I have none. I am as you see me.
10 years, we said we'd give this place.
And then we'd cash in.
Time's up. You've been fobbing me off.
I know. But to a purpose, Bill.
I mean, look how far we've come.
A real journey of discovery.
I just want to know what's mine.
Look what we created here.
A way of life we never dreamed of.
If I'd known you'd end up believing your own lies,
I'd never have joined you.
Where's the old you? The one who -
I know what I was capable of, Bill!
Where is everyone? Arno, dear, go and seek them out.
Yes, May.
Trixie, dear. What are you doing? Exactly what you asked.
Not like this.
This is my money.
You've got to give
I don't want to hear any more.
DEATH IN DISGUISE
Greater love hath no fish than that he lay down his life for my lunch.
How's the sauce coming? -It's a wee bit lumpy.Tastes OK, though.
It's May Cuttle from The Lodge...
Oh, the cult at
Yes, the manor. She's here again.
Say what you like, but I'm not here.
Leave her to me. Treats me like her local bobby!
Well, that's cos you are, Dad. I am, I can, I will get rid of her!
Miss Cuttle. Actually we were just I'm afraid this is terribly urgent.
Miss Cuttle. Um...
Mr Barnaby? -Miss Cuttle. How are you?
I am in the pink, Mr Barnaby. Oh, good.
Alas, Mr Carter is a definite shade of grey.
Chief Inspector. Welcome.
We haven't met, but May recalls your wife from one of our courses.
Assertion Training, I believe.
Oh, yes. I remember. 12 sessions at ã20 a throw.
Plus VAT.
You must be...
In life, Tom, almost always, but in this death, nothing.
So he fell down the stairs and what? -Broke his neck.
You'll find it sticking out at a rather convincing angle.
Who found the body, please?
BOTH: Ken and Heather Beavers.
We were off for a walk on Combe Hill. There's a druid slab there.
Did anyone see him fall? Anyone?
I think I'd say that the general answer would be no, Inspector.
Thank you, Mr...?
Gibbs. Arno Gibbs.
He'd been drinking, Tom. Whisky, by the smell of it.
Oh, no! You're wrong! Bill didn't drink.
I want statements. Split them up before they invent an official version.
Right, sir.
Ladies and gentlemen!
These officers will take statements.
This way.
Mr Craigie? Can I have a word?
I'd like to see Mr Carter's room.
Hey, where are you going? What's your name?
This is Tim Riley, Inspector.
Let him speak for himself. Actually, he doesn't speak at all.
Because he can't or because he won't?
You say that as if the first were forgivable, the second a sin.
Did you know Mr Carter well?
I thought so. But clearly we were strangers.
Because he liked a drink and you didn't know?
A cry for help, wouldn't you say?
Maybe he just liked having secrets.
That must be the downside of communal living. No privacy.
What other secrets, I wonder?
We met when he got out of prison.
I thought that would interest you, Inspector.
You have taken the driving course, have you, Troy?
Yes, sir. Four or five times.
Thanks a lot, mate.
Ah! Well met, fellow seeker.
Heather... Ken and Trixie.
Follow me. Chris Wainwright.
Oh, yes. We have you down for a self cleansing of the spiritual pathways.
That slight chill you feel? Don't be alarmed.
It's only a departing spirit.
Departing spirit? Has somebody died? Who?
His earthly name was William Carter.
Er... how did he die?
He fell down the stairs and broke his neck.
Shall I show you to your room?
Sorry about this, sir.
We don't need an inquest, surely.
A man fell down the stairs, pissed.
Just passing the buck, Troy. Run Carter through the CRO mangle.
See what he was put inside for.
Minor fraud, Craigie said.
What did you make of him, sir?
I think Craigie's a rare thing. A good man. Remember them?
I'd say he's as dodgy as the rest.
Cully!
How did it go?
50 other women auditioning for the part. 50!
Let's go and grab a coffee somewhere, shall we?
It's only a tin-pot company. 50!
But there are three witches. That shortens the odds a bit, surely?
I bet you were fabulous. When do you hear?
No idea. Why are you all dressed up?
Going to a funeral. Do you want to come?
We offer the ashes of your servant, William Carter,
as a record of his earthly journey.
Let his spirit, revised and redimensioned...
Question, sir.
What the hell are we doing here? We are being polite, Troy.
At least, I am.
..reincarnate him as a Chohan of the First Ray.
And the coroner was right? Accidental death?
Bill Carter was a small-time con man. You checked yourself.
No grudges against him, no money owing.
And his death was an accident.
We commend.
Inspector, Sergeant, thank you for coming. Bill was so touched.
I'm sorry?
He came through this morning, asking who'd be here.
Checking the guest list, eh?
Who's the new boy, Miss Cuttle?
Christopher Wainwright.
Used to work for the BBC, poor soul.
As a cameraman in the most frightful places.
Seems to be fitting in quite well.
Any chance of going any faster, Ken?
Sorry, Trix. 30 it is.
Bees are very sensitive creatures, prone to stress.
And they know if you're doing 30 or 50mph?
BANG! Oh!
How are bees in a storm, Ken?
What is it, Master?
Tim? Tim, are you all right?
He can't have gone far, Master.
I promised him he'd never be frightened again.
We must find him!
Tim has gone!
Come on, May.
May!
Tim has gone!
You three, search the back of the house.
ALL: Tim! Tim! Tim!
Why would he come out here in a storm?
It's his way.Out... in the open.
Hiding. Like a frightened animal.
ALL: Tim! Tim! Tim!
No...!
There's somebody up there!
Tim.
Tim, is that you?
There's no sign of him, Master. No sign of him at all.
He's not round the back, Master. We've looked everywhere.
Tim? Tim!
Oh, Tim!
Thank God! -Christopher! We found him!
Arno. I'll take those.
Ooh!
Hail the hero!
I wouldn't put it quite like that. You saved her life.You're top of my list.
Are you alone? Yes.
Except you never know who they were in a previous life.
But right now they're goats, so...
What about the others? They do know about us. Doesn't it bother you?
No. Not at all.
But this does.
I haven't said, but I found it near where the cannonball must have been.
What? Meaning that someone...
What?
..dislodged it on purpose?
It wouldn't bother me but for this guy, Bill Carter, dying.
The coroner said it was an accident.
Oh, therefore it must be true.
I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be sharp.
So, who wasn't on the terrace last night?
Ken wasn't there. Nor Heather.
Arno, Trixie and Tim they weren't either.
Nor were you, Suhami.
Terry.
Are you the reporters? Ken and Heather Beavers.
Ava Rokeby, Terry Lightfoot. You've got a camera.
It sort of goes with the job - photographer.
I'm not sure about photos, Ken.
Why did you call our office, Mr Beavers?
Ever wondered what goes on in The Lodge of the Golden Windhorse?
In passing.
Two attempted murders.
One of them successful.
Bill Carter. Coroner said it was an accident. We know different.
And last night someone tried to kill someone else.
With a cannonball.
Names?
Do you think we should put this on a business footing?
You mean, how much will I pay you to dish the dirt on your friends?
Yes. How much?
There are easier ways of killing people, Mr Wainwright.
Maybe so. But I found this on the roof, Inspector.
Possibly used to start the ball rolling, as it were.
And, before you ask, it's mine. From the car tool kit.
And how... did your would-be murderer know
that you would all be out in the storm,directly below his line of fire?
So, that's it, is it?
May is nearly killed and you just dismiss it.
As would any half-decent barrister in two seconds flat, unless he had more to go on.
Two days after Bill Carter died I heard voices in the Master's room.
He sounded rather desperate.
Craigie?
Uh, not necessarily. Could've been anyone.
They spoke in a hoarse kind of whisper.
Saying what?
(WHISPERS) Oh, God. Why couldn't you have left well alone?
If they do a post mortem...
Is that all?
I'm not sure who else was there. They didn't speak.
So the person you heard could have been on the phone.
There isn't one there.
Then, a couple of nights later, two in the morning,
I heard someone rifling through Bill's room.
I went to look. They scuttled out of the window, down to the terrace -
And across the lawn.
No. In through the front door.
That means that someone was from the commune.
Not a burglar.
Why didn't you say something before?
It didn't mean anything until the cannonball.
Maybe whoever I disturbed in Bill's room thinks I recognised them.
So, maybe the cannonball was meant for May, Inspector.
Perhaps we ought to take May seriously.
What? 'Why couldn't you have left well alone?'
'If they do a post mortem..."
It's not much to go on.
As long as we haven't missed a vital clue.
Like what, sir? The dark forces at work, Troy.
Well, I'm sorry about that.
How much longer? 10 minutes, Mr Gamelin.
More fruit juice?
No. I'm awash with it.
Get off! Give us your phone.
Hello.
I presume you've been invited to our daughter's birthday celebration.
You remember that we have a daughter!
I'm trying to be civil, Felicity. Do you want a lift there?
Guy, there is nothing I want from you.
Does that include my money?!
"You've attracted many allegations, Mr Gamelin."
"You've replaced over half your regular workers with casuals."
"So? They need to eat as well."
Happy birthday!
Whatever's wrong?
I'm sorry.
Perhaps I'd feel better if I hadn't lied to you, Chris.
I'm... I'm not who I say I am.
Which of us is?
Oh, that man there is!
He's a total bastard, and proud of it.
He's cruel, vindictive, immoral and coarse.
He's also my father.
Heather-honey. What, love?
No. It's heather-honey! -Oh, I thought you were being tender.
Tim, nip this over to May and see if she needs any fruit for dessert.
Can you do that?
You bloody moron!
If you've done any damage...
What happened?
That thing ran out in front of me.
Oh. No prizes for guessing where he's off to.
Tim?! No, please! Not today!
Hello, Guy.
Have you come to buy us up for a song?
Make us an offer we can't refuse?
That's it. He'll be here for hours! At least we know where he is.
Yes, May.
Excuse us.
What sort of place is this?
A refuge. For people who have been damaged. By people like you.
I see.
A one-night stand with me damaged you?
Four nights, actually.
It's funny, that. I remember the quantity, not the quality!
Why did you invite him, Master?
Because it's your birthday and he's your father. Look at his letter.
I don't care what he said.
It's a trick. He's up to something, I'm warning you.
Suhami.
Try to be more generous.
You've found a pathway, even someone to share it.
Your father may not know it, but he is lost.
Master? Your guest. I... I must go and greet him.
Well, I don't have to!
Well met, fellow seeker. Welcome to the Lodge of the Golden Windhorse.
Eh?
Master, this is Guy Gamelin.
Ian Craigie.
Where's my daughter, Mr Craigie? You'll see her at supper.
I said, where is she? Meaning, I want to see her now!
And I said, at supper.
Let's have sherry in the library.
You join us on a marvellous day, Guy.
Not only Suhami's birthday, but one of our number is due to regress.
Eh?
To link spirit with a friend from another age.
Open your mind to it, Guy. You may learn something.
You look puzzled, Guy.
No. I'm just wondering what it is.
Nut roast. From our own trees. Vegetables from the garden.
Bread from our own flour. Mushrooms from our own com-
Ah! The birthday girl.
Would you mind, er...
So, hunger got the better of you, Tim? Sit down, old chap.
He fell out of a tree!
Yes. He often does. You must be, um...
Well, for a start, I'm amazed that he's still alive.
No, she meant, who are you?
This, I'm ashamed to say, is my wife.
And I'm proud to say the feeling is mutual.
Why don't you just sit down?
Sylvie! Sylvie, how are you dear?
Over here, Mother!
And that, my friends, tells you everything about us.
My mother, stoned out of her mind. My father abusing her.
Me wondering where to hide my face.
You haven't done badly out of it.
In the only terms you understand, Father - money - no, I haven't.
My inheritance.
All ã3 million of it.
Before my 18th birthday.
Thank you, Daddy.
Happy birthday.
It now belongs to the Master, who I know will put it to good use.
Don't think I'll let you waste ã3 million on a bunch of nutters!
Is that why you took her in?
I've dealt with harder men than you, Craigie.
If you've persuaded her - Please!
Sit down, Guy.
Master, if I might suggest that we all hurry up.
It's all right, Ken.
Your daughter may have made this generous offer.
But have I said that we shall accept it?
If you're ready, May,
then...
locate the centre of your being.
I've found it, Master.
I see it... as a golden ball.
Push that ball, May.
Push it out through the balls of your feet.
Up into the air!
Look down on us, May.
My name isn't May.
It's Gaius Quintus.
Where are you, Gaius Quintus?
In a forest.
A clearing.
Roman Britain, 75 AD.
We're moving north to build a wall.
But here we are, settled for the night.
A wild boar is roasting in the embers as a slave turns the spit.
I come out of the tent. The General follows me.
Will today be the day?
Will someone have a grudge against Rome?
A personal hatred for the General?
I, Gaius Quintus, will be the first to know.
'But where are my vegetables, slave?' says the General.
'There on the fire, sir. Mushrooms in a skillet.'
Help me!
Help me! My throat's on fire.
May?
May, are you all right? Stand aside.
Give her some air.
A pillow. A pillow!
The kiss of life.
She isn't drowning!
Oh, goodness, what an adventure!
Put the lights on. I've got so much to tell you. Oh, Oh!
Well?
Stabbing, sir.
Knife out, Tom? -Yeah.
Piece of gold thread there.
Not from the victim's clothing.
A carving knife.
Craigie carved the nut roast at supper.
Well, I'll be damned! Look.
I said he was dodgy from the start.
Inspector.
You may think the Master was murdered,
but you are tackling it in the wrong way.
How would you describe his situation?
Clearly, he's been astrally harvested.
How do you explain a carving knife stuck in his chest?
A celestial lance!
With Made In Sheffield on it.
We'll take statements tomorrow morning.
For now, may I ask you not to leave the lodge. Thank you.
You can't keep us against our will. Oh, yes, I can.
Oh, I see. I get a copper all to myself, do I?
That's right, sir.
I stopped doing my own dirty work a long time ago.
If I'd wanted to kill Craigie, I'd have paid someone else to do it.
Is that what you usually do?
OK, Guy. Tell me.
Hm?
How did you do it?
How did you kill... Craigie?
Hm?
Ten minutes, Troy.
Solarium, downstairs. Heavy day. Killers to catch.
Killers? Plural?
Good question.
What are they doing? -They're clearing the astral pathways
for Craigie's journey to the Ark of the Gathered Souls.
You want to see me first, Inspector?
Yes. Thank you, Miss Channing.
You seem to have a more how shall I put it?
A more earthly view of life than some of your friends.
Getting on your nerves, are they? A little.
Would you tell me where you all were last night when Craigie was stabbed?
Troy, can you note the positions?
Basically, everyone was gathered around May, just here.
Ken and Heather - they were standing here.
And the Gamelins - they were just here.
Right. And where was Suhami?
Suhami was sitting on my right... just here.
That leaves Arno Gibbs and Christopher.
Yes, um... one either side of May.
Er, which side?
Er... Arno to her left, Chris to her right.
We stood by in case she had one of her swoons.
And last night, did she go into one of her 'swoons'?
During her regression she ate a mushroom.
It was clearly a toadstool. She grasped her throat.
Then she fell backwards here.
We all gathered around.
Then, when the lights went back on, there was the Master.
But you didn't see anyone stab him?
No.
Right, so, er... where was Tim during all this?
You know very well. He was sitting at the Master's feet, poor boy.
And how far were you from Craigie?
Er... Craigie was there, I was...
about here.
About ten feet.
Thank you, Miss Channing. That'll be all for now.
I know it sounds lame, Inspector,but the Master really was a thoroughly nice man.
I can't see why anyone would want to kill him.
Why do you wear so much make-up?
You've got a bloody cheek!
It's often my job to be rude. You've got a scar here.
It's nothing to do with the murder.
I'll be the judge of that.
Ah, excuse me. Coffee, Inspector?
Oh, thank you. Thank you very much.
Acorna. I'm sorry?
The coffee. Made from ground acorns.
That's very interesting.
You're ringing, Mr Beavers.
Yes... Yes, I am.
Allow me.
Hello? Ken?
Well, I never. It's for you.
Hello?
Listen. We need to talk. Dead bodies?
Oh, yes. Yes. Jolly good idea.
It's just, er, I'm a little bit tied up at the moment.
"Police?"
Yes. Yes, that's the sort of thing.
"Call me back."
Mr Beavers?
Thank you.
Mr Beavers, would you take a look at that?
It's a plan of where you all were when Craigie was stabbed.
Do you agree with it?
I'd give anything to be the person you're looking for.
That's a curious ambition.
To have played such a vital part in his onward journey to perfection...
You'd have got a life sentence.
Thank you.
The thread on the knife was from curtains, tapestry,heavy material like that.
What's the colour of the drapes in the solarium? -Cream, sir.
What about the carving knife?
Not a print on it. Troy, I want chapter and verse on Craigie.
Calm down, calm down!
Can't you keep him under control? He's not a dog, Mr Gamelin.
No. Dogs, you can train. Troy. Troy.
What started all this?
Guy said the Master tried to con Suhami out of her inheritance.
Well, isn't it obvious? And he's after her for her money!
I didn't know she had any till yesterday.
Take him away from here. Mr Gamelin, a word.
You're OK, Tim. Now, I'll let go.
Where's he going?
The tree. Maybe the best place for him.
You're the only one here I know anything about. -You only know what I tell the press.
Well, tell me some more. Why did Mr Craigie reach out to you when he fell?
How should I know?
Because you'd just stabbed him?
I met Craigie less than 24 hours ago.
In which time you find your daughter wants to give him ã3 million.
Money you worked for.
You may not like the sound of this, but ã3 million is peanuts.
If money isn't an issue with Craigie and Chris Wainwright, what is?
I don't like my daughter being used.
Oh, women being used, yeah.
Tell me about you and Miss Channing.
She used to work for me. We had a zoological fling, for three days.
You can't tell me anything about the scar and the bruising on the cheek.
No.
Look at him.
Another man in her life, all set to let her down.
No-one is ever good enough for our daughters, eh?
Suhami. Good news! I've persuaded your mother to stay on.
May, my mother is a drug addict. Being waited on hand and foot by you is not going to cure her!
Maybe we should... What?
I was about to say, maybe we should ask the Master.
Oh, dear.Oh!
Bad moment? -No, no. Memories.
Mr Wainwright.
I hear you covered the war in Rwanda.
Does that explain in some way why you're here?
Yes. In your job, you see human life at its worst, am I right?
On a bad day, yeah.
Take that and multiply it by any number you care to.
And that was Rwanda every day.
You knew nothing of Mr Craigie before you came here?
We spoke on the phone, that's all.
And Mr Carter?
I arrived the day he died. I nearly went away again.
I'm glad I didn't.
Thank you.
Two, three...
Miss Cuttle? What?
We need Mr Craigie's will.
His solicitor doesn't have it. Any ideas?
You need Arno, Inspector, wearing his admin hat.
Let it all out! Let it all out. Expel it.
I'm afraid I don't have it, Mr Barnaby.
Miss Cuttle said you would.
Well, she's half right. I did have it.
I see. Now it gets a bit complicated, doesn't it?
I'd be grateful if you'd stop doing that.
OK. I drew it up for him several years ago.
In another life I used to be a solicitor's clerk.
Who was it made out to?
Bill Carter. Lock, stock and barrel. -Why don't you have it any more?
The Master took it off me - a few days ago.
He wanted to change it.
He didn't come back with any new instructions? -That's right.
Oh, look. This one's dying.
The question is...
did he make a new will or not?
Good morning, Troy. Any joy? And, please, say yes.
Craigie could be Albert John Cranleigh. Reading Jail, 1972.
That's when Carter was there.
What was Cranleigh in for? -Some time-share racket.
They found a six figure sum hidden underneath his floorboards.
Released with a forwarding address. Mrs Cook, a Bed and Breakfast in Upton.
I'm seeing her tomorrow to show her a photograph of Craigie.
Better find one at the Lodge. -There is something else, sir.
Could someone get rid of this?
Yeah. It's from Hull CID.
Oh, dear.
It was a very good brothel. Oh, I'm sure.
It was a partnership. Like John Lewis's profit sharing.
No-one was ever pressured or hurt.
As several senior policemen could have told the court, but didn't.
So, how did you meet Ian Craigie?
He was on a tour of the north.
He spoke at a Seamen's Mission where we ate.
We'd been fined ã87,000. I can't say how bleak we felt.
The Master gave us a new way of life. Something to believe.
Inspector?
Does this have to become common knowledge?
Do you mean, will I tell anyone?
I'm a policeman, Mrs Beavers, not a gossip.
After all that self-righteousness, what are they? Brothel-keepers!
But are you any nearer to catching the murderer?
Well, put it this way, Joyce.
I don't know who did kill Craigie, but I know one or two who didn't.
On the night of Craigie's murder,
they're all gathered round listening to May Cuttle.
She collapses.
They all go to her... and bunch up.
All... except Craigie...
and Tim.They're over there.
30 seconds later the lights go up and Craigie has a knife in his ribs.
No fingerprints on the handle
and any on the blade wiped as it went in.
And the garlic bread? Twelve feet away.
What happened? -The pepper stabbed the Parmesan.
Why?
Tim was devoted to Craigie - hardly left him,
except when he was hiding in that wretched tree.
"The groom, a BBC cameraman, worked in Rwanda
where his bride was a doctor."
BBC cameraman? Rwanda? Did he say that?
Because, if that is Christopher Wainwright...
who's the fellow at the lodge?
Who's that? I don't know.
Well, let's find out.
Miss Rokeby! How nice to see you.
And Mr Lightfoot too. What a surprise!
Morning, Mr Barnaby.
How's life in the gutter? Still making things up as you go?
You've been so damn secretive, we've come to see for ourselves.
Have you been inside the house? That would be breaking and entering, Sergeant.
So it would.
Tell you what.
You give me the film you shot and I won't nick you for it.
So when do we get the full story, then, Chief Inspector?
The press conference, if and when I make an arrest.
Come off it, Barnaby. How long have we known each other?
OK. A little extra for you, Ava, for old times' sake. But not yet.
Mr Wainwright.
Who are you?
I beg your pardon?
Can I put the question more simply?
What's your name? It isn't Christopher Wainwright!
Andrew Carter. I'm Bill Carter's nephew.
I'm sorry, Suhami.
I did the same. I guess we're quits.
You had a good reason, Miss Gamelin.
Stepping back from a hated father.
Your reason, Mr Carter?
Bill was the nearest I had to a father. He wrote to me in Madrid after Christmas.
He wanted to leave here - sell his share in this place.
But Craigie wouldn't buy him out.
So, I said I'd come and stay for a few weeks,
see if we could get things worked out.
You said Bill Carter wrote to you in Madrid. What were you doing there?
Usual stuff. Waiting tables, lifeguard, crewing in the Med.
I even worked a year at the Circus.
So, you picked a name - Christopher Wainwright. Why him?
I met him at Easter.
He told me he was off to Rwanda for a year's contract.
He didn't mention coming home to marry Lizzie Roscoe, though.
So, you just bowled up here one afternoon last month,
to find that Bill Carter had died that morning.
You must have been devastated.
From the very first, I knew it was no accident.
So I stayed to find who killed him.
Reached any conclusions? You know I have! It's Tim Riley.
I had thought it was Craigie, but, during the storm,
he was with us when the cannonball fell.
And that was meant for me, Inspector! Not May.
Why?
Because Tim had guessed who I was and why I was here.
I think he killed Craigie too.
Look, Mr Carter, I really am sorry about your uncle's death.
But I'm asking you now to stop your investigations.
Leave it to us.
Very well.
What exactly are you looking for?
Mr Craigie's will. Mr Gibbs didn't have it.
Oh, fabulous!
As I told Mr Gibbs, whoever gets the money may
have had a good reason to kill him.
He leaves The Lodge jointly to you, Miss Cuttle...
and guess who else? And Arno! Oh, I say!
This is the first you knew of it? There was no hint or discussion?
Never. But then, he didn't know he was going to die.
There is a condition. You have to continue the good work.
What else would we do?
Craigie and Bill Carter, taken, what...?
Late '70s, that.
Looks like a holiday camp. Will do to show my B&B lady.
I'll see you later. sir.
And I want a word with Tim.
Tim?
I'm sorry to barge in on you.
I mean, I'm a great one for privacy myself. Never seem to get any.
I think I know what happened to Bill Carter.
Is that how it was?
Now... what I don't know is who killed the Master.
You were sitting beside him. You must have seen him do it.
Either that... or you stabbed him yourself.
Did you see?
M...
Ma...gic.
Magic?
He was killed by magic?
I don't understand.
Magic.
Mrs Cook? Yes.
Sergeant Troy, Causton CID.
Can I have a word? Of course. Come in.
Oh, yes. That's definitely Cranleigh.
Such a quiet voice and lovely manners. His friend was rather different.
You knew him too?
Yes. I don't recall his name though.
Carter. Yes, that's right!
He visited once or twice. They were going into business.
Did you know Cranleigh had been in prison?
It's the first thing he told me.
It's why I remember him so well after all these years. His honesty.
Right.
You took your time! Where have you been?
You can't just walk in and walk out again, can you?
Craigie was Albert Cranleigh. And she recognised Bill Carter too.
So, the man we know as Craigie was an ex-villain.
He meets another villain and they set up The Lodge of the Golden Windhorse.
Presumably as a con. -Yeah, but can we prove it?
Have a look at this.
Those are the courses on offer at The Lodge this year.
Page four, assertion training.
Remember me telling you that ten years ago a session cost ã20?
You have mentioned it! -How much same session now?
Blimey. A fiver!
I think The Lodge began life as a con,
but then Craigie began to believe in what he was doing.
So he gave up shafting the punters.
And those he gathered round him -
May, Arno, Heather, Ken, all the others -
they became... his family.
But did Carter go along with it?
No, he did not. And that is at the heart of this.
I think they fell out.
Punch-up? Top of the stairs?
Could be. Do you want a drink? No. I'm stuffed.
Barnaby. Mr Barnaby? Cuttle here.
Another dreadful thing has happened.
Oh. Oh, goodness. Oh, Inspector! Come, hurry.
Come. Quickly. Through here.
And another thing, Inspector.
Trixie's gone. Left, without so much as a word!
But I think I know where you can find her.
I've been working late on this, Tom.
Interesting wrinkle to our friend, Craigie. He was dying of cancer.
Hence the baldness - chemotherapy.
Begs the question, who'd want to kill a dying man?
Doesn't it just! But surely this one is simple?
Please, tell me Guy Gamelin committed suicide.
I'm afraid he didn't.
So the empty bottle in his hand...
Should have held heart pills.
Arteries like the M25. No trace in his stomach, though.
So, it was a heart attack.
The man reaches for his pills, there's none there and... bang!
Yes, except...
Except, why wasn't his bottle full?
The man's a millionaire.
He had people to fetch and carry, organise his life in every detail.
Someone took them off him and watched him die? Trixie Channing?
May Cuttle's got one, Suhami's got one, Trixie's got one.
What colour would you call that?
Gold... Gold thread.
What the hell are you doing?!
I wonder if you'd mind coming downstairs for a little chat?
I said you'd got a bloody cheek! How did you find me?
Good God! Is there no privacy?
No. Not in a murder case.
Guy Gamelin died yesterday and you disappeared.
Are the two related?
Did I kill him, you mean?
No. But don't worry. I'll get over it.
Then, could you explain the cryptic note, 'The time has come'?
May Cuttle and Heather Beavers. They read everyone's mail.
I told Raymond to be brief. About what, though?
And you can stop that! -Yes, stop that, Troy.
Look, Mr, er, um... -Jennings. Raymond Jennings.
The first time I met Miss Channing she had a scar here and a bruise there.
And you think Raymond...?
And I came back for more?
I'm sorry. I'm not fond of men who beat up women.
Really? How do you feel about women who beat up men?
I'm sorry?
Raymond's wife. She's a husband-beater.
And when Raymond and I got friendly, she went for me too.
But yesterday my divorce came through. I'm free of her.
We're free of her.
So, what have we got?
Bill Carter, murdered possibly, Craigie, murdered definitely,
and Guy Gamelin, just left to die.
Not passionate, just... pitiless.
Which is even worse. Why, though?
Someone thought he'd killed Craigie. His family wanted revenge.
And you know what keeps tapping away in my head? That bloody cannonball.
Did someone try and kill May, you mean? -Or Christopher.
Suppose Tim knew who he really was,
that he was looking for Bill's killer. Would he try and stop him?
The hell with it! I'm going to have another. You? -Yeah.
Same again, please. Guinness and a lager.
That driving course - did you ever finish it?
Miss Gamelin, before your father died, did you go up to his room?
Yes, I was looking for my mother.
I saw him there, turned and left.
He called me - wanted to talk things over. Build a bridge, he said.
And was your mother in the room?
I didn't see. I didn't go in. I wish I had.
I was with May. Doing yoga at the foot of the stairs.
Strange place.
It's an energy hot-spot, Inspector.
Bill Carter shed his when he passed over. Shame to waste it.
Chris told you that Tim may do something drastic.
But you wouldn't listen.
Come on, Tim!
What do you reckon, Troy?
Have those two got what it takes to kill Craigie?
They stand to cop a fortune. And this place.
Coffee, Inspector. Oh, thank you.
Sets you up for the day, does acorna. -And how!
Listen, erm, will you take a seat for a moment?
The night of the storm, when the cannonball fell,...
would you... talk me through it, please?
Ooh, erm...
We got home just as the Master was looking for Tim.
Where had you been?
'To collect two new beehives. Trixie came with us.'
TROY: 'Why were you so late back?'
'Puncture.'
ALL: Tim! Tim! Tim!
No...!
So, when the cannonball fell, where were you? -Back of the house, looking for Tim.
Well, thank you for your time.
Don't drink it.
I'm sure that plant was alive last time we saw it.
How's your Spanish? It isn't. Why?
Tim.
My sergeant believes that you murdered Bill Carter.
No, it's all right. I don't. I know what happened.
Why don't you tell him?
Inspector, you may have got one word out of Tim, but that's all.
Oh, yes, I'm sorry. OK, then, Mr Gibbs.
Why don't you tell us how it went? -You mean about Bill?
I wasn't there. I heard it from the Master. He slipped and fell.
He was pushed.
Will you please listen to me?
'Carter and Craigie were having an argument.'
'They made for the stairs.'
"Why won't you buy me out?" Carter asked, or some such words.
Craigie tried to calm him, but Bill was furious.
He reached out for Craigie and that is when he was pushed.
'Carter wasn't drunk not at all.'
'In fact, he was stone-cold sober. 'ou tried to force whisky down him
to make it look as if he'd fallen because he was drunk.'
Hence the words May overheard. 'Couldn't you leave well alone?'
'If they do a post mortem...' Shall I finish the sentence?
'..they won't find any whisky in his stomach.'
We did it to spare Tim the agony you would have put him through.
So you lied.
Yes.
Tim, there's one more thing I need to know from you.
That night of the storm when the cannonball fell,
were you up on the roof?
Come on. Come with me. Show me where you were hiding.
And you were in here all the time?
Yes. -Is that the truth?
He doesn't lie, Troy. He doesn't know how to.
Thank God some others do, otherwise we'd be out of a job, wouldn't we?
I'll be back, Mr Gibbs.
Meantime, keep an eye on Tim. Don't let him out of your sight, OK?
Sure you don't speak Spanish, Troy? Positive.
Name like 'Troy'. Must mean something in Spanish.
'Accident', maybe.
As in, 'Didn't I tell you Bill Carter's death was one?'
Gracias. Adios.
Yes. Thank you very much. I'm most grateful. Thank you.
Used to have to shout. Now they speak better English than us.
Helpful, sir?
Very. 'Magic' was the word Tim used.
Magic. As in suddenly, out of nowhere, there it was. Murder.
Yeah, but did he see anything? Not the killer,but he saw who Craigie pointed at.
And, for a while, I thought that was Guy Gamelin.
Aargh!
Carter! Tim, let go! Get off me!
Get off!
Right, inside the house. Find the access to the roof.
What's happening, Inspector?
I told you to keep an eye on him! I let him go for some herbs.
Shhhhhh!
Tim.
Get back!
Get back! Get them out of here.
Get back!
Tim!
Get an ambulance.
Is he all right?
Tim! Tim!
Oh, he's alive! Are you all right?
Yes, yes. Is he OK? I couldn't believe it. He just flew at me.
Right, sit down. You look dreadful. Deep breaths!
Is he all right, Inspector? -That's three times you've asked.
His state of health must bother you. Of course it does.
Well then, I'm very happy to tell you that, yes, he'll be fine.
Which isn't what you wanted to hear, is it?
Inspector, Tim just tried to kill me!
No, no, no, no. You just tried to kill him.
Just like you killed Ian Craigie.
You think I killed the Master?
I know you did... and so does Tim.
'He saw Craigie point as he fell, not at Guy Gamelin, but at you.'
'And Tim's begun to talk again.'
And you're afraid that any day he'll tell us all about it.
Inspector, why would Chris murder the Master?
Revenge and money, Miss Gamelin.
His uncle's death, which he blamed Craigie for,
your money, which he wanted you to keep.
Don't listen to him.
I would if I were you, Miss Gamelin.
He's tried to pin everything on a defenceless boy.
Even a cannonball. A simple act of God in a storm.
What might he do to you... given time?
Bill Carter knew who you were.
And I don't doubt he told his nephew in his letters.
You used her as a business opportunity, didn't you?
While Craigie had become an utterly decent man, his partner was still on the make.
That's why they fell out, I am sure.
That... isn't true, Suhami.
It was, to begin with, but then... after I met you...
But the tyre lever. Chris found it on the roof during the storm.
It wasn't on the roof in the storm.
Mr Beavers had a puncture that evening and used it to remove a hubcap.
What about the Master's death?
Chris wasn't anywhere near him when he died!
'He didn't stab him.'
Don't be so silly, Arno...
'And it's true he didn't leave May's side during her regression.'
But he did kill Ian Craigie.
I had a little chat earlier today with the director of the Circus Nacional in Madrid.
He misses you, by the way you would do everything you were asked to.
Lion taming, trapeze work... knife throwing.
He said you were 'lo hace estupendamente'.
You were bloody good at it!
Did he kill my husband too? -I think your daughter did that.
I think she went to the guest room for a talk with her father.
It became a quarrel and he had a heart attack.
He fell, perhaps calling out for his pills.
You took down the bottle - No.
That's not how it went. -Oh! A sign of nobility at last.
I was beginning to think you didn't have any.
'Give them to me,' he said, like I was a servant!
And I thought of her, and how miserable he had made her over all those years.
And, that a girl like that should end up in a place like this.
I poured them into my hand and put them in my pocket.
And you watched him die.
Magic!
Magic. -Magic.
I've done a fair bit of lying to you, Inspector.
Will I be charged with anything? Only by me.
Look after him.
Has it come? -Postmarked Perth.
Here's to you, Cully. Cheers!
Three months in Perth.
When do you start rehearsing? The first. They sound a great bunch.
Two weeks ago they were a tinpot little company.
Well, they've improved with age.
Will you come and see it? Try keeping us away.
You don't do eye of newt or toe of frog,
wool of bat or tongue of dog, then? (GIGGLES)
Not a la carte, sir. -Don't encourage him!
I'll have a steak. Medium rare, please.
Mr Barnaby? -Oh, Miss Rokeby.
I - Oh, do sit down (!)
We were just talking about you. A recipe brought you to mind.
You said you'd give me something special after the arrest.
Yes, I did. I was lying. That is outrageous!