♪ Like summer tempests came my tears, love
♪ When I learned you'd been untrue
♪ But after rain must come a rainbow
♪ So until then here's what I do
♪ Make believe you love me, darling
♪ Make believe you care
♪ Make believe you need me
♪ And I'll make believe you're there...
♪ .. with the cross of Jesus, going on before...
Our father, who art in heaven,
Hallowed be thy name,
Thy kingdom come, thy will be done...
♪ .. and will say "I do"
♪ Though the skies are dark and grey, love
♪ And the weatherman says fine...
"I cast myself down upon the priedieu,
and while aloud I open my heart to the Eternal,
Roland in a still crueller manner intensifies."
♪ Make believe you love me, darling
♪ Make believe you care
♪ Make believe you need me
♪ And I'll make believe you're there
♪ Make believe my heart's not broken
♪ Make believe it's true...
- We want Joy! We want Joy! - It...
It gives me great pleasure to introduce to you
a woman strong in faith,
steadfast in her convictions.
Ladies and gentlemen, friends,
please welcome Mrs Joy Pettybon!
♪ So let the raindrops hide my teardrops...
Last Wednesday evening, we saw a programme
and it was the dirtiest programme I've ever seen.
Hear hear!
We object to the disbelief, the doubt and the dirt
that the BBC pours into millions of homes
through the television screen and through the wireless!
Well done! Bravo!
♪ Make believe my heart's not broken
♪ Make believe it's true
♪ Make believe you'll love me one day
♪ And will say "I do"
♪ Make believe you love me, darling
♪ Make believe you care
♪ Make believe you need me
♪ And I'll make believe you're there
♪ Make believe my heart's not broken
♪ Make believe it's true
♪ Make believe you'll love me one day
♪ And will say "I do"
♪ And will say "I do"...
- Cut! Stop playback! - Oh, for goodness' sake!
- He's with me. Carry on. - Thank you. Can you clear the set, please?
Don't worry, you haven't gone mad. They're filming a television show.
Mimi. Kiss Me.
- What? - Her big hit from last year.
Operations Room said drugs.
Porter found a bag of pot in the senior common room yesterday, after the dress rehearsal.
Only people who have been in there are The Wildwood, Mimi's special guests.
You might have heard of them.
No? Well...
Last month their singer stole a car from outside the Red Lion on the Haddenham Road.
Case dismissed.
Word is, his manager paid off the owner of the car.
Right. So who's the manager?
- Ralph Spender. - Pleased to meet you.
Now, I just want you to know I take this as seriously as you do,
but believe me, there is not one iota of truth in it.
The Wildwood are nice, clean boys.
The sort any girl'd be happy to bring home to meet her parents.
I don't think my parents would like me to bring home a car thief.
That was a complete misunderstanding. The magistrates agreed.
I'm telling you, they're good, clean boys, with a good, clean image.
- Nevertheless... - The odd rum and coke,
that's The Wildwood drink, yes.
But drugs? No.
- So, how do you explain the marijuana? - I can't.
Well... Fans maybe? The press trying to make a story?
Some of these other types from the show. Television people.
You know what they're like.
"If you come to Oxford you will die."
I received it yesterday, Chief Superintendent.
You wouldn't believe some of my correspondence.
I get dirty pictures.
Dog mess.
All sorts.
- She does. - People carrying on like animals.
Quite, quite. But nothing like this before? No direct threat?
Well, there are always people who resent those going about our Lord's work.
But nobody specific comes to mind, Mrs Pettybon?
Well, a lot of people say a lot of very unpleasant things, Inspector.
If we took them all seriously...
Your safety is our paramount concern, of course. Thursday.
Rest assured, Mrs Pettybon, we'll put our best man on it.
Let me just introduce the boys.
Ken Wilding on guitar. Nick his brother, lead vocals.
Chris on the bass, and our resident madcap on the drums, Stix Noble.
So what's happening, then? The Major says you're the police.
A bag of pot and marijuana was found in the common room yesterday, after you left.
What is this, some sort of frame-up?
- Come on, Ken. Don't be a drag. - No, I'm dealing with this, Nick.
So? If it's not a frame-up, what is it?
- A shakedown, is that it? - Ken! He doesn't mean that.
Just pay the man, Ralph.
Threatening to bribe a police officer is a serious offence.
I didn't. I told him to pay you.
Now, excuse us. We've got a take to shoot.
No. I may not be able to connect you to this pot,
but consider this an informal caution. All of you.
Informal. Thank you.
Listen, let me send you some promotional material.
You can auction them. For the police widows and orphans.
A token of my appreciation, just to show there's no hard feelings.
The boys' latest LP, some glossies.
All signed, naturally.
Feel free to stick around and watch the rest of the show.
I've got better things to do with my time.
Such as...?
- What am I meant to do with her? - Just keep an eye, that's all.
She's only in town overnight.
Part of this nationwide speaking tour she's on. Church halls, town halls.
Collecting signatures, isn't she?
Yeah, some petition she means to hand in to the Prime Minister at Downing Street.
What do you make of it?
Henley postmark. Sent four days ago.
I can look into the typeface.
I doubt we'll have much luck after all the hands it's been through, but best get it fingerprinted.
- How did you get on at the college? - Couldn't tie them to the pot,
so I just gave the manager an informal caution.
I don't know why they bother with the stuff. Never did anything for me.
You've smoked pot? When?
Up the desert. They called it kif out there.
Some of the lads were silly with it.
- You ever tried it? - I'm a serving police officer.
Besides, I like to keep a clear head.
- Put enough beer away. - Beer's brain food.
Sir. Uniform's asking us to attend a body found behind the Crown pub.
Looks like foul play.
Body was found about an hour ago by the landlord.
No wallet or other means of identification.
He isn't a regular, and he wasn't in the bar last night.
- What time did the landlord last check the yard? - Nine o'clock yesterday evening.
Still light. If he was here, he would've seen him.
A neighbour heard a car about three in the morning.
Apart from that, nothing out of the ordinary.
- Doctor. - Inspector.
Adult male. Earlyto mid-twenties.
Died some time between eight and midnight last night.
Strangled with a ligature about the thickness of my finger.
Sash cord, perhaps?
He's as I found him, but postmortem lividity says he died on his front.
Note the marks on the side of his torso.
- He's been moved. - Within an hour or two of his decease.
Be able to give you furthers and betters once I've opened him up.
- Any Missing Persons in overnight? - No, sir.
- Manual labourer, maybe? - State of his boots, you mean?
Hm. Cement or concrete in the tread.
I'll get Uniform to put the word out to local building sites.
Anybody that's not turned in.
I know. I know. It's disgusting.
Er, Mrs Pettybon will be a moment. The Daily Mail.
We counted 14 "bloodies", six "bleedings"...
What else, Bettina?
- Er, two "bleeders" and a "bastard". - Two "bleeders" and a "bastard".
- Sounds like a regular evening down the nick. - And this is a family programme!
Well, I shall be very interested to read your article. God bless.
Well, this is your best man, is it?
- Detective Constable Morse. - Mrs Joy Pettybon. Widow.
Er, Reverend Golightly you know, Inspector.
May I introduce my daughter Bettina?
- And may I give you one of these to wear? - I wouldn't be allowed, madam.
- As a police officer, I have to remain impartial. - No-one could argue with the sentiment, surely?
Someone could, plainly.
Wearing that could be seen to betoken an affiliation,
and we have to go about our business without fear or favour to any.
But, er, when you're not on duty?
A police officer's always on duty, Reverend. Much like yourself.
I'll need a copy of your itinerary while you're in Oxford.
Well, we'll be here, mostly.
Joy will be appearing on the Almanac TV programme this evening.
It's being filmed at Sierra Television Studios in Aston.
In Birmingham? Oh, I'm sorry, that's beyond our jurisdiction.
I was assured by the Chief Constable of your full cooperation.
Detective Constable Morse will be on hand throughout to ensure nothing untoward befalls.
You can rely on him.
What is it, do you think, with Mrs Pettybon?
Well, she's clearly got a talent for rubbing people up the wrong way.
Look, do you really want me on baby-sitting duty?
- What about this body in the pub yard? - Mr Steve Carter, sir.
Come in to report his labourer not turned up this morning.
Description matches our body behind the pub.
It's like I told him. He didn't turn in for work.
I'm a brickie. Your mate don't show up, you're in lumber.
So I give his old woman a ring, his mum, like, to see where he'd been.
Well, she said that Barry never come home.
And it's Barry Finch, you said?
Like the bird. Yeah.
- You last saw him yesterday evening. - Yeah.
I knocked off about five. Was gonna give him a lift back.
But he decided to stay on for a bit, have a swim.
A swim? Where were you working, then?
Maplewick Hall. Big old place out by Banbury.
Barry couldn't keep his mind on the job half the time,
what with all the birds and that they've got up there, wandering around in their altogether.
- How's that? - Bunch of pop stars up there at the minute.
The Wildwood.
Everything was all right between him and Mr Carter, was it?
Steve? Yes, he's been very good to Barry.
Must have been delighted to be at Maplewick Hall, being such a fan of the group?
Oh, yes. He was made up.
He likes a lot of these groups, but The Wildwood was his favourite.
Can you think of anyone who would wish him any ill?
No-one had a bad word to say about him. He'd do anything for anyone.
Why would any...?
You find who hurt him. You find who hurt my baby.
We will, Mrs Finch. That's a promise.
Canada's a big territory, Louis.
Listen, I've got to go. Get me those percentages as soon as you can.
Detective Inspector Thursday. Ralph Spender, sir.
Inspector? I thought we'd sorted all that out.
This is about another matter.
There's a body been found, sir, back of a pub yard in town.
Young man called Barry Finch.
He's been working here as a labourer with a bricklayer, name of Carter.
Yeah. Yeah, that Barry.
Very nice young man.
Please. Can I offer you a cigar?
I won't, thank you, sir.
The last sighting we have of him alive is here last night.
He was staying on for a swim.
Well... I was in London.
I've... I have an office there. Mount Street.
- Anyone confirm that? - My mother.
Phyllis.
Bruno, my driver, he dropped me home about seven o'clock.
I spent most of the evening on the telephone to colleagues in New York and, later, California.
I'm planning a big tour for the boys there next month.
With The Kinks.
On "eyes", you walk it down to the G.
♪ Eyes
A. G sharp.
Oh, no, no, no. G sharp sounds horrible.
That's good, cos...
Nick? Nick, can you just leave off a minute?
I wanna try my new one.
Not more tales of courtly love from Tres Riches Heures?
- My Sweet Lady Kate was top five. - Yeah, we looked like a bunch of ponces.
Yeah, so, what is it, then?
Based on this poem by Baudelaire.
Oh, no! Not more nursery rhyme stuff?
- It's something new. - It's not, though.
Whatever happened to...? ♪ I woke up this morning!
Ken's right. It's not rock-and-roll, man.
You might've forgotten where you come from, but us lot haven't.
- Take the boy out the Goldhawk Road? - Yeah, that's right.
All right, he didn't mean it.
You keep your Baudelaire and I'll stick to Bo Diddley, all right?
I'm going outside for a fag.
- Chris? - Sort him out.
- Tell him I'm sorry. - No, you should tell him, not me.
Boys. Boys.
These gentlemen just want a word.
Oh, yeah? What are we supposed to have done this time?
It's the brickie's boy. Barry.
- He's dead. - Dead?
How? What happened? Did he have an accident or something?
It appears he was murdered.
Mr Carter said that Barry stayed on after work for a swim. Is that right?
- Yeah. - Who asked him to stay?
- Nobody. - What time did he leave?
- He was here till about eight o'clock. - It was about quarter to.
- And you are, miss? - Pippa. Leyton.
The girls help out as seamstresses with the boys' stage clothes.
Is that right?
- How old are you? - 18... Next birthday.
- And you, miss? - Emma Carr.
- We're not doing anything wrong. - Course you're not. It's a free country.
Did anybody see which way Mr Finch went when he left?
He said he was going to hitch a lift back into town, didn't he?
I thought you said you were in London.
Yes, I think Ken told me. Didn't you, Ken?
Yeah. That's right.
That's what he usually did if he stayed on late.
- There's two more, aren't there? - Mm.
What happened to him? Barry?
That's what we're here to find out, sir.
- I mean, was there an accident, or what? - It would appear not, Mr...
Oh, sorry.
Christopher Clark.
Stix. The drummer.
- Anna-Britt, Chris's... - Chris's wife.
Only, for some reason, we're not allowed to tell anyone.
It's just business. The fans don't want to know the boys are married.
You offered Barry a job, didn't you, Ralph?
Well... No.
No?
- He seemed to think you had. - I said, if something came up.
Driving or...
It wasn't a firm offer.
He was a bit starstruck, that's all.
And was everything all right between him and his colleague, Mr Carter?
As far as we know. Look, we really didn't have much to do with either of them.
Dr Bakshi. He looks after the boys.
Oh, yes? In what way?
These gentlemen are with the police. One of the labourers has, um...
- .. has died. - I see.
In answer to your question, I tend to the group's wellbeing -- physical, mental and spiritual.
As a matter of fact, I have a four o'clock session with Nick,
to prepare him for tonight's TV performance.
Unless you've any objection.
Very well, sir.
- You think he left here? - Do you?
They're a rum lot, and no mistake.
And I wouldn't trust that manager as far as I could throw him.
Now... Here's fun.
The late Barry Finch. Brickie's labourer to the stars.
- Cause of death... - The strangulation?
Oh, he was strangled, yes. Several times.
Only, that's not what killed him.
It wasn't asphyxia. His heart gave out.
The strangulation occurred perimortem, on or about the moment of death.
He was already dying.
But couldn't the strangulation have caused the heart seizure?
Certainly. When sudden pressure is put on the vagus nerve in the neck,
instantaneous death can happen.
But you see, if I...
Now, what's the first thing you're going to do?
- Try and get it off. - Ah, try, yes.
Now, a case like this, one would expect to find abrasions, scratches to the neck,
the victim's own skin and flesh under their fingernails.
And that's not the case with Mr Finch?
No.
Mm.
- Would you, er...? - Oh, yes. Of course.
What if his hands weren't free?
There's nothing to suggest he was bound.
No chafing to the wrists, no bruises to say he was restrained.
It doesn't make sense.
- Why strangle a dying man? - Well, that's your department, thankfully.
I'm more concerned as to what would stop the heart of an otherwise fit 24-year-old.
His bits and bobs are on the side there.
There's nothing remarkable.
Why would someone want to make it look like murder if it wasn't?
Nothing really adds up, does it?
- You following us? - No.
I'm here with Mrs Pettybon.
That batty old woman? Someone wants to put her straight.
- Someone's threatened to. - Threatened to what? Do her in?
Blimey. That's a bit much. I mean, she's mad as a March hare,
but you wouldn't want anything to happen to her.
Silly cow.
Like the clobber?
Everyone's wearing them.
So, thank you and good evening.
Welcome to Almanac, half an hour of music, chat and current affairs.
And what a show we have for you tonight.
Coming up later, we have an exclusive interview with Nick Wilding of The Wildwood.
Steady, girls. And his group will be performing their latest sound, Jennifer Sometimes.
"His group"? That's nice. "His group."
But before that,
I'm going to be talking to the leader of the National Clean Up Television Society,
figurehead of the Keep Britain Decent campaign
and guardian of the nation's morals.
Ladies and gentlemen, Mrs Joy Pettybon!
Thank you for having me on your programme, Mr Calendar.
Not at all. And, erm, "Julian", please.
Now, Mrs Pettybon, I understand you're on something of a crusade at the moment?
I wouldn't put it in those terms, but, yes, I suppose what we're doing is the Lord's work.
You're travelling up and down the country collecting signatures for a petition, right?
- We are. - And what's it calling for, this petition?
Well, amongst other things, decency on television and on the wireless.
I was going to come on to the wireless, or the radio, as we tend to call it nowadays,
because one of the people you've been complaining about
in fact, you've actually called for his record to be banned from the airwaves,
is in the studio with us tonight.
- Is that right? - That is right, yes.
It is, of course, Nick Wilding of the pop group The Wildwood.
- Feet up. - What is it you don't like about his music?
It's not the music, is it? Of course it's too loud,
but it's the words that I object to. The words.
- What's wrong with them? - Well, if you want me to spell it out,
this record they have at the minute, it's about S-E-X, isn't it? And drug-taking.
All right. Well, you can put those charges to him yourself in a moment,
but first, let's get an earful, hear what all the fuss is about.
Here they are, ladies and gentlemen. Lock up your daughters!
It's The Wildwood with their new sound, Jennifer Sometimes.
♪ Jennifer sometimes sits in the sunshine
♪ Playing with her hair
♪ Go back to the old school
♪ Look under a toadstool
♪ There's nobody there
♪ Jennifer sometimes...
- Mind! - Since when have you watched Almanac?
- It's work. - What work?
Mrs Pettybon.
Morse is on duty with her.
There have been threats.
I'm not surprised, telling people what they should and shouldn't.
"Decency"!
She just likes the sound of her own voice.
Aren't those the ones that Joan likes? The Wildwood?
I wouldn't know.
You would.
You fetched their first record for her from Woolworths.
If you say so.
What? We're not allowed to talk about her now?
- Fred? - What's there to talk about?
You don't mean that.
If she was gonna call, she'd have called.
All right?
- Yes, I... - Oh...
I get nervous when Mummy makes an appearance.
I have to step out. It's my vice.
Filthy habit.
You mustn't worry. The world's full of cranks.
You probably think Mummy's a bit of a crank.
I'm sure she's... sincere.
She is.
How long has she been, erm...?
Oh, erm, about four years.
But she... she really got into it after Daddy passed away.
- He was a wonderful man. - Was he?
- We should probably go back inside. - Yes.
Oh, you... you won't tell her? About the cigarette?
- No. No, no, no. - Thank you.
These are symptoms of a godless and degenerate society.
There was this programme last week,
and it was the dirtiest programme I have ever seen!
- Dirty? - Well, it was.
What do you mean? The people in it hadn't had a wash?
You know very well what I mean.
I don't. Honestly.
- What's dirty? - What's dirty?
Dirty's dirty. That's what dirty is.
But what's dirty to you might be quite acceptable to somebody else.
- Quite normal, in fact. - This wasn't normal.
It made me physically sick.
What was wrong with it, then?
It was about two of these so-called homosexuals.
How do you mean "so-called"?
- The Good Book has a different name for them. - Has it? Well, what's that, then?
Sodomites.
Everywhere I look, I'm having it rammed down my throat.
Well, I don't want it in my lounge. The permissive society!
Yes! That's what they call it. Well, nobody asked my permission.
- Bravo! Well said! - They shouldn't do it!
Rubbish!
- All right, sir. - Absolute rubbish!
- It's not rubbish! - Sorry. Who put you in charge?
Where do you get off telling us what we can or can't see or hear?
What about freedom of artistic expression?
Don't touch... Do not touch me! Don't touch me!
I'm leaving. I'm leaving.
Well, there we are, ladies and gentlemen.
All the fun and excitement of live broadcasting. Never a dull moment.
If we might return now to the matter at hand.
Mrs Pettybon, you were talking about what's dirty...
You wanted to see me?
Oh, yeah.
Bloke dropped it off at the front desk.
Oh, Sergeant. Any developments on this labourer?
- Barry Finch, sir. - Just so.
I'm seeing the Assistant Chief Constable later. He's bound to ask.
Nothing much to go on, sir.
A person of previous good character, choirboy at St Mary's, till his voice broke.
No enemies that we know of, no criminal record.
What about this mark on his body?
Just trying to figure that out myself, sir.
X marks the spot.
All right! All right! That's enough!
- Want some too, do you? - I'm a police officer!
- My warrant card, if you can read. - It's the kiddies we're thinking of.
- He's a bloody pervert! - On your way! Go on!
Come on.
Come on. Let's get you... Come on.
You all right?
- Are you OK? - Do I look it?
The woman's a monster!
She had me prosecuted, didn't she?
How's that, Mr...?
Jessop. Dudley Jessop.
I run...
I ran... a magazine.
The Exciting Times.
Mrs Pettybon took exception against our schoolboys' edition and...
.. and tried to do me for blasphemy.
Oh, I wrote an article that considered Jesus and St Peter as lovers.
I can see how that might rub her up the wrong way.
It was about love.
She said it was dirty.
How can love be dirty?
Well, if it isn't, I expect you're not doing it right.
I thought that went well. Apart from that little bit of unpleasantness.
Well, some of your supporters have just beaten the living daylights out of him.
- You're mistaken. - I saw it, Mrs Pettybon.
But you did ever so well.
- Didn't she, Reverend? - Oh, yes, yes. Marvellously well.
Well-wishers.
Flowers and chocolates, I believe.
Just take it all back to the hotel for now, Mervyn.
We'll dispense them to the sick and needy in the morning.
Well, I'll, er... You must be tired.
- I'll say good night. - Good night, Mervyn.
- If there was nothing else... - Are you saved, Constable?
More squandered, I'm afraid. We've a uniform officer outside.
Should help you to sleep safely, without any further worries.
Mr Morse?
I...
I don't suppose I could ask you to open my window for me, could I?
It sticks somewhat, and it was so hot last night.
Yes.
Thank you.
Just a little stiff, that's all.
Would... Would you, erm, care for a drink?
Oh, it's been quite a long day.
Of course.
- I'm sorry. - No, no.
I'm sure one drink wouldn't do any harm. Though it has gone 12 o'clock.
- I doubt the bar will still be open. - I...
I've got a bottle.
If you don't mind vodka. And there's a glass for water by the carafe.
I can get a tooth glass from the bathroom.
Won't that be a bit minty?
Oh, I don't mind minty.
♪ Jennifer sometimes sits in the sunshine
♪ Playing with her hair
♪ Back in the old school..... a toadstool...
♪ There's nobody there
Thank you. For looking after Mummy.
Oh... Not a problem.
Cases like this, I think it's better to be safe than sorry.
I don't know what she'd say at me having a strange man in my room.
I'd hate to be the cause of any difficulty.
- In fact, I should probably go. - Oh... Have another. Please. I...
I don't get to speak to many people besides Mummy and Reverend Golightly.
Am I keeping you from someone?
Your... Your wife?
No.
- Fiancee? - No.
The only thing I have waiting for me at my flat is Wagner.
- That's sad. - There are worse things.
Are there? I can't think of any.
- I know what it's like to be lonely. - I'm not... particularly.
Really?
You seem lonely.
God forgive me.
Hello? Chambermaid.
Hello?
Sir?
Dead about six hours.
- Two or three in the night? - Around then.
- Cause? - I shan't know till I've had a grub about.
But something disagreed with him, plainly.
Half-digested chocolates amongst the ejecta.
Where did they come from?
She received boxes of them last night.
Mrs Pettybon. After the Almanac show.
Chocolates. Flowers. From well-wishers.
Happens wherever she goes.
Could someone have laced them with something?
Yes, perhaps.
- Doctor. - Gentlemen.
Poor Reverend Golightly. He had such a sweet tooth.
Didn't seem any harm in it. He was always so helpful.
I just didn't like to make a fuss.
Is there any way to find out who donated the chocolates?
People leave them on the stage or send them to my dressing room.
- We don't keep a register. - What, you think...?
- You think they were meant for Mummy? - It's possible, miss.
There was a disturbance at the Almanac programme last night.
A man called Dudley Jessop.
He's a degenerate.
You tried to have him prosecuted for blasphemy, is that right?
Someone had to stand up for Our Lord.
- You were meant to keep us safe! - The threat was made against you.
So far as I can see, you're still here.
I really don't know why you've come by.
I said I didn't want to press charges.
We're not here to talk about your beating, Mr Jessop.
We're here to talk about Mrs Pettybon.
She got your magazine closed down.
Exciting Times. Isn't that right?
She also landed me with a criminal record and a prison sentence.
Oh, and brought me to bankruptcy into the bargain.
I imagine you don't much care for Mrs Pettybon.
I'm living on handouts...
and a small allowance from my parents,
on the understanding I never darken their door again.
I can't get a job. I'm...
So, yes, it would be fair to say I pretty much hate Joy Pettybon.
- Enough to do something about it? - I am doing something about it.
With what little money I do have, I follow her around the country
and do my best to denounce her for what she is.
- What's that? - A hypocrite!
She stands on her soapbox in that harridan hat and those Hedda Hopper glasses.
The woman clearly wouldn't know couture from a dog turd,
and she stands there, with that pantomime horse of a vicar egging her on,
spouting bile and hatred,
and she has the brass neck to call herself a Christian?
And what about doing anything else about it?
- In what way? - Someone tried to kill her last night.
No.
No, no, no. I'm all for protest but... peaceful protest.
- Is she all right? - She's all right, sir, yes.
More by luck than anything else.
But the Reverend Golightly was found dead this morning.
It appears he's been poisoned.
You can't think...
It was nothing to do with me. I swear to God.
Yes, sir. There's a lot of that going about at the minute.
However, I think we might get a formal statement from you,
under caution down the station, if you'd come with us.
Bettina? Are you coming?
In a minute, Mummy.
- Likely suspect this Jessop character? - Gotta be favourite, sir.
He hates Mrs Pettybon with a passion. They clashed live on television last night.
You're assuming she was the intended victim.
For now, yes. We've no reason to think anything else.
What do we know about Reverend Golightly?
Well, no family, ordained before the war, ministered all over the country.
Any connection with Oxford?
Brief spell as vicar of Saint Mary's ten years ago.
Saint Mary's?
Barry Finch was a choirboy there, until his voice went.
Looking at the mark on Finch's body,
If you were to rotate it, it could be a cross, couldn't it?
- Two glasses! - Please, Mummy. Nothing happened.
- We just talked. - You expect me to believe that?
I know what goes on in bedrooms between men and women.
Mummy! Mummy, please! Don't!
It's for your own good, Bettina.
You're not kind.
You're wicked.
And godless.
No wonder Daddy did...
'Oxford Police Station. How may I help?
Hello? Hello?'
Would you put me through to the Chief Constable, please?
- 'Yes. Who's calling, please?' - It's Mrs Pettybon, dear.
Clear your mind of all things.
Let go of all earthly attachments.
Become a leaf on a river.
You are drifting downstream... towards nothingness.
It may feel like death, but... it is not dying.
Yes?
- Sir? - I've just got off the telephone from Division.
It seems the Chief Constable is a great admirer of Mrs Pettybon's work.
- She has a daughter. Bettina, is it? - Yes, sir.
Timid little thing.
Yes, well, Mrs Pettybon's of the impression
Morse may have overstepped the mark somewhat in that regard.
Nonsense, I'm sure, but the Chief Constable wants him removed
from any further involvement in the Golightly case.
Yes. She asked me in to open the window. It had stuck.
So, you just opened her window and went on your way.
What?
Well, we had a drink.
In the bar?
She had a bottle. I was there for half an hour.
- 45 minutes at most. - You shouldn't have been there at all!
Now you've been added a black spot straight from the top!
Where do you think that leaves me? Mr Bright wants you off the Golightly case!
You'd better turn your brain back onto Barry Finch.
Get a result, you'll be in Bright's good books.
- He has your best interests at heart. - Hides it well.
That's because he's a lot smarter than you give him credit for.
Why don't you lay off that? Keep a clear head for a bit?
Look, it's all gonna be all right.
Is it?
You're my little brother.
I'd never let anything happen to you.
What's this? Are you joining the "in" crowd?
I think I know all I need to know about The Wildwood.
Listen to this.
"Christopher will come up with a bass riff that really fires me up.
We all contribute to the arrangements, but he sometimes has an idea
that totally transforms a song."
Drivel.
It can't be that awful. They're comparing Nick's lyrics to James Joyce and Oscar Wilde.
- Who are? - The critics.
- Full of symbolism and allusion, apparently. - Full of something.
I read that they nearly called themselves The Toadstools.
That's right. In honour of the mushrooming trips Nick and Christopher went on.
If it was their band originally, then were did the other brother fit in?
Ken was the better guitarist.
Seems to have muscled his way in and taken control.
Christopher's become a bit of a spare wheel. But that's show business.
- Car trouble? - Not quite.
Not a cross, then?
- Where did you get that idea? - Something Trewlove said.
He could have been moved by car, couldn't he? Laid face down.
The wheel brace could have caused that mark, then?
The primary cause of Reverend Golightly's death
was haemorrhage leading to heart failure.
Natural causes?
I don't think I said that, did I?
- So, what caused it? - Laxative.
The Reverend Golightly's kidneys were all but shot.
Magnesium in the laxative caused hypomagnesaemia --
respiratory distress, low blood pressure, arrhythmia...
- That would explain the blood, would it? - It would explain the vomiting.
However, he was also suffering from an undiagnosed aortic aneurysm.
The rest of it put such a strain on his system that it ruptured. Hence the blood.
Puked his guts up, then. Literally.
What a lyrical child you must have been, Sergeant!
- Shouldn't have been fatal, though. - Not ordinarily, no.
Certainly not to anyone in decent health.
♪ Jennifer sometimes sits in the sunshine
♪ Playing with her hair...
♪ Go back to the old school
♪ Look under a toadstool
♪ There's nobody there...
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
- You shouldn't be here. - I had to see you.
- Come in. - Thank you.
- What happened to Wagner? - It's for work.
I'm sorry, do you have anything to drink?
♪ Jennifer sometimes wonders...
Mummy found I had two glasses out. She...
She forced me to tell her you'd been in my room. Are you in trouble?
No more than usual.
Ah.
Any news about Reverend Golightly?
I've been taken off the case, I'm afraid.
- Because of me? - No. Because of me.
Is this you?
It was. Once.
Your mother?
She looks kind.
Is she kind?
She was.
She died.
It's hard losing someone you love.
I think I loved Daddy much more than I love her.
I try to love her the same, but...
- I'm wicked, aren't I? - No.
I think I am.
God sees all. He knows what's in my heart.
Do you think I'm going to burn in hell for ever and ever?
- No. - Sometimes I wish she was dead.
I wish she was dead and that someone would come and take me away
from... God and... Mummy and...
.. all of it.
I love you.
That's what I really came to say.
I love you.
- Erm, Miss Pettybon... - Bettina.
Oh, God, there's someone else, isn't there?
"I cast myself down upon the priedieu,
and while aloud I open my heart to the Eternal,
Roland in a still crueller manner intensifies.
Upon the hindquarters I expose to him,
his vexations and his torments..."
Oh. Hello again. Everything all right?
- I thought you were done with us. - No, not quite.
- I'm looking for Mr Spender and the group. - Gone to London.
For a photo session. I think some radio thing later.
- Nick's here. - Why didn't he go with the rest of the group?
- Don't think he felt up to it. - Well, where will I find him?
It's a secret. In his thinking spot. He goes there to work on songs.
Well, I really would like to talk to him. If you could tell me where that is.
- You won't find it. - Why not?
Cos it's an enchanted place.
I can show you, if you like.
So you said you've been with the group a couple of months. That right?
- Band. Nick prefers "band" to "group". - Does he?
How was it you came to be with them?
Just did.
Pippa and me went backstage after a concert they did and got talking to them,
and just... stayed on, I suppose.
- Do you like it? - Oh, it's a scene.
- Shall I tell you something? - If you like.
You know Jennifer Sometimes?
That's about me.
Nick wrote it about me. He put my name in it.
- I thought your name was Emma? - It is.
Emma Jennifer d'Arblay Carr.
But he just used the Jennifer bit.
There you are.
It's over there.
- You not coming with? - No. It's his enchanted place.
We're not allowed.
Bye.
Would you like some wine?
No. Thank you.
"One should always be drunk."
- I think there's something in that, don't you? - Possibly.
So this is your enchanted place, is it?
That's right.
- Did Barry Finch ever come here? - No.
- What did you make of him? - I don't want to talk about it.
Nevertheless, it's my job to find out how he died.
I can't figure you out.
What's to figure? I'm just a policeman.
Yeah, but you know that there's something happening, right? Here.
In the world. Everywhere.
People our age looking for answers.
But you are in a suit.
- I'm happy in a suit. - Don't you wanna expand your mind?
You read Huxley?
I want to see what's beyond the door.
There's something else.
You just gotta find the right key.
- Drugs? - Nothing heavy.
Meditation.
Mushrooms.
Me and Chris used to look for mushrooms after school.
- You ever tried 'em? - Only as part of an English breakfast.
So what do you expect to find... beyond the door?
The infinite.
Infinite possibility.
Infinite love.
We're all just angels that fell from grace.
Every one of us. There is no shame. No guilt.
Everyone vibrating at the same frequency as the universe.
- If something happened with Barry Finch... - Nothing happened!
He left.
He left... and he died.
- They took him. - Who?
The gods.
Forensics have come back on that letter Mrs Pettybon got.
No prints beside hers, her daughter's and Reverend Golightly's.
Oh, and yours, Mr Bright's and Morse's.
Must have worn gloves, then, whoever sent it.
Looks like it.
- What about the envelope? - Sir?
Did they check the envelope?
Well, it'll be covered in prints.
Been through the GPO, the collector, the sorter, the postman.
- They'll have had their dabs all over it. - Not inside.
Inside.
And, Sergeant...
One more thing.
Mrs Clark? I'll be on my way now.
Actually, I did want to see you about something.
- Would you put something on, please? - Does nakedness make you uncomfortable?
- Drink? - No, thank you, Mrs Clark.
- Can't you call me Anna-Britt? - I think it's better we keep it formal.
English. So uptight.
- What was it you wanted to see me about? - That boy. The builder.
Oh, yes? What about him?
Morse?
- Hello. What's this? - The station said I'd find you here.
- I've just come from Maplewick Hall... - Oh... Morse, hello.
You've a nerve! What's he doing here?
Detective Constable Morse is here on other business, Mrs Pettybon.
I told the Chief Constable I don't want him.
Perhaps you didn't hear.
I'm here about another matter.
- All right, matey. - And I can imagine what.
- Go to your room, Bettina. - Mummy... - Go to your room!
So...
I hope you've come to tell me you've arrested him.
- Arrested who? - Dudley Jessop.
He's an abomination in the eyes of our Lord.
The Police Training Manual omits to mention abominations.
Yes. Well, thankfully, Inspector Thursday and I
can remember a time when people were decent.
Actually, Mrs Pettybon, I'm here to talk about this letter of yours,
the one threatening your life.
Oh, yes?
- Strange? - We had it examined.
For fingerprints.
We found yours on there, and your daughter's, and Golightly's.
You would. I showed it to them.
We also found a print of your second, third and fourth finger
on the inside of the envelope. On the sealed flap.
Yes, well, I would have done that taking the letter out.
Unlikely. You see, most of us remove a letter
with our fingernails facing inside the envelope, like so.
Well... it's unlikely, but it isn't impossible. I handled it a lot.
Yes, I thought about that.
However, there is one place where it would have been impossible for you
to leave your thumb print.
Under the stamp.
We had to lift it off very carefully, but there's one small part of that stamp
where the adhesive didn't quite take.
And that's where we found a good partial print... of your right thumb.
You see, that would be impossible.
How could your fingerprint be underneath a stamp on a letter
sent to you by a complete stranger?
I'll tell you what I think, shall I?
I think you posted that letter to yourself
in an effort to gain sympathy for your cause and drum up trade.
You can't prove that.
Oh, I expect we can,
if we really put our mind to it.
So let me get this straight.
Christopher Clark's wife heard a car pulling out of Maplewick
in the early hours on the night Barry Finch died.
A neighbour heard a car outside the pub yard.
Maybe it was Spender who dumped his body there.
Mr Spender said he was in London, didn't he? His flat in Mount Street.
Talking to America. You press him on that?
No. He's with the band, apart from Nick, at a recording session.
- You think he's on the level? - Nick?
I think something's going on between him, Emma and Pippa.
He's hiding something.
Morse.
Nick!
- Nick? - Nick!
- Nick? - Nick? - Nick?
- Nick? - Come on, where are you?
- Nick? - Nick? - Nick?
Let's go, lads. Sarge's orders.
Thanks.
This is where he was earlier.
- Anything? - No.
What the hell's that?
Somewhere over there.
There. There he is.
- Nick? - Nick?
Nick?
- Nick? - Nick, it's me, it's me.
- Nick, mate! - What's up, man?
Stand back a little. Stand back. Stand back.
- Just give him some space. - Get the torch on him.
Nick?... Nick?
Just give him some space.
- Aaaah! - It's all right. It's OK.
- Get off me! - All right...
- What have you done to him? - It's all right. I've got him. Nick?
There we go.
It's all right now. I'm just going to... shine a little light in your eyes.
- It's not going to hurt. - What's the matter with him?
- He's my brother! Do something! - Hey, hey. Look at me.
He's high, man. He's just high.
You need to stay cool.
He's OK. He's just on a trip and he's gonna come back down.
That's not mushrooms. He wouldn't do any chemicals!
Which one of you bastards dosed him?
The main thing he needs is a calm environment,
a quiet, dark room, and someone to stay with him.
- I'll stay with him. - I'll do it.
- Ken! - You've done enough.
I left him and he was fine,
and I come back and he's gone half out of his mind.
- So just stay away! - I didn't do anything!
- We'll make sure he's looked after, Ken. - You'll do nothing.
The only people allowed anywhere near him are me, Chris and Lee, all right?
- We'll do it in shifts. - You got it, man.
Anything, Ken. All right?
- What's your role in this, Dr Bakshi? - My role?
I was engaged by Mr Spender as personal physician to the group.
What does that entail?
Why would a bunch of fit young men need a personal doctor?
Oh, you'd be surprised. Sprains. Nervous exhaustion.
A group on the road needs to be kept in tiptop condition.
How do you go about that? Pills, is it? Uppers? Downers?
Nothing illegal.
But, yes, the occasional sleeping draught. Odd booster.
- So what's he taken here? - Nothing of mine.
My diagnosis is, he has been given a large dose of lysergic acid diethylamide.
- And will he recover? - Oh, his body, yes. But his mind?
It really depends on the size of the dose.
Mr Spender, a few questions, please.
Have you any idea where Nick might have come by this LSD?
They smoke a little pot, all right?
Mushrooms, maybe, but that's it, that's as far as it goes. Nothing heavy.
Dr Bakshi said he might not fully recover -- his wits at any rate.
It's gonna hit any revenue you were hoping to make.
God, it's not about the money.
Not for me. It's been the music.
Always. From the second I saw them.
- What about infighting within the group? - Someone dosed him? No. No. I...
They fight, but they're family. Nobody would hurt Nick.
OK, then, what about somebody outside the group?
- One of the girls, maybe? - No. Everybody loves Nicky.
Mrs Clark said she heard a car pull up outside the house in the early hours
on the day we found Barry Finch.
- Anna-Britt's just stirring. - Why would she do that?
She thinks I did Chris out of some credit on one of the boys' songs
He Loves You, their first 45.
- Did you? - No.
Chris was just playing around with chord changes in rehearsal one day.
It fired something up in Nicky, he comes in the next day with He Loves You.
Anna-Britt thinks Chris needs credit for that. But copyright is very clear.
So you didn't come back from London the other night?
I've told you.
I was in my flat in Mount Street on the phone to America.
Well, then, you'll have no objection to us examining your car.
What for?
Help yourself. I've got nothing to hide.
Well...
.. I'd say that's a perfect match.
Tough to make it stick on that alone.
Half the cars in Oxford must carry a wheel brace.
Could LSD have stopped his heart?
Well, it's possible.
Overstimulation of the nervous system.
Rare.
But it could have done.
What's it do?
It produces extreme visual and auditory hallucinations.
Not usually toxic chemically, but behaviourally.
- In what way? - Loss of inhibition.
Compromised rationality.
Most deaths involving the substance are accidental --
walking into traffic, onto railway lines,
stepping off high buildings...
I'll talk to the lab. Easier to find something if you know what you're looking for.
If it does come back positive, that makes it three.
Barry Finch, Reverend Golightly and now Nick Wilding.
All poisoned, one way or another, drugged leastways.
- Except Nick Wilding's not dead. - More by luck than judgment, maybe.
Maybe. Or perhaps it was just an attempt to shut him up.
- About what? - Barry Finch.
Progress on Golightly?
Mrs Pettybon may have sent the threatening letter to herself,
but our favourite for dosing the chocolates is still this magazine editor, sir.
Yes, well, a lot of hate about altogether.
More than there used to be, do you think?
Oh, I wouldn't know, sir.
- Television, perhaps? - That would certainly be Mrs Pettybon's angle.
Two world wars. Millions dead.
Atrocities. The camps. The bomb.
She'd be hard put to lay that at the door of television.
Always been hate, sir. Right back to Cain and Abel.
Just as well, I suppose. Else we'd have to find ourselves a proper job.
Nothing happened!
He left.
He left... and died!
- So Finch was part of some sort of orgy? - All right for some.
I could never get a seat at musical chairs, never mind that.
- You wouldn't like it, not with your back. - It's Barry Finch's watch.
She was spreading her favours, then, this Pippa girl?
- Where did you find it? - In a Turkish Delight box
- Nick Wilding kept in his den. - Maybe he kept it for his own entertainment.
It could be blackmail, couldn't it?
It wouldn't do much for their image if this got into the papers.
- Almost expected of pop stars these days, sir. - I don't know so much, sir.
- All right, Constable. - No, no. Go on, Constable Trewlove.
Well, sir, the public can be pretty fickle.
Something like this could bring the whole house of cards down.
No. Well, Spender has too much investment in those lads to let that happen.
The bigger point is, who took the picture and why?
Keep at it. There's a few things I want to put to Mrs Pettybon.
- What's this? - The Golightly case, sir.
- Strange? - I've had a dig into Mrs Pettybon, sir.
Nothing for her, but we've a match on her husband.
- He's dead, isn't he? - Suicide.
Daughter got back from Sunday Evensong to find him hanging from the bannister.
He'd been pinched for gross indecency on the Friday
and was looking at court on the Monday.
Well, I suppose you must be feeling very pleased with yourself.
Not particularly.
But it certainly explains your vicious hatred of men like Dudley Jessop.
I loved my husband.
The man I thought he was.
To lose him, it was a terrible shock.
But to find out that he'd been carrying on like that...
But you drove him to it!
- I heard you. - It was what he deserved.
- Better that than bringing shame on the family. - You bitch! You utter bitch!
- All right. All right. All right. - Get off me!
I'm leaving.
You can rot in hell for all I care.
She'll be back.
No.
She won't.
What do you think happened?
I think Barry Finch died at Maplewick Hall and Ralph Spender came back and tidied up.
Then moved Finch's body to the pub yard.
- So why haven't you arrested him? - Because so far his alibi stands up.
That he was in London, on the phone to the USA,
planning a tour with the erm...
- .. Kinks? - The Kinks? He can't have.
- Why not? - The Kinks are banned from America.
It's something to do with work permits.
Really?
I'll be up at Maplewick Hall if anyone wants me.
- Hello. - Hello.
I'm looking for Mr Spender.
Erm, he's not here.
The boys have taken Nick to see a specialist in Surrey.
Major Ralph and Bruno have taken them. Pippa's gone too.
- Do you want a drink? - Oh. Yes, please.
What about Christopher's wife?
Anna-Britt?
I think they were dropping her off at Chris's mother's, with the baby.
It's in town somewhere.
You were seen, Mr Jessop,
mooching around backstage at the Almanac show.
You had the perfect opportunity to leave those poisoned chocolates.
Who told you that?
- The girl, I presume? - What girl?
How were things between Anna-Britt and Nick?
How do you mean?
Nick and Chris were good friends, weren't they?
They went to school together. I just wondered if there was any jealousy.
I couldn't say. Why?
Oh... Just curious.
There was a young woman in her dressing room.
She said she was Mrs Pettybon's assistant.
She asked me what I was doing there.
I said I was lost, and went on my way.
The daughter, you mean? Bettina?
No. No, I know what she looks like.
Poor creature.
This girl, can you describe her?
- Would you mind if I looked in Nick's room? - Sure.
The poisoned chocolates were for Mrs Pettybon.
She threatened to have the group's record banned on television.
Could Spender have put her up to it?
It could have damaged the group's sales.
Even he wouldn't go that far. He was trying to buy her off.
No, this is good old-fashioned hate, pure and simple.
Where's Morse?
What is it you're looking for? Can I help?
Pippa was sleeping with Nick. Is that right?
Yes. On and off.
And Barry Finch.
What about him?
Was she sleeping with him too?
I'd better get that.
Maplewick Hall.
This is Detective Inspector Thursday, Oxford City Police.
- Who am I speaking to? - Hello?
I believe you have Detective Constable Morse with you.
I'd like to speak to him now, please.
Hello?... Hello?
You're a keen photographer?
It's my thing.
Ralph says we might do a book -- pictures of the band.
So did you take this?
That's Nick, Pippa and Barry Finch, isn't it?
Did they know you'd taken it?
- No, I suppose not. They're asleep. - Nick asked me to.
I don't think so. No.
I think this was private.
I doubt anyone knew, except those involved and you, of course.
- Only, you weren't invited. - Anyone knew what?
That Nick was sleeping with Pippa and Barry.
It's there in the title of their new album.
Boys & Girls Come Out To Play.
Boys AND girls.
There's also a message on the groove of their LP.
YEMKTTHL 4099.
- That's... It's just a matrix number. - "Yet each man kills the thing he loves."
4099. The prisoner number assigned to Oscar Wilde when he was sent to Reading Gaol.
I think you couldn't stand that Nick was sleeping with Barry Finch.
You waited until he passed out, and strangled him.
Nick must've come to, his mind still clouded by drink and drugs,
found Barry dead beside him.
He couldn't be sure that his sex game hadn't gone wrong.
What sex game?
In Justine, de Sade's book, one character has another hang him
to the point of unconsciousness. I think Nick experimented with the same idea.
The thing is, all you had to do that night was wait.
What?
By the time you strangled Barry Finch, he was already dying.
He'd had a bad reaction to the drugs he'd taken.
But that wasn't it. You thought, with Barry out of the way,
Nick might be yours. But he never would have been.
- That's why you slipped him the LSD. - Why would I hurt Nick?
I love him!
He loves me! I know he does!
He wrote Jennifer Sometimes for me!
- No, he didn't. That's not about you. - It is! He told me!
No, it's not.
"Go back to the old school. Look under the toadstool."
The lyrics don't apply to you.
But they do apply to Christopher Clark. It's "Christopher Sometimes".
But he could hardly put that on the radio.
It's my name.
If it wasn't for me, why would he call it Jennifer?
To make scansion.
Christopher, Jennifer. Same amount of syllables.
Something wrong?
It's all right. It's all right.
You have nothing to be afraid of.
Unless you have.
What you take in with you is what you find in there.
You must have seen some terrible things. It's all waiting for you.
What's in there, Morse?
Morse! Morse!
Morse.
- All right! - Get off me!
What have you given him? What've you given him?
Morse...
All right, Morse. All right.
Will he recover?
Time will tell, sir.
But he's been to hell and back.
The only hope is, it wasn't LSD she gave him.
She used the last of that on Nick Wilding.
And there doesn't look to be much hope for him.
So what did she use on Morse?
A concoction of henbane, mandrake and Jimson weed.
Effects are not dissimilar to LSD.
And it was she who sent the chocolates to Mrs Pettybon?
Yes, sir.
She wanted to get back at her for trying to get the group's record banned.
Only, they ended up with Reverend Golightly.
Girl sounds an absolute hellion.
Morse.
What day is it?
Corned beef.
It's Friday.
That's right.
Friday.
Did she confess?
- Emma? - Oh, yeah.
She planted the photos in the Turkish Delight box
after she'd doped Nick to discredit him.
Well...
I'd better let you get some rest.
No need to rush back.
In your own good time.
Morse. Oxford 2947.
'This is the operator.
I have a reverse charge call from Leamington. Will you accept the charges?'
I don't think I know anyone in Leamington.
Oh, yes. Yes.
'Connecting you now. Go ahead, caller.'
Hello?
Miss Thursday?
'I'm sorry, sir. She's disconnected.'