Highlander (1992) s06e07 Episode Script

Unusual Suspects

Give her a polish, Pierre.
Put her to bed.
Welcome to Fitzcairn Manor's annual grouse shoot and executive witch hunt.
Why are we all laughing? It's not as if it's even funny.
It never was funny, and it never will be funny.
Just enjoy it.
With a touch of luck, who knows, we might never ever hear it again.
Now, ladies and gentlemen, I would especially like to welcome the three men who made all our good fortunes possible-- my beloved partner, Percy Tynebridge-- Cloak, Ernest.
And the finest solicitor in the whole of Great Britain, Norbert Drimble.
Last but not least, this many-sceptered isle's only honest accountant, Simon Loxley.
And may I introduce a special guest for tonight.
Joining us on vocals, the apple of my orchard, the fire of my heart, the woman who makes it all worthwhile, my beautiful wife, Juliette.
Oh, you're so naughty.
Two, three, four.
Fiddle dee dee Fiddle dee dee The fly has married the bumblebee Says the fly says he Will you marry me And live with me sweet bumblebee Fiddle dee dee Fiddle dee dee The fly has married the bumblebee Fitz! Fitz! Juliette! Good God.
- He's dead.
the Highlander.
Born in 1592, in the Highlands of Scotland, and he is still alive.
He is immortal.
For 400 years, he's been a warrior, a lover, a wanderer, constantly facing other Immortals in combat to the death.
The winner takes his enemy's head and with it, his power.
I am a Watcher, part of a secret society of men and women who observe and record, but never interfere.
We know the truth about Immortals.
In the end, there can be only one.
May it be Duncan MacLeod, the Highlander.
Here we are Born to be kings We're the princes of the universe I am immortal I have inside me blood of kings I have no rival No man can be my equal Take me to the future of your world The heart is everything.
When a heart such as his beats, it powers the world.
When it stops, it makes us all a little smaller.
It gives me some comfort to know that the last thing my dear departed husband heard was my special love song for him.
It was a song that brought him great joy, and it is with those words that I lay him to rest.
Fiddle dee dee Fiddle dee dee The fly has married the bumblebee Says the fly says he Will you marry me and live with me Sweet bumblebee It meant so much to him.
A dozen lilies? Too gauche? Not for you.
Have a little respect for the dead, laddie.
Oh, it was a lovely funeral.
Half a dozen people for a man of my stature, my standing.
You're a personality, Fitz.
It's the first time in 800 years you haven't been broke, and it's made you a complete jackass.
I'm a late bloomer.
Still, at least you came.
Oh, just to see what you were up to this time.
- You think I organized this? - A chance to drop in on your own eulogy? I wouldn't put it past you.
I might have enjoyed it, had I not been murdered.
Oh, you'll do anything for attention, won't you? Excuse me.
May I point out that I died of a heart attack.
And Immortals do not die of heart attacks.
Unless they're induced heart attacks.
And the timing could not have been worse! Everything I own has been funneled into American stocks.
You know, a sort of, uh, "return from the death" fund, if you will.
But-- correct me if I'm wrong-- you're a little behind on your paperwork.
Details, details.
Problem is I was murdered before I had time to create a new me.
- Ipso facto.
- You're broke! Well, if you want to be crass about it, yes.
All my assets might as well be buried with that coffin.
What do you want me to do about it? Find the person that murdered me.
Fitz, I am not a cop.
And besides, it's only money.
No, Mac.
It's much more.
Oh, is it? Duncan.
Are you all right? Oh, I just needed a moment with my thoughts.
Fitz used to love to spend time in here.
If you close your eyes, it's almost as if he's still here.
I know what you mean.
He meant a great deal to you, didn't he? Juliette.
Just a little token of my affection.
Thank you, Duncan.
Thank you.
God, she's beautiful.
For a grieving widow.
Taut muscles, passion simmering below the surface like a volcano about to erupt.
She's a lioness in heat, MacLeod.
And you're dead.
You wouldn't.
Oh, no, no.
Look, if you won't get involved for my sake, then do it for the sake of that good woman.
What? I fear for her safety.
Fitz, you're the one with the enemies, not her.
She dies, the money goes to my partners.
You want to leave her at the mercy of the bastard that killed me? take her to America with me.
We really love each other, Mac.
You've got to find the person that murdered me, and you've got to find him fast.
Otherwise the next funeral you go to will be hers.
And it will be on your head.
Oh, no, you don't.
You did that on purpose.
She dies a lot more permanently than I do.
Everything concerning his legal matters.
Apparently not, Norbert.
And I gather this comes as something of a surprise to you too, Simon.
And what are you suggesting? I believe she's suggesting that if you'd been attending to business, then you would have been aware that I'd been made sole executor of Mr.
Fitzcairn's estate.
I'm afraid I can't read the will until two days after the funeral.
Be serious! We are busy men.
You cannot expect us to wait around for two days on a whim of yours.
This is ridiculous.
I don't have to put up with this.
Nor I.
Can I get a lift back to city with you? I'm afraid you haven't, uh, understood me, gentlemen.
Maybe I haven't made myself clear.
Nobody has to put up with anything.
It's just that, uh, in absence of any Fitzcairns by blood, it makes you four the primary beneficiaries of the will.
But a codicil states that only those present at the reading will be beneficiaries of the estate.
Well, perhaps I've overreacted.
Quite right.
With this dreadful weather, it's hardly a good time to be on the road.
How lifelike.
The eyes seem to follow you everywhere you go.
Amazing paintings.
The artist's genius actually pains me.
I say it again.
Oh, I must find more of them.
Excuse me, gentlemen.
What the devil did you do that for? You want me to help, then don't interfere.
We're a team.
A team, laddie.
Yeah, some team.
Now that they think I've got the real will, how long before one of them wants to kill me? You're right.
Damn risky business, this.
Thanks for your concern.
Duncan? Duncan? Mm.
Did I hear you talking to someone? Uh, no, just myself.
I could have sworn I heard Fitzy's voice.
I sometimes think I hear it myself.
We must be imagining things.
It comes from our grief.
If only I knew what was in the will, I'm sure it would take the sting away a bit.
I'm sorry.
I wish I could help.
My heart is broken.
Can you feel it, Duncan? Uh, it doesn't feel broken.
That noise.
What noise? I didn't hear a voice? It must have been me.
You were going to tell me about the will.
Uh, no, I wasn't.
Is there something wrong with it? The will? The breast.
Oh, no, no.
It's-- It's fine.
Fine? Fitzy said that they were extraordinary.
Well, they-they are, but, you know, um-- Juliette, I'm sorry.
I can't help you with the will.
Duncan, I would have thought that you of all people would have understood my needs.
"Fine"? Mm.
"Fine" is a well-kept motorcar, a good wine, decent china.
But "fine" is hardly a way to compliment the perfect breast.
Would you try and keep your attention to the matter at hand? Yes, I certainly was.
What's that? No.
I've got it.
It's definitely Drimble.
He dragged his feet drawing up the papers I needed.
Now there's a suspicious character for you.
He's no more suspicious than anybody else.
And nothing points to him.
Which is why we need to set a trap.
A trap? Yes.
You have got to rearrange the grouse shoot.
Are you insane? Give them all guns? It's brilliant.
Give them all guns, and the killer is bound to shoot you.
Oh, yeah, that is brilliant.
You'll need this.
I don't think this weather will hold.
I feel a storm coming.
Tell me, Juliette.
Is this little hunt your idea? Me? No.
You know I deplore guns.
I say, is he all right? Of course he's not, you bloody idiot.
He's been shot.
He's dead.
Are you suggesting that one of us is a murderer? Yes, Sherlock, that's exactly what he's saying.
Oh! Then was my poor Fitzy murdered too? Well, two deaths in two days is more coincidence than I care for.
Well, I don't mind telling you that I'm getting a little on edge as well.
- Then why don't you find Pierre? - Pierre? What I was going to suggest was that Pierre go down to the village and fetch the local constabulary.
Oh, yes.
That's what I thought you meant.
Maybe not.
Dinner will be served in half an hour.
Dinner will be served in half an hour.
Roast grouse.
Poor Fitzy.
Grouse was his favorite, you know.
Oh, how his face would light up when he'd tear their little drumsticks off.
How I miss that silly, sweet little man.
Would you excuse me for a moment? Where are you going, Duncan? I'm going to see about the port.
Oh, nasty weather.
Marie, right? Can I call you Marie? Yes.
the look that you gave Juliette.
What look? You can talk to me.
Please, monsieur, it would get me fired.
Fitzcairn was my closest friend.
Any confidence will be held in the strictest privacy, naturally.
No offense, but if you were that close, then you would already know.
Oh, it's that kind of confidence.
Monsieur Fitzy never loved that woman.
Yes, well, he did get around.
He loved me, monsieur.
Oh, of course.
I'm sure he did.
But how can you be certain? Because I'm carrying his child.
We were more than just lovers.
Are you sure it's Fitzcairn's child? What are you saying? Do you think I would love somebody else? Oh, no, I was just suggesting-- Do you think I would give this body, this temple to another? It's just that, uh, Fitzcairn never talked to me about a family.
You think what? The butcher? The baker? The baker? I didn't know he had a baker.
The chauffeur? No.
Tynebridge? But only once.
Only once.
You make me sick-- all of you.
Get out.
Stay out of my kitchen.
I just have one-- Get out.
Mon dieu.
A ghost.
Are you all right? Did you see that? See what? N-Nothing.
I saw absolutely nothing.
Over here.
Did you see Marie? Oh, yeah.
Did she see anything, say anything? Well, for starters, she says she's carrying your baby.
Really? Is she sure? Oh, quite.
Oh! Now that's news worth dying for.
Just imagine it, Mac, a bonny lassie or a wee laddie bouncing on my knee.
Watching them take their first steps.
- Riding their first bicycle.
- Teaching them how to swim.
Immortals can't have kids.
The slut! All this time she's been cuckolding me with that damn butler.
Maybe the butcher.
No, it was the butler, Pierre.
It's probably the baker.
I haven't got a baker.
And once with Tynebridge.
Tynebridge? He's a married man.
- Yeah, well, so are you.
- But-- But she's my maid.
Look, enough of these trivialities.
We have got to come up with some hard facts.
Yeah, well, try this one on for size.
- Drimble is dead.
- Dead? - Yeah.
- So I was wrong about him.
We can safely cross him off our list of suspects.
So it must have been Marie.
I don't think so.
She might have been after your money, but she'd never murder you.
Yes, that was definitely the old Fitzcairn charm working.
I haven't finished yet.
Oh, yes, you have.
No, Mac.
We have got to come up with a plan to get my money back.
After I've had my dinner.
What about me? You're dead.
Dead men don't eat.
My nose.
Of course.
Of course.
We've been waiting for you, Duncan.
What took you so long? I know how Fitz died.
Actually, he was poisoned.
How do you know? A little rat told me.
You got into Brazil last year with Fitz, didn't you? It was a business trip.
I don't see that it matters now.
Get into the backcountry at all? So what? Come across any poisons? Something that would kill a man and make it look like a heart attack? Something like curare.
We came across a small tribe of South American Indians.
They put it on their blow darts to shoot monkeys.
- Shoot monkeys? Why on earth would anybody want to shoot monkeys? I didn't shoot anything.
What are you suggesting? Well, the Indians eat monkeys.
Draw your own conclusions.
Be careful, MacLeod.
Be very careful.
You ate monkeys? Not me.
Damn you, Loxley.
- Monkeys? - Actually, they're not too bad.
They taste a little bit like-- I found him in the garage, bludgeoned to death.
He was lying by the car.
Who? Pierre.
God, how I loved him.
My life is over.
I loved him like a butler.
Like a brother.
A brother.
A brother? Just-- I don't believe this.
Well, I don't think there's anybody here we can send out in this storm tonight.
Not on a night like this.
It's a sign.
We're all going to die.
Well, it's the only way to keep them until the storm lets up.
Unless you want them going off.
A meat locker? It's getting decidedly packed in here.
Poor Pierre.
Who could have done such a thing to him? Bludgeoning his skull.
Breaking his ribs.
How did you know his ribs were broken? Well, he looks like a man with broken ribs, doesn't he? Stop staring at me like that.
Suspicion is an ugly thing, Tynebridge, especially in the face of motive.
I'm not the only one with a stake in the will.
It's getting cold in here.
I'm not hungry anymore.
Well, I think we should hang him up later.
We should all go to bed.
That is, make sure your doors are locked.
It is only my heart beating.
Take me now.
Take me.
Hardly cold in my grave.
Both shot monkeys.
Marie had the butler, the baker, the chauffeur.
Oh, no.
What are you doing? I knew it.
So damn obvious.
I almost feel embarrassed.
Stay there.
What was that awful noise? I don't know.
More rats? Oh, definitely.
Where's Loxley? Well, he must have slept through it.
Sounds like an excellent idea.
Well, I'm-- I'm gonna go and do some reading.
Good night, uh, Juliette.
Good night, Duncan.
Good night.
Right in front of my eyes.
I never did trust that swine of an accountant Loxley.
Ouch! That's my arm.
Will you shut up? Or I won't get you out of there.
Me shut up? I'm the victim here.
The murderee.
MacLeod, you've got to do something.
- Oh, if I could just let Juliette know I was all right.
Maybe I should just tell her that you're an Immortal.
My finger.
The will is going to be read tomorrow, and you expect me to sit around here doing nothing because you can't come up with a suspect.
I hate to put this to you, Fitz, but I believe that you were poisoned by your poor, grieving widow! Shh! Oh, my hand.
That's ridiculous.
No, no.
She loves me, laddie.
If there's one thing I know, it's women.
Juliette is no murderer.
She killed you.
You're wrong.
Not to mention the butler and Drimble.
She had access to the poison, she had motive-- your money-- lots of it.
Stay here.
You're making a habit of stating the obvious, MacLeod.
What are you doing in his room? Nothing.
I'm not doing anything.
I just heard a noise, and I simply noticed that the door to his room was open.
I think you're lying.
I have a witness that saw you kissing Loxley in the hallway.
What do you say to that? Bad taste doesn't necessarily lead to murder.
Thank you.
Not to mention I think you killed Loxley and you killed Fitz.
Would you stop that screeching? Me? Kill my darling Fitzy? Oh, I'm just so glad he's not alive to hear you say that.
You must be mad, Duncan.
Mad or not, I'm locking you in your room for the night.
Can't you see what he's doing? He's the murderer, and he's trying to set us up.
Us? He's not accusing me.
You'll be comfortable in your room until I can get to the police in the morning.
Big, hairy brute.
Unhand me.
I'm innocent.
Funny, she doesn't look like a murderer.
Yes, well, they never do.
Fi-- Fitz.
Fitz? Look, I know you think I'm way off base here, but you gotta trust me on this.
Look, if I'm wrong, I'll apologize to you and her.
Fitz, she knows what I think.
It's the only way to force her hand.
What are you doing? I'm going to bed.
Mac, I have a plan.
Open this door and come out here, or there'll be hell to pay.
And about time, my dear.
About time.
It's disgusting.
Bloody disgusting.
I'm shocked.
Absolutely shocked.
Poor Fitz.
The most wonderful of men suddenly dies, obviously by foul means, and I am not even notified.
I-- Or is it me? It's definitely you.
Excuse me, sir, but just who are you? I am Hugh Fitzcairn, Senior.
Father of Hugh Fitzcairn, Junior and sole heir to his estate.
Funny, I don't see the resemblance.
I can assure all of you-- both of you-- that I will not be kept at a distance in a matter of such extreme importance to my son.
A man that I consider to be one of the finest to grace this fair land.
It's bloody disgusting! Well.
What the devil's going on here? Oh, no.
Not this.
Not this.
Two-timing, adulterous little slut that he loved so well.
Are you sure? My God.
She's dead.
I do not believe it! I ask you here to help me, and now this happens! I'm sorry, Fitz.
I'm really sorry.
You're sorry? My beloved Juliette is dead, and all you can say for yourself is you're sorry? I know how much she meant to you.
Oh, no, you don't.
To you, she was just another one of Fitzcairn's little follies.
But I loved her, Mac.
Trysts and all.
And you couldn't believe that when it mattered.
Fitz, I-- And you-- you even accused her of killing me.
But-- But, Fitz, I swear-- I swear I'll find the guilty party.
Oh, yes.
And how bloody difficult's that gonna be? Now there's only one bloody suspect left! Even you couldn't screw that up.
Where do you think you're going? As far away from this lunatic asylum as possible.
Not yet you're not.
Who died and made you king? You're the only suspect left.
It doesn't take Scotland Yard to figure that one out.
- You're mad.
- The phone lines have been repaired.
I'm calling the police.
You're not going anywhere until they get here.
How dare you accuse me.
The last one standing's the killer, Tynebridge, and that's you.
I know I didn't kill anybody.
If there's a guilty party here, as far as I'm concerned, you're it.
But Fitzcairn was my friend.
Mine too.
But the dying didn't start until you arrived.
And is it merely coincidence that you control the estate? I don't think so.
No, but I'm gonna stop you from going anywhere.
We'll see about that.
He isn't going to need it.
I won't go quietly, MacLeod.
Not like the others! MacLeod, let me go.
You murderous bastard! You won't get away with this.
I'm not afraid of you.
You bloodthirsty maniac.
Help! I'll be right back.
Hello? Can I have the North Tidworth Police, please? One moment.
Go ahead.
I want to report a murder-- several actually.
How many specifically? Quite a few if you count the help.
Very well.
We have your address.
We'll send someone round.
Thank you.
Well, Tynebridge, the Yard is on its way.
Looking for me, Duncan? - You were dead.
- Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk.
Why is it the cute ones are always so slow? Of course.
You found another poison like curare-- one that would slow down the body's heart rate-- I'm impressed.
Yes, you're right.
And it wears off after a few hours.
Anyone but a doctor would be fooled.
- I was right.
You killed them all.
- A girl's gotta do.
Only it's not quite all of them just yet.
I'm afraid you know too much.
-What about the maid? -She'll be joining you shortly.
Next life, sweetheart.
You really are a nasty piece of business, aren't you? It was a mistake for you to come down here.
Fancy killing Fitz, your husband, for money.
A man who loved you with all his heart-- with every fiber of his-- Oh, please.
He loved every woman this side of the Thames.
- He married only you.
- And I married only him.
Now, say good-bye.
Aren't you, uh, forgetting something? Don't you need to keep someone alive to take the blame? Detective, Detective.
Ever since my dear departed's heart attack, everything just went crazy.
Drimble shot himself in a hunting accident.
And then Pierre was bludgeoned to death by Tynebridge in a jealous rage over the maid.
I mean, you know how French these maids can be.
- How am I doing? - Surprisingly well.
And MacLeod.
He always had designs on me.
Killed poor old Fitz's father in order to keep the estate intact.
And when he attacked me, I shot him in self-defense.
What do you think? It's hard to see what Fitz ever saw in you.
Harlot! Whore.
So much for his side of the family.
But-- No.
How? But-- Blanks.
It's impossible.
It's not fair.
Oh, Fitz left me a very rich woman.
I could use someone to share it with.
I don't think so.
I've gotten used to getting up in the mornings.
Oh, why would I want to kill you? Just think about it.
Oh, please.
Oh, Duncan.
Oh, have a heart.
I'm a free woman now.
And terribly rich.
You could have anything.
Here you go, boys.
Anything, Duncan.
She's a tricky one.
Oh, stop.
Come on.
Oh, Duncan.
Oh! The fly has married the bumblebee Says the fly, says he Will you marry me Duncan! And live with me You seamy ingrate! Fiddle dee dee Fiddle dee dee She screams a lot too.
The bumblebee Fitz! My husband! Fitz! What are you doing there? No! No! It can't be! Oh! Let me out! Let me out! Let me out! Let me out! Oh! No! Oh! Oh! No! Fiddle dee dee Fiddle dee dee Fitz, I'll get you if it's the last thing I do, you little worm! Well, it's been quite a week, Fitz.
Good riddance.
Will you be okay? Well, nothing that a few hundred thousand pounds-- I mean dollars-- won't sort out.
and Hugh Senior can pick the money up on the other side of the pond.
God bless America.
God bless America.
Thanks, Mac.
My pleasure.
I'm ruined! Mac! Yes, you're bankrupt.
I have an idea.
I think I've got enough time to get the train to London.
Listen, Mac.
This is a great idea.
I have a much better idea.
There's a position vacant for a manservant in my household.
Manservant? Me? It's very nice.
It's going to pay handsomely.
Two pounds a week.
My idea is-- And here we are We're the princes of the universe Here we belong fighting for survival We've come to be the rulers of your world I am immortal I have inside me blood of kings I have no rival No man can be my equal Take me to the future of your world