(tense energetic music) (tense energetic music continues) (tense energetic music continues) (tense energetic music continues) (gentle music) (water murmurs) - Come on!

Come on!

- I shot you!

- Got you!

- I got you again!

- Oh, no, no, no!

- You're dead!

- No, I'm not!

No, I'm not!

- I got you!

- Ah!

- Yeah, right!

- Quick!

- I told you, didn't I?

Dangerous 'round here!

- Oi!

Where do you think you're going?

- Quick, over here, quick!

- Very dangerous indeed!

Draper, don't chase 'em up there.

(children panting) - Told you lads!

You should have kept away, shouldn't you?

(moves into tense music) (tense music continues) - Ah... - [Lad] Come on!

(pensive music) - Ah, Detective Sergeant Bacchus.

Didn't realize you cared.

- I don't.

- Special occasion, is it?

- Wedding anniversary.

- Ah, 10 out of 10 for remembering.

- It was yesterday.

- Five out of ten.

- [John] Ah, shut your head, will you, man?

Pass us the bin.

- John!

Put them down.

We've got a body out at Rinton.

- "Let's go with Labour."

That's their slogan.

(crowd booing) "Let's go with Labour."

But does anybody have any idea where they're going?

(crowd clamoring) (crowd clamoring) (horn honking) - Come on.

- It's touch and go, they reckon.

- Eh?

- The general election on Thursday.

- Oh.

- Yep, neck and neck.

And we had a 9,000 majority last time 'round.

- "We"?

- You don't vote Labour, do you, sir?

- Would that be a problem?

- (laughs) Oh, you like paying taxes, do you?

- No, not really.

- Oh, have you signed that form for us?

- What form?

- Sir, I keep... The seminar down in London, at the weekend.

- Oh, yeah, yeah.

"Detectives and the criminal underworld... A modern approach to policing in the 1960s."

- Yeah.

- Yeah.

I know the man who's running the course.

- Yeah?

- You're not going.

- Perhaps the African can tell us!

(crowd clamoring) - I'm a British subject now, Mr.

Mundy.

With a British passport.

And these people know me!

- Yeah!

Tell them about the war!

Where was he when you were risking your life, eh?

- Shh, shh, Jed.

Unlike some, Mr.

Mundy, I live in County Durham.

I work in County Durham!

(crowd clamoring) And I've built up my businesses in County Durham!

And I'm not a London barrister who only turns up at the weekends when he feels like riding to hounds!

(crowd clamoring and clapping) - Oh, that was a cheap dig, that, wasn't it, sir?

- Up and down the country, the Tories are about to be rejected!

- Rubbish!

- Excuse me?

- Men like you, Mr.

Mundy.

- Excuse me?

- Men who have had their chance for 13 years and have failed!

(Mr.

Mundy laughs) - Can we clear the roads, please?

You're blocking up the thoroughfare.

We got cars coming- - 13 years of boneheaded Tory misrule!

- Nonsense!

- All right, all right.

(crowd booing) Can we clear the roads, please?

We're trying to get through.

- Yes, sorry.

Apologies.

You see, even the police wanna get rid of you!

(crowd laughs) - Up on the pavements, everyone.

- Oh.

You better get to work, Jed.

Go on.

Off you go.

- I wouldn't care, sir, but he's a Rhodesian.

You don't want a bigmouth like him winning, do you?

- I don't vote in elections, Sergeant, so it's all the same to me.

- [Speaker] Election on Thursday!

(uplifting pensive music) (birds chirping) (uplifting pensive music continues) - [John] Morning.

- 'Round the back, sir.

- [George] Morning.

- Oh.

He's everywhere.

(birds chirping continues) (workers murmuring) - Ah.

- Chief Inspector Gently.

This is Detective Sergeant Bacchus.

- Henry Blythely, miller.

He's in here, follow me.

(workers murmuring continues) I had just finished working, and these lads come in and get chased up here.

- Patrick Fuller, mill manager, yes?

- Yeah.

- Climbs the ladder.

Secures the rope.

Rope 'round his neck.

(grunts) Off he goes.

Why have they called us here?

- Because somebody might have hoisted him up there, Sergeant.

Mr.

Fuller a friend of yours, was he?

- We were close.

For a good many years.

- Oh, I'm sorry.

I, I didn't mean to offend with the... - Try and be a bit more thoughtful, eh?

(mellow music) I reckon about 8 to 10 hours.

Do you want to take a bet?

- No, I don't.

You're too good at it.

Rope's cut in deep, sir.

- Yeah, too thin for the job.

No sign of a suicide note?

(keys tinkling) - No.

Just them.

- Must be an office somewhere.

- He was just the loveliest boss!

And, and, and, I've never known anyone die before!

- Shh, shh, shh.

(Julie sobbing) It's all right.

Here you go.

Look.

Take that.

- Bit too thoughtful, maybe?

(Julie snorts) - Yeah?

- No.

Invoice.

- Can I help?

- Well, we're just wondering if Mr.

Fuller's left a note or a letter or anything.

Guv?

(safe racketing) Looks like a robbery, that.

- Would you have a look at this, please?

Don't touch anything.

- Well, there's meant to be about £50, £60, £70 in there.

- So you handle the petty cash?

- Me?

No.

I never go in there.

I mean, I'm only 17.

- So how do you know how much was in there?

- Well, Patrick asks me to keep a log.

- Was the office locked this morning?

- I only came up with you, didn't I?

'Cause when I just arrived, they'd just found Patrick.

So, no.

I mean, I've got the keys.

- Get forensics out.

- Can I use your telephone?

(footsteps shuffling) - Do you want to see my keys?

- Okay.

- They're in here somewhere.

(purse clattering) - I'm going.

- My wife's very upset.

- She a friend of the deceased as well?

- We're all friends here.

It's a family firm.

- Who's the next of kin?

- Brenda, his wife.

- Oh, I'll need an address, please.

Mr.

Blythely, how many people have a key to Patrick Fuller's office?

- Patrick himself.

Julie.

Draper.

Myself.

- Why Draper?

- He's the foreman.

No, I don't know why either.

Last foreman retired four months back.

Patrick chose Draper.

"Best man for the job," he says.

'Cause I queried it.

I mean, the man can barely bother to be lazy.

- Did he bring him in from outside?

- No, no.

He's worked here for years.

If you can call it work.

- Mm.

Thank you.

Mr.

Draper.

Would you gather everybody in the canteen, please?

- Aye.

I'm just doing this.

- [George] Now.

- Sir, yes, sir!

(Mrs.

Blythely sobbing) - Oh!

Look at me.

Making an exhibition of myself.

- That's all right.

It's very upsetting.

- (sniffs) Brenda.

Patrick Fuller's wife.

That's her address.

I think one of you should go straightaway.

- Thank you.

If we could have you in the canteen now, please?

(Julie sniffling) - You okay?

- Uh... Do you want to chuck us your hankie?

Forensics are on their way, sir.

And an ambulance.

(Julie snorts) - Canteen please, Julie.

(pensive music) - Are you thinking what I'm thinking, sir?

There's no suicide note.

And I don't know what Patrick Fuller's doing here in the middle of the night, but it's not his job to mix the flour, though, is it?

(people chattering) (people chattering continues) - My first question is this.

Have any of you been up to the office this morning, Patrick Fuller's office?

Yes, Julie.

I know you have.

I ask this because the office was open, as was the safe and the petty-cash box, which is empty.

I shall need all of you on the night shift to remain behind for questioning.

And in order to exclude you all, I shall want you to have your fingerprints taken.

- You calling us tealeaves?

- Why don't you shut up, Draper?

You're a moron.

Somebody's dead, man!

- Oh, you managed to come to work, have you?

- I had permission to help with the campaign this morning.

(crowd clamoring) - Oi, oi, oi!

Pair of youse!

- Come on!

Outside!

- There's a dead man upstairs!

Show some respect!

(door thuds) Be a bit more thoughtful.

- Why is there an ambulance outside?

- [Julie] Mr.

Pershore!

- Mr.

Pershore, thank God you've come.

- Chief Inspector Gently, sir.

- Police?

- May I ask why you're here, Mr.

Pershore?

- Why I'm here?

I own the mill.

(melancholic music) (gurney rackets) - Hanged?

- Sometime last night.

- What a bloody waste of a life.

(door thuds) - You're assuming suicide, then?

- Well, what else?

- Can you think of any reason (motor revving) why Patrick Fuller would kill himself?

- [Mr.

Pershore] No.

- Just happened to be passing, did you?

- No, I try to call in every day to check things are running smoothly.

- Even though you're up to your eyes in the election?

- Business is business.

People depend on the mill for their livelihoods.

I believe- - Yeah, yeah, yeah.

I've heard the speech.

Maybe you didn't trust Mr.

Fuller to run the place properly?

- I trusted Patrick implicitly.

- [Taylor] Sir, we've found something.

- Don't go anywhere, will you?

Democracy will just have to muddle along without you for a while.

(footsteps shuffling) - I'm trying to tame him.

(Pershore laughs) - It's over here, sir.

(pensive music) - It's an earring.

- Got a handkerchief, Taylor?

- Sir.

- Thank you.

(pensive music continues) - And then there was this, sir.

Torn clothing maybe.

- That could match Fuller's jacket, that.

- Get forensics on it, will you?

- Yes, sir.

- What you thinking, guv?

- (sighs) Not sure.

Still suicide, but with petty cash missing and that and this... Oh.

Somebody has got to go and break the bad news to the wife.

(paper rustling) - I'm afraid it's you.

- Thank you.

Oh, and when I get back, sir, I want to talk about that seminar.

- Yeah, I read the bumf.

It's a recruitment seminar.

You looking for another job, John?

- We need to talk soon.

- Fair enough.

(engine purring) (birds chirping) (door thuds) - Mrs.

Fuller?

- Yes.

- I'm Detective Sergeant Bacchus.

May I come in?

- Patrick's dead, isn't he?

(footsteps shuffling) (birds chirping) - Um, Mrs.

Fuller, it's... It seems possible that your husband took his own life.

- Yes.

- I'm sorry, did you already know about this?

- No.

It'll all come out, won't it?

My life.

Picked over.

Laughed at.

Gossiped about.

- What will all come out?

- Patrick's sordid behavior.

(Brenda gulps) He had another woman.

If you can call a 17-year-old girl a woman.

- Seventeen?

- Oh, I expect you noticed her.

Men seem to.

- Julie?!

- You don't think Patrick hired her for her secretarial skills, do you?

Or her conversation?

I mean, to call her as thick as two short planks wouldn't be fair on the planks.

- How do you know about this?

- Oh, I have a sense of smell.

Galore by Five Star.

Her perfume.

All over him when he'd been working late.

And did it make him feel better?

Did it make him feel like a real man again?

I don't think so.

- I'm not sure I'm with you here, Mrs.

Fuller.

Make him feel better about what?

- He'd been utterly humiliated.

- By who?

- By that, that dreadful man that we all have to be so grateful to, don't we?

Who pays us next to nothing for the business and, and then... (glass thuds) Look.

Look at this.

He screws Patrick into the ground over the mill.

Then he gives him a car.

How kind.

How superior.

How very socialist of him!

- Are you saying that your husband used to own the mill?

- It was the family firm.

Sold it to Pershore a year ago.

I say "sold."

It was daylight robbery.

But, uh, Mr.

Man Of The People, he kept Patrick on, you see?

As an employee.

Working him all hours.

Introducing workers' rights and trade-union-negotiated rest breaks, but what about our rights?!

He stole his pride.

And now he's given him an early grave.

He was a changed man.

Oh, I lost my husband a long time ago.

- Obviously the mill's nonoperational until the police say otherwise.

But if you wouldn't mind staying here until they have all they need.

You will of course be paid for a full day's work.

May I also say I know lots of you have known and worked for Patrick for many years.

- Foreman not interested in what the owner has to say?

- Paying us to sit and drink tea.

That's all I needed to hear.

Cannot buy my vote, though.

Calls himself a socialist.

This was Cheltenham, he'd stand as a Tory.

Its power he wants.

- You don't seem very upset by Patrick Fuller's death.

(lighter clicks) - Crying like a baby inside.

(footsteps shuffling) - Mr.

Pershore says can he have a word?

- How long have you known Mr.

Pershore, Jed?

- Few months.

He's the best man I've ever met.

When I first met him, I was on the floor.

He's picked us up and give us a new start.

Like he'll do with the whole town when he wins the seat.

- When did you last see Patrick?

Um... It was, it was yesterday afternoon.

(footsteps thudding) - Patrick, you're early.

- Go away.

- What's wrong?

What's happened?

- I said go away!

Are you deaf?!

- Patrick... - Go away!

(briefcase thuds) - [John] Did he behave like that very often?

- Aye.

More and more.

Since he lost the mill to Pershore.

- And why did your husband sell the mill?

- No, what you should be asking is why he didn't sell it a long time ago.

Stubborn pride.

- Losing money?

- Year after year.

He was borrowing just to see it get, get further and further into debt.

I had to borrow it from my mother.

I had to lie to my mother.

And then, uh, up steps Mr.

Pershore.

Our savior.

Our knight in shining armor.

Sorry, I can't.

(sniffs) (Brenda crying) (Julie sighs) - Don't worry about it, Julie.

It was going to the cleaners anyway.

- I'm so sorry.

I'm so useless.

- Julie, it's fine!

Thank you.

(footsteps shuffling) - She was very fond of her boss.

- We all were.

- Except Sam Draper.

- Though he had more reason to be than most.

- Yes.

- So... - Thank you.

Why did Patrick Fuller promote a man like Sam Draper?

- Oh, we all make mistakes.

(tea burbling) - Is that what your young friend had against him?

- My young friend?

- Yeah, Jed Jimpson.

- Well, Jed would have made a better foreman.

But not my decision.

You employ a manager, you let him manage.

- Would being overlooked have made Jed angry with Patrick Fuller?

- Not at all.

Jed has eyes on a bigger prize.

Bright lights of London, a career in politics.

- Ah, another one who can't wait to shake off the North East, eh?

- Oh, your sergeant?

- Oh, yeah.

- [Mr.

Pershore] Hmm.

- Well, I can see what Jed gets from helping you with your campaign.

But what does he get from working in a flour mill?

- Well, Jed needs some stability in his life.

He needs... (chuckles) Well, he needs a father.

- And that's you, is it?

- Yes.

In a way.

- Where's his real father?

- Dead.

Six, seven months ago.

- Dead how?

- Liver failure.

- Alcoholic?

- Jed doesn't talk about it, and I didn't know the man, but... He was devastated.

Jed has real potential.

He has ideas.

Concrete ideas, not university ideas.

Ways to help people.

With a bit of money from me, he turned an old workshop into a place where the young lads could congregate instead of getting into trouble on street corners.

Practical outcomes, you see?

That's what politics is about, real leadership.

And Jed will be a real leader someday.

(chuckles) - So, what did make Patrick Fuller choose Sam Draper?

- I don't know.

- See, when we arrived this morning, the safe in Patrick Fuller's office was open, but it hadn't been broken into.

Now, we think that some petty cash had been taken.

So obviously I need to find out if anything else is missing.

You are presumably familiar with the contents of the safe?

- Yes, of course.

- Are you a key holder?

- Yes.

- Who else has a key to the safe?

- Only Patrick Fuller.

(tense music) (papers rustling) - Something wrong?

- No.

- Something missing?

- Uh, no.

Uh, well... Uh, there's an insurance policy.

But, uh, that's probably held at my solicitor's.

There's the petty cash, of course.

Uh, should have contained... 68 pounds, 18 shillings, and 4 pence.

- When did you last see Patrick Fuller alive?

- Yesterday afternoon.

I called him over to see me at my election headquarters.

I'd just had a visit from the firm's auditors.

There were holes in the accounts.

- £1,500?

(workers chattering) But where's it gone?

- This is what audits are for, Patrick.

There'll be an explanation.

There always is.

(phone ringing) Yes?

Yes, I'm coming now.

- I'll go through everything.

(phone thuds) I'll track it down, I promise.

- I should have stayed with him and sorted it out.

(door thuds) But I was busy.

Yesterday was a frantic day.

- Did it occur to you at the time that he might have taken the money himself?

- No, absolutely not.

Not then.

- And now?

Why didn't you tell me this straightaway?

- Because I don't want to believe this about Patrick.

Uh, look, there's something else I need to tell you.

I came to find Patrick at the mill last night.

- What time was this?

- About 11:00.

Patrick wasn't here, so I let myself into the office.

I'd had time to think.

I'd remembered there'd been an accounting error at one of my other companies.

And if the same thing had happened here, I could call Patrick, tell him to stop worrying.

So, uh... So I opened the safe, but the accounts books weren't there.

He must have taken them home.

What I did find, though, was an envelope containing £500... and no indication of what it was for.

- Where's this £500 now?

- In my safe at my campaign office.

- I need to see it.

(energetic music) (door thuds) (pinball machine clanking) - Morning, boys!

- [Volunteers] Morning, Mr.

Pershore!

- Carry on.

Oh!

That's it.

(phone ringing) Off to work!

Hello, everybody!

- [Pershore's Volunteers] Morning Mr.

Pershore!

- (laughs) Thursday's winner!

(Mr.

Pershore laughs) Yes!

(laughs) - Thanks, Jed.

- Whew!

- Jed's enthusiasm is sometimes a little bit... - Chemically induced?

- (sighs) I'm helping the lad onto the straight and narrow.

One step at a time.

Will I be getting your vote, Mr.

Gently?

- No, but then neither will anybody else.

(Mr.

Pershore chuckles) The £500, please.

(keys tinkling) These holes in the accounts... How long had it been going on?

- £1,500 over three months.

An initial withdrawal of 500.

Then, a month later, 1,000.

- And Patrick Fuller never came back yesterday with an explanation?

- No.

(bills rustling) Chief Inspector, I have many enemies in the local Tory press.

They will make mischief out of this if it becomes public.

- A free press is part of a democracy.

Would you tell me the serial numbers on the first and last notes, please?

- D64 741271.

And D64 741371.

- Thank you.

Huh.

Sequential.

(volunteers chattering) (phones ringing) Now put the notes back in the safe, please.

(phones ringing) (volunteers chattering) So when you found the £500, did you telephone Patrick Fuller and ask him why there was such a large amount of unexplained cash in your safe?

- No.

- Why not?

- Mr.

Gently, I didn't know anymore what to think.

Holes in the accounts, Patrick looking as if he had all the cares of the world on his shoulders.

I decided not to pursue the matter until after polling day.

If there was going to be a scandal of some kind, I wanted to protect my campaign.

And if that's contributed to what's happened, then I'm partly responsible for a friend's death.

- Did you lock up when you left?

- Yes.

Did... Did Patrick leave a note?

- No, not that we know of.

Is there anything else you'd like to tell me about Patrick Fuller, Mr.

Pershore?

- No.

(playful music) - So Fuller's got woman trouble, money trouble, and he's behaving like a man under pressure.

- Yeah.

- What's the connection?

Did she think he was stealing money?

- Well, he wouldn't have told her if he was, would he?

- Feeling enough pressure to hang himself?

- She seemed to think so.

She thought his behavior was really strange, sir.

Look, there's a storeroom with a woman's lost earring in it and a piece of Fuller's jacket snagged on a nail on the wall.

- Yeah.

All right.

- Right.

(John claps) - I'll bring a couple of sheets in case she wants to blow her nose again.

- So was Pershore trying to bribe you, then?

- Couldn't actually tell.

I think he's a bit too intelligent for that.

- Ah, get away, man.

The man's as bent as a dog's hind leg.

What more do you need to know?

He takes the mill off Fuller for a tuppence ha'penny.

And then he swans around Durham talking about "Let's change the world!"

I mean, what does he want to change the world for?

He's already making a fortune out of it as it is, thank you very much.

And he wears poof juice.

- I beg your pardon?

- That scent, it's, ugh!

Don't tell me you couldn't smell it on him.

It's like an Egyptian knocking shop.

Sorry, I just... Just don't like him, he's... Oh, sir.

Please can I go on that course?

- No.

- Why?!

- Because you don't need to.

I can summarize it for you in two sentences.

"Modern approach to policing crime in London.

One, find out where the villains drink.

Two, ask them for a bribe."

- You're just a cynic, guv.

- Am I?

- I'll go over your head on this.

- You'll what?

- I really want this.

(pensive music) There is no future for me here.

See you at the mill.

(pensive music continues) (door thuds) (birds chirping) Better late than never.

Pathologist said that Fuller was on the job shortly before he died.

And forensics have found fibers on the contents of the safe.

Possibly from work gloves.

Where have you been?

- Talking to people about Geoffrey Pershore.

- Right.

And?

- His parents owned a lot of farmland in southern Rhodesia, but he was educated here.

Fought in the war.

- So did Hitler.

- Hitler didn't fly a Spitfire for the RAF.

- Right, well, you know, then he's a war hero.

Let's give him a medal.

- We did.

Since then he's settled here and built up a string of successful businesses.

- As you do if you're a socialist.

- Where's Julie?

(workers chattering) - She's waiting for us.

And as you can see, the mill's reopened.

Except the place where we found the body.

- Yeah.

Give me a minute.

Tell the Blythelys I want to talk to them.

(workers chattering) - This your office?

- I can see why you're a detective.

(workers chattering continues) (footsteps thudding) - These yours?

- Well, I'm just more and more impressed.

(slap thuds) - Show some respect.

A man lost his life here.

The man who gave you your job.

A job that nobody else seems to think you deserve.

Explain that to me.

- Best man available.

- Well, you don't do anything, Mr.

Draper.

You're not a natural leader, are you?

- Army disagreed.

I was a sergeant in the engineers.

Not one of the few, I know, like Pershore.

I was one of the many.

Didn't come back to rich parents or university.

I came back to naught, Mr.

Gently.

Except broken promises.

So I'll take what I can get.

- Do you think Patrick Fuller killed himself, Mr.

Draper?

(Sam exhales) - You should be talking to Jed Jimpson.

He was here with Blythely last night.

And rowing with Fuller yesterday.

- Rowing about what?

- Machines were going full tilt.

I couldn't hear.

It was threatening.

It was nasty.

- Why didn't you mention this before?

- You never asked us.

(Sam exhales) Too busy calling me lazy.

(workers chattering) - Right.

(harrumphs) Tell us about Patrick Fuller, Julie.

- He was a Capricorn, the same as me.

I think that's why we got on.

What are you, Sergeant Bacchus?

I've got you a present.

- Oh.

Um... No, no, no, I didn't... Oh, thank you, that's... I didn't mean his star sign, Julie.

Uh, you know, I was talk- (Julie laughs) - I went out with this bloke once, right?

And I said to him, I asked him, "What star sign are you?"

And you'll never guess what he said.

"Herpes?"

It made us laugh for weeks!

Herpes isn't even a star sign.

- No.

- Uh, Julie, um... Patrick Fuller.

You were close, weren't you?

- (sighs) I'm gonna miss him.

He was so lovely to work for.

Ever so kind and gentle, and very patient, 'cause I'm still learning the job, and my spelling's shocking.

I goes, "How come there's a p in pneumatic, then?"

And Patrick says, "The p is silent, the same as in swimming."

Which just confused us even more.

But my dad explained, when I got home, and he didn't mean that sort of p. It was a joke.

(laughs) - Tell us about working late with Mr.

Fuller.

- Half past 6:00 sometimes.

- Yeah.

Was that in the morning, was it?

- In the morning?

No, he, he wasn't that bad.

- Those are nice earrings, Julie.

And the perfume you wear, is that Galore by any chance?

- Yeah.

- And did Patrick buy you these?

The earrings and the perfume?

- What's going on?

- You and the boss, Julie!

Were you having it off with him?

That's... - I'm gonna tell my dad you said that!

And copper or no copper, he's gonna come down here and thump you!

- Julie, um... Your earring... (package crinkles) was found in the storeroom.

- My earrings are here.

And I have pierced ears.

This is a clip-on one.

- And right next to it... this thread from Patrick Fuller's jacket.

- Why are you showing them to me?

- Julie... We know that sex took place, right?

Now we're gonna ask you to do an examination.

You know, a test.

(no audio) - It won't take them long to examine me, Sergeant Bacchus.

I'm not really a Capricorn.

I'm a Virgo.

- Well, then... - Well, um, I don't think we need to, uh, bother with that, then, Julie.

John, why don't you take Julie home?

- Yeah.

I'll... I'll take you home.

(water rushing) - We started work 9:30 in the evening and worked through till morning.

Mr.

Pershore's doubled our output, you see?

- Where were you working between midnight and 1:30?

- I'll show you.

- I'm sorry, I have to go.

I'm a lollipop lady.

Schools are out soon.

- I won't keep you long.

How well did you know Patrick Fuller, Mrs.

Blythely?

- Patrick and Henry were best friends, really.

Henry, uh, worked here for Patrick's dad.

I'm sorry, I've really got to go.

I can't miss work.

- I'm afraid I gonna have to ask you to be late for work.

(footsteps shuffling) (workers chattering) (footsteps shuffling continues) - Is this where you were working?

- Aye.

- Well, we know Patrick Fuller was dead by 1:30.

So where were you between midnight and then?

- We were working between here and where we feed the grain in.

- Both of you?

- Well... - What?

What?

- I had an early start on the campaign the next day, so I left early.

- I see, and went where?

- Home.

- Anybody corroborate that?

- I live on me own since me dad died.

- All right.

Well, around that time, did you see or perhaps hear anything?

- Nothing.

No.

- Sorry, 'cause when all this is going... (lever creaks) (machinery whirring) (machinery whirring continues) (machinery whirring continues) (machinery whirring continues) (lever creaking) (machinery whirring continues) (machinery whirring continues) - I see.

Thank you.

How about you, Mrs.

Blythely?

- I'm in bed half ten, eleven, so... - Is it true you had an argument with Patrick Fuller yesterday?

- Who told you that?

Sam Draper.

- Is it true?

- Yeah!

- Argument about what?

- The way he did his job, or failed to do it.

- Oh, you thought you could do it better?

- Anybody could do it better!

So I was telling Patrick Fuller if he didn't get rid of him, I'd get Geoff to do it.

- Geoff?

- Sorry, Mr.

Pershore.

Sorry.

Anyway, Patrick Fuller was blind about Draper.

Like talking to a brick wall.

Sorry, but, uh, wasn't all that bright.

- Did you say that to Patrick Fuller's face?

- Yeah!

I told him he didn't have the brains to run a business and that's how come he lost the mill and Geoff, Mr.

Pershore, got it.

- And what was his response?

- Told me to get back to me work.

My place, get back to me station.

Which is presumably how the mill used to be run and why it went bust.

- It's very easy to speak ill of the dead.

- He wasn't dead when I said it!

- What do you think, Mr.

Blythely?

He was your friend and used to be your employer.

- I'll be honest.

Patrick and I were close for a lot of years, but Jed's right.

He had no idea how to run a business.

Mr.

Pershore is streets ahead of him.

- And were you close friends at the time of his death?

- What do you mean?

- I mean, if he had been conducting an affair, would he have confided in you?

- The thing is, since Mr.

Pershore rescued the mill, there's been a lot more work on my shoulders and on Patrick's.

We didn't see as much of each other outside of work as we used to.

- Yeah, (laughs) I'm sorry.

Did you just say "yes" or "no," Mr.

Blythely?

- I didn't know anything about any affair.

- And you?

- Wouldn't have thought he had it in him.

- And what about you, Mrs.

Blythely?

- Affair with who?

- Julie?

(Jed laughing) - Patrick Fuller in bed with Julie?!

Whew!

That takes some imagining, that does.

- I'm sorry, I have to go.

(pensive music) (police officers chattering) - Sir, the earring.

The bloke who made it was in Birmingham when we were doing the rounds yesterday.

He was buying silver, would you believe?

- Why, a jeweler buying silver.

Knock me down with a feather.

Go on.

- So I left a message with him, and he's just called in.

(tense music) He said somebody fitting Patrick Fuller's description bought a pair of mother-of-pearl earrings, just like this one.

But he remembers him because Fuller brought them back to get them changed from pierced to clip-on ones.

(chuckles) Typical husband.

Doesn't even realize his wife's ears aren't pierced.

And he bought another item to go with them, sir.

- Well, they didn't cost 1,000 quid.

And Julie's got pierced ears, sir.

- I wonder if Mrs.

Blythely does.

(tense music continues) - It shouldn't have happened.

But it did.

My husband's best friend.

But I loved Patrick.

Very much.

- And your husband?

Had you stopped loving him?

- Henry is a lot older than me.

He is comfort and companionship.

- What about his wife?!

Sat in that semidetached morgue of a house going quietly crackers all day, and nice of you to send me to break the news to her, by the way.

- Well, I could hardly tell her myself, could I?

I'm not proud of my behavior, Sergeant, but love is where it falls.

- Right.

I must remember that one.

- Mrs.

Blythely, what happened on the night- - Please, don't tell Henry.

I mean, what purpose would it serve now?

- I can't promise that, Mrs.

Blythely.

- What happened on the night that Patrick died?

- If I knew anything about that night, I'd have come forward, I swear!

- Didn't you swear to love, honor, and obey your husband?

- Tell us what you do know.

- Um... Henry was working.

When Henry works, you know you're not gonna see him.

He's so diligent.

(pensive music) Patrick would be waiting.

We were always so happy in those moments.

But maybe there was a sadness in him that I didn't see, that I didn't want to see, because he was so lovely.

He was so loving.

People think... that passion and love are just for the young, for the beautiful.

And I'd said how wonderful Julie looked.

And she did.

She looked so young and pretty in those earrings.

And the scent that she wore.

And Patrick bought them for me.

- Tell me about his sadness.

- What do lovers say when they know they'll never be together as they should be, as man and wife.

Because for me to leave Henry and for him to leave Brenda, well, it was never gonna happen.

So, I mean, he didn't kill himself because of me, did he?

There was no reason to!

- As far as you are aware, did anybody at the mill guess about the affair?

- We always had to be careful.

I mean, we tried to avoid each other during the day, because we couldn't be near each other without touching.

People might see.

- Who, Mrs.

Blythely?

Who saw?

- Nobody.

No one saw.

I mean... (melancholic music) There was a time when we thought that Sam Draper might have seen us.

(door thuds) I thought for a minute he had.

- He didn't see anything.

- When was this?

- Three, four months ago.

But we were lucky, and we were more careful after that.

Please... If this has to come out, can I tell Henry myself?

Please.

- I'm afraid that won't be possible.

I need you here for the time being.

(tense music) - Draper must have caught them together in that office.

He must have!

He was blackmailing Fuller, and that is how he got the foreman's job.

- Probably... But Blythely was in the mill for the whole night when Fuller died.

And we're assuming he didn't know about his wife's affair with his best friend.

- Oh, so maybe he caught them at it that night.

Well... - Yeah.

Go and get Draper.

(tense music continues) (door thuds) (door rapping) (birds chirping) - Mr.

Draper!

(door creaks) (John exhales) (no audio) (bottle clicks) (no audio) (energetic music) (energetic music continues) (wheels screeching) Sir.

No sign of Draper, but look.

Think he was planning on leaving town.

- He left it too late.

- What?

(energetic music continues) - Sir, the serial numbers are in the same sequence as the ones that Pershore showed you.

So Fuller was paying Draper off.

- Hmm.

(birds chirping) (river rushing) Have a look.

Anything on him?

- Just some betting slips, sir.

- Sir, looks nasty, that.

- Hasn't been in the water long.

Entered the river where?

- Well, we found some blood up on the corner there, sir.

(energetic music continues) - Somebody hit him.

He fell and hit his head, maybe.

- [John] Jed Jimpson, sir?

- Possibly... Get him brought in anyway.

And we need to speak to Mr.

Blythely.

First you lose your boss, then you lose you foreman.

Where were you for the last couple of hours, Mr.

Blythely?

- Here, asleep.

- Can anybody corroborate that?

- As you know, I work nights.

My wife works days.

- And can you think of anybody who might want Mr.

Draper dead?

- Where would you like me to start?

- Give us a couple of minutes, will you?

- Why?

I mean... - Go.

(door thuds) Well, you could start with the reason Draper was blackmailing Patrick Fuller?

- Blackmailing?

- Yeah, any idea why?

- How would I?

- Over his affair with your wife, perhaps?

Or are you gonna go on pretending you didn't know?

- Of course I knew.

I knew almost from the day it started.

- Patrick Fuller tell you?

- No.

I didn't need anybody to tell me, Chief Inspector.

I could smell it on her.

- What, from the perfume he gave her?

- No, Mr.

Gently.

I could smell love on her.

Happiness.

He made her happy.

- Mm.

But you lost your wife and your best friend.

- I've lost them both for good now.

Haven't I?

(pensive music) (birds chirping) - Ah!

- Two deaths.

A murder and a suicide.

Or two murders.

- Exactly!

I mean, you know, Blythely had a clear motive to kill Fuller.

And what if Draper had decided to blackmail Blythely as well?

You know, "Give us your money or I'll tell everybody that your wife's shagging your best mate."

And, bang, in he goes.

- And then there's Jimpson.

He was seen rowing with Fuller.

And he attacked Draper right in front of us.

- Jimpson's not in the digs, sir.

Or his campaign office.

That was deserted.

- Keep looking.

And right in the middle of it all, who have we got?

- Pershore, knight in shining armor.

- Mrs.

Blythely, your lover was being blackmailed by Sam Draper.

- So he did see us, then.

- And somebody's killed Sam Draper.

- What?!

- Obviously it can't have been Patrick Fuller.

Which makes me wonder if there were other secrets that Sam Draper knew about.

- Like what?

- Were there any other parts of his life that Patrick kept hidden?

- Well, um... There was Sunday nights, of course.

I mean, they swear to keep that secret, don't they?

- Who swears to keep what secret?

- The brotherhood.

- Was Patrick a Mason?

(tense music) Sir, have you ever been asked to, uh, roll your trouser leg up?

- Many times.

You?

- Yeah, Chief Constable asked if I was interested.

That was before I got his daughter up the duff.

Now he hates my guts.

(phone ringing) - Stay away from them, that's my advice.

- Ah, there harmless enough, sir, it's just- - No, no, they're not, they're not.

There not harmless.

Police officers should never have a sense of conflicted loyalty.

Hate secret societies anyway.

I know one lodge in London got just as many crooks in it as coppers.

What does that tell you?

- Well, how are we supposed to find out if this Mason thing means anything?

I mean, we can't just knock on the Mason door and ask if we can come in for a cup of tea, can we?

- Can if you got a search warrant.

- Which magistrate is gonna sign that, sir?

They'll all be members.

- I'll find one.

- Well, good luck.

- Just get after Jimpson.

- All right, I'll get the lads onto it.

- Do we know where Geoffrey Pershore is, by the way?

- Yeah.

(lighter clicks) Still busy setting up the People's Republic of Durham.

Why?

(George exhales) - When he was looking at the contents of his safe, I had the feeling he was expecting something else to be there.

- Like what?

(pensive music) - Don't know.

What did you do with the account books from the mill, by the way?

- Me?

- Yeah.

- No, Pershore said that Fuller took them home.

- Yeah, so he did.

Did you go back and get them?

- You didn't ask us to.

- Do you seriously expect to swan off to London and do a course on police methods when you when you haven't even grasped the basics?

Go and get them!

Bloody useless little... - While you sit here... - Mary Blythely?!

She's plain as a pikestaff!

That's even worse!

I could understand the 17-year-old moron.

- Yeah, well... Love is where it falls.

So they say.

- So who says?

- Um... Mary Blythely, actually.

(harrumphs) Sam Draper, Mrs.

Fuller.

- Who's he?

He wasn't having him as well, was he?

- No, no.

He made him foreman of the mill.

He was taken from the river this morning.

Almost certainly murdered.

- Murdered?

- We believe he was blackmailing your husband over the affair.

Mrs.

Fuller, can we talk about your husband's money problems?

- That's none of my business.

- You never asked about it?

- Yeah.

- [John] And?

- It's none of my business.

So now what are you gonna tell me?

That he was a thief as well?

- You said that your husband came home and he went straight to his study.

- Would you mind if I had a look?

- No.

It's through here.

(pensive music) (pensive music continues) (John exhales) - Not my strong point... Debit and credit and whatnot.

- Are you married, Sergeant Bacchus?

- Yeah.

- Where's your wife right now?

At this very moment.

- Don't know.

Uh, shopping.

Mowing the lawn.

Don't know.

- Exactly, you don't know.

None of us knows.

(heels clacking) I used to do accountancy.

It's how I met Patrick.

(pensive music) He was copying them.

No... (laughs) He was adjusting and copying them.

So he was a thief as well.

We know nothing about our own lives, Sergeant.

We live with strangers.

- I'm gonna have to take these.

- (sniffs) Yes, that's... that's fine.

(pensive music continues) Yes, the mafia of the mediocre.

Despicable men.

My husband was a Mason.

They were phoning him all the time, putting more and more pressure on him.

- Pressure about what?

- Well, what do you think?

- I don't know.

- The election.

The Masons are all Tories.

And their bete noire, Mr.

Pershore, is threatening to win their seat.

So Patrick had Pershore coming from one side and the Masons from the other.

Led by that prized idiot Mundy and his little lapdog.

- Nicholas Mundy?

Tory candidate?

- Yeah, the one who rides to hounds and passes himself off as a country squire.

- Oh, I'm sure he'll agree to see us Mrs.

Fuller.

- [Brenda] Patrick had stopped going to the lodge, so they came to see him.

- Let's continue our talk about Geoffrey Pershore.

Is there somewhere private?

- [John] And what did they want?

- For goodness' sake, wake up, Sergeant!

(moves into tense music) What, what do you think this is?!

The best man wins?!

They wanted something to bury Geoffrey Pershore with.

And they were determined to get it from Patrick.

(tense music continues) (tense music continues) - I've managed to persuade your father-in-law to spare you a few minutes.

- Listen, pal.

You're just the dog that guards his door.

Don't get carried away with yourself.

- Mm.

I must warn you, though.

He's in a foul temper.

(John sighs) He's just had lunch with his daughter.

- Right.

Thanks.

(door creaks) (door thuds) Good afternoon, sir.

Uh, thanks for letting me see you so quickly.

- What do you want?

- Well, two things, really.

- Number one?

- Number one... (harrumphs) Could I get the constabulary's permission to attend a training seminar in London?

It's a fascinating course, sir, which will- - Granted.

Number two?

- Yeah, the second thing is, a favor.

(no audio) - "Adjusting."

What does that mean?

- I think its accountancy talk for "fiddling the books."

- So, what did they think that Fuller had on Geoffrey Pershore to discredit him?

- Don't know.

But now he's dead.

We know he's a Mason, sir.

And I think it's really important- - No, no, no, no.

The Masons are a dead end.

Masons only trust other Masons.

They don't trust you or me.

- Fine, fine.

You know best.

- Yes, I do.

It's odd, that, isn't it?

Must be something to do with 20 years as a detective.

During which time, by the way, I never attended any seminars on modern policing.

- Yeah, you've made your point about that, sir.

- Good, so I don't need to hear about it again.

(folder thuds) - No.

Not a word.

- Excellent.

Geoffrey Pershore's making a speech tonight.

I think we should go and listen.

- Why?

(sighs) - Because we haven't found Jed Jimpson yet.

He might be there.

- I can't.

- Why not?

- Because I've, I've got something I need to do.

Something important.

- Like what?

- I said I'd take the wife out.

I missed her anniversary and... Our anniversary.

And she'll skin me alive if I say I'm working late again, so... - Well, that is important, John.

So I'll go alone.

- Oh, oh, right.

Are you sure?

I feel bad.

- No, no, no.

Don't feel bad.

Your wife is your support system, John.

You go and buy her a nice dinner.

- Thank you.

- Hello!

I'm Nicholas Mundy.

(pensive music) I am your Conservative candidate.

Now, I hope we can rely on you to vote for us tomorrow.

Hello.

I'm Nicholas Mundy.

I'm your Conservative candidate.

Now, remember the slogan.

Very important slogan.

"On Thursday vote Mundy."

Ah, hello.

I'm Nicholas Mundy.

I'm your Conservative candidate.

- Detective Chief Inspector Gently.

Have you got a moment?

- Well... Surely.

- Concerns Patrick Fuller.

- Patrick Fuller?

Uh... - The man who hanged himself out at Rinton Mill.

Whose house you visited last week.

- Ah, I'm sorry, yes.

My mind's a sieve at the moment.

Uh, yeah, yeah.

Awful business.

Just awful.

How's dear, um, uh, Mrs.

Fuller holding up?

- Not particularly well.

So, why did you visit him?

- Well, it was courtesy.

He's a valued member of the local party.

Thanking those who put in the effort.

And, I have to say, not an inkling of what was to come, shocking.

- His wife said you put him under pressure.

- Yeah, uh, just a couple of minutes.

Um, sorry, pressure?

What sort of pressure?

- That's what I'm asking you.

- [Aide] We really must be moving on.

- No, really, I, I, really, um... Uh, look, Chief Inspector, would it be possible to carry on this conversation after the election tomorrow?

- Now would be better.

- Are you seriously expecting me to halt my electoral campaign at this crucial stage, Chief Inspector?

- No.

I'll talk to you on Friday.

- Thank you.

Hello, I'm Nicholas Mundy, (pensive music) I'm your Conservative candidate.

Now, are you blue through and through?

(moves into energetic music) (energetic music continues) (door thuds) - Now, I'll need all metal objects.

Watches, rings, et cetera.

- Right.

- And if you could just change into these.

- Okay.

- I'm Maurice, by the way, Maurice Hilton.

- I haven't learned how to do that yet.

(Maurice laughs) (pensive music) (traffic humming) (pensive music continues) - £1,500.

And now... 4,000 quid, gone where?

(moves into energetic music) (energetic music continues) (hands thud) (rope squeaks) (blindfold rustles) - This is a wonderful journey you're embarking on.

(sword clanks) Ready?

- Yeah.

(footsteps shuffling) (door thuds) - Whom have you there?

- Mr.

John Bacchus.

A poor candidate in a state of darkness, humbly soliciting to be admitted to the mysteries and privileges of Freemasonry.

- Do you feel anything?

- Yes, I do, actually.

(footsteps shuffling) (footsteps shuffling continues) - Mr.

John Bacchus, are you willing to take a solemn obligation to keep inviolate the secrets and mysteries of the order?

- Um, yes.

(engine purring) (crowd murmuring) (crowd murmuring continues) - What happened?

- Mr.

Pershore had to cancel.

He's indisposed.

- Do you know a Jed Jimpson?

- Yeah.

- Is he here?

- Haven't seen him since yesterday.

- Okay.

Thank you.

- Chief Inspector Gently, we meet at last.

I'm Lisa.

Lisa Bacchus.

John's wife.

I saw your photo in the paper a while back.

(tense music) - I, John Bacchus, of my own free will, do solemnly promise and swear... - Under no less a penalty than that of having my throat cut across from ear to ear... - Under no less a penalty than that of having my throat cut across from ear to ear... - That I will not reveal the secrets or mysteries belonging to the Free and Accepted Masons.

- That I will never reveal the secrets or mysteries belonging to Free and Accepted Masons.

- He's not with you tonight, then?

- No.

- When he rings to say he's working late, I automatically blame it on you.

Sorry.

Sometimes I say to him, "John, why don't you just go and marry Mr.

Gently?

You might as well."

(sighs) - He's married to you.

- Aye, but he prefers your company.

No, that's okay.

You're nice.

Can I tell you something?

- [George] Yeah.

- I don't really like policemen.

They're all I've grown up with.

Any party, any gathering, even my wedding.

Policemen.

Standing in a huddle, laughing at jokes the rest of us don't get.

Leaving us out.

I watched my mother cope with it.

And said, "Right.

Definitely not marrying a policeman."

But... - But you got pregnant.

Is that what he told you?

Yeah, I got pregnant.

But we were gonna get married anyway.

I love him.

Is that what he told you?

- No, no, no.

I got that bit wrong.

John keeps his private life private.

- Keeps a lot private.

Guess what I found out this week.

Votes Tory.

(George laughs) - Not you, then?

- No, I want Pershore to win.

I saw him talking in the market last weekend.

I think he's great.

- Do you trust him?

- Yeah.

I better go.

Rescue my mother, she's babysitting.

Nice meeting you, Mr.

Gently.

- George.

- George.

George, am I losing my husband?

He's not working late tonight, is he?

I don't know where he is.

(footsteps shuffling) - John Bacchus, you have been brought into the wisdom and light of Masonry.

(Masons clapping) - Well done!

- Yes, sir.

- John.

- Sir.

Ah.. - Edgar?

- Edgar.

- And if you ever call me Edgar outside of this lodge, then I shall mince them before I post them to you.

Say thank you.

- Thank you, Edgar.

- Now, go and meet your new brothers.

- Hello.

- So, John... There's trouble up mill, do tell.

Obviously nothing you say goes outside these walls.

(pensive music) - What do you do, Maurice?

- Maurice does as he's told, don't you, Maurice?

- I have to go.

- Have another drink, Maurice.

Brother John's on our side, aren't you, John?

- 100% there, Nicholas.

- I have to go.

(tense music) - Was it something I said?

(chuckles) - Maurice has, um, divided loyalties.

I suspect he has grounds to shut down the mill.

But I think he's a liberal at heart.

The thing is, Maurice may not look like much, but he could bury Pershore for us and save the seat tomorrow.

Just like that.

(fingers snap) (tense music continues) - Maurice?

You all right?

- Yeah, absolutely.

Fine, thanks.

So what do you make of us, then?

- What do I make of you?

Think you're all a bunch of crooks.

(laughs) So what is it you do for a living, then, Maurice?

- Uh, we don't ask each other, you know?

- Right.

Answer the question.

That has absolutely no authority inside these walls.

- Fine.

Let's go down the station, then, shall we?

- I'm not obliged to say anything without the advice of a solicitor.

- Right, well, then let's go down to the bar.

Must be about 20 of them in there.

What is it they want from you, Maurice?

What is it they wanted from Patrick Fuller?

What is it that you know that can bury Pershore like that?

(fingers snap) How can you close the mill down?

Is it something to do with flour?

Are you a health inspector?

So, what's it to be, then?

Here?

Now?

In the bar?

Or in the morning in my office?

- Fine.

What time?

(light clicks) (John sighs) (light clicks) - Oh.

- Nice evening?

- Ah, you know.

Work.

- Working with Mr.

Gently?

- Yeah.

Sort of.

Oh.

My dogs are barking tonight.

Think I've got another verruca coming.

How's Leanne?

- Fast asleep.

- You're up late.

- Where have you been, John?

- I've told you.

- You didn't, actually.

And before you lie, I saw George tonight.

- George?

My- - Your boss.

Lovely man, by the way.

Can tell why you talk about him so much now.

(John sighs) Asked him where you were.

And he didn't know.

I think he didn't want to lie.

So, who is she?

- Oh, come on, Lis, I'm not... I'm really tired.

- I'm tired as well.

So start telling the truth, or we can call it a day.

- I was with your dad, all right?

I was at the Masons'.

- You're not a Mason.

- Well, I am now.

Why don't you go and telephone your dad and ask him, okay?

- No, it's not okay.

Why are we married, John?

The truth.

Why did you marry me?

- Because... Because your dad said he'd ruin my career if I didn't do the decent thing by you.

And I wanted to.

I wanted to do the right thing for you.

Both of you.

You and Leanne.

- You haven't used the word "love," John.

- [John] Lisa... (Lisa scoffs) - I don't think I even know who you are, really.

(pensive music) - "We live with strangers."

- What?

- A woman said to me today that we live with strangers.

- Well, I can't live with a stranger, John.

But it doesn't have to be like that.

Good night.

(pensive music continues) (traffic humming) (spoon tinkles) (pensive music continues) - You have a very sweet wife.

- She thinks you're nice and all.

- Where were you, by the way?

- Masonic lodge.

- What?

- I joined the Masons, sir.

(objects clattering) Why don't you ask me why I joined the Masons?

- I think I'm starting to get the picture.

- No, sir!

No, I!

You're not getting the picture at all!

- He's in Room 4, Sarge.

- Who is?

- All right.

- Who's in Room 4?!

- I'm telling you, sir, if you give me a bloody minute!

His name is Maurice Hilton.

He's the man that went with Mundy to see Patrick Fuller shortly before he died.

He's a food-safety inspector, and I found him.

I found him by joining the Masons, sir.

(tense music) (police officers chattering) - £4,000 was withdrawn from the Rinton Mill bank account six months ago.

- [John] And?

- It vanished into thin air.

(door thuds) Mr.

Hilton, do you know how this goes?

I intend to investigate every contact and connection between yourself and Patrick Fuller and Geoffrey Pershore.

You should also know that the fraud squad will be looking into your bank accounts.

- I'm sorry, might I get a glass of water?

- Not at the moment, no.

- This was done with the best intentions on everyone's part.

My team carried out its annual inspection of the mill.

The place was decrepit.

Dirty in places, if not filthy.

Rat droppings.

(pensive music) I told Patrick Fuller I'd have to issue a closure order.

- [George] But the mill didn't close, did it?

It stayed open.

- Well, it was a fellow Mason.

Closing the mill would have ruined him.

- Yeah.

So you did the decent thing to help your brother Mason.

- No, no, it wasn't like that.

Geoffrey Pershore had just bought the mill.

He was promising to modernize the place.

Saying, "Why make all these people redundant when we could create jobs, put things right?"

And he did.

I mean, he's totally transformed the mill.

Place is a model of cleanliness now.

- How much did Geoffrey Pershore pay you to forget about the closure notice?

- Naught.

I was doing it for the greater good.

I'm a public servant.

- So if I was to look back over your bank records, I wouldn't find a payment for £4,000?

- What did you buy, Maurice?

New house?

- What happened, Maurice?

The date that the £4,000 went missing from the bank account was five months after Geoffrey Pershore had bought and modernized the mill.

So, what did he pay you for?

- (exhales) There was an outbreak of food poisoning in Rinton.

19 people were hospitalized.

I traced the source back to the mill.

Look, it was before Pershore's reforms had kicked in.

I should have made him stop production, but I... I didn't.

- I remember this now.

Yeah, you blamed a Chinese chippy for the outbreak, didn't you?

- Yeah, it deserved to be closed.

I found half a goat in the fridge once.

- "Scapegoat," was it?

So the mill was never publicly blamed for the outbreak.

- No.

- So, what happened to the 19 people who were never told the truth about how they became ill?

- They all recovered.

All except one of them.

- And who was that?

- It was a man in his 40s.

Six months later, died of complications.

Liver failure.

Look, no one could have foreseen that.

- And that was when you were paid the £4,000 for your silence, yes?

And Pershore got the closure notice.

What did he do with it?

- Said he'd keep it under lock and key.

He said it was his, uh, "insurance policy."

In case I ever decided to reveal the truth.

- And Nicholas Mundy?

- I stupidly told him half the story one night at the lodge bar.

- And ever since he's been pressurizing you to get the story in the papers?

- Aye.

- This man who died... What was his name?

(pensive music) (newspaper crinkling) - How can they just print lies, Geoff?!

That scumbag Mundy and his friends in high places!

- They were never going to let me win, Jed.

- But it's rubbish anyway!

What's Fuller's suicide got to do with anything?

- It's not Fuller, Jed.

It's Draper.

They'll get me for Draper.

- They won't.

I won't let them.

- You'll keep your mouth shut, Jed.

You have a future.

(engine purring) - [John] Ah, we've been looking for you, Jed.

- Salutations, gentlemen.

Offer our guests a drink, Jed, why not?

- None for me, thank you.

- Ah, thank you.

Not going to the count?

- (chuckles) I'll head down in a while.

- Thank you.

(drinks sloshing) How's it going?

- Still optimistic.

What can I do for you, Chief Inspector?

- I'm afraid I've come to arrest you.

- Doing the Tories' dirty work for them?

- Jed... On what charge?

- Bribing Maurice Hilton.

- Who's Maurice Hilton?

- Will you shut your face, please?

- Maurice Hilton is a food inspector, Jed.

He should have closed down Rinton Mill, but he didn't.

Mr.

Pershore gave him £4,000.

- Nonsense.

- Look, Hilton's coughed.

You might as well do the same.

Or else we're gonna be here all night.

- What's your evidence, Mr.

Gently?

- Maurice Hilton's confession.

- His word against mine, then.

- But you didn't do it!

He's had smears like this against him all his life, man.

There's always someone wanting money off him.

- Wonder why.

- Because he won't kowtow to the system.

He wants to change it.

- Really?

Where were you Tuesday morning, then?

- He was with me all day.

Out on the knocker.

- Sam Draper.

- [Pershore] What about him?

- Sam Draper was blackmailing Patrick Fuller over his affair with Mary Blythely.

Fuller paid him off with bank notes in the same sequence as the ones you showed me.

- Well, if that's true, it's terrible.

- What else was missing from the safe, Mr.

Pershore, apart from the petty cash?

- Nothing.

(tense music) - Nothing except what you called your "insurance policy."

Hilton's closure notice on the mill.

The document that you bought from Hilton for £4,000.

- What?!

- It's not true, Jed.

- The document that Draper took from the safe when he went looking for the blackmail money that Fuller promised him.

Which Fuller never handed over, of course, because he decided to hang himself and have done with it all.

So are you telling me that Draper didn't come and offer you that document to buy back?

- You said... - Jed!

- What?

"You said" what?

(tense music continues) - Did you kill Sam Draper, Mr.

Pershore?

- Of course I didn't.

- Well, I think you did.

I can establish a very firm motive, and you're unwilling to provide an alibi.

- Never stand up in a court of law.

- But it would be the end of your political ambition, wouldn't it?

Aw.

What's wrong, Jed?

Hero's got feet of clay, has he?

- You... You told me that it was... - Told you what, Jed?

- He told me that the money was to stop Draper from hurting Henry Blythely.

- What money?

(birds chirping) (river rushing) - What's going on, Geoff?

- Oh, here he is!

Come to help him with his seat, have you?

- Keep out of it, Jed.

It's finished.

Draper's no longer in my employ.

Clear off, Draper!

- You don't tell me to clear off, Mr.

Fancy Pants!

You remember I'll come back whenever I like.

I've got your (censored) in my hand!

Figure of speech, like, (censored).

Not literally.

That's your job.

- Jed!

No!

(Sam groans) - Geoff?

Geoff... I think he's dead.

(river rushing continues) (birds chirping continues) - Quick!

(body splashes) (river rushing continues) - What happened next, Jed?

- Geoff drove me home and... - Straight home?

Or did you stop off somewhere else?

- We stopped outside Draper's house, and Geoff went in for a while.

- You went in to get the closure notice.

And you destroyed it.

- I should have burned it a year ago.

Some insurance policy.

- But I did it.

I killed Draper.

Geoff's innocent.

- Is he?

You gonna let him do this, Mr.

Pershore?

Go on thinking you're innocent?

Well... There was a local outbreak of food poisoning, Jed.

About a year ago.

Do you remember it?

- Vaguely.

- Did your father contract it?

- He was an alcoholic.

He contracted everything.

He was useless.

- This was a particularly severe outbreak.

Source was traced to the mill.

A man died of complications from it about six months ago.

Died of liver failure.

- My dad?

- I, uh... I wanted to make it up to you, Jed.

I, I made one stupid mistake... In the public interest.

I wanted to keep the mill going while I cleaned it up.

I made a mistake.

- You talk about fairness?!

You talk about truth and honesty and changing the world?!

You're a crook!

You're just another crooked businessman!

(Jed wheezing) - I tried to give you your dad back, Jed.

Was I wrong?

(bottle cracks) - Oi!

(tense music) (Jed sobbing) - I don't need a dad!

- Jed... Is he worth hanging for?

(Jed sobs) (moves into melancholic music) (melancholic music continues) (door thuds) - I should be getting to the count.

How do you do good in life?

Do you know?

How?

Without taking chances?

- You mean making compromises?

- I didn't compromise, I took a chance.

And not for me.

For the good of the mill and its workers.

- And you're gonna go on telling yourself that, are you?

- Till I die.

(crowd chattering) - [Announcer] The returning officer for the constituency of Rinton- - Have I missed it?

- Any minute now.

- [Announcer] For each candidate was as follows... Andrew James Carr, 3,109 votes.

(crowd clamoring and whooping) Nicholas Charles Reginald Mundy, 29,647 votes.

(crowd clamoring and applauding) Geoffrey Pershore, 27,116 votes.

(crowd clamoring) And that Nicholas Charles Reginald Mundy has therefore been duly elected to serve.

- What do you think Jimpson will get?

(George inhales) - Manslaughter.

(exhales) Three, four years.

- Generous of you to let Pershore come to the count.

I'd have locked him up straightaway.

(crowd clamoring continues) - Thank you.

Thank you very much.

(crowd clamoring continues) - I'm beginning to see why you don't vote.

Lies everywhere you look.

- It's the lies you tell yourself that kill you.

(John exhales) - Why London?

- Career move.

- Chief Constable put a note on my desk, by the way.

My objections to your going for the Met have been overruled, apparently.

- Yep.

Have you worked out yet why he's so keen for you to go on the seminar?

- Yep, he's hoping I won't come back.

- And will you?

- How do you resign from the Masons, by the way?

- You don't.

You know you've left the Masons when they find you.

(groans) - Great... (George inhales) - Good luck, Sergeant Bacchus.

(exhales) - Thank you, guv.

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