♪ Find your life
♪ Why should all my love just turn away?
♪ Pretending it's not needed in my life
♪ And why is love a game... ♪
CAR HORN
♪ Even if I show... ♪
CAR STEREO OFF
No nationals? No telly?
We said low-key.
Low-key doesn't mean dead on arrival, Neville.
So glad you enjoyed it.
Well... Happy birthday, Con.
I miss you - more than ever.
And...
ALL: Ars gratia artis et pro omnibus.
To love unrequited.
To honour...
..unblighted.
To you, my friend.
Wonderful.
Right, crack out the battle plan and the bubbly, darling.
HAMMERING
That's very nice, girls. Thank you.
Keep going, Tom.
OK?
Everything all right, Cully? Fine.
Good.
EXHAUST BACKFIRES
GIRLS SQUEAL
LAUGHING AND CHATTERING
Late again, Timmy. Sorry, sis.
Great ceremony. The girls were fab.
Really? Conor would've loved it.
Ugh, that's disgusting!
There we are. Looks like real blood.
Oh, is everything sorted out there now, Cully?
Please say yes. I have a headache coming.
Madam?
Mrs Crofton's come to help.
Sam, darling, you look like you've seen a ghost.
DOORBELL
DOOR CREAKS
Richard?
(SCREAMS)
(SIGHS)
Up, up.
KNOCKING Get that. It'll be Neville.
See if you can find me anything I can eat in this dump.
What did your last slave die of? Backchat.
You'd better sort this out now, Nev.
And I'm not staying in this pants pub either.
DOOR SHUTS
No work to do?
It's research, sir. It's for the festival.
Jezebel Tripp's latest novel sees the baddest guys take on the baddest girls
for the ultimate battle of the sexes.
Very conscientious, Scott. Not to say uplifting.
Celebrities will liven things up.
Especially if they misbehave like Jezebel.
Don't hold your breath.
The only thing to go off in Midsomer St Michael is the odd artistic temperament.
RINGS
DS Scott.
What's the address?
Yeah.
Yeah. Right, we're on our way.
Easy enough to break your neck falling down those stairs.
No sign of a forced entry? No, sir, nothing.
Julie, you go and get yourself some fresh air. Go on.
Cup of tea, Miss Settingfield? You'll feel better for it. Please.
With a tot of whiskey, would you?
Miss Settingfield?
We'll bring down our pathologist, of course.
But my guess is that he had an unfortunate accident.
It's such a waste.
Was he a full-time writer? Couldn't afford to be.
In spite of having won the Maplin Prize.
Four years ago.
He just did book-keeping.
You know, he wrote when he could.
I'm told that the second novel is often the hard one.
No, not for Richard. No, the second one was even better.
Which, of course, didn't stop Sam Callaghan
selling it down the Swanee. Sam Callaghan?
How's my editor most loyal?
I can't cope with that unspeakable female any more, Sam.
You're referring to our star author.
Jezebel's difficult enough at the best of times.
We're mad to carry on now.
I'm afraid we don't have the luxury of a choice, Neville.
HEAVY ROCK MUSIC
Tim!
Oh, for Pete's sake!
Sorry, old girl. Meditating.
Richard's dead, Tim!
Stiffen the Prussian guard.
You must be desperate, old girl. No, don't be kind. It doesn't help.
I've just been with the police.
They say that he got drunk and fell.
Here. Down in one.
Medicinal.
We're going to have to call off the action.
Oh, no, no, no, no. Rich would have wanted us to continue.
Oh, would he? Look.
I found this.
No.
It's 99% certain, Tom. It's murder.
Result.
Yeah, his neck was broken for him before he fell.
I'd say you're looking for somebody with lethal training.
Time of death?
Mm... Between nine and midnight.
Sir?
He's er... He's not a ladies' man by the looks of things, sir.
(CHUCKLES) Certainly not.
MONEY RATTLES
There's a computer missing there. Hocked or nicked, I wonder.
You might want to talk to John Denton.
Yes, George, thank you. The thought had occurred.
Who's John Denton? John Denton?
EXHAUST BACKFIRES
Morning.
Tim Settingfield. Kay's bro. I'm in second-hand books.
Tom Barnaby. Terrible news about Richard.
I'm afraid there's er... more bad news.
We now know that Mr Rackham was, in fact, murdered.
I'd like to ask you some more questions,
if I may, about his circumstances.
I'm afraid we're due back.
I run a crammer during the holidays.
Tim helps out with the literature classes. Sir?
Er, all right. I'll come up to the school about four. OK.
Oh, Miss Settingfield.
Before you go...
The postcard that was on Mr Rackham's mantelpiece,
I saw you put it into your bag when Sergeant Scott was making the tea.
Oh, yes...
I sent it to him from Paris at Easter.
Nice shot of Montmartre. Thought I'd like to have it.
Oh, I see. We'll catch you later.
What did young Julie have to say?
John Denton, sir. Apparently he had a stand-up row with the victim in the local pub night before last.
Did he indeed? Who is he?
John Denton is...was a Causton troublemaker turned SAS.
We had a few... Huh! ..dealings when he was a teenager.
He's a new man now, though, so Cully tells me.
He's become a writer. Must be a good one too, I think.
He's been short-listed for this year's festival prize.
Do leopards change their spots?
Not in my jungle.
Hello, John. Hi, Cully.
I read your manuscript last night. I'm impressed.
I reckon I'll be plucking pheasants for a while yet.
John Denton.
Could I have a word, please? Er, in private.
Thanks, Cully.
I assume you know all about Richard Rackham? Yeah.
I understand you and he had a big falling-out at The Quill the night before last.
We were drunk. Shouting the odds. What about?
I don't know. Writers, books, everything, nothing.
We were friends that argued. It's not a crime, is it?
Where were you between nine and midnight last night?
At home. On my own. Are you accusing me of something?
No, John. I'm just doing my job. Mind if I get on and do mine?
No, OK. You go ahead.
He's a bit moody, isn't he?
What did you want with John?
I don't think that is any of your business, darling.
He's not a suspect, surely. People are just prejudiced.
I'm not rushing to judgment, Cully.
Good...because I like him.
She likes him. Aren't you going to warn her off?
Somehow, I don't think that would achieve the desired effect.
TIM: Spit it out, Grace.
Has Mr Mephisto got anything to do with this?
Don't call Sam that. He is bad news, Grace.
He has gone for the dumb and the dirty and he is dragging the book trade into the gutter.
What is he getting YOU into? (CLEARS THROAT)
Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby and Detective Sergeant Scott.
(SIGHS) Mr Barnaby.
I'm afraid you find us having a tiff among trustees.
Classes finished already, Mr Settingfield?
Oh, you know, urgent trust business. I wear a lot of hats.
Then perhaps you could explain to us, if you'd be so kind,
the exact nature and function of the Maplin Trust.
Um...
Grace's late husband, and, and, and my dearest soul mate, Conor Maplin,
endowed a charity to promote local writers.
Our most important work is the annual literary festival.
And the Maplin Prize of ã20,000,
which we give to an unpublished author,
every year on the final day of the festival.
Conor appointed myself, Tim, and the writer Camilla Crofton as trustees in his will.
We administer the trust's work and agree policy.
Or, in this instance, disagree.
Would the person dragging the book trade into the gutter
by any chance, be the same Sam Callaghan
who, in your sister's opinion,
ruined Richard Rackham's life? The very same.
I understand that Richard Rackham looked after your finances.
He was your book-keeper, Mrs Maplin, until recently, that is.
For a while, yes.
Kay Settingfield also told us that er, you sacked him,
for stealing. Not exactly, no.
It was a misunderstanding.
All very unfortunate.
(SIGHS) You'd better help her with her bags, Mrs Hunnicutt.
No flirting on duty, Casanova. She's not really my style, sir.
(DROPS CHAIN)
Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby. Yes.
Camilla Crofton. I'm a friend of Grace Maplin's.
And one of the trustees. And you write historical novels, don't you?
And very good they are too. How very kind of you to say so.
Pleased to meet you.
I'll see what the landlord says about the punch-up.
I've just been told about Richard Rackham.
Did you know him?
We met occasionally to discuss writing.
Have you spoken with Grace Maplin?
Yes. I interrupted a sort of contretemps between her and Mr Settingfield.
Par for the course with those two.
SCOTT: All right. Cheers.
Financial check on Rackham.
Apparently he had full-on rent arrears and a whacking great overdraft.
There's motive there. House-to-house?
He didn't get many visitors but he did last night.
Tall male. Left around nine. Wearing jeans and red trainers.
FOOTSTEPS, DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES
ROCK MUSIC
♪ Why should all my love just turn away?
♪ Pretending it's not needed... ♪
Thanks...for not killing me.
I only kill when I'm bored.
It was definitely our friend in red trainers.
Why would he risk coming back to the scene of the crime?
Have you noticed what else is missing, Detective?
Sympathy, sir? No.
Look...
No piggy bank. Yeah.
Hm!
Thank you, Mrs Hunnicutt. Glad to be of service.
It's much appreciated. BELL TINKLES
I'll go out by the back. Best if you do.
Mrs Helen Callaghan?
Yes. I'm Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby.
This is Detective Sergeant Scott
from Causton CID. Terrible news about Richard Rackham.
Indeed it was.
I understand that he and your husband had...
a row about Richard Rackham's second book. Is that right?
I wouldn't know. I'm not involved in Sam's business.
Is there anything I can get you? Er, yeah, Jezebel Tripp's latest.
Oh. They're selling so quickly, I haven't had time to put more out.
All set? Absolutely.
Operation Pen And Sword.
I want to be there with you, like we planned.
Best you remain our silent partner in the circumstances, John, eh?
What are we going to do about Neville Williams?
You're not going to do anything, old chap.
If they find out you're involved,
it'll spoil your chances for the prize. Absolutely.
You leave Neville to me and sis.
POLITE CHATTER
Isn't that Harry Poulson?
It is!
Harry!
Tom. Harry!
Joyce, good to see you.
It's been ages. You should've let us know you were back.
I've only just arrived.
I'm a guest judge for the prize this year.
Along with Neville Williams and Jezebel Tripp.
Well done, you!
And I hear your crime novels are selling out.
30 years at Causton nick turned out to be good for something.
Have you heard about our murder? Tom, you promised. No shop.
A quick word, sir?
(SIGHS) Good to see you, Harry.
I had an ask around about locals with killer skills.
I should have asked who hasn't got them.
Sam Callaghan's ex-army. Tim Settingfield's into tae kwon do.
Jezebel and her minder do kickboxing.
The housekeeper's an ex-prison warder!
Drinking to forget, Neville, old chap?
What? The postcard from Montmartre.
You know what we're talking about.
Time for a chat.
After pudding.
In the library. Be there.
Or be in deep doo-doo.
Hello, Harry. Been a while. John.
Congratulations on your nomination. Thanks.
It would never have happened without encouragement from you.
Listen, I know it's not really the place to talk but...
..I need a big favour.
I can't. Can't isn't an option.
She's right, Neville.
It has to be before the judges' vote on Sunday.
KNOCK AT DOOR
Inspector Barnaby.
I'm sorry. Am I interrupting?
Just indulging in a spot of business.
While I have you here, Miss Tripp...
May I ask, did you know the deceased, Richard Rackham?
'Fraid not.
And you, Mr Williams?
Me, I met him through Sam a few times.
And I understand you were at odds with him over his second novel. Is that right?
There was a disagreement, yes.
He felt we hadn't pushed the book hard enough.
But it was all happily resolved.
Oh, good.
In what way?
We had a meeting about a week ago. I offered him ã150,000
for a two-book deal.
He accepted.
ã150,000?
Well, thank you. I'll leave you to your business.
I feel like a right idiot in this get-up.
You look very handsome.
You don't fancy a drink later, do you?
I splashed out on a bottle of bubbly.
It might be very late. That's fine by me.
All right.
Actually, I wanted to talk to you about your main character.
He's a very...emotional, romantic personality.
Is he you in disguise?
I'll see you later. All right.
It's not just chickens he used to scrag for a living, you know.
I've seen his service record.
Very tasty.
It's not just muesli she eats for breakfast, you know.
RAUCOUS LAUGHTER
Yeah, the media call me a man-eater,
but normally, I just chew them up and spit them out.
Nice suit, Danny boy. Cheers.
Four months of every year in Tenerife, living like a lord.
It sounds like paradise, Harry.
The writing must be hard work, though.
All that plotting. I don't write the books, Joyce.
The ghostwriter does all the graft.
All I do is come up with a murder or two and have a read at the end.
(LAUGHS)
You're not a native to Midsomer, are you?
No, I moved here with my husband Oliver when we were first married, in 1955.
Have you got a novel on the go now?
Actually, I have stopped writing, more or less.
My...ex-publisher...
Sam Callaghan? Mm-hm.
..decided I was a diminishing return.
Not young and sexy enough for his marketing people to bother with.
Oh, all in all, I'm happy enough to enjoy my sunset years at leisure.
I must powder my nose before the ceremony.
It's nice to talk to you, Mrs Crofton.
Camilla, please.
You're drunk, Neville.
Never bothered you before.
Sad about poor dear Richard. Don't stir it!
Why not? Time you came out,
and told the world - I said leave it, Neville.
What are you going to do? Call a policeman?
Neville!
I'll catch up with you later.
Ladies and gentlemen,
it is now time for the opening ceremony.
So, if you would all like to make your way to the stage area,
where we can begin. Thank you.
DISTANT FOOTSTEPS
FOOTSTEPS GROW CLOSER
Hello?
(Where is he? Where's Tim? Where's Neville? Where's Jezebel?)
I've been talking to Harry, Tom.
He's making loads of money and he doesn't even write his own stuff.
Lucky him.
Apparently, in crime writing these days, publishers sell more books
if the name on the cover is a real police officer.
All he has to do is think up old cases to turn into stories. Ha!
Don't just bat this out of court, Tom.
Did I say I would?
I'm so sorry to keep you all waiting, but...
MURMURING
HARRY: Oh, God! SHOCKED GASPS
The pen is mightier than the pound!
GIRLS: # The pen is mightier than the pound
♪ The pen is mightier than the pound The pen is mightier than the pound
♪ The pen is mightier than the pound, pound, pound
♪ The pen is mightier than the pound
TIM: I am dying.
♪ The pen is mightier than the pound
♪ The pen is mightier than the pound, pound, pound
♪ The pen is mightier than the pound
Girls!
(SHOUTS) Girls!
(SHOUTS) Thank you! SINGING STOPS
You know she's mad.
At least my conscience is still intact.
Look, I planned it all. The girls came along for the ride.
Are you going to arrest her? (LAUGHS)
Found this under the stage, sir. I'm the one you want.
Whatever sis says, I am the prime mover.
You are a trustee here.
A man's got to do, Chief Inspector. It's a matter of principle.
It's a matter of disturbing the peace and criminal damage.
I'm going to have to charge you. What?
Oh, no, we've had more than enough disruption already.
Couldn't we leave it for now?
Tim and I will discuss our positions once the festival is over.
Someone, quickly!
On the terrace!
SIRENS APPROACH
What I really need to know
is whether it's the same killer. This one's had his head smashed in.
So, it's two. How do you work that out, sir?
Bludgeoning is mostly associated with un-premeditated attacks, Scott.
Suggests passion, not calculation.
Any idea about the weapon? Something heavy and blunt.
Like a paint canister? Possibly.
We should start with the Settingfields.
They were up to something with Neville Williams earlier. Hm.
Let's check the victim's room first, OK?
Oh, look.
Cupboard.
Ooh, are these they?
Yes, sir. Rackham's mystery visitor.
No sign of the laptop, though.
Ooh.
I think he was a bit more than just a visitor.
(SNIFFS)
Take a seat.
We always stood for punishment at school.
This is very serious, Mr Settingfield.
I'm not laughing.
DOOR OPENS
Ah, sis.
Miss Settingfield, that postcard you stole.
I'm willing to bet that that was from Neville Williams to Richard Rackham. Am I right?
That was a bolt out of the blue, truth be told.
I confronted Neville about it after pudding.
We thought that Neville was Callaghan's spy.
Using Richard to find out what we were up to.
But he denied it. Said they loved each other.
Is that all you did - talk?
Yes. That's all. No rough stuff.
What were your movements between the end of supper and the start of the protest?
I was under the stage priming the girls.
It may seem like a joke, Sergeant, but I'm the custodian
of a precious commodity... The honour of a great man.
Greed...
and so-called individualism is killing more than just literature,
and I will not stand by and allow Conor's contribution to the cause
to be neglected or forgotten.
However much Grace may be seduced by our fiendish Faustian friend.
Besides which, I am a life-long vegetarian.
I do not kill woodlice, let alone people.
A few items for you to look at.
One fresh cigar stub.
Harry Poulson smokes cigars. But then, so does Sam Callaghan.
And I found this key in the victim's ticket pocket.
There's some kind of dust in the indentations.
Er, Tom?
Sorry to intrude.
Thank you.
But I bumped into Neville Williams before dinner.
He looked dreadful.
Asked if we could talk. What about?
He said he'd been seeing Richard Rackham secretly.
His concern was that you might view him as a murder suspect if he came clean.
How old are you, Miss Singh? 25.
How much longer, do you think? I have no idea.
SCOTT: And you've been here since three o'clock? Yes.
Were you on your own at any time?
Your guard dog's watching me.
This is totally screwing me up. Poor you (!)
Not withstanding your grief, I need your signature. It's urgent.
I am not signing anything until you've sorted our little problem.
Can we get to bed soon? I'm knackered.
And I imagine you must be a little upset too
about your editor, Miss Tripp.
Of course.
Tragic business. Yeah.
Neville Williams seemed um...tense when we spoke to him last.
I was wondering, was there a particular reason for that?
We were discussing Jez's contract. Talking about money made him tense.
Did you know that he and Richard Rackham were...
lovers?
No.
I didn't.
News to me.
OK, fine. I'll call you back to confirm.
Who was that? Harry Poulson.
Sam Callaghan wants to meet at The Quill at three o'clock.
Just a preliminary chat. Just to talk about what would be involved.
OK, fine.
KNOCK AT DOOR
Come in.
Thank you, Mrs Hunnicutt. Good morning.
I didn't sleep.
Only the righteous sleep, Mrs Maplin. Not many of those about.
KNOCKS AT DOOR
Oh, Tim. I'm not dressed.
I've seen it all before, darling.
What do you want? I've got a splitter.
I want to know why you spared me last night.
Bad publicity for the festival if you'd been arrested, don't you think?
So, it wasn't out of love, then?
Do you ever give up?
Or did sinister Sam stay your hand for his own foul purposes?
Don't despise him, Timmy,
or me.
I wish you would trust me.
Conor trusted you and you betrayed him...
..with me.
CAR APPROACHES
Morning, Sam.
You're early.
Come to service the lady of the house?
What I do or don't do with Grace is no concern of yours.
Anyway, I've decided to take matters in hand myself.
It doesn't come cheap, though.
Any news? Yeah.
It's what you thought...
Grace Maplin is stony broke
and barely owns the gravel on her own drive.
The bank's near to calling in the mortgage. She's a desperate woman.
I'm sorry I got you involved. You being a judge and all.
No, I'm not bothered.
The thing is, though...
I could do with a favour in return. Yeah, sure. What is it?
I need an alibi for after supper last night.
Morning.
Do you mind if I ask what you're doing?
Oh, I was just...
I'm just really upset about Nev.
I needed some private space.
Drive me back. I could really do with the company.
Sure. No problem.
Harry. Tom.
Scotch? Er, no. No, thank you.
We need to talk about last night.
I gave my statement down at the station.
Did you mention the altercation with Neville Williams in the library?
What altercation?
Shall we take a stroll outside?
Harry, we've known each other now for what, 30 years?
And...for most of that time, I've known, well, we've all of us known about your...orientation.
And I can quite understand why, you know,
you felt the need to keep it a secret.
Can you?
Well, all right, no, I can't.
But my guess is that the altercation
with Neville Williams in the library is connected.
I knew Richard Rackham, you see.
He was my first ghostwriter.
And my first...
Yeah, yeah, right. I see. What about Neville Williams?
We had a brief thing. It ended a year or so ago.
Badly?
We...disagreed about me not... You know...
coming out.
Did you know that Neville was having an affair with Richard Rackham? No.
Were those two trying to blackmail you, Harry?
No.
Where were you last night after your chat with Neville Williams?
I was with John Denton. John Denton? Ask him.
I will. I didn't know you two knew each other.
Cully.
I just saw Mrs Hunnicutt up to something very weird.
She just took a whole load of cash off the florist.
What is it? Did I say something wrong?
No, no, no. It's um... What?
I can keep a secret, you know.
As long as I'm not incriminating myself.
OK. Grace Maplin is in serious money trouble.
She's got Mrs H running a scam with the festival suppliers.
You're kidding? No. Afraid not.
My guess is that Richard was sacked because he spotted something dodgy.
I need proof, though.
I feel like a fish out of water.
While this lot... They don't even know they're born.
I come from a school of hard knocks, you know.
Me too, depths of "sarf" London.
It was touch and go for a while whether I'd end up on the dark side.
Hello, Miss Tripp.
Hi. Scott.
Security up to scratch, is it? Yes, sir. Fine, no problem.
Oh, good. Then we can all get on, can't we?
Would you tell me again, when did you last see Neville Williams?
End of supper round the table.
And then? I went down to the stage with Dave.
David Lowry, your personal trainer?
Yeah. Is he about?
He's popped off to do an errand for me, actually.
There you are.
Mr Barnaby just wanted to check I was with you after supper.
Yeah. Yeah, well, I've got to keep a close eye on the crown jewels, eh?
Absolutely.
Morning. Morning.
Well, comrades, as I see it,
we need to establish whether one of us murdered Neville Williams.
What, you don't think I - Well, it wasn't us.
You said you would deal with him. Not like that!
We haven't got the training.
I had nothing to do with it. All right. Steady the buffs.
If it wasn't one of us... it must be one of them.
We need to find out more.
Thank you for this. I won't keep you long.
I want to ask you if you know anything at all about this.
We think it came from a piggy bank belonging to Richard Rackham
but we found it in Neville Williams' room last night.
Oh! Do you recognise it at all?
No. No, it could have been for anything, couldn't it?
Isn't it a locker key?
Sorry to interrupt.
Kay kindly opens the pool to locals in the summer.
We all have a locker key. This is mine.
They look like royalty statements for Richard's book. Mm.
There's some written maths and some other stuff here too.
What's that?
Huh!
Rich, you must leave Neville
or I will end it for you.
I can't live or love without you.
You promise you'll tell her as soon as the festival is over, Sam.
I promise.
So, Tom, how can I help?
I'm confused, Camilla, about these royalty statements.
Why would Richard Rackham want to keep them hidden in his locker?
And why would Neville Williams
have risked being caught at the scene of a crime
to retrieve the key that would enable him
to get them back in? It's hard to make any sense of it.
Now, tell me more about the case.
Mysteries and deductions are my forte after all.
Well, we think our killer's a professional.
He's a trained expert. Oh.
What's your view of John Denton?
Not your idea of a likely murderer, hm?
Who else had motive?
Harry Poulson may have had. He's gay too, isn't he?
He's had affairs with both victims
and he's anxious, very anxious to keep it secret. Blackmail?
Sounds promising.
Plus another blackmail possibility.
Rackham blamed Sam Callaghan for the failure of his second novel, yes?
Perhaps Neville Williams did so too. They might have found some...
irregularity in the accounts and tried to make Callaghan pay
to keep them quiet.
Neville was a highly talented editor, very ambitious. Sam's pet.
Even if Richard was bitter enough to try blackmail,
I doubt Neville would have risked his career to get involved.
Fair point.
No, surely the billet-doux we found is your strongest clue to the killer.
Sugar?
Coffee, dear.
Oh, and I'm going ahead with the divorce.
But I thought we worked all this out.
My thing with Grace is over.
Helen, I'll stop it today.
Sam, please don't lie to me, it's very tiresome.
KNOCK AT DOOR
That'll be Mr Barnaby. He called on the other line.
Good morning. Please come in.
Coffee, Chief Inspector? No thanks, not at the minute.
I've just got a quick question to ask you, if I may.
It's about your business and...
DOOR CLOSES
I found some copies of your royalty statements
in a locker belonging to Richard Rackham.
And I have reason to believe
that Neville Williams was very keen to get his hands on them.
Perhaps you could enlighten me as to why that should be.
Not sure I can, no.
Neville could simply have taken copies off our computer.
Oh, right.
Thank you. See you later at The Quill.
I look forward to it.
DOOR OPENS
(Are you hiding from Mrs Hunnicutt?)
There's no hiding from Mrs - Cully?
(What about now?) Perfect.
I'll make sure she doesn't come in.
We're just scraping the surface of this, you know.
We should dig deeper. Have more chats with the Settingfields.
Do some checks on Jezebel and Callaghan and the prize judges.
All right. You got any joy on those?
Yeah, I got on to a bloke from Fraud.
The royalty statements are definitely kosher.
The handwritten stuff seems to be a record of sales figures and cash owing on Jezebel Tripp's latest.
Look. I wouldn't mind a slice of that action.
Why? Why would Richard Rackham be keeping Jezebel's accounts?
Presumably provided by Neville Williams.
It beats me.
The graphologist's report on the love letter makes interesting reading.
Oh, aren't they wonderful?
A left-handed female wrote it.
Kay Settingfield said Richard Rackham was definitely bisexual.
Now look at the forensic report on the cigar stub.
Purple lipstick. Jezebel Tripp's favourite colour.
Are we all here?
Right.
Well, I suppose we should formally declare the judging panel in session.
As you know, we've got quite a lot of informal consensus.
Three votes for John Denton.
One for Sally Singh.
And I'm really very close to a decision between the two.
I wondered if we might come to a final vote earlier than usual.
Why? We're stuck here all weekend anyway.
Given the murder of a judge
and the tainted circumstances, I thought it might be preferable.
Well, I hope you enjoy Barbados.
I'm sure I shall.
TOM: Miss Tripp.
Miss Tripp, I'm sorry, sorry to trouble you again.
Hi. Hi. I've got a reading to do.
I know. It's just a couple of quick questions.
The problem you discussed with Neville and Mr Callaghan last night.
It wasn't a problem.
You seemed anxious to get something sorted out before the judges' vote.
I'm being head-hunted by publishers.
I needed them to make me an offer for the new contract.
Oh, I see.
Do you smoke cigars, Miss Tripp?
I have the odd one when no-one's looking.
Smoking's so 20th century.
In your statement, you said you didn't go onto the terrace at any point last evening.
I had a smoke there, though. I remember now.
Yesterday afternoon.
Thank you. That's all I needed to know.
Jez.
Hi, sorry. Would you mind er... Not now, Sergeant!
It won't take a second, sir.
There you go.
Darling Danny.
Love Jez. There you go, Danny boy. Thank you.
All right, sir? Nice one, Scott.
Oh, beauty, beauty, beauty.
Nor tongue nor eye can name thee.
Lovely, Melody.
Lovely stroke.
Eyes down, Timmy.
John has some news.
Greetings, comrade.
Grace is ripping off trust funds and pocketing the cash.
She's using Mrs Hunnicutt to help her do it. No!
I've seen her with my own eyes, Tim.
And I'm not the only one. Cully!
Is this wise, comrade? Miss Barnaby?
It's true, Mr Settingfield.
Mrs Maplin's suppliers are charging the trust way over the odds for pretty much everything.
Then splitting the difference with Grace.
Mrs H is her go-between.
There's the proof if you want it.
TIM: Callaghan's company is hanging by a thread.
If it weren't for Jezebel, he'd be finished.
I understood he was very successful.
The company is, or was when his wife ran it.
She owns all the shares.
Jezebel's no better. She's from the stockbroker belt
not the gutter. The nearest she's got to the streets
is getting into a cab outside Harvey Nick's.
Even Milla's got a bit of history.
Did you know she was Russian?
Name of Poltova.
Lost her family.
Did a spell in the Gulag before pitching up in London after the war.
Husband died young.
Conor fell hopelessly in love with her.
Poor chap.
And when she refused him, he married Grace on the rebound.
Oh, thank you.
Thank you for that. You've given us a lot of things to think about.
Do you mind if I meet you at the nick?
I want to test out a quick theory.
Jezebel.
We've got to delay our plans. Barnaby's too close.
No way.
After tomorrow it'll be too late.
If you don't cooperate I can always open negotiations with your other half.
Try it and you're a dead man.
No Tom? He's always late.
Goes with the territory, I'm sure. Sorry. Sorry I'm late.
No problem. Drink? Yes, please. Just a pint.
Er, a bitter and a red wine.
Well, Joyce has indicated you might be interested in a change of career.
Yes, well, I would be willing to consider it, yes.
With the right company.
Good time for a move now
as Harry will tell you.
Crime is hot. Real-life cops are hotter.
And you couldn't do better than Callaghan De Vere.
Any plans for your next book?
Something shorter for a lot more money.
LAUGHTER
You think I'm joking!
I'm afraid we've gone a little over time,
so I'll thank Jezebel and you can take a break. Thank you, Jezebel.
MOBILE RINGS
I'm done. I'll be right over.
Thank you, Mrs Hunnicutt.
Things are moving on rather quickly.
So they are.
Thank you for your help and your discretion.
Pleasure doing business.
OK, let's go.
WOMAN SCREAMS
(SCREAMS)
Nothing too premeditated about this one.
You've definitely got to find two killers now.
(SIGHS)
Well, bang goes our table for two at Sergio's tomorrow night.
Oh, my theory checked out, sir.
She was hiding this near the main gate.
Get that to the lab now.
Yes, sir. Oh, I visited David Lowry's room as well.
I'm afraid he's packed and flown.
MOBILE RINGS
DS Scott... Yeah...
Are you sure?
All right, cheers.
That was the graphologist, sir.
Apparently, Jezebel didn't write the love letter after all.
Dad.
I'm a bit busy, Cully.
It's about Jezebel...
..and Sam Callaghan.
It was a bartering session. That's all.
She was trying it on and I wasn't playing.
We weren't arguing, we were negotiating.
What did you mean by "open negotiations" with Jezebel's other half?
Who was Jezebel's other half?
Well, just another author.
Why on earth would I want to kill Jezebel?
She was my biggest banker. Sir.
Call from the lab.
Yeah? They found a match for the print on the murder weapon.
Already? Yeah.
Apparently, it was already on the system.
Hey. Hello.
What was that for?
Dunno. Cheer you up?
Thanks.
I still can't believe it. I was with her just minutes before.
Death's like that. Never hear it coming.
No. One minute you're OK, future's always gonna be better...
..and then it happens. Time's torn in two
and the future's snatched away from you for ever.
Beautifully put.
I've been working on it.
John, I'd like to ask you a few questions, please.
(SIGHS) Why? What for?
In connection with the murder of Jezebel Tripp.
I haven't killed anyone.
Then you'll have to explain why your fingerprint was found on the murder weapon, won't you?
DOOR OPENS
DOOR CLOSES
I helped to put the marquees up. My prints will be on the pegs.
The lab confirms your print on the murder weapon
but not in blood so it is possible you're telling the truth.
I am telling the truth! But we still have a problem, John.
Sit down.
It's just like old times this, isn't it?
Would you tell me, please, what you were doing
between two and four? And I'll need to be convinced.
Would...talking to your daughter convince you?
CULLY: First we followed her to a travel agent in Causton.
Then we went and spoke to Tim and Kay Settingfield.
And we watched her meet Mrs Callaghan at the lake.
I was with him the whole time.
He might have told me straightaway, mightn't he?
I told him not to say anything to anyone. I knew you'd disapprove.
It's not my disapproval that matters, is it?
Keeping quiet about what Grace Maplin and Mrs Hunnicutt were up to
might be construed as withholding key evidence.
I'm sorry.
We just wanted to make sure we weren't jumping to conclusions.
There is something you can do for me since you insist on joining in.
Keep watching Mrs Hunnicutt, will you?
Until I can find the time to deal with her.
All right... Cheers.
We can release John Denton. It appears he and my daughter
have been up to a little bit of joint sleuthing.
But I'll need some background on Brenda Hunnicutt, please.
Have you got anything on the laptop? Not a lot.
Most of it's been wiped. There's an e-mail from Richard Rackham
sent the day before he died to Mrs Crofton asking her to visit.
Camilla said she'd taken him under her wing.
We've looked at Jezebel's bank statements.
She got big payments from Callaghan's company.
That's OK. There would be, wouldn't there?
Yeah, but the weird thing is, most of the money was paid out again straightaway.
Jezebel's a big spender. To one company?
Outfit called Reiterations Limited.
So, I was thinking, what, maybe blackmail?
Mm... Interesting.
All right. Find out what you can about Reiterations Limited.
I am going for a chat with Grace Maplin.
Enjoy yourself.
I can't bear it, Sam. This whole thing is such a total mess.
We'll get over it, darling.
The important thing is to keep our goals in sight and stay on track.
I don't see how that's possible.
The festival's almost ruined. We've lost half our prize judges.
I...I mean, the money thing.
My bank's being a bit recalcitrant.
I wondered, perhaps, if your bank would help bridge us
until the new company's up and running.
My bank?! Grace!
You never met Conor, did you?
He was a lot meaner than anyone gives him credit for.
He was extremely generous with the community but absolutely beastly to me about money.
Even after he died...
I was left with nothing.
Just petty cash.
Everything else went to service his posthumous good deeds.
I had to do something and Mrs Hunnicutt's clever in those ways.
Did Sam Callaghan know about this plan? Was he party to it?
Sam? Oh, no. He doesn't know anything about...
Look... I... I don't suppose you could keep this to yourself
just for the moment?
You see, I haven't quite filled the picture in for Sam as far as my own financial situation is concerned.
KNOCK AT DOOR
John, it's me, Cully.
I heard they'd let you go. Yeah, they did.
Good.
No guard dog?
No.
(SIGHS)
Damn you, Sam Callaghan!
KNOCK AT DOOR Yes?
Mrs Callaghan to see you.
What?
No, I can't possibly see her.
It'd be best all round if we did talk, Grace.
Do relax, Grace. I'm not here to shave your head
or to send you out into the village in shame.
I've come to tell you that you're welcome to my husband.
There are things you should know first, if you're seriously intending to take him on, that is.
I can't live or love without you.
Supper's ready.
Of course. MOBILE RINGS
Barnaby.
Scott.
Camilla?
When did the call come in? About ten minutes ago.
Ten minutes? She could be dead by now.
BARKING
DOOR CREAKS
MUFFLED VOICES
Tom! Is everything all right?
Well, yes, I... I suppose it must be.
Your alarm was set off.
There was an intruder, yes,
but luckily, Sam turned up to see how I was.
He confronted the man and off he went.
That's very courageous.
I just bumped into him, really.
Description? I didn't really notice.
Well, er, Scott, um...
We'll take a look around, make sure everything's secure.
I'll call back tomorrow morning if I may. Make sure you're OK.
Many thanks, Tom. I'm very grateful.
Do you think the intruder was our killer, sir? No.
In fact, I'm not sure there was a third party there at all.
CAR ENGINE STARTS
There... You're saved.
So what happens now?
I'm going to do a deal with you, Sam.
What did the police want earlier?
Oh, just a few more questions.
CREAKING
DOOR OPENS
Call the police.
Right...
Mr Lowry, could you tell me what you were doing breaking into the hall last night?
I was planning on getting on a plane.
But I...I left all my cards in my dinner jacket in the laundry room.
Did you kill Jezebel Tripp?
No way.
Look...
I was employed by Jezebel...
I'm not a fitness trainer. I'm a writer.
She er...picked me up in a bar one night a few weeks back.
So, what sort of job did you really do for her?
I was going to be her ghost writer.
It was a one-off opportunity.
She needed a cover for me so no-one found out.
Which was just about OK until we came here.
And, I don't know,
Jez and Neville spent half their time whispering or arguing.
And then Neville was murdered... and she's demanding I take a laptop
from his room and start wiping all this stuff...
She's getting more and more uptight.
Then SHE gets killed.
LOCK CLUNKS
Are you off somewhere, Mrs Hunnicutt?
PHONE RINGS
DS Scott.
Hello, Cully. You -
You've done what?
All right, Tom, no more evasions.
I want to know if you're just stringing me along.
I'm not stringing you along.
I'm interested but not convinced. Put it like that.
This case has shown up the publishing world in an ambiguous light.
You can't make assumptions about everyone because of a few murders.
Oh. Mr Barnaby?
I'm sorry to interrupt but it's rather urgent that I talk to you.
Right...
What do you want to tell me?
Helen Callaghan came to see me last night.
She...claims that Sam has been involved
in a very serious criminal deception.
One that rather puts mine in the shade.
That's absolute rubbish.
Who's been telling you all this? Shall we say "a reliable source"?
Would you rather talk at the station, Mr Callaghan?
You see, in my book, fraud and the need to keep it a secret
are plausible motives for murder.
I admit Jezebel was threatening to go to another publisher.
I admit I fiddled a few figures.
Yes, well, my source says that for the past year,
you have been transferring large quantities of sales from lesser-known authors,
to exaggerate the sales of Jezebel's books.
Make sure she went with you to your new company,
whose start-up you erroneously assumed
Grace Maplin would be able to fund. Now, is that about accurate?
So...
Richard Rackham, Neville Williams, were they first to discover this?
And did you, Mr Callaghan, commit murder to avoid exposure?
Richard and Neville found out what I was doing, yes.
They blackmailed me, yes.
The price was a contract for two new books for Richard.
I agreed. End of story.
Enjoying the book?
I don't think "enjoying" is the right word.
How did you get on with Harry's?
I thought it was a bit predictable, you know.
I'm looking for inspiration, to tell you the truth.
I've got three murders and I'm convinced
there's only one killer and one big motive.
This really is the most awful tripe.
Listen... Philo hauled her beautiful but battered body
onto the starship, doubling forward with the pain.
"You know what I'll do if you leave." Philo turned.
"Grow up, Ninnia."
"I mean it. I can't live or love without you."
Er... Read that last bit again.
Sorry, Cully. Thank you for this. It's all right.
Oh, did you hear about our citizen's arrest of Mrs H?
I did and very commendable too but I have a bigger fish to land.
I haven't got long. The prize-giving is in an hour.
Just ten minutes of your technical expertise.
How far back does it go?
1945.
Can you find a reference to a specific name?
Yeah, just type a keyword.
Key in Poltova. It's P-O-L-T-O-V-A.
No.
Right, try Oliver Crofton.
C-R-O-F-T-O-N.
One match.
September, 1955.
Russian bride acclaimed as secret war hero.
God, she was beautiful.
CHEERING AND APPLAUSE
TIM: Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you, Midsomer.
Right, um... Is this on? FEEDBACK
LAUGHTER
The moment you've been waiting for. Grace will now make the citation
for the 12th annual Maplin Prize winner.
Grace. APPLAUSE
The winner of this year's prize deserves praise on several counts.
For honesty, for courage
and for loyalty to my late husband's literary values.
The winning novel has been forged from a crucible of dark experience,
but has ultimately given birth to a hopeful authorial vision.
The novel is Night Vision.
The author is John Denton.
CHEERING AND APPLAUSE
Phew, er...
Well, I'm really er...
I'm stunned, actually.
I'd just like to say thank you
and I'd like to take a moment to remember Conor Maplin.
Without him, the world would be a less hopeful place.
Thank you very much, everyone.
WILD CHEERING
Er, the trust this year is awarding a further special prize...
..to someone whose literary career is matched only by her commitment
and loyalty to the trust.
Camilla Crofton, ladies and gentlemen.
APPLAUSE
I am immensely flattered and er...
extremely grateful.
To be perfectly frank, my kind of output, as it is now called,
has long been out of fashion.
With publishers, at least. In connection with which,
ladies and gentlemen, I have a story to tell you
and a confession to make.
In a rather wilful attempt to prove my ex-publisher wrong,
I, two years ago, wrote a novel in the chick lit genre.
Actually, it turned out rather well.
Knowing, however, it could never be published under my own name,
I engaged a surrogate, an actor,
a face to match the luridness of the text.
My chosen pen name was...
..Jezebel Tripp.
GASPS
Since the publication of the first novel,
I have enjoyed taking revenge on a fickle and faithless publishing world.
And in that context, I am grateful to receive this prize.
In recognition of values long since abandoned by an industry which...
profits so shamelessly from the talent it so often betrays.
Thank you.
TENTATIVE APPLAUSE Bravo!
Do you know what's going on, sir? Yes, I do.
CHEERING
Camilla.
I'm truly sorry.
Yes, of course.
Here. Thank you.
Well, Tom...
Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby.
How shall we proceed?
You decided to end your arrangement with Jezebel, didn't you?
And to reveal your deception on the occasion of this year's prize-giving.
But you discovered that there were others apart from Jezebel,
whose futures depended on that... arrangement remaining a secret.
In a nutshell, yes.
I rather stupidly warned Jezebel of my intentions.
My guess is that she gathered all interested parties
to come up with the only complete solution.
Your death?
But they didn't realise, the conspirators,
who they were dealing with.
Katarina Poltova.
Pol-TOV-a.
Teenage survivor of the Gulag
who escaped to work as a field officer
at the Wartime Special Operations Executive
before coming to this country.
So...
..you set up the conspirators, did you, one by one?
Starting with Richard Rackham.
You kept your appointment with him...and then you murdered him.
I would have to disagree with you.
I'm afraid I killed automatically, as a reflex, in self-defence.
One did get rather good at killing back in Dubrovnik...
..in the bad old days.
And poor Richard's attempt was extremely amateurish.
I didn't guess the involvement of the others
until I saw Sam Callaghan at the hall,
the morning after Richard's death.
The poor man was rather shocked to find me still alive.
Sam, darling, you look like you've seen a ghost.
And Neville Williams?
He spun me a story about some trouble he was in
and suggested we meet after dinner.
I suspected his intentions.
You came. I'm anxious to help, Neville.
It was all rather...inconvenient.
And...you were getting close. I felt I needed to put you off my scent.
So you planted the love letter.
Well... Love's always a dependable motive for murder, don't you think?
I'd seen Richard hiding the box file earlier.
It was easy to break into the locker and plant the letter.
You didn't kill Jezebel Tripp in self-defence.
Oh, yes. I did.
She suggested a meeting.
I didn't count on John's prints on the tent peg, of course.
(SCREAMS)
It was rather messy.
And that left just Sam Callaghan.
Yes. He broke in, silly man.
I pretended to be asleep on the sofa.
He tried to suffocate me.
I knew you weren't convinced by our intruder story but...
at least I managed not to kill again.
Instead, I made a deal.
My silence in return for my moment of glory.
I'll have to charge you.
Quite right that you should.
Though, I'm hopeful that a good jury will accept a plea of self-defence.
And I have no real regrets.
I'm really rather glad to say goodbye to Jezebel Tripp.
And you never know,
once I've had a chance to digest the experience...
..it may emerge as a rather good book.
Are we all done, sir? Yes, Scott. I suppose we are.
I thought you might like these, if you don't mind dead women's shoes.
What's that? Dinner for two at Sergio's.
It was gonna be me and Jezebel but...
Well, you could take Cully.
I've already asked. She's going out with the worst-dressed man in Midsomer.
Thank you.
Here we go.
Wow!
You can write and you can cook.
Do you want to marry me?
Well, this is a nice surprise.
Well, I thought you deserved a treat.
You're not going to try for that writing thing, are you?
No. No, it was useful. It was interesting.
But I'm very happy where I am, thank you very much.
I was right about the publishing world.
It stinks.
But I'm sure a jury will go for Camilla's plea of self-defence.
I'll do my best to back her up. I'm sure you will.
Hey. To Camilla Crofton.
May she live for ever. Na zdorovye!
ITFC subtitles BETH DALEY