[Bell tolling]
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Man: I need a drink, Pa.
Doc.
Forgiven now.
Forgive and forgot.
What's all this?
Friday kids' club.
No, I agreed to one day a week only.
Popular demand, Rector.
Is there no end?
I asked you to take this down, Hewlett.
I will not have Skimmington propaganda here.
It's community information.
Woman: Ah, there you are.
How's the new job, Anthony?
Quite a change for you, having a woman for a deacon.
And a Skimmington at that.
Sound and fury.
And a nauseating proliferation of salad lunches.
Broughton certainly hasn't settled down much
in my 40 years' absence.
Oxford is dull by comparison...
as is, quite frankly,
this issue of my final resting place...
There's a diseased tree due to come down soon
in the east corner.
Oh, that'll do.
So long as it succumbs without too protracted an illness.
You look to be in rude health, Mildred.
Bad habits catch up with one in the end, Anthony,
as you know.
How did...
Archdeacon Able wrote.
And, anyway, who said anything about a natural death?
Mr. Marwood.
Thank you, sir.
[Telephone rings]
Sir, I'll leave the Farlow file on your desk for Monday.
No, hand that over now. I'll work on it now.
I thought you were keen to get off.
Not particularly.
Mrs. Barnaby's mother is staying for a couple of days.
Ah.
Cully's starting up, too.
It'll be two days of lurid medical discussions.
And the footy, if permitted at all,
will be on the portable in the bedroom.
Nightmare.
And to complete my weekend's enjoyment,
I have community liaison duties to perform
in Broughton.
The Skimmington village?
Nothing good can come of it, Jones.
Nothing good.
Tonight's the night, Pa.
What, you're going to pay your bar bill?
On this night,
history will record the Riders of Broughton
sealed the fate of the Skimmington's forever.
So, what are your plans for tomorrow, ladies?
Ah, well, grandma thinks
we ought to come with you to Broughton.
[Sighs]
To the Skimmington Fayre.
What about some shopping in Oxford?
Broughton's very grim.
Grim? Humph.
Tragic more like.
What?
Oh, it was a mistake I suppose you'd call it.
Episode in 1916.
Montague Marwood. Big local landowner.
He raised an entire company from the village.
Whole generation of men.
And then, one night, he led them all to a terrible death.
Leaving their wives and children to starve.
The women formed a self-help group,
the Skimmington Society.
They worked together,
they raised money, educated each other,
and took control of the village.
Yeah, but how do you know all this?
Oh, it was a story I heard
when I worked in the Land Army
during the War.
The Second World War.
[Laughs]
The Society's still going strong, I believe.
And the centerpiece is the Skimmington Ride.
As I understand it, that Ride
is a barbaric, medieval ritual revived by
the Skimmington ladies to humiliate their menfolk.
Yes.
I'd really rather like to see it.
Cully: Unmissable.
There. That's settled.
[Toy squeaks]
[Kicks rattle]
We're having a party next week.
We'd be honored if you'd join us.
Oh, delighted.
And we'll see you at 0930 tomorrow at the committee rooms
for the pre-Fayre briefing.
I'll be there.
Great to meet you, Mrs. D.
You're too kind.
Hard to believe
you're related to our public enemy number one.
See you tomorrow.
I assume you'll be staying for the Fayre tomorrow, cousin.
Actually, I'm making a speech.
The Skimmingtons are making me honorary president.
One wonders why
you chose to stay here at the Knox
and not down at Aynscombe Farm.
Oh, but, Anthony, sleeping with the enemy is so much
more interesting.
Polly, man needs serving in the club room.
I'm not stopping you.
Evening, Mrs. D!
Evening, Polly.
Bob.
Mildred, could I come up for a moment?
You'll be late for your meeting.
Yes, but, uh...
About the archdeacon's letter,
perhaps I might call on you later?
If you like.
[Door opens]
[Dialing]
Woman: Welcome to B T call minder.
The person you are calling is not available.
Please leave a message after the tone.
[Beep]
This is Mildred Danvers at the Knox.
I think you'll know why I'm calling.
Apologies, Chairman, a medical emergency.
Opened the off-license late, did they, Doctor O?
Oh, the cruel perspicacity of youth.
[Knock on table]
Attention, members.
If we could all settle down, please.
I call this meeting of the Riders Club to order.
Before we begin,
Roland and I
would like to thank you all for your prayers
and kind support since Vivienne passed on.
Hear, hear. Much appreciated.
[Knock on door]
Door, Alan.
Man: Don't want anybody hearing our Riders business.
Oh, yes. Polly? Polly?
Do you mind?
Blessing, Anthony. Make it a good one.
We beseech thee, Lord,
that it may please thee to strengthen such as do stand,
to comfort the weakhearted,
and give us courage to beat down the Skimmingtons
under our feet, amen.
Amen.
Historic news, members.
The tyranny of the Skimmingtons is finally over.
I can safely say that tomorrow will be the last time
that we bow our necks to the yoke
and submit to the awful humiliation of the Ride.
[Scoffs] You're not married to a Skimmington.
O'Dowd: Well, the Ride's a symbol
of some old conflicts in the village right enough,
but it's just that, Anthony, a symbol.
Two-pronged strategy.
One, Anthony's new blood.
He's bound to be nominated tonight.
So we've been training with Bluebell,
and we're confident.
Number two, the legal offensive.
Anthony.
Make no mistake, gentlemen,
the monstrous regiment of women marches ever on.
The battle for Broughton must be joined once more and won.
Men: Hear, hear!
Henry: Attention, members.
Oh, great.
[Chuckles]
Well done, Polly.
Well, Skimmingtons, it looks like
Gant and Roland have guessed that the reverend
might just be nominated as our rider this year.
Polly: They've been secretly
working on his technique.
I saw them in the paddock last night.
He was hopeless.
What about the legal issue though?
Can Gant really get us outlawed for discrimination?
The legislation's been around for ages.
But it's for the protection of women.
It cuts both ways, Fi.
Our constitution
explicitly forbids male members.
Which, strictly speaking, has been illegal for some time.
Are we making a mistake nominating Gant at all?
We can't let him dictate to us. He's got to be stopped.
Have a quiet word with him tomorrow
before the Ride. He won't listen.
And we can't let him close us down or stop the Ride.
Gant's a throwback, Mum.
He really believes that women are the root of all evil.
If Lorna's talks fail, we'll decide
on a new action plan as soon as the Fayre's over.
For now, we have to cast our votes and nominate our rider.
[Knock on door]
Come in.
Mrs. Danvers.
I'm just returning
your flask.
Dr. O'Dowd found it at the hermitage this afternoon.
Mr. Marwood.
Very kind of you.
You, um... You didn't know my wife personally?
Regrettably, no.
Her late mother, and yours, were friends of mine
many years ago before I went abroad.
Cocoa, Mrs. D.
Well, thank you,
and good night, Mrs. Danvers.
[Door closes]
You're not serious about pursuing
this legal nonsense against the Skimmingtons, are you?
Deadly.
You'll have a fight on your hands
and need come looking to me to heal your wounds.
Good night, gents.
Good night.
Come for brandy, Anthony?
Not tonight, Rollie.
We must have clear heads for tomorrow.
And I have some business to attend to.
[Car door closes]
[Laughter as engine starts]
[Distant rattling]
[Footsteps approach]
[Knock on door]
Come in.
You worried about Gant?
Well, he's certainly stirred things up.
You coming home?
[Sighs] In a bit.
I'll see you later.
[Straining] I have erred, Lord,
and strayed from my path
like a lost sheep.
I have followed too much
the devices and desires of my sinful heart.
Help me to beat down my enemies underfoot.
[Bell tolling]
Hmm.
You know, you'll frighten someone
to his grave one of these days.
Trouble sleeping, old friend?
Quiet in the van.
Chatty here.
Spirits help.
Huh.
I'll not disagree with you there.
Woman: Can you give me a hand?
Cully: Who's John Knox?
Oh, an infamous Scots misogynist.
Long dead.
Probably where the men hide
from the Skimmingtons.
Rather appropriate, if that's the case.
Look, I do think a modicum of respect is due to the men
who sacrificed their lives in two world wars.
Mind you, if they hadn't died,
this would be a much happier village.
It seems perfectly happy.
Dad! Dad!
Call the police!
Gant: For all of us, there is a time
ordained by God the father, Almighty,
a time to plant and a time to pluck up,
and inasmuch as that time has now come
for our dear cousin...
[Knock on door]
Um, I just happened
to be arriving outside.
This is Det. Chief Inspector Barnaby of Causton police.
He's doing the honors with the starting pistol this year.
Anthony Gant... cousin of the deceased.
Mrs. Mildred Danvers.
I came up just now to visit, couldn't get a reply.
Polly brought the passkey.
Dr. O'Dowd at your service.
Doctor.
What's the cause of death?
Heart attack. She had a history, I understand.
Nothing for you to ruin your weekend over, Mr. Barnaby.
No, I'm sure you're right.
[Crying] Mrs. D was going to be made honorary president!
Of the Skimmington Society.
Would you excuse me?
I've got rather a busy day, a shooting competition
to host before the Fayre begins.
Yes.
I should, um, go and make some arrangements.
History of heart attacks, eh?
Doctor?
Yes?
Did she have something in her hand
when you came up here?
Oh, yes. A flask.
I moved it to examine her.
Now where is it?
Strange. I...
Oh.
There now.
Here it is.
Nothing untoward, I hope.
Better safe than sorry.
[Dialing mobile]
Jones, are you busy?
[Footsteps on gravel]
[Door opens, closes]
[Door opens]
[Bell ringing]
Mrs. Hastings.
Condolences, Anthony. I just heard about Mildred.
Still, not a mercy call, I imagine.
I come to parlay.
Did Mrs. Danvers have any visitors last night, Polly?
Um...
I heard Mr. Gant
asking if he could see her after the meeting.
Something about a letter.
What meeting was that?
Riders Club.
They were all here.
The Marwoods, Reverend Gant, the doctor.
Poor old Alan,
the gravedigger.
He talks to dead people.
Oh.
And I saw Mr. Marwood in Mrs. Danvers' room
when I took up her cocoa... half 9:00ish.
They knew each other, did they?
Mrs. D knew his mother
from years ago, apparently.
She attended his wife's funeral yesterday.
Who made Mrs. Danvers' cocoa last night?
Dad did.
Are you the copper?
I'm Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby, yes.
Cathy Hewlett, church deacon.
I've just heard about Mildred Danvers.
Do you know how she died?
That is yet to be precisely established.
Why do you ask?
I heard her talking to Anthony Gant
yesterday about her burial plot.
She told him she doubted if her death would be a natural one.
Joyce! Everything all right?
Possibly not. I've called out a team.
Ugh!
Never a dull moment in Broughton, it seems.
Wouldn't you rather drive over to Oxford, Mum?
Oh, don't be a sissy, Joyce.
This is much more fun than shopping.
[Horn honks]
Jones.
Jones: What have we got, sir?
We've got Mildred Danvers. Age 78, deceased.
And you don't think she died of old age.
Let's say I've got reasonable doubt.
Gets you out from under anyway.
I'm not in the habit of using murder as an excuse.
No, of course, but there are upsides.
Look, it's a bit late.
Secure the scene as best you can.
Hold on to that for Bullard.
I've got to make a call.
[Gunshot]
Woman: Good shot! Very well done!
Oh, marvellous, Peggy.
Skimmingtons now two shots ahead.
Hurrah for Skimmingtons!
Roland?
You're up.
You're next to shoot.
The Skimmingtons are having the best of the luck, are they?
Not luck.
No, they're just better than us, I'm afraid.
Have been for a long time.
Hasn't there ever been an outbreak of peace?
[Chuckles] There's acceptance in the main.
The Riders aren't much of a match for the Skimmingtons
these days.
[Gunshot]
Woman: I say, well done!
Woman: Well done! Nice shot, girl!
Henry: So, what can I do for you?
Mildred Danvers.
Her death might have been due to foul play.
[Gunshot]
Whatever makes you say that?
We believe her hip flask might have been spiked.
[Gunshot]
Oh, well,
I-I never met her until yesterday.
There was coffee for the guests after the funeral
and I was introduced briefly.
And I believe that you went to see Mildred
after that meeting last night.
That's right. Yes, of course I did.
Um, yeah. She'd left her gloves behind.
I returned them to her.
[Gunshot]
Woman: Jolly good shot!
Henry, final shot to you.
A bull's -eye
would tie the competition.
[Gunshot]
Man: Oh, tough luck, Henry.
Congratulations, Mrs. Aynscombe.
Thanks.
Lorna Hastings, our chair.
This is my daughter, Fiona.
And you've met Cathy, I understand.
Our invigilator for the Skimmington Ride, ladies,
Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby.
How do you do?
Um, I understand that you all knew Mrs. Danvers.
Can you tell me when you last saw her?
Well, Fiona and I saw her briefly
last night before our meeting.
And does anyone here know of anyone in the village
with a reason to harm her?
No. Why?
Well, Cathy could tell you.
She overheard Mrs. Danvers suggesting
her death might be an unnatural one.
Let's hope she was mistaken.
[Bell ringing]
Oh, um, I'm afraid that's our cue, Mr. Barnaby.
Retribution time.
Well done. Take your ladles.
Right, fellas, this is it. Show them what we're made of.
Come on, mate. Riders.
Women, chanting: Skimmington! Skimmington!
[Bell ringing]
[Window opens]
[Car tires on gravel]
Skimmington! Skimmington! Skimmington!
Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen!
[Cheers and applause]
I'm Tom Barnaby, and I'm standing in
for the chief constable, who, sadly, cannot be with us today.
Anything in the flask?
10-year-old brandy and lashings of barbiturates.
[Cheers and applause]
Maybe I should stop the proceedings.
Boss would be happy.
[Scoffs] Like to see you try.
...to welcome you all to this year's Skimmington Fayre.
[Cheers and applause]
Um...
As you all probably know, it traditionally starts with,
uh, [chuckles] a unique event.
So, without further ado, I'll hand you over
to the chairperson, Ms. Lorna Hastings,
for this year's Skimmington Ride nomination.
[Women cheer, men boo]
The charge is for flagrant misogyny.
And the nominee is the Reverend Anthony Gant.
[Men cheer, women boo] Yeah!
The Skimmingtons have laid down their challenge.
Now is for the rider to show his mettle.
[Mixed boos and cheers]
The women may beat the rider freely
with their skimming ladles
but not impede the donkey's progress.
If the rider can last the course without falling off his mount,
he wins the right to suspend the Ride indefinitely.
If not, the Riders must return next year to try again.
[Applause]
Is the rider ready?
Are the Skimmingtons ready?
[Cheers]
[Gunshot]
[Women chanting "Skimmington"]
[Men chanting "Rider"]
[Crowd gasps]
He's been shot.
Well, don't look at me.
[Siren wails]
Guys.
I think it best if you go home. Or what do you want to do?
Well, if I can get mum away from all the excitement.
Excuse me.
Looks like shopping in Oxford.
Yes. See you later.
Jones. Jones!
I'm sorry.
Leave that. It's pointless.
I've got uniform collecting all the cameras.
Someone somewhere must have some useful footage.
Ah, good thinking, sir.
Oh, thank you. So glad you approve.
Alan.
You are Alan, aren't you?
I'm Tom Barnaby, Causton CID.
You worked for the Reverend Gant, didn't you?
Mr. Henry, he pay me.
Our people here.
I mind them.
Polly told me that you talk to the... uh, to your people.
They talks to me. Chatterer, chatterer.
Alan, did you see the Reverend Gant
this morning before the Ride?
"Morning, Reverend." "Morning, Alan."
And did the Reverend Gant seem his usual self?
No problems?
Miss Lorna. She never come.
Lorna.
Yes.
Lorna Hastings?
There was a barney.
Lorna Hastings and the Reverend Gant,
they argued this morning?
She never come.
You all right, old friend?
Anything I can do to help, Mr. Barnaby?
Alan here is quite special, if you know what I mean.
Yes, doctor,
if you could give me a list of all those people
you prescribed barbiturates for during the last year,
that will be very helpful.
[Door opens, closes]
What you got?
Quite a bit.
First off, Valium.
Found them in a desk.
Gant's name, recent date, only two pills left.
Thing is though,
if Gant did spike Mildred's flask last night,
and he was the first person in her room this morning,
why leave the murder weapon for us to find?
Why indeed?
Have a look at this, sir.
Window's been jemmied.
Now, I sent a PC straight over here
to watch the place after the shooting.
So if the Reverend Gant left here just before the Ride,
the intruder must have gotten in here
then or during the Ride, yeah?
Yeah.
Anything taken?
It's hard to say with all this stuff.
It looks as if the Reverend Gant
was trying to mount some sort of legal challenge
against the Skimmington Society.
These are Mildred Danvers' effects, aren't they?
Yeah, looks like it.
Maybe she gave them to him.
Sir.
Or maybe not.
Barnaby: Archdeacon?
Oh, Mr. Barnaby.
It's devastating news. Mildred was a great mate.
We, um... We met in Africa in '75.
Anthony was a one-off.
I was wondering, you know,
if you had any ideas about motivation.
For murder? Yes.
I can't imagine.
Anthony was a troubled soul, pretty obsessive.
Obsessive? About what?
Trying to prevent the incursion of women
into all aspects of life.
On a loser there, obviously.
Was your appointment of Miss Hewlett as his deacon,
was that intended to underline that point?
Cruel, I know, but educational.
Compromise was never Anthony's strongest suit.
I understand that you had, for some reason,
been writing to Mrs. Danvers.
Was that something concerning Reverend Gant?
Yes. Very sad.
I mean, I used all influence I had,
but he had to leave Oxford.
Wound up back in Broughton for his sins, poor man.
What sins?
Oh, nothing illegal.
I mean, it was some embarrassing...
Said it was a young man on a posh christening party.
Oh, Tony was gay, you know, and, well, he'd had a few,
and he and this young chap were discovered
groping behind the champagne fountain.
I wrote to Mildred about it,
when she first got back,
to avoid awkward questions for Anthony.
You don't think the letter
could have caused some kind of problem?
I don't think anything at the moment, Archdeacon.
O'Dowd: All patients prescribed
barbiturates during the past year,
as requested.
Thank you.
Cathy Hewlett.
Roland Marwood.
Reverend Gant.
Yes, he lived on his nerves did Anthony.
Cathy sprained her ankle
last month, couldn't sleep.
And Roland Marwood.
His mother's illness took a toll.
Seems you were a bit quick
to assume natural causes, doctor.
Clearly I was, yes.
Did Mrs. Danvers have any enemies you know of
in the village, I mean, someone settling old scores?
Well, she was a Skimmington before she went away,
but her fighting days were long over, Mr. Barnaby.
The early evidence suggests
that Mrs. Danvers was murdered by the Reverend Gant
to stop her exposing a secret in his past.
Except everybody knew his secret.
Everybody knew?
That Anthony and Henry Marwood were half brothers, yes.
Henry's father was a bit of a... roamer.
Anthony was his love child.
His parents died in a big fire in 1960.
Henry's parents were killed in that fire, too, weren't they?
Yes, Henry was an infant. He has no memory of them.
There were others, too. Family, friends.
It was a devastating tragedy.
That's who Alan talks to, you know,
all those poor souls
lost that night.
He was 6.
Still is, to all intents and purposes.
But I often think
he remembers so that the rest of us can forget.
Yeah.
Thanks, mate.
The barbiturate found
in Mildred's flask doesn't match any of these.
[Scoffs] Not surprised.
It's the sort used by vets.
Vets? Yeah.
We're going to need an incident room.
Hey, Jones.
[Telephone ringing]
Sir.
[Donkey braying]
[Cheers]
Very photogenic, sir.
Oh, thank you.
Anything from the lab?
Yeah, there's traces of old limewater
on the trigger of Fiona Aynscombe's gun
and an eyelash that isn't Mildred's
in the bottom of her flask.
We managed to get some prints off the flask, as well...
Mildred Danvers, Dr. O'Dowd, and Henry Marwood.
Henry Marwood?
[Squawking]
I hope I'm not interrupting.
No.
Is that Marwood Hall?
Ah, the ruins of.
Luck has not been with us for quite a while.
So, what can I do for you?
Mildred Danvers' hip flask.
Your fingerprints were on it.
[Sighs]
I've been such a fool.
I really don't know why. It's...
[Sighs]
I suppose I haven't been thinking very clearly.
I lied about the gloves.
It was the flask I was returning to her.
And why didn't you tell me that straightaway?
It was cowardly.
Well... You just said that you suspected foul play,
and I...
Oh, I just didn't want any more fuss after Vivienne.
I...
I know how it looks.
I'm assuming that you knew about the Reverend Gant's,
uh, troubles in Oxford.
Yes.
Were you aware
that Mildred Danvers knew about them, too?
No.
So you weren't trying to save your half brother
from exposure then?
No. No!
I have no idea
why anyone would want to do away with Mrs. Danvers.
Or Anthony.
[Sheep bleating]
It's Mrs. Hastings, by the way.
I lost my husband.
Oh, an assumption. I do beg your pardon.
Rumors that we're all raging dykes at Aynscombe Farm
are erroneous.
But no less popular for that.
How can we help?
Um, we've had confirmation about Mildred Danvers' death.
It wasn't natural causes. It wasn't suicide.
It was, indeed, murder.
And I believe that one or both of you
have information that's relevant to our inquiries.
I'm not sure what you mean.
Mrs. Hastings...
two people have died here
in the last 24 hours.
Can I recommend that you cooperate
without prevarication.
It's my fault... I asked Lorna not to say anything.
The day after Mildred
arrived in the village, she shared a confidence
with Lorna and I.
We already know about the scandal that brought
the Reverend Gant to Broughton.
What was Mildred's reason
for telling you about that?
Oh, she was aware of her cousin's attitude
towards women.
She thought the information might prove useful.
So when you said Mildred might have been murdered...
I saw Gant last night, you see,
coming out of the pub.
What time was that?
About quarter to 10:00.
I was locking up the committee rooms.
And you've withheld that information, haven't you?
Murder's not an accusation you make
without firm evidence, Mr. Barnaby.
[Laughs]
Is that why you went to see the Reverend Gant
at the rectory this morning, Mrs. Hastings?
No, no.
We had other things to discuss.
Like blackmail?
Yes.
Peggy and I agreed the legal thing was a serious threat,
so I went to talk to him.
And suggested that if he drop it,
the legal action, that is,
you'd keep his little secret.
Those were the broad strokes.
Did it work?
He was understandably upset.
But he agreed to reconsider.
Which is why none of us would have
any reason to shoot him, Mr. Barnaby,
if that was your next question.
Gant's got to be our man, hasn't he?
Something to hide,
plenty of opportunity, and he was spotted...
No, no. George Bullard said
that the cocktail that Mildred Danvers drank
would have killed her within half an hour.
Now, Gant left the pub at quarter to 10:00.
Mildred Danvers didn't die till after midnight.
See? Still plenty of time for someone else to visit her.
True.
What about Gant's killer?
Well, I suppose shooting down the Skimmington Society
might have provided a motive.
What are you doing here?
Uh... my job, Ms. Aynscombe, my job.
I understand the Reverend Gant and you
didn't always see eye to eye, is that true?
You could say that.
When the bell rang for the start of the Ride,
you said something like, um, "It's retribution time."
I didn't shoot him.
Well, someone with a very good eye
and a rifle very like yours
certainly did.
Me and Fi were on the green all the time.
Our guns were locked in Fi's car outside the committee rooms.
Don't leave the village, ladies.
May want to talk to you again.
[Car door opens]
[Closes]
Who poisoned Mildred?
I have no idea.
Do you know who shot Anthony?
No, of course not.
Then what's going on?
I don't know what to think.
Don't you trust me, Peggy, even now?
Jones.
Sir.
Good news only, please.
Mum-in-law's not leaving.
Only two more days.
I've released Mrs. Danvers' body for burial.
You and I are going to attend the funeral.
Any notable absentees, crocodile tears,
that sort of thing.
Well, the good news is forensics found
another eyelash on Fiona Aynscombe's gunsight.
Yeah. They did a DNA check,
and it matches the one in the flask,
so odds on, we're talking one killer.
Now all we have to do is put a name to the DNA
and we're out of here.
Yeah. You know what that means, don't you?
Means getting a voluntary mouth swab
from every single person in this village,
including the Skimmingtons.
Yeah, well, that was
the bad news part of the good news, sir.
Only for you, Jones.
We'll get uniform to sort it, yeah?
It's not a uniform job, that, Jones, not on my shift.
Got the kit in my car.
You can get started as soon as we establish
the position of our sniper.
Clock tower, sir?
It's got to be, hasn't it?
George.
Bullard: Tom.
Now, from video footage taken by spectators, we've established
pretty accurately where the victim was
when the bullet struck.
We've calculated the angle
at which the bullet entered the skull.
And...
Hey, presto!
Well, that's amazing, George, thank you.
So helpful.
It's marvellous, isn't it?
Hello there, Alan.
Alan, I wonder if you could tell me what did you do
after you rang the bell to start the Ride?
Did you see anyone go into the church during the Ride?
Chatter, chatter.
Too busy. They don't like that.
Sir.
Ah, Jones, you ready?
As I'll ever be.
Thank you, Alan.
Good morning, Cathy.
I'm sorry to disturb you.
I need to take a quick look in the bell tower if I may.
I suppose so.
Thank you.
Oh, and DC Jones here has something to ask you.
What?
Open wide, Ms. Hewlett.
[Bell rings]
Forensic evidence places your gun
firmly in the bell tower, Ms. Aynscombe.
I told you, I didn't shoot Gant,
from the bell tower or anywhere else.
And you did say, did you not, in your statement, that you
and only you had the keys to your vehicle and the gun rack?
And there's no evidence to suggest the car was broken into.
No, but...
I lost my keys, actually.
What?
Or thought I did.
Well, you didn't mention this before, did you?
Me and Cath were in the middle of the crowd.
Everyone was jostling to see.
I put my hand in my pocket.
I assumed the keys had fallen out.
And when did you rediscover them?
Not until after Gant was dead
and we were asked to give in our rifles.
I wasn't even thinking about it.
Went back to the car, put my hand in my pocket,
there they were.
I thought I'd made a mistake.
So, can I get on now?
Morning, girls.
Who's that then? Ladies.
Who are you?
[Clears throat] I'm DC Jones,
and I work with DCI Barnaby.
He's asked me to ask you all
for voluntary mouth swabs for DNA testing.
Voluntary?
Yeah.
Answer's "no" then.
Refusing to cooperate implies you've got something to hide.
All right, you can do me first.
Don't worry, DC Jones, I'll be gentle.
[Laughter]
Pa.
Roland. I wanted to...
DC Jones is here.
He wants to test our DNA.
Right.
Cup of tea, sir.
Thank you.
Mr. Barnaby. Mrs. Hastings.
Mind if I disturb you for five minutes?
Some files I need. No, no, please. Help yourself.
Thank you.
[Telephone ringing]
Are you getting anywhere?
Information gathering.
Anything I can help you with?
Uh, yes.
Did you know Henry Marwood's wife... Vivienne?
Not well.
She'd been ill for years.
Why do you ask?
Information gathering.
[Door opens]
Successful afternoon?
Like blood out of a stone, sir.
And that was the easy bit.
Well, thanks anyway.
Oh, Mrs. Hastings, before you go,
would you mind letting DC Jones here take a DNA sample?
[Car doors unlock]
Bonny as ever, Lorn.
I'm busy as ever.
You have time for an old friend.
Not right now, Kieron.
It's always cruel postponements with you females.
When you know what I've felt about you all these years.
What's brought this on?
Murder.
Makes you think.
Mildred's funeral is in less than an hour.
Come over to the house for five minutes.
It's important.
It concerns Henry and Peggy.
[Car alarm beeps]
So how did you find out?
Same way as you did, I should imagine.
Poor Vivienne was ill and getting worse.
Peggy and Henry, lonely
and tired of fighting their families' empty battles.
I won't be talking.
You can count on me.
I thought we should meet on neutral territory.
What do you want?
A truce.
And an exchange of information.
Very funny.
Things have changed, Fiona.
You could say now we have interests in common.
[Bell tolling]
Before we begin, Peggy has asked
to say a few words.
Peggy: We're here to mourn the first
of two untimely and violent deaths.
But, surely,
we're also here to ask ourselves,
"How on earth has it come to this?"
I don't know why Mildred or Anthony were killed or by whom,
but if it had anything to do with our past conflicts here,
I want to say that the time to forgive is now.
Right now.
Because...
Because Henry Marwood and I are in love.
[Scattered gasps, murmuring]
In fact, he's asked me to be his wife.
And I've accepted.
In going public now, I hope we will persuade
others that it's time...
to bring peace to Broughton.
Come on now, everybody.
Let's say bravo to Peggy and Henry
for having the courage to forgive the past
and look to the future.
Come on.
Right.
Well, if you've finished, Peggy,
we'll return to the business at hand.
[Clears throat]
In the midst of life,
we are in death.
Of whom may we seek for succor, but of thee, O Lord,
who for our sins art justly displeased?
Now do you trust me?
No.
But you were right after all.
I will not have everything my family has worked for
given up to a Marwood.
Hewlett: So what will happen?
Will she bring him here,
let him just take over everything?
The Marwoods' debts alone will probably bankrupt us.
Don't be an idiot, Fi.
Peggy's fallen in love.
She hasn't taken leave of her senses.
I can't believe you're even thinking that, Lorna.
We have to stop this marriage happening.
Find just cause or impediment.
So, what is just cause?
It's possible Henry killed Mildred or Gant.
What reason could he have?
The DNA never lies.
That's what DC Jones said.
If Henry's the killer, they'll find out eventually.
It might be too late by then.
You knew them, Lorna, the Marwoods.
You worked for them.
There must be some skeleton in their closet.
There's Vivienne Marwood's death.
I mean, she was demented,
poor woman, but she was still young.
What, suddenly she gets pneumonia and dies?
Very convenient in light of the thing with my mother.
No point in meeting here anymore, eh?
Oh, come here.
You really shouldn't have told anyone, Peggy.
Not Barnaby.
Why not?
We've got nothing to hide anymore.
What's this?
You really shouldn't have told them.
I never thought I'd be this glad to be in a pub with no women.
Really?
We're collecting DNA swabs,
Doctor, and Detective Jones here is having a little problem
persuading the ladies.
Well, if you need my help, I've got some leverage.
Even Skimmingtons need a doctor sometimes.
Are you serious?
A large Irish and I'm at your service.
And for me. Sir.
You never married then, Doc?
Not for the want of trying, Mr. Barnaby.
No Skimmington would have you?
Not the one I wanted.
No.
I'll catch up, Fi.
Talking of skeletons in closets,
I'd forgotten about this.
I, um, found it...
when I broke into the rectory.
It was Fi's idea.
I was looking for what he had on us.
Look, this man's got to be Henry's father.
And that's Mildred.
So was she Henry's father's secret lover?
Do you want to leave the case with me?
I'll lock it up in my pharmacy cupboard.
Get my girl
to arrange the appointments in the morning.
Sir?
No, that'll be fine. You go back with him.
Make sure they're locked up safely.
Doc, you're a star.
Where are you going?
Home.
To souse myself in cheap whiskey,
as is my preferred habit.
You're a Rider.
You've got a duty to fight this marriage.
Oh, grow up, Roland.
Maybe a kick up the arse...
I don't think so, Mr. Marwood.
Grateful to you, Ben.
Is this where they met?
Fiona: She completely fooled me.
She lied to everyone.
Dad was the same.
Tried to get him to talk about what was going on once.
So you knew what they were doing?
Even before your mother died?
No.
But I had my suspicions.
Her death
was very sudden.
I even wondered whether he'd...
you know.
Seriously?
You must have hated my mother.
[Glass shatters]
[Knock on door] Come in.
[Door opens]
Sir.
On the right.
Oh.
Sorry to make you miss your breakfast, Mr. Barnaby.
It's no problem. What happened?
I was in the surgery
finishing something off about 11:00.
I felt something land on my head.
The next thing I know, I'm on the floor,
it's 4:00 in the morning.
Anything taken?
My wallet,
some prescription sheets.
I mean, kids, I'd imagine.
Oh, they didn't get into the pharmacy cupboard.
Jones: Cupboard was locked tight.
Everything's here.
Not sure I buy this as a robbery.
Maybe the attacker wanted it to look this way.
Roland Marwood could have had a pop.
He was looking for a fight in the pub last night.
I'll have a word if you like, sir.
No, no, no.
You've got the DNA samples to collect.
[Squawking]
[Door opens]
[Door closes]
Kieron's been attacked, Rollie.
The police want to talk to you.
Why me?
Well, you weren't exactly friendly
towards the doctor last night, were you?
I was drunk.
Mr. Marwood, you tell me where you were between 10:30
and 12:00 last night.
Upstairs. In my room.
Don't lie, Rollie.
But I was.
Look, I saw you leave the house.
All right.
I was with Fiona Aynscombe.
To half 2:00 if you must know.
We were discussing our common dilemma.
Apologies for the choice of rendezvous.
Don't mind.
And thanks for coming.
Not at all.
This is hard, Henry.
[Sighs]
I realize it must have been a shock.
No, I didn't mean...
No, I'm delighted about you and Peggy.
I really couldn't be happier.
I...
Kieron told me about Vivienne.
Oh.
I see.
He says you're talking about going to the police.
Talking.
I can't tell you what to do, Henry.
But just remember what you've got to lose.
I can hardly forget, Lorna.
But in the end, it's a question of conscience.
I suppose you're right.
Goodbye, Henry.
Look, I'm really not sure...
You wouldn't want to get done for ignoring evidence.
Ms. Aynscombe...
Ms. Aynscombe, what can we do for you?
I'm here to demand an exhumation.
It's not a joke, sir.
Roland says no post-mortem was carried out on Vivienne's body.
Even he suspects Henry.
He's got motive... his affair with my mother...
and now there's new evidence
to suggest he might have murdered Mildred.
You've got to dig up Vivienne.
She's serious.
Yes, I get the idea.
What new evidence?
Thank you.
Did you get this when you broke into the rectory?
That was Cath, actually.
But the point is,
that must be Henry's father with Mildred.
Maybe Mildred had something on the family,
and he killed her to keep her quiet.
Maybe he poisoned Vivienne, too.
Ben says that some poisons can stay in people's bodies
for years after they've been buried.
Any proper police investigation...
Well, what a well-informed constable Ben is.
Thank you, Ms. Aynscombe. Thank you for coming in.
I'll hold onto this for the minute, if you don't mind.
In the meantime,
might I suggest that you leave the proper investigation
to the police?
If I come clean...
They'll arrest you, Henry, and Kieron.
Sorry to intrude.
I'd like a word with you,
Mr. Marwood, if I may.
You're here to ask me if I murdered my wife.
Yes.
You better see this.
Thank you.
Vivienne loved life.
She was terrified of losing her independence.
And even more of losing her senses.
She was haunted by that.
She wrote that to me when she was first diagnosed.
She insisted that if I...
I truly cared for her, I'd be prepared to...
see her off before she lost her... dignity.
And did you?
One night,
Vivienne and I both had flu.
It had gone to her lungs,
and she had a terrible temperature,
but she was more rational than she'd been in months.
But I had some
very strong sleeping pills.
I fetched them and brought them back
to Vivienne's room,
but she'd fallen asleep,
so I... I just sat there, and I watched her.
I suppose I must have fallen asleep, too,
because...
I woke up some time later,
and the bottle of pills was on the bedside table half empty.
Vivienne was...
dead.
I'm not trying to escape any of the consequences of this.
I'm just trying to tell you the truth
of what actually happened.
I had intended to help her die that night.
But in the end,
she helped herself.
[Bell tolling]
That's Anthony's funeral. What are you going to do?
[Knock on door]
Can I have a word, sir?
Yes.
I think Cathy Hewlett's our murderer.
Her eyelashes are on the rifle and in the flask.
You don't look happy.
[Thunder crashes]
Everything all right?
It's Cathy. She doesn't appear to be here.
And the church is locked.
I've just been to her cottage. She's not answering.
What are you going on about?
Alan?
Do you know where our deacon is...
Cathy?
Do you have any idea where she is?
Chatter, chatter now.
They don't like that.
Too busy.
Jones!
What's she saying, Alan?
Chatting, chatter.
Not a happy chap.
Don't suppose she is.
[Siren wailing]
Blunt force trauma to back of skull.
Sometime before midnight.
I found these in Cathy's cottage
under her bed.
Back to two killers then.
Don't jump to conclusions, Jones.
We're never going to get out of here, are we, sir?
It's Groundhog Day.
Well, at least we've got some new leads to follow.
We have?
Yeah.
Need a file from the archive.
The Marwood Hall fire. August 1960.
Sir.
And, George. George?
Need a DNA sample from that body.
ASAP. Right.
We do have her DNA though, sir, many times over.
Yes, I know we have. Just indulge me.
Sir.
There's something I'd like you to look at,
if you'd be so kind.
I want some clarification...
well, identification... of the people in these photos.
This is my family and some friends.
That's my grandfather.
There's my mother.
That's Mildred, isn't it?
Yeah, I suppose it is. It looks like it.
And this man?
Why, that's Fred Hastings, I think.
Lorna's husband.
Oh, and there's Lorna. Look.
Don't see my father anywhere.
Um...
That's him, isn't it?
Next to Mildred.
No.
No, that... that's not my father.
Well, that's my father there.
We look very alike, but I've never seen this man before.
Peace and quiet.
"Ps" and "Qs." Better mind them.
Hello, Alan.
Alan.
Can you show me where little Benjamin Hastings
is buried, please?
Lorna Hastings' child.
Alan, when we met before, you said that Mrs. Hastings
"never come."
Lorna never came.
Did you mean here, to the graveyard?
No one ever come for him.
Poor baby.
Hello, Jones!
Sir.
They finished in the churchyard?
Yes, sir.
You've got a theory, haven't you?
I know that look.
Well, I may have half an idea.
Clue?
I'll do better than that.
Get yourself back to George Bullard.
As soon as he gets the DNA
from Cathy Hewlett's body, ask him to retest it
against all the samples we've already got, okay?
Why?
And then, and only then,
you may read the name that I have written here.
Try and work out how I got there.
Oh, Mr. Barnaby.
May I come in?
Tell me, Doctor, did you mean to take the flask
that morning we met in the Knox?
No, I... No.
But you can tell me who attacked you last night.
I've no idea who attacked me.
Oh, but I think you do have, doctor.
You can tell me who attacked you and who the murderer is because
they are one and the same person.
Well, well, well.
We've got you a new match.
And I think you'll find
that's who it is.
[Chuckles] Clever chap, that boss of yours.
You went to the police.
You used me.
I had to try and stop them.
By accusing my father of murder?
You said it, not me.
Well, it hasn't worked.
No.
I'm sorry, Roland.
I was wrong.
Truce?
There.
You see, Ms. Aynscombe,
cooperation with the other half of the human race,
much easier than you think.
Can you tell me where Mrs. Hastings is, please?
She had an appointment in Oxford.
Mum and Henry have taken her to the station.
Mrs. Lorna Hastings,
I am arresting you for questioning
on suspicion of murder.
What?
No, wait, this is ridiculous.
It's all right, Peggy.
I love you both.
Please.
Can you tell me the name of the man
in this photograph, please?
His name was Jack Braintree.
And he is the real father of Henry Marwood, isn't he?
Yes, he is.
But the man Peggy Aynscombe is due to marry
isn't really Henry Marwood, is he?
He's actually
your illegitimate son by this man.
I was due to be married that month.
Jack was an acquaintance of the Marwood family,
a teak farmer from Burma.
He'd caught Mildred's eye, I knew.
And one night, he caught me.
By the time I discovered I was pregnant,
Jack was long gone.
So a year after the babies were born,
Benjamin and Henry,
a fire broke out at Marwood Hall.
You're trapped with the babies in the nursery.
Your husband dies trying to get to you.
I could hear little Henry screaming.
The smoke was so thick.
I thought if I die saving him,
Ben will be all alone.
So you took your own son
and left little Henry to die.
I knew what would become of Ben and me
without Fred to support us.
And I was right.
I was let go weeks after the fire.
It was Peggy's mother
who gave me work at Aynscombe Farm.
But things didn't go so well for Henry Marwood, did they?
I mean, later on, you had to watch him being dragged down
by the debts he'd inherited.
Well, there was no way to go back by then.
But then, years later, fairy tale comes true.
The two people you care most about in the whole world
are in love, they plan to marry.
But you hadn't counted on the return
of Mildred Danvers, had you?
No.
She recognized
Henry's paternity the moment she met him
at Vivienne Marwood's funeral.
So, that night, she invited you to go back to her room.
I guessed what she was going to say.
I'm really very sorry, Lorna,
but you've committed a terrible crime.
I feel bound to inform the relevant people
as soon as possible.
I asked Mildred for a glass of water,
and while she was getting it...
You put the poison in her flask.
But you didn't know then... did you?...
that Mildred had kept the photograph
of herself and Jack Braintree.
See, this photograph was one of the things
that Gant had taken from Mildred Danvers,
and you saw this photograph
when you went to the rectory.
Gant's a clever fellow.
Put two and two together, and now he has something
to fight your attempted blackmail.
Think of it as a mutual conciliation, Anthony.
I may have other bargaining tools at my disposal.
Such as?
Such as the question of what you were doing
at the Knox last night.
So you stole Fiona Aynscombe's car keys,
you took her rifle from the back of her Land Rover,
you went to the church tower, and you waited.
Till I fired the pistol to end the Ride.
It wasn't difficult in all the excitement.
[Cheers]
I thought that was enough.
You didn't count of Dr. O'Dowd's
offer to assist with the DNA samples, did you?
[Groans]
What the...
No!
So you couldn't kill Dr. O'Dowd,
but you did kill Cathy Hewlett.
Cathy brought me the photograph.
I knew then I was losing control.
[Knock on door]
Come in.
Hi, Lorna.
What can I do for you?
Cathy Hewlett had to
disappear entirely to make her a plausible suspect,
make her a plausible killer.
You put her body in Anthony's grave.
Then you went back to her cottage,
you collected a few of her things,
planted a bit of evidence to make me believe
that she'd run away.
Did you seriously believe that you'd get away
with any of that?
There's no getting away with it,
is there, Mr. Barnaby?
At least it's all over now.
[Siren wails]
Thank you.
Do you want to see her?
Yes, please.
Okay.
Barnaby.
Able: We commend, unto the hands of mercy,
most merciful Father, the soul of this, thy sister departed,
Catherine Elizabeth Hewlett,
and we commit her body to the ground,
earth to earth,
ashes to ashes,
dust to dust,
in the sure and certain hope for life everlasting...
[Upbeat music plays]
Friends, we're gathered here
on this special day to celebrate the marriage
of Benjamin Thomas Hastings
and Margaret Gillian Aynscombe.
Joining together of two people in holy matrimony.
But in a greater sense,
the joining of our own community.
Dearly beloved,
we are gathered together here
in the sight of God and the face of this congregation
to join together in holy matrimony...
Time to go.
This man and this woman.
Thank you.
The bond and covenant of marriage
was established by God in creation,
and our Lord Jesus Christ adorned this manner of life...
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