake.
I'm sorry? He was forever nagging me to find a girlfriend.
And I did try and fall in love with Sandy, I promise you, but .
.
my heart just wasn't in it.
And why was that? If sexuality were the Civil War, I'd be a cavalier, not a roundhead.
You what? I've never been attracted to the opposite sex.
I don't think we need trouble you any further, sir.
Just a sec.
Charles MacKillop.
No girlfriends, no wife.
In this, um, civil war of sexuality, where does he stand? On your side, Inspector.
Which is also mine.
I never doubted it for a moment, Gavin.
Sir.
Sandra MacKillop and her will.
Mr Jocelyn drew it up for her in favour of her sister in Canada.
So what's she worth? Well, she owns half the company which is valued at just over 10 million.
That's worth fighting about.
"I am the resurrection and the life," saith the Lord.
"He that believeth in me, though he were dead, "yet shall he live.
"And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.
" I know that my redeemer liveth and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth.
Vicar! Halt! (QUIETLY) What's wrong? I'm sorry.
False alarm.
Carry on.
And though this body be destroyed, yet shall I see God, whom I shall see for myself and mine eyes shall behold - No, I'm right! Inspector, all is not well down there.
Bring it up.
Right, Troy, off you go.
What am I looking for, sir? Squatters.
Go on.
(SIGHS) Oh! (ALL SCREAM) Who is it? James Tate, Inspector.
Who else would it be? It is James Tate, sir.
(SOBS) You are sitting in my chair and you're probably wearing my socks, aren't you? Hey? Who did you say is coming to take him? A young PC called Angel.
Ah.
Said he was coming down today.
Tom, I think we found James Tate for you.
George Burton and Co stole ã3 million worth of stuff, it cashed in at ã1 million.
They hired an accountant, Michael Whistler, to pay off safe houses, car dealers, lawyers .
.
bent cops? Yep.
Then he invested what was left over but one or two of the gang, who were all inside by now, wondered whether it really had boiled down to a million or was it a million and a half? And if so, what happened to the other half-million? They sent a heavy to see Whistler and he'd gone.
Disappeared into thin air.
PHONE RINGS And you think he's James Tate? With the gang all inside he had time to reinvent himself.
Plastic surgery if necessary.
Then pop up five years later in Aspen Tallow.
Well done, both of ya.
Phone, Tom.
Barnaby.
Yeah, I'll be there in 10 minutes.
DOOR OPENS They found him and my car on a dockside in Hull.
He was trying to get work on a Polish trawler.
Just mad about fish, hey? OK, Ralph, what's your beef with Sandra MacKillop? You what? If he knew any French he'd point at himself and say, "Moi.
" Christ, where did they dig you up? We'll come to the digging later and in the meantime, what's your grudge against Sandra MacKillop? I don't have one.
Convicted killer escapes from Durham Jail, comes all the way back here just to admire the scenery.
Do us a favour.
You had an old score to settle.
So you try to drive her nuts.
Bells in the night, breaking china, burning packing cases.
If you must know, I've always had the highest regard for Sandra.
Ask her.
No.
You've been playing ghosts in between killing Marcus Lowrie and James Tate.
That's it.
I'm done.
Solicitor.
It's gotta be him, Sir, or is that still too clear cut? Just a little.
Motive, money.
Opportunity, bags of it.
On top of which, since we found him in the cellar, all this ghosty stuff's stopped.
Sandy, you sure you don't mind me rushing off? The meeting's in half an hour.
You go ahead, Charlie.
I'm sure Alan must be here by now.
Thanks.
Pleasure.
Oh, and call in at the office later on.
There's a heap of stuff for you to sign.
Uh-huh.
OMINOUS MUSIC (SCREAMS) Sandra, what is it? What - Michael Aaron Whistler, who became James Tate.
Look at his form, sir.
Spoken like a proper copper.
Hello, Cathy.
Nico, chair for Dr Bullard.
Tom, it's about Sandra MacKillop.
You know you asked if it was possible to drive someone mad? Well, 10:00 this morning, Anne Quarritch brought Sandra to my surgery, as near to the edge as I've seen her.
Why? What has happened to her? She claims to have seen writing on the museum wall.
David, delight, departed.
Should that mean something? Thank you.
It's a mantra which Linda Marquis taught her, which brings me to why I'm here.
Mrs MacKillop, it's Chief Inspector Barnaby.
I'd like us to meet, please.
I need your help.
Hello, are you still there? Yes.
Somewhere private, and I'd like you to come alone.
Do you know the lake at Martyr Warren? Two people have been killed, both by Ralph Bailey.
But there's a problem.
He couldn't have put the writing on the museum wall because he was locked up at the time.
I don't think anyone living did it, Inspector.
Sandra, you are as sane as I am.
I can prove it to you.
David, delight, departed? You saw it because it was there.
But when Alan went to look - It wasn't there.
You're the only one with any faith left in me, Inspector.
What's gotten into me? At first, I thought someone wanted you dead but now I believe that's the last thing they want.
Will you help me? I got that stuff from Dr Bullard, sir, the drug stuff.
George Bullard leant me that and knocked up a slide for me too.
How does it tie in with the murder? I'll tell you in the car.
There's one or two loose ends to tie up.
We'll have a coffee later.
Come on.
Well, tell him that Ralph threatened to kill you.
At the very least he'd have beaten you up yet again.
All the more reason to have gone to the police.
That what he'll say.
Won't you? I'm sorry? Harbouring a criminal.
You just tell me the truth, Annie, I promise I'll do my best for you.
Can't say fairer than that, can I? Hello, Mr Bradford.
Hello.
How did Ralph know that Jim Tate had money? Did you tell him? No, he must have overheard Jim talking about his place in France one day in the museum.
Can I ask something? Mmm.
How did old Bunsall know it was Jim in that grave? The power of extended logic.
Ultra common sense, if you like.
We've all got it but she uses it.
You mean it's not a special gift like she'd have us believe? Of course not.
Bags you be the one to tell her, sir.
In the meantime, you didn't know that Ralph was hiding in your cellar? No.
That makes you either very naive or stupid.
How about engrossed in other things? Such as? My work.
Trying to shine a light in dark places, like Aspen Tallow.
That much we have in common, Mr Bradford.
Anything else? Troy? Yes, sir.
Since when have you two been so, um, friendly? I'm here to give Annie her wages.
I do so every week and she makes me a cup of tea.
It's called a ritual and so far as I know it's perfectly legal, Gavin.
TENSE MUSIC PLAYS DOOR CLOSES Why is that, I wonder? See? No words on walls, no moving china.
It's funny, I'd never noticed it before but you're quite right, it's just like him.
And Jonathan Lowrie back in his place.
How are you, Jonathan? If only you knew what you'd put us through.
It's the wind.
What's wrong? (WHISPERS) Look.
What? There.
Can't you see him? See what? It's David.
Look! Sandra, you and I are the only people here.
David is dead and buried and over in the graveyard.
Then who is that? Where? What are you talking about? Are you sure you can't see him, Linda? Sandra, you need serious help and this was not a good idea.
Can you see me, Miss Marquis? Troy, see that ghost over there? Go and run him through with that.
Go on.
Charlie.
What have I ever done to you? Hey.
I've been 25 years in this game and I've never laid a finger on a prisoner but today I think I understand why some people do.
Alright, so the joke got a bit out of hand.
A joke? A joke?! Well, how about this for a deal? You make me laugh and you can walk through that door scot-free.
Better still, tell us why we're here in the first place.
Directors - Sandra MacKillop, Charles MacKillop, in equal measure.
David left his share of the business to Sandra and you wanted it.
You couldn't kill her because then it would go to her sister, so you tried to get power of attorney over her by driving her mad.
What for, Mr MacKillop? So you could flog it, run off with Miss Needle-features here? I resent that.
The clinic you were in say you weren't just hooked just on heroin but also on a drug called Zolazepam, that's a mind bender, and you kept back a supply of it, just in case.
And you hooked Sandra MacKillop on it.
Not me.
Watch out, Charlie, she's jumping ship.
Go on, Linda, do yourself a bit of good.
How did he do it? In the meals he's always cooking her.
And then a couple of months back, according to my medical expert, you withdrew it.
Now it's a drug that's harder to kick than heroin, with 54 known side effects - paranoia, confusion, insecurity, panic, disorientation, the lot.
There you are, read all about it.
You know, Charlie, if you stayed away from this woman we might never have got to you.
What? Remember the morning we found you outside her house, pretending there was nothing between you? Accept for a spot of counselling which had gone on all night.
Inspect - (Clears throat) Inspector, before we go any further, none of this was my idea.
It was her fault, was it? She counselled you to drive your sister-in-law insane? Split them up, Troy.
Put her in a cell.
Stay where you are.
Feel free.
Why? Because you are one of those women who's had everything thrown your way, from love to money.
I justwanted a little of both.
Right, let's clear up the details, shall we? The slashed painting? That was Linda.
Chosen for his likeness to David? Yeah.
And the bell at night? Broken china? That was me.
The packing cases too.
Spent lot of time in the museum as a kid so I knew the hot spot.
The writing on the wall? Linda.
But I hit Alan Bradford.
It's something I've wanted to do for a long time.
Can I go now? This isn't some sort of priestly confession where I give you 10 Hail Marys and send you on your way again.
You mentally tortured your brother's wife.
But can you go to prison for it? Playing the caring relative.
Certainly made a fool of me.
I doubt if I'll do time for bruising your ego.
Maybe you're right but I have a big, fat card up my sleeve.
I'm holding a man down the corridor for two murders.
Ralph Bailey, yeah.
Ralph Bailey, yes.
Ralph says you're the man I'm after.
He saw you bury James Tate.
And the idea really appeals to me.
I mean, he's going back to jail anyway and, like you say, you might get off so why don't I fit you up for a murder or even two? Now look, Inspector, he's the one who buried Jim Tate.
I watched him do it.
In the absence of any proof, I prefer his version.
But I can help you, not with Marcus, I wasn't there, but a couple of nights later I was on my way to the museum at 2:00, 3:00 in the morning.
THUMPING NOISE At the gate I could hear digging over at Marcus's grave.
SPADE CLATTERS It was Bailey.
Before he dumped Jim in the grave he stole his watch and a gold chain.
Find them and that's proof enough, isn't it? Why don't you write it all down? Then what happens to me? Well, then I don't charge you with a murder you didn't commit.
I said solicitor.
Well, they've all gone to the moon, Ralph.
There's a bloke upstairs by the name of Charlie MacKillop.
Do you know him? Since we were kids.
He says he saw you beat Marcus Lowrie to death.
And you believe him? We can point the evidence your way, if we need to.
Well, you don't need to.
I'd heard Jim Tate run a metal detector over Jonathan's grave, so that night I lifted the slab.
Halfway through, in walks Charlie MacKillop.
He set something up.
A slide projector.
He was testing it when Marcus bowls up.
And you chose a place of peace and quiet.
DOOR RATTLES What did Charlie do? Hid in the shadows.
Bastards! FOOTSTEPS You stole it.
You stole my inheritance.
Give it to me.
I said give it to me.
(GRUNTS) The projector.
Go take his office apart and then his house, but find it.
I am a fair man, Ralph.
You write all this down for me and I'll see you don't lose parole.
Any luck upstairs? Sorry, no.
That's everywhere.
House, office, studio.
What now? Now I tell Barnaby, then duck.
(SIGHS) So where is it? Well, he could have dropped it anywhere.
Oh, great.
Sort of random.
Over a hedge, in a tip.
Over there, I suppose.
Yeah.
Sure, it's a start.
Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho! You little beauty.
Guess what? Ralph now says that you murdered Marcus Lowrie which of course I already knew but was unable to prove.
What are you talking about? He saw you do it.
Then he's lying! No, I think you've both been very honest.
You with your description of Jim Tate's unofficial burial and Ralph with his story of how you beat Marcus Lowrie to death with this.
No matter how well you cleaned it up, Charlie, there'll be bits of him on it somewhere.
Guess what? Charlie now says he saw you bury James Tate and he's made a statement to that effect.
Yeah, that you wrote for him.
Come on, Ralph, what do you take me for, a cheat? Don't worry.
I've got a forensic team taking that grave to bits.
If you were there they'll find something.
I wasn't.
He's lying.
And if you weren't, they won't.
However Your personal belongings, taken off you when you were recaptured.
Tell me, why's that got James Tate's fingerprints on it? You pair of bastards.
Oh, Ralph, that's been said before and I sincerely hope it will be said again.
Alright, I give up.
You stay there, I'll make do over here.
Dad, you're talking to a dog.
And he's talking back to me, aren't you Spot? DOORBELL RINGS That'll be the men in white coats, I'll get it.
I'll miss him.
He's really settled in, don't you think? Not Nico, Spot.
Morning, sir.
Hello, Kevin.
Oh, yeah, he's a beauty.
(DOG BARKS) Mum will be well pleased.
Give her my regards, will you? Yeah, thanks.
Sorry I didn't come round yesterday.
I was off sick.
Oh, are you better? Yeah, yeah, touch of food poisoning.
Canteen grub, sir, know what I mean? Got any idea what it was that disagreed with you? I think it was the fish pate Wednesday, smoked mackerel.
Yeah, well, that's the trouble, never know where they've been, do youTroy? No, sir.
By the way, on page 3 of the Mail.
Is that good or bad? "Last night, police in Causton charged two local men with the murders of Michael Stuart Whistler, also known as James Tate, last surviving member of the George Burton Gang, and of Marcus Jonathan Lowrie.
" Then it goes on about the ghost.
God, what's the world coming to, Joyce? Half a paragraph on the crime and a whole page on something that doesn't exist.
BELL TOLLS CREAKING THEME MUSIC Captions by CSI Australia
The battle of Aspen Tallow had been lost.
Royalists had fallen round the King like ripe corn but Jonathan Lowrie was not among the dead.
Now, this way, please, and keep up if you will.
Follow.
He had fought that day bravely for King and country, paying dearly for the privilege.
But who would care? He was a wealthy man, much in the King's favour, and had few friends in this Roundhead part of the world.
He made his way down this very lane and paused here to gather strength and draw water from the well.
BELL RINGS Stand aside, please, I'm coming through.
Do mind the gradient, Miss Bunsall.
He drank and moved on.
Follow.
Follow.
MUSIC RESUMES When he reached this point, Cromwellian thugs on the rampage caught sight of him from yonder.
For the first time in his life, Jonathan Lowrie ran.
Blood poured from a wound to his left shoulder, leaving a trail.
But on he pressed.
Until here before him stood the family home, Aspen Hall.
Afternoon.
And as he entered the great hall, he called out to his wife, "Florence, Florence," and as he reached this spot, so a Roundhead musketeer at the door shot himdead.
And in accordance with his wish to be buried where he fell that day, this became his last resting place, though I know for a fact he is not at peace.
You're not trying to sell us a ghostie, Mr Bradford? Why? Don't you believe in such things? Well, have you seen it? Many have.
And before he walks abroad he gives fair warning, tolling the church bell mournfully.
We are blessed with a fine portrait of Jonathan, crafted at the height of his powers by the artist Robert Walk - Wh You're a policeman.
Do something.
OMINOUS MUSIC Who says justice is dead? "George Burton fell off the twig while being interviewed about his book.
" I gather you and George weren't close.
Yeah, last of a gang.
Hijacked four lorries in Dover, Nailed one of the drivers to a fence.
Ugh.
And then wrote a book about it? That's all the rage, isn't it? What time did Cully eventually get in? Two .
.
ish.
They've got a favour to ask you.
They? But, Dad, the lease on Nico's flat has just run out.
I don't care.
He's not moving in.
What about the box room, Tom? I mean, we could put your stuff in the garage.
Stuff? It's only for two weeks.
Why is it when I say no, you both hear yes? Oh, good morning, Nico.
There's something else.
There always is.
He's got a part in a soap opera.
Is it a speaking part? It's a police drama.
I'm a detective sergeant.
We were hoping you'd let him shadow Gavin, see how it's done.
(JOYCE LAUGHS) Suppose a nice, juicy murder's too much to hope for then? The best I can offer is a vandalised painting at Aspen Tallow Museum but so far, your detective sergeant is absolutely believable.
Terrific.
Why? You've observed rule number one - always keep the guv'nor waiting.
Morning, sir.
Yes, morning, Angel.
No wonder they broke in, sir.
Fake alarm system, single mortise lock on the door, windows that don't close properly.
Where's Sergeant Troy? Inside, sir.
This way, sir.
Yes, thank you, Angel, I can manage.
Right, sir.
Someone's had a go at this painting, sir.
Rule number two - always treat the boss as if he's blind and stupid.
Troy, Nico will be following you around for a week.
What for, sir? I'm Inspector Barnaby and you are, sir? Alan Bradford, curator.
I'm surprised you've got anything left to curate, Mr Bradford.
Fake alarm system on the front wall, single mortise lock on the door, windows that won't shut properly.
Why don't you hang up a notice saying, "Please burgle me"? It's a question of the reddies, Inspector.
We're not everyone's idea of a fun day out.
What would that mean, then? Tell me what happened here yesterday.
I was doing the Jonathan Lowrie death tour with half a dozen or so punters.
The portrait was fine when we left.
Hi, Alan.
Sorry.
Sandra.
Wonderful to see you.
Come on in.
This is - Inspector Barnaby.
That's Detective Sergeant Troy behind you.
Hello.
Oh, erSandra MacKillop.
I'm here to repair the painting.
MacKillop as in MacKillop Software? That's us.
I'm Charles MacKillop, I'm Sandra's brother-in-law.
And guardian angel.
Why do you need one, Mrs MacKillop? Well, mmy husband died last year and, um Sandra, you said it.
That's marvellous.
Brilliant.
Oh, sorry, Inspector.
Alan, Charlie's turning a room into a studio for me but it isn't quite finished.
Is it OK if I start work here? It's marvellous.
We can rope you off, turn you into an exhibit.
Jonathan Lowrie, royalist, philanthropist, classical scholar and all-round excellent egg.
NICO: Yes, 1591 to 1644.
How do you know? It says so over there where he's buried.
SANDRA: Somebody really meant business.
Can you fix it? ALAN: Of course she can.
What did he look like, as a matter of interest? We turned him into a postcard on here.
Sold like hotcakes.
EERIE MUSIC Are you alright? Yes.
When do I start? There's nothing here for us, Troy.
File it under 'forget'.
Did you notice a smell in there, sir? It's a museum, Troy, it's full of stuff long past its sell-by date.
I did, Sergeant.
Fish.
Your average villain's gone soft, carving up paintings.
They'll be breaking the speed limit next or dropping litter.
Why choose that picture? Why not one of the others? And having broken in, why not nick something? Have you got something against us having a quiet day, sir? What's your opinion, Nico? Me? Come on, man, you'll be doing this for semi-real in a couple of weeks.
Maybe it's a grudge against the Lowrie family.
Going back 350 years? Never.
A man dies, his wife's a picture restorer trying to get back into the game.
Lo and behold, a portrait is damaged and she's called in to fix it.
Job creation? Or is that my nasty, suspicious mind? No comment, sir.
Have you got a comment on that? Yeah.
Someone took a shortcut across the graveyard and it fell out of their shopping bag.
A shortcut where? The museum's a dead end.
Sir, two minutes ago there was nothing here for us.
Now the world turns on a packet of smoked mackerel.
Put it in the canteen freezer.
Label it carefully or it will end up on the menu.
Look after this.
STIRRING MUSIC Morning, Jim.
Morning.
Anything in the papers? None of it worth reading.
Come and sit down.
Tell me all the news from the village.
All the gossip, you mean.
Oh, alright, tell me all the gossip and if there isn't any you can make some up.
Well, Michelle's had her baby and he certainly doesn't look like anyone I know, least of all her husband.
They've called him Leonardo, after that actor.
And then there's the painting, of course, that's got people going.
Yeah, what's the feeling about that? Is it deliberate or casual or a ghost from Alan's past? Well, Kate's his favourite.
Where do you want me to start today, Jim, up or down? Why don't we start with coffee? George Burton.
All things come to him who waits.
The book.
What book? Basically, the job of a DS is to keep a check on his governor.
I'm lucky - old Tom's a good bloke to work for but he does look for trouble where there isn't any.
He's also coming this way.
Troy, what do you think of Alan Bradford? I've handed it back to uniform, sir.
I thought there was no further action.
I want to show Nico how we work, you know the free exchange of ideas.
Bradford.
Over the top, easily rattled, born to carry the can, otherwise harmless.
Nico? He's a bit theatrical but, yeah, I agree with Gavin, harmless.
Well, I've got news for you both.
The excellent, wonderful and marvellous Mr Bradford has got a record.
Sir, you said, "Troy, there is nothing here for us.
File it under 'forget'.
" That was before we found the smoked mackerel.
TENSE MUSIC BUILDS CREAKING (SCREAMS) What's wrong? I'm going outside.
I'll be alright.
I'm sorry.
I thought you said she was better.
PHONE RINGS Good afternoon.
Hiya.
How did it go? It went well, yes.
Good.
Only a couple of things for you to sign.
Must be a nice place to work, the museum.
If you like ghosts, yes.
Not that old chestnut, surely.
I'm trying to be sensible, Charlie, but look at him.
Is it just me? Oh, come on, Sandy, the set of the eyes, I grant you, but there the similarity ends.
The nose, the chin, the way he's standing.
No, you're making too much of it.
In any case, even if he does look a bit like David, so what? (SHOUTS) So now you think he does! Come on, let's go home.
I'll cook you something exotic.
Or would you rather talk it over with Linda Marquis first? I mentioned to this policeman that David had died and Alan Bradford was thrilled.
Just because I used the word.
And then it all came flooding back? Yes, and then he showed us this postcard.
I've known that portrait all my life but I've never made the connection.
Does it remind you of anyone? Well, yes.
David.
Vaguely, I suppose.
But, Linda, Charlie says no.
Which is it, for God's sake? It doesn't matter.
The point is, it triggered your memory.
Not of the good times that you and David had shared together but of the months of agony when you couldn't accept his passing.
You forgot the 3-D mantra that we worked out should his name be mentioned.
Can you say it for me now? David delight departed.
Now mean it, Sandra.
David.
Delight.
Departed.
And again, with no doubt whatsoever.
David.
Delight.
Departed.
There are no ghosts in Aspen Tallow Museum.
Not in paintings, in rocking chairs or under stone slabs.
They're only in your mind.
ATMOSPHERIC MUSIC LOCKS DOOR KNOCK AT DOOR Gentleman caller at this time of night? That'll give my neighbours something to talk about.
I won't keep you, Annie.
Don't be daft, Jim.
(LAUGHS) What can I get you? No, I just want to say this then I'll go.
I'm selling the cottage, Annie.
What for? Oh, it's a long story.
Well, for one reason or another I've missed out on certain things like a wife and family.
I've regretted it.
Well, I'm too old for kids but not for a wife.
Good-looking man like you, Jim, you could take your pick.
I have done.
CHURCH BELL TOLLS Jonathan Lowrie? You don't believe in ghosts, do you, Jim? It'll be the wind.
Those bells must weigh a ton.
Jim .
.
you mustn't.
BELLS CONTINUE CREEPY MUSIC (GASPS) (GROANS) DRAMATIC MUSICAL FLOURISH It was just here.
I took a few steps forward, paused, looked round and wham, fist to the face.
Did you see the owner of that fist? Not really.
Dark hair, I think.
Dark features.
Dark clothes.
But then it was dark.
Why were you here in the first place? I heard the church bell.
It's a sign Jonathan Lowrie is up and about.
And you came to meet him? Of course not but someone was ringing the bell.
Who were they? What did they want? Mr Tate, you found him, yeah? That's right.
And what were you doing here? Bit of a party, was it? We heard the same thing that Alan did so we came over to investigate.
I don't think I've had the pleasure.
Anne Quarritch.
Ah, yes, you clean the museum, yeah? And before you ask if I've seen any dodgy characters hanging around, no, I haven't.
Mr Bradford.
Till just now.
Things are warming up, Mr Bradford.
First the painting, now this.
You think they're connected? then two crimes in two days.
Of course they're connected.
DOGS BARK We're pulling a crowd, sir.
Oh, God.
Marcus, I didn't realise you were so out of condition.
Take some deep breaths before we get down to business.
Can I help you? Yes, you can chain my tricycle to that fence.
Actually, that was a polite way of asking you, what are you doing here? We're police officers.
Really? Well, then you're the ones who need help, not me.
Do let me know if I can be of any assistance.
You can.
With names.
What's yours? I am Marcus Lowrie, Jonathan's great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great great-grandson.
Close, were you? What are you doing here, Mr Lowrie? The bell tolled in the middle of the night.
Jonathan is risen and we have a question to ask him.
Well, tough.
The museum is closed and you can't go in.
Alan, dear, don't be peevish.
What would you mother say? She'd say, "Leave me alone.
I've been dead for 10 years.
" Dead is an un-word, as well you know.
Your mother is right here with us now and she says, "Don't be unkind to Eleanor, let her into the museum.
" And I can hear my old mother too, saying, "Don't let this lady come the old acid until you know who she is.
" You're in the presence of Eleanor Bunsall, self-appointed queen of Aspen Tallow.
What was the question you wanted to ask Jonathan? Is that any of your business? Oh, please, indulge me.
I need to know what he did with the family's money.
I'm sorry? It went missing shortly after he died.
We've scrimped and saved for 300 years but not anymore.
In that case, be my guest.
Thank you.
Jonathan Lowrie, I am Eleanor Margaret Bunsall.
What have you got to say for yourself? Do you believe in life after death Mr Bradford? Of course not.
You told one of my colleagues, PC Angel, that you did, that you'd seen this Jonathan Lowrie.
That's strictly for the punters.
They love it.
Sh! I know you're there, Jonathan, so don't play silly games.
Yes, go on, speak to her.
Quiet, Marcus.
We need your help with the family silver, Jonathan.
Any ideas? I know where it is.
Sh! (SIGHS) Oh, really, this is too much.
Noises from you, chattering in the stalls and now a late entrance.
Sandra, quickly, take a seat.
Sorry, Miss Bunsall.
Sorry.
SCRAPING NOISE MARCUS: He's here.
(DOG WHIMPERS) Everybody out.
What is it now? Fire extinguisher.
SHOUTING Come on! Out! Just when we were getting somewhere.
Hope it works.
Mrs Bunsall, out now.
Stand clear.
It's under control.
You alright? Just a shock, that's all.
Where did she go? Who? Sandra MacKillop.
She's down there.
Troy.
Troy.
Who do you want? Eleanor Bunsall or Alan Bradford? Bradford, sir.
Good man.
Ask her how she started the fire.
It's Go on.
Mr Bradford, word if I may.
Would this be a good time to mention your criminal record? Not if I have a choice in the matter, no.
You mean that Mr Tate, chairman of the trustees, doesn't know about your passion for valuable bronzes? I didn't think he'd be interested.
I think he'll be fascinated.
No, Inspector, please.
But you stole a bust of Oliver Cromwell from an auctioneer in Bristol valued at ã13,000.
Not for money, for love.
It's the old crime of passion, is it? Who was she? Not that kind of love.
Love of one's subject.
History, the Civil War, Cromwell, our chief of men.
Mr Barnaby wondered if you had any ideas on how the fire started, Miss Bunsall.
Heat, Sergeant.
Yes, but did you have anything to do with it is what he meant, I think.
Do I look like a pyromaniac? I'm not saying you're the Brinks Mat type but you did spend six months inside Reading Jail.
Did you make any friends while you were there? Or, more importantly, any enemies? You mean you think I'm a target, Inspector? Well, someone doesn't like you, do they? I mean, the painting, the nose.
Perhaps that's why they moved the packing case.
And the packing case, Inspector, it's not where I left it last night.
Nico.
Sir.
I mean, yes, Tom.
Sir will do just fine.
The Marcus family silver.
You say you know where it is? Well, the inscription on the burial slab, it's Greek.
"Jonathan Lowrie (Speaks Greek)" "Here lies Jonathan Lowrie and all his worldly goods.
" Sir.
Did you tell Marcus? He wanted to know.
Inspector.
I gather you've had quite a day.
We certainly have.
Let me get you a drink.
Oh, please.
Why did you let old Miss Bunsall loose in the museum, Inspector? Professional curiosity, I suppose.
I don't believe in ghosts, just people with dark motives.
Is that how you explain the burning packing cases? At the moment I don't explain it at all.
I can tell you it was helped along with a little paraffin.
Hardly the work of a ghost.
It's not a joke, Charlie.
Something's going on there otherwise why is Inspector Barnaby here? Actually, I came to ask you - why did you rush away in such a hurry this afternoon? Is that a crime? (FAINTLY) Sorry.
So sorry.
I was frightened.
I was - I needed to find Charlie.
Anything else? Yes.
Why did Mr Bradford choose you to repair the painting? Because I'm the only restorer within 30 miles.
Seems odd that as you're trying to get back into the swing of things someone wrecks a painting.
I resent that! Resent what? His implication.
Which is? You saw what happened this afternoon.
I'm in no mood They have to ask these things.
I don't have to listen to it.
Will she be alright? The short-term answer's yes.
As regards the long-term, I really have no idea.
Why is she like she is? When David, my brother, died, Sandra couldn't believe it.
Literally.
She had a kind of a breakdown, so I moved her in here with me and tried to protect her, if you like.
From what? Oh, you know, garden-fence gossip.
David was the fittest man you'd ever meet.
Some people suggested he might have taken his own life.
But he didn't? No.
He wasn't the sort, Inspector.
You and he were business partners, yeah? Yeah, and he left quite a gap, I can tell you.
Sandra may have lost her husband but I lost somebody who meant more to me than I realised.
Tell me about Eleanor Bunsall.
(SNORTS) Rider of broomsticks and minder of other people's business.
Is she harmless, do you think? So long as you don't listen to the rubbish she talks.
Unfortunately, Sandra thinks the world of her.
DRAMATIC MUSIC Hello.
What's that, Jim? It's a metal detector.
I want to put an article in the parish magazine - there is no silver in Jonathan Lowrie's grave so don't waste your time digging it up.
I love this place, Annie.
I don't really want to leave it.
Then why are you going? No choice.
I'm going to France, I've got a house there in the south.
It's miles off the beaten track .
.
but there's olive trees for shade, vineyard for wines.
The sea's just a stone's throw.
What do you say? Me? Think it over.
METAL DETECTOR BEEPS Sounds like I've just struck gold.
DOOR OPENS Buried treasure? Yes.
You come to claim your share, Inspector? No.
My sergeant here is a very practical man, as a rule, but there's a tiny piece of him that's willing to believe in ghosts and their ability to set fire to packing cases.
It's almost this time yesterday, almost to the minute.
Troy, give me your hand.
Pardon? Give me your hand.
(WINCES) Ow.
That's how it happened.
Old glass.
Maybe 200 years old.
Uneven with a prism in it, which means - what does that mean, Troy? Whoever moved the packing case knew this place very well.
Like a curator.
Or a trustee.
Or a cleaner.
The police think I cut the portrait myself to get the job of repairing it.
I'm sure they don't.
I must finish the job, for Alan's sake.
For your own sake.
Well, yes, yes.
Yes, of course.
Is it a problem? I don't know where to do it, at home or at the museum.
Oh, I see, the museum has taken on another dimension? Yes.
I keep thinking I see David standing over me, that he's actually there.
Well, let's tackle that.
If you stay away from the museum your imagination will make that feeling worse.
If you go there, you can deal with it.
Do you feel the need to prove that you're not actually going mad? I need to see David.
That's what frightens me.
Alright, boys and girls, finish up what you're doing.
Time we moved on now.
Sandy! I need some rivets for this chap's gauntlet.
I'll be across in my office.
Two minutes.
EERIE MUSIC MUSIC INTENSIFIES David? Is that you? Sandra.
Sandra? You alright? Oh! Yes.
Yes, of course.
You're quite right to call me in on this, Sandra.
Why didn't you do so earlier? I should have, I know.
I used to tell you everything in the past, buter It's Charles, isn't it? Typical man.
Thinks he's the only one who can help.
Well, even he thinks I'm going mad.
He's too polite to say.
Madness is an unword, dear.
It does not exist.
There are only varying degrees of sanity.
Yours and mine just happen to be more varied than most.
Now, what can I do for you? Well, all these strange things that have been happening - the portrait, the rocker moving, the bell, the fire - people say it's Jonathan Lowrie but I think David's trying to reach me.
Well, we'll soon find out.
David.
What the devil is going on? Out with it, man.
Bastards! You stole it.
You stole my inheritance.
Give it to me.
Give it to me, I said.
Inspector, who has done this terrible thing? I don't know, Mr Bradford, I've only just got here.
To think, I could be lying in there.
CAMERAS CLICK It's Marcus Lowrie, sir.
He came to dig up the family fortune.
Someone got there before him.
Only I don't think there was a fortune, Tom.
Pennies in a leather bag though.
God, they've made made a mess of him, haven't they? What with? Corner of something solid and square.
He'd been hit six times.
But not with this? No blood and it doesn't match the dents.
Who reported it? Eleanor Bunsall, sir.
Oof! Break out the body armour, Troy.
DOG BARKS Lowrie's dog, sir.
We can't just leave him here.
Put him in the car.
Put him in the car.
Come on.
A security system, Mr Tate.
I believe I did mention it.
I can hardly get it installed overnight.
Nevertheless, I'd like a proper chat with you, please, some time.
What for? You thought there was money in that grave, didn't you? Your metal detector told you as much.
You'll need a statement from me as well, Inspector.
Why? Did you kill him? No, no, of course I didn't.
Brilliant at making you feel guilty, isn't he? What were you doing in the graveyard at midnight, Miss Bunsall? Is that any of your business? Indulge me again.
Insomnia.
I often walk at night.
In a graveyard? Alone? I have so many friends there.
So there you are, chatting away with a few old friends, you hear Marcus scream, you run inside and there he is dead.
Not dead, Inspector, merely murdered.
Oh, I'm sorry.
Dead is an unword.
Did you see anyone else? Such as? I had in mind his un-killer.
He must have still been there, in the museum.
If I'd have known that I'd have stayed on, had it out with him.
I'm very glad you didn't.
I was armed, Inspector.
Sir, this is CS gas.
Yes, I picked it up in France at the World Cup where it came in very handy, I tell you.
Miss Bunsall, it is illegal in this country and I'm confiscating it.
In that case, I shall refuse to cooperate further.
It's too late.
You've already told us all we need to know, except, of course, for who was with you last night.
My lips are sealed in accordance with my version of the Hippocratic oath.
Oh, the Hippocratic oath, hey? So you were there professionally? Who with? Any more questions? Sensible ones? Yes.
Does nothing die in your world, Miss Bunsall? You know, people, plants, animals? You're smarter than you look, young man.
We are all part of an endless saga.
We fade, yes, but only to reappear in ever-brighter colours.
So you can talk to Jonathan Lowrie, the dickie birds or even a Christmas tree just as easily as you can talk to us? More so, because they appreciate what I say.
Oh, right.
Well, thank you.
(DOG BARKS) Miss Bunsall, thanks for your time.
You're not going already? Is there something else you want to tell us? No, but he hasn't finished mending my puncture yet.
Oh, hello, what are those two up to? Inspector, come and join us.
If I was to ask you where your sister-in-law was at midnight, sir, you'd say in bed, I take it? Well, she was.
Wasn't she? We think she was in the graveyard with Eleanor Bunsall trying to contact her dead husband.
Oh, please, no.
Inspector, have you ever known anyone like Sandra - with her symptoms, I mean? What exactly are they? The usual stuff associated with a breakdown.
Mood swings, uncertainty, sudden panic.
That's so unlike the real Sandra.
I mean, I've always thought of her as strong, determined, capable.
People change.
Especially after losing a partner.
But you told us, Charlie, Sandra told us herself that she was getting stronger.
Now in the space of a few days all that's gone.
Can you explain that? Not really, but one or two things do bother me.
Like what? The portrait gets slashed.
Sandy's the obvious choice to fix it.
Put that the other way round, though - she'll be chosen to repair it, so let's cut one up.
Are you saying you think there might be some purpose in all this? Go on, Mr Bradford.
What's more, it's a portrait that reminds her of her dead husband.
You were there the day I showed her the postcards.
You alright? Um Yes.
When do I start? The portrait does bear an uncanny resemblance to David, yes.
Which puts him firmly back in her mind.
But she's known that portrait all her life.
Why is it suddenly so important? Because of other things that happen around it.
Bells ring in the night, the packing cases catch fire.
Yesterday I left her alone in the museum for two minutes during which time a bust of Charles I fell to the ground.
Sandra says it moved of its own accord.
And she went straight to Eleanor Bunsall, Troy.
She did, too.
How do you know? Because I've been following her around for the past couple of days.
I'm worried! Sandy? Thank God you're here.
What on earth are you doing here? Miss Bunsall? Is he dead? Yes.
But how? There's no-one here.
Leave, both of you, quickly and quietly.
Quickly.
You were there, Mr MacKillop? Thank God.
Supposing he'd lashed out at Sandra or even Miss Bunsall.
In Miss Bunsall's case he'd have regretted it.
Where's Sandra now? In bed.
I can go and wake her if you like.
No, no, don't.
Well, thank you, gentlemen.
We'll leave it for now.
So now Sandra's being got at, is she? But not in your book, obviously, Troy.
Right.
OK, tell me this, why was Marcus killed? For the family dosh.
There wasn't any.
Well, the killer didn't know that.
Well, he would have by the time Marcus walked in.
Dug down as far as the skeleton, hadn't found so much as a gallstone.
Alright then, he was pissed off.
All that work for nothing.
So he swings round, clobbers him, turns him into cat's meat.
The way you tell it, Troy, so graphically, one might almost be there.
Annie, I don't mean to push you on this, but - It's alright, Jim.
I've thought it over.
The answer's yes.
I'll come with you.
You won't regret it, I promise you.
When do we leave? Well, I think we should go soon, like in a couple of days.
Why? What's the panic? Barnaby wants to talk to me.
Jim, you haven't done anything daft, have you? Like killing Marcus? No, no.
I just don't want the police trampling all over my past life.
There's one or two things you should know about me before we go, Annie, just in case you disapprove.
Why don't you tell me about them somewhere more comfortable? Hop in, Anne.
Ta.
Oh.
(GROANS) Hold on.
There you go.
Elbows.
Jim, Mr Barnaby's here.
Jim, we Blimey, they've been going at it some, whoever they are.
Troy, upstairs.
Go on.
Nico, front room.
Was he going on holiday? Kind of.
He was gonna take me with him.
What do you think's happened to him? Where to? France.
France for good.
What, he's leaving all this? Selling up? Sir! Yep.
Who is he, Annie? I'll bet you money his name isn't really James Tate.
It's a mess upstairs as well, sir.
They've really turned it over.
But he's not there? No.
What is going on, Annie? He's in that book.
George Burton.
Last of a gang on whom our Mr Tate was keeping a very close eye.
Suitcase packed, ready to go.
To France, you say? Whereabouts in France? South.
Olive trees, vineyards, sea.
That's what he promised me.
And that takes money.
Lots of it.
Doesn't seem real, does it? No.
But he was there, we all saw him.
Marcus was a greedy, lazy old man, Sandra.
If he hadn't been, he'd still be alive.
Hello, you two.
Hi, Alan.
We've come for the painting.
We're going to finish it off in my studio.
Ah, morning, Inspector.
Morning.
Sergeant Troy.
That piece of china that got broken, where did it live? Right here.
Landed there in a dozen pieces.
You've no idea why it fell? None whatsoever.
Mrs MacKillop, do you have any ideas? I'm sorry, no.
Just in case you had any doubts, there were no ghosts here.
Just human beings with all the usual foibles - greed, envy, malice.
Someone opened this window from the outside and then they pulled on a nylon thread, a bit of fish line maybe, which was looped around the top of the figure and when the figure smashed they pulled the thread clear.
Simple as that? But why, Inspector? Troy.
Do you smell anything? Fish.
Do you have a cellar here? Yeah.
Well, show it to me.
Oh.
Right.
Here we are.
(STRAINS) (YELLS) (YELLS) You alright, sir? Get after him.
Come on.
Who is he? I don't know.
You must have known he was here.
I didn't, I swear it.
We've lost him, sir.
You're paid to catch him, Troy, not to lose him.
Rule number 24, don't expect any sympathy.
Who was he, sir? He, Nico, was a ghost with a weakness for fish.
No real damage, Tom.
You'll have a nasty bruise though.
Arnica.
A spade, you say? I didn't know gardening could be so dangerous.
This was ghost-busting, Cathy.
Thanks a lot, Tracy.
I'll call you next week, OK? OK.
Old friend? New friend.
Right.
Well, give my love to Joyce and Cully, won't you? Cathy, I wouldn't ask this unless it were important and I know you've got a waiting room full of people out there but if I wanted to drive someone over the edge, could I do it? I'm living proof of that, sir.
Seriously.
Yes, of course you could.
Even to suicide? That would depend on your victim but you can induce paranoia in all sorts of ways.
Psychologically, chemically, surgically.
Who are we talking about? Sandra MacKillop.
Ah, that's why you came here, not to Causton General.
Well, Sandra, as I'm sure you know, is a patient of mine, so don't expect any details.
Even though she might be in danger? I would like to help you, yes, but - I did send her to a counsellor over the death of her husband.
Now she might be less ethical.
What's her name, Doctor? Linda Marquis.
She's good at her job but she may already be known to you.
The cellar dweller's gear, sir.
Ah-ha.
Have you got a name for him? No.
Nor any sign of the murder weapon.
Pencil and paper, Nico.
Here.
One round of sandwiches.
Pilchard(SPEAKS THROUGH BLOCKED NOSE).
.
going off with a vengeance.
You think Sandra MacKillop's life is in danger, sir, or just her sanity? That's a good question, that, Troy.
One pocket-knife, army, Swiss thereof.
Have you heard back from the MacKillops' solicitor? No, he's playing hard to get.
One donkey jacket, blue.
Then lean on him.
Look, sir, we've got a real body, Marcus Lowrie, and a couple of real suspects, favourite being this geezer.
Shouldn't we find out who he is and where he's gone? He has gone to ground, Troy.
Don't ask me where but I think I know who he is.
You do? Yeah, and if someone would do a spot of house breaking for me I could prove it.
You're too kind, Troy.
Ta, sir.
Thank you.
Have you heard anything, Mr Barnaby, about Jim? I've had a forensic team at his cottage, Annie.
They found some blood on one of the chairs.
There was a fight, certainly, but we don't know the extent of it.
So where is he then? He's ditched me, hasn't he? Like every man I've ever met.
I'll let you know the moment we hear anything.
Now get us a pint and a white wine.
There you go.
Why this pub, Tom? What's the matter, don't you like it? I love it.
Now you answer my question.
I'm meeting Troy here.
If he doesn't get caught, that is.
Doing what? Breaking into Anne Quarritch's house.
It's delegation, Joyce.
Troy doing that, Nico and Cully Yes, where are they this evening? Jim Tate's cottage, in search of his past.
Evening, Mrs B.
Hello, Gavin.
We're on, sir, with a slight variation.
Which is? The smoked mackerel.
I did put it in the canteen freezer and I did label it clearly.
Don't worry, I nicked in to the supermarket on the way here, bought us some more.
Won't be a moment.
Go on.
Oh, ta.
What can I get you? I'll have a large straight answer.
This is a till receipt.
I found it pinned to a board in your kitchen.
On it, you'll find smoked mackerel at ã2.
13.
That is a packet of smoked mackerel, price ã2.
13, found in the graveyard.
You were taking it to the man who's been hiding in the museum cellar.
Should have turned him in, Annie.
Why didn't you? Because he threatened to kill me.
Who is he? I was once married to 'im.
Ralph Edward Bailey, doing 10 years for manslaughter.
Absconded from Durham Jail four weeks ago.
You divorced him June 1987, went back to using your maiden name.
And he's killed again, by the looks of things - Marcus Lowrie.
You've been harbouring a very dangerous man.
How did you know it was me, Inspector? Remember when we gave you a lift to Jim's cottage? You dropped your shopping? You were a bit heavy on the smoked fish.
Who is it for? Me.
No, it's for Ralph in the museum.
Well, he's not there now so where is he? He's hiding out at Jim Tate's cottage.
There we go.
I'll say one thing for that (VOICE BECOMES MUFFLED He sure can tidy up.
What exactly are we looking for, though, Nico? I don't know.
What are you looking for? Only, I might just have it.
Let's start at the top and work our way down.
FOOTSTEPS METAL CLANGS TENSE MUSIC SIREN SIREN WAILS Cully! Cully! Where is he? Attic.
ENGINE STARTS WHEELS SCREECH It's alright.
It's only a car.
Good morning, Mr MacKillop.
You're up bright and early.
Morning.
Um, must look odd, Inspector, but Sandra's not the only one who's needed counselling.
It's been a tough time for me too.
I can imagine.
Is this a professional matter or a personal one, Inspector? I'd like to know who's got it in for Sandra MacKillop.
I thought you were investigating a murder.
Oh, we are.
What sort of a business do you think I'm running here, Mr Barnaby? A very successful one, by the looks of things.
First client, 8.
30am? Mr MacKillop.
People have busy lives.
I try to accommodate them and I never betray their confidence.
No, no, you are very good at keeping secrets, especially your own.
Do I have any? Oh, you have a humdinger and you fit the description so perfectly.
Heroin chic.
It was a long time ago.
A short two years ago.
Alright, but it's over now.
And for that, more power to your elbow or just above it but what would the likes of Charles MacKillop and Sandra say if they heard about that? They'd say it makes me more understanding, more of a human being.
Right.
I'll ask them.
No.
If I tell you something, will she know that it came from me? Mr Bradford.
I'm keen on history too, especially yours.
It seems that in the dim and distant past you and Sandra MacKillop were an item.
Then David MacKillop stepped in, pots of money and you were sidelined.
And we'd like to know how that made you feel.
Bitter? Angry? Vengeful? Not so long ago you saw me as the victim in all this, inspector.
Slashed portrait, fist in the face.
I've changed my mind.
How did it make me feel? Relieved.
Oh, come on.
Passionate romance with a beautiful woman.
Suddenly drops you, you're beside yourself.
You've been trying to get back at her ever since.
That's simply not true, Inspector.
Yes, I did once throw my cap at Sandra, but mainly for my father's sake.
I'm sorry? He was forever nagging me to find a girlfriend.
And I did try and fall in love with Sandy, I promise you, but .
.
my heart just wasn't in it.
And why was that? If sexuality were the Civil War, I'd be a cavalier, not a roundhead.
You what? I've never been attracted to the opposite sex.
I don't think we need trouble you any further, sir.
Just a sec.
Charles MacKillop.
No girlfriends, no wife.
In this, um, civil war of sexuality, where does he stand? On your side, Inspector.
Which is also mine.
I never doubted it for a moment, Gavin.
Sir.
Sandra MacKillop and her will.
Mr Jocelyn drew it up for her in favour of her sister in Canada.
So what's she worth? Well, she owns half the company which is valued at just over 10 million.
That's worth fighting about.
"I am the resurrection and the life," saith the Lord.
"He that believeth in me, though he were dead, "yet shall he live.
"And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.
" I know that my redeemer liveth and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth.
Vicar! Halt! (QUIETLY) What's wrong? I'm sorry.
False alarm.
Carry on.
And though this body be destroyed, yet shall I see God, whom I shall see for myself and mine eyes shall behold - No, I'm right! Inspector, all is not well down there.
Bring it up.
Right, Troy, off you go.
What am I looking for, sir? Squatters.
Go on.
(SIGHS) Oh! (ALL SCREAM) Who is it? James Tate, Inspector.
Who else would it be? It is James Tate, sir.
(SOBS) You are sitting in my chair and you're probably wearing my socks, aren't you? Hey? Who did you say is coming to take him? A young PC called Angel.
Ah.
Said he was coming down today.
Tom, I think we found James Tate for you.
George Burton and Co stole ã3 million worth of stuff, it cashed in at ã1 million.
They hired an accountant, Michael Whistler, to pay off safe houses, car dealers, lawyers .
.
bent cops? Yep.
Then he invested what was left over but one or two of the gang, who were all inside by now, wondered whether it really had boiled down to a million or was it a million and a half? And if so, what happened to the other half-million? They sent a heavy to see Whistler and he'd gone.
Disappeared into thin air.
PHONE RINGS And you think he's James Tate? With the gang all inside he had time to reinvent himself.
Plastic surgery if necessary.
Then pop up five years later in Aspen Tallow.
Well done, both of ya.
Phone, Tom.
Barnaby.
Yeah, I'll be there in 10 minutes.
DOOR OPENS They found him and my car on a dockside in Hull.
He was trying to get work on a Polish trawler.
Just mad about fish, hey? OK, Ralph, what's your beef with Sandra MacKillop? You what? If he knew any French he'd point at himself and say, "Moi.
" Christ, where did they dig you up? We'll come to the digging later and in the meantime, what's your grudge against Sandra MacKillop? I don't have one.
Convicted killer escapes from Durham Jail, comes all the way back here just to admire the scenery.
Do us a favour.
You had an old score to settle.
So you try to drive her nuts.
Bells in the night, breaking china, burning packing cases.
If you must know, I've always had the highest regard for Sandra.
Ask her.
No.
You've been playing ghosts in between killing Marcus Lowrie and James Tate.
That's it.
I'm done.
Solicitor.
It's gotta be him, Sir, or is that still too clear cut? Just a little.
Motive, money.
Opportunity, bags of it.
On top of which, since we found him in the cellar, all this ghosty stuff's stopped.
Sandy, you sure you don't mind me rushing off? The meeting's in half an hour.
You go ahead, Charlie.
I'm sure Alan must be here by now.
Thanks.
Pleasure.
Oh, and call in at the office later on.
There's a heap of stuff for you to sign.
Uh-huh.
OMINOUS MUSIC (SCREAMS) Sandra, what is it? What - Michael Aaron Whistler, who became James Tate.
Look at his form, sir.
Spoken like a proper copper.
Hello, Cathy.
Nico, chair for Dr Bullard.
Tom, it's about Sandra MacKillop.
You know you asked if it was possible to drive someone mad? Well, 10:00 this morning, Anne Quarritch brought Sandra to my surgery, as near to the edge as I've seen her.
Why? What has happened to her? She claims to have seen writing on the museum wall.
David, delight, departed.
Should that mean something? Thank you.
It's a mantra which Linda Marquis taught her, which brings me to why I'm here.
Mrs MacKillop, it's Chief Inspector Barnaby.
I'd like us to meet, please.
I need your help.
Hello, are you still there? Yes.
Somewhere private, and I'd like you to come alone.
Do you know the lake at Martyr Warren? Two people have been killed, both by Ralph Bailey.
But there's a problem.
He couldn't have put the writing on the museum wall because he was locked up at the time.
I don't think anyone living did it, Inspector.
Sandra, you are as sane as I am.
I can prove it to you.
David, delight, departed? You saw it because it was there.
But when Alan went to look - It wasn't there.
You're the only one with any faith left in me, Inspector.
What's gotten into me? At first, I thought someone wanted you dead but now I believe that's the last thing they want.
Will you help me? I got that stuff from Dr Bullard, sir, the drug stuff.
George Bullard leant me that and knocked up a slide for me too.
How does it tie in with the murder? I'll tell you in the car.
There's one or two loose ends to tie up.
We'll have a coffee later.
Come on.
Well, tell him that Ralph threatened to kill you.
At the very least he'd have beaten you up yet again.
All the more reason to have gone to the police.
That what he'll say.
Won't you? I'm sorry? Harbouring a criminal.
You just tell me the truth, Annie, I promise I'll do my best for you.
Can't say fairer than that, can I? Hello, Mr Bradford.
Hello.
How did Ralph know that Jim Tate had money? Did you tell him? No, he must have overheard Jim talking about his place in France one day in the museum.
Can I ask something? Mmm.
How did old Bunsall know it was Jim in that grave? The power of extended logic.
Ultra common sense, if you like.
We've all got it but she uses it.
You mean it's not a special gift like she'd have us believe? Of course not.
Bags you be the one to tell her, sir.
In the meantime, you didn't know that Ralph was hiding in your cellar? No.
That makes you either very naive or stupid.
How about engrossed in other things? Such as? My work.
Trying to shine a light in dark places, like Aspen Tallow.
That much we have in common, Mr Bradford.
Anything else? Troy? Yes, sir.
Since when have you two been so, um, friendly? I'm here to give Annie her wages.
I do so every week and she makes me a cup of tea.
It's called a ritual and so far as I know it's perfectly legal, Gavin.
TENSE MUSIC PLAYS DOOR CLOSES Why is that, I wonder? See? No words on walls, no moving china.
It's funny, I'd never noticed it before but you're quite right, it's just like him.
And Jonathan Lowrie back in his place.
How are you, Jonathan? If only you knew what you'd put us through.
It's the wind.
What's wrong? (WHISPERS) Look.
What? There.
Can't you see him? See what? It's David.
Look! Sandra, you and I are the only people here.
David is dead and buried and over in the graveyard.
Then who is that? Where? What are you talking about? Are you sure you can't see him, Linda? Sandra, you need serious help and this was not a good idea.
Can you see me, Miss Marquis? Troy, see that ghost over there? Go and run him through with that.
Go on.
Charlie.
What have I ever done to you? Hey.
I've been 25 years in this game and I've never laid a finger on a prisoner but today I think I understand why some people do.
Alright, so the joke got a bit out of hand.
A joke? A joke?! Well, how about this for a deal? You make me laugh and you can walk through that door scot-free.
Better still, tell us why we're here in the first place.
Directors - Sandra MacKillop, Charles MacKillop, in equal measure.
David left his share of the business to Sandra and you wanted it.
You couldn't kill her because then it would go to her sister, so you tried to get power of attorney over her by driving her mad.
What for, Mr MacKillop? So you could flog it, run off with Miss Needle-features here? I resent that.
The clinic you were in say you weren't just hooked just on heroin but also on a drug called Zolazepam, that's a mind bender, and you kept back a supply of it, just in case.
And you hooked Sandra MacKillop on it.
Not me.
Watch out, Charlie, she's jumping ship.
Go on, Linda, do yourself a bit of good.
How did he do it? In the meals he's always cooking her.
And then a couple of months back, according to my medical expert, you withdrew it.
Now it's a drug that's harder to kick than heroin, with 54 known side effects - paranoia, confusion, insecurity, panic, disorientation, the lot.
There you are, read all about it.
You know, Charlie, if you stayed away from this woman we might never have got to you.
What? Remember the morning we found you outside her house, pretending there was nothing between you? Accept for a spot of counselling which had gone on all night.
Inspect - (Clears throat) Inspector, before we go any further, none of this was my idea.
It was her fault, was it? She counselled you to drive your sister-in-law insane? Split them up, Troy.
Put her in a cell.
Stay where you are.
Feel free.
Why? Because you are one of those women who's had everything thrown your way, from love to money.
I justwanted a little of both.
Right, let's clear up the details, shall we? The slashed painting? That was Linda.
Chosen for his likeness to David? Yeah.
And the bell at night? Broken china? That was me.
The packing cases too.
Spent lot of time in the museum as a kid so I knew the hot spot.
The writing on the wall? Linda.
But I hit Alan Bradford.
It's something I've wanted to do for a long time.
Can I go now? This isn't some sort of priestly confession where I give you 10 Hail Marys and send you on your way again.
You mentally tortured your brother's wife.
But can you go to prison for it? Playing the caring relative.
Certainly made a fool of me.
I doubt if I'll do time for bruising your ego.
Maybe you're right but I have a big, fat card up my sleeve.
I'm holding a man down the corridor for two murders.
Ralph Bailey, yeah.
Ralph Bailey, yes.
Ralph says you're the man I'm after.
He saw you bury James Tate.
And the idea really appeals to me.
I mean, he's going back to jail anyway and, like you say, you might get off so why don't I fit you up for a murder or even two? Now look, Inspector, he's the one who buried Jim Tate.
I watched him do it.
In the absence of any proof, I prefer his version.
But I can help you, not with Marcus, I wasn't there, but a couple of nights later I was on my way to the museum at 2:00, 3:00 in the morning.
THUMPING NOISE At the gate I could hear digging over at Marcus's grave.
SPADE CLATTERS It was Bailey.
Before he dumped Jim in the grave he stole his watch and a gold chain.
Find them and that's proof enough, isn't it? Why don't you write it all down? Then what happens to me? Well, then I don't charge you with a murder you didn't commit.
I said solicitor.
Well, they've all gone to the moon, Ralph.
There's a bloke upstairs by the name of Charlie MacKillop.
Do you know him? Since we were kids.
He says he saw you beat Marcus Lowrie to death.
And you believe him? We can point the evidence your way, if we need to.
Well, you don't need to.
I'd heard Jim Tate run a metal detector over Jonathan's grave, so that night I lifted the slab.
Halfway through, in walks Charlie MacKillop.
He set something up.
A slide projector.
He was testing it when Marcus bowls up.
And you chose a place of peace and quiet.
DOOR RATTLES What did Charlie do? Hid in the shadows.
Bastards! FOOTSTEPS You stole it.
You stole my inheritance.
Give it to me.
I said give it to me.
(GRUNTS) The projector.
Go take his office apart and then his house, but find it.
I am a fair man, Ralph.
You write all this down for me and I'll see you don't lose parole.
Any luck upstairs? Sorry, no.
That's everywhere.
House, office, studio.
What now? Now I tell Barnaby, then duck.
(SIGHS) So where is it? Well, he could have dropped it anywhere.
Oh, great.
Sort of random.
Over a hedge, in a tip.
Over there, I suppose.
Yeah.
Sure, it's a start.
Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho! You little beauty.
Guess what? Ralph now says that you murdered Marcus Lowrie which of course I already knew but was unable to prove.
What are you talking about? He saw you do it.
Then he's lying! No, I think you've both been very honest.
You with your description of Jim Tate's unofficial burial and Ralph with his story of how you beat Marcus Lowrie to death with this.
No matter how well you cleaned it up, Charlie, there'll be bits of him on it somewhere.
Guess what? Charlie now says he saw you bury James Tate and he's made a statement to that effect.
Yeah, that you wrote for him.
Come on, Ralph, what do you take me for, a cheat? Don't worry.
I've got a forensic team taking that grave to bits.
If you were there they'll find something.
I wasn't.
He's lying.
And if you weren't, they won't.
However Your personal belongings, taken off you when you were recaptured.
Tell me, why's that got James Tate's fingerprints on it? You pair of bastards.
Oh, Ralph, that's been said before and I sincerely hope it will be said again.
Alright, I give up.
You stay there, I'll make do over here.
Dad, you're talking to a dog.
And he's talking back to me, aren't you Spot? DOORBELL RINGS That'll be the men in white coats, I'll get it.
I'll miss him.
He's really settled in, don't you think? Not Nico, Spot.
Morning, sir.
Hello, Kevin.
Oh, yeah, he's a beauty.
(DOG BARKS) Mum will be well pleased.
Give her my regards, will you? Yeah, thanks.
Sorry I didn't come round yesterday.
I was off sick.
Oh, are you better? Yeah, yeah, touch of food poisoning.
Canteen grub, sir, know what I mean? Got any idea what it was that disagreed with you? I think it was the fish pate Wednesday, smoked mackerel.
Yeah, well, that's the trouble, never know where they've been, do youTroy? No, sir.
By the way, on page 3 of the Mail.
Is that good or bad? "Last night, police in Causton charged two local men with the murders of Michael Stuart Whistler, also known as James Tate, last surviving member of the George Burton Gang, and of Marcus Jonathan Lowrie.
" Then it goes on about the ghost.
God, what's the world coming to, Joyce? Half a paragraph on the crime and a whole page on something that doesn't exist.
BELL TOLLS CREAKING THEME MUSIC Captions by CSI Australia