♪ Heartbeat
♪ Why do you miss when my baby kisses me?
♪ Heartbeat
♪ Why does a love kiss stay in my memory? ♪
Oh, thank you, sir.
- Was everything all right for you? - Perfectly, thank you.
- Aidensfield? Is that near here? - Next stop up the road.
- 15 minutes by car. - Quiet sort of place, I imagine.
As the grave, sir.
For he knoweth whereof we are made.
He remembereth that we are but dust.
The days of man are but as grass.
He flourisheth as a flower of the field.
As soon as the wind goeth over it, it is gone.
And the place thereof, shall know it no more.
We have entrusted our brother, Thomas Jowett
to God's merciful keeping.
♪ And he's oh so good
♪ And he's oh so fine
♪ And he's oh so healthy
♪ In his body and his mind
♪ He's a well respected man about town
♪ Doing the best things so conservatively
♪ And his mother goes to meetings
♪ While his father pulls the maid
♪ And she stirs the tea with councillors
♪ While discussing foreign trade ♪
A poor turnout.
Makes it even more distressing.
- Did you know him well? - No, not really.
I've nursed him for the past year.
He used to be quite active in local affairs.
You wouldn't think it, would you.
He'd been a virtual recluse in recent years.
Oh, why was that?
Oh, some personal snub from way back.
You know what villages are like.
Are you all right, Maggie?
Yes.
Oh, you know, just an accumulation of things.
These do's don't help.
SCREECH OF BRAKES
Maggie said he had a brain tumour the size of a tennis ball.
Nothing could be done for him.
That's hard to come to terms with.
Maggie must have seen it all before,
but I've never seen her so upset.
Well, it sounds like she needs a holiday.
Away from the sick and the lame.
Perhaps.
Oh, I um...
I thought I'd ask Joyce Jowett
if she'd like to help me with the flowers for the church.
She might appreciate the company now.
Any suggestions for a place to stay?
In Aidensfield? No hotel as such.
- Try the pub across the road. - Oh, right. Thanks.
I'm looking for a Jowett. Do you know where I can find him?
He's just moved.
To the graveyard. I did the removal.
You'll find his widow on Meadow Bank Road, outskirts of the village.
Constable, can I have a word?
Come in.
Billy was the children's dog, really, but you know how it is.
I ended up looking after him. Anyway, it's upset us all.
Of course.
Thing is, it should have been reported.
- That's the law, isn't it? - Ya.
So what sort of person just leaves a dog dead and says nothing?
Well, I'm sorry, Mrs. Mason. It happens, I'm afraid.
Yes. Well, I don't think that's all there is to it.
- How do you mean? - I've had a letter.
Typed and everything,
everything that is except the name on the bottom.
So, what's it say?
That we let Billy loose in fields to worry sheep.
It says if we couldn't control the dog, he should be put down.
And was your dog worrying sheep?
We tried to keep him in, but the kids opening the gate.
It makes no direct threat.
None that you can see perhaps.
To me it says, "Keep and eye on your dog, or else."
May I keep this?
Do you have any idea who might have sent it?
Try Jim Riley.
He's the only farmer grazing sheep at our end of the village.
- Miss Weston? - Yes?
Nigel Wheeler. Your father might have mentioned my name?
I'm not sure.
I've been advising him on some money matters.
Oh, I'm sorry, yes, he did say something.
He suggested I should call in if I was ever in this neck of the woods.
- Well, please, come in. - Thank you.
Black and white?
Yeah, collie. Answers to the name of 'Billy'.
Not my name for it. Aye, I've seen it.
Been running some of my ewes ragged.
The dog's been run over.
Good riddance.
The owners received this anonymous letter,
telling them to keep their dog under control.
- Oh, aye? - It didn't come from you?
Me? No!
Or Mrs. Riley?
Course not.
The owners think whoever wrote the letter
ran over the dog intentionally.
What are you saying?
Listen. If I'd known who owned that dog, I'd have gone round and strangled it.
Now, I'm going to dip these sheep.
If I were you, I'd get on my bike before I get myself all mucked up.
Where are you based?
Leeds, but I travel all over.
Bringing the word to the natives.
I don't preach and I don't judge.
If people feel happier with their money under the mattress,
I don't want to argue.
However, with no risks at all,
there are ways of making your nest egg grow.
I'm sure my father is aware of most of them.
He is now.
An astute man.
I'm afraid I spend what I get.
Oh, I'm not here to sell you a savings scheme.
Social call.
- Hello. - Hi.
- Nick, this is Nigel Wheeler. - Constable.
Nick Rowan. I'm not on official business.
Nigel's a financial adviser from Leeds.
Dad said he should call in if he's in the area.
You come up with the premium bonds, then?
Fat chance.
I'm not on duty either. Just a social call.
- Is that your car? - Yes.
You've got some damage to the front bumper.
Have I? Parking prank, probably.
There's some traces of blood.
Really?
It's probably just a pheasant.
We've had a report of a dog run over this morning.
Yes, well, I think I'd know if I'd hit a dog.
Yeah, yeah, probably so.
Anyway, thanks for coffee, Jo.
Nice to meet you both. See you around.
Talk about topping up that police pension, perhaps?
- Bye now. - Bye, Nigel.
Don't you ever knock off?
I only asked a question.
Do you always have to interrogate visitors like that?
I didn't think you'd invited him.
Well, my father had, which I suppose you think
is reason enough to give him the third degree!
Phone, Uncle George.
I'm out.
But it could be the Queen!
I'm still out!
SPORTS COMMENTARY
Any sign of Rowan yet?
No, sarge.
What's that?
Desk, sarge?
Radio, sarge. From the found property locker.
I know where it's from, Bellamy.
I was just putting new batteries in it, sarge.
I'll put new batteries into you in a minute!
Suppose the owner came in now and found you dickering with it.
- Now, just put it back! - Yes, sarge.
And don't use anything from the found property locker again!
Watch yourself.
The moon's in the wrong quarter.
Blaketon's in a filthy mood again.
- Is that you Rowan? - Yes, sarge.
Jim Riley's been on the phone.
He says you're accusing him of writing threatening letters and executing pets.
I was following up a complaint, sarge.
Well, now I am. Have you got the letter?
Did you know your barometer was in there, sarge.
From your office.
Put it back, shall I?
- Where is he? - He's in here.
What on Earth were you doing, George?
I dropped the axe.
Temper. That's what caused it.
Don't talk stupid.
Temper? What's the problem?
There isn't one, only in his mind.
Haven't you got pumps to polish?
He's had an anonymous letter.
It won't go any further than Maggie.
What did it say?
Him allowing after-hours drinking.
It's probably from some temperance nutcase.
It's my licence at stake, so don't go poo-pooing it.
If a magistrate gets to hear, that's my card marked.
- Was it a threatening letter? - Not really.
Well, if it's no threat, why write and tell me something I already know?
You should show this to Nick Rowan.
Give myself up?
Come on, George. Don't think this will be news to him.
- Maybe not. - You think it's really serious?
Yes, I do.
Admit your bad timekeeping and get Nick onto it.
This sort of blackmail needs stopping before it takes a hold.
Mrs. Jowett?
- Yes? - Nigel Wheeler.
What an amazing place.
- Am I interrupting? - No, I'm only weeding.
Looks amazingly weed-free to me.
It'll soon get out of hand.
You don't have any help?
Not now.
My husband's died recently.
Oh, I see. I'm sorry.
Perhaps that's why Miss Weston thought I should pay you a visit?
Miss Weston?
The teacher at the junior school.
I'm not as well acquainted with local people as you might imagine.
How can I help you, Mr. Wheeler?
It's more a case of me helping you.
But now that you've told me of your recent bereavement,
this may not be the time.
Time for what?
I'm a financial adviser, Mrs. Jowett.
Ah.
And I understand completely if you'd rather wait
before doing anything about your future needs.
My husband worked for a bank, Mr. Wheeler.
So, naturally, I left money matters to him.
Of course. But now you have your own decisions to make.
If I can help you as I have Miss Weston and her father,
I'd be more than happy to oblige.
Unusual name.
I suppose it is.
Politics was my husband's passion.
Let me explain your financial options to you now, Mrs. Jowett.
It'll only take five minutes.
I'm not admitting anything, mind you.
Once or twice, I might have absent- mindedly pulled a pint after time,
but nobody's perfect.
But from now on you will be.
- Hey? - Yeah.
Yes.
Any idea who wrote it?
Perhaps the blackmail note's to follow?
Thanks, Nick.
He's in such a lather what with the letter and this fellow Wheeler.
- Who? Nigel Wheeler? - Yeah, he's staying at the pub.
He's got me Uncle George interested in some money making scheme.
- Do you think he's all right? - Well, that's not for me to say, Gina.
That's for George to decide.
Yeah, I suppose so.
I just don't want him rushed into anything.
It seems that the writer just wants people to know they're being watched.
Doing your job, in other words. A little creepy though.
Talking of which, I hear your friend Wheeler's got his claws into George.
Just because he comes with my dad's seal of approval, Nick.
- He dresses as nice as he smells. - Miaow! Who's got claws now?!
Hello, Maggie.
Hello.
Have you got a minute, Nick?
Yeah, sure.
So, what's the problem?
I've made calls on two patients with similar stories
involving anonymous letters.
Oh, that.
In both cases, it's caused upset, and probably injury.
Hang on, Maggie. If you saw the letters, you'd know there's not much to them.
Yes, but there is to those who get them.
Well, I appreciate that.
- So, what are you doing about it? - What am I doing?
Yes!
Well, whoever wrote them isn't threatening anything
or demanding money.
So there's no crime, you mean?
Not that I can see, no.
That's nonsense, Nick. I mean, the threat's clear enough.
"I know something about you and I'm going to use it."
"Not now, perhaps, but someday."
Maggie.
For someone to hold that over you, that's the crime!
You've had one.
It happened a long time ago.
Something I thought I'd pushed to the back of my mind.
Well, if you don't tell me what it is, I can't help you.
When I was training to be a nurse
I had an affair with a married man...
...got pregnant.
He was the ambitious type.
He's a public figure now.
He paid for an abortion.
It was illegal, of course, but...
...that was no obstacle to those who have money.
And if this came out?
I couldn't face it.
Have you got the letter?
So who knew?
Just...
...me...
...him and the doctor.
The man's wife?
Not that I know of.
He isn't named in the letter.
No. But there's enough to show that the writer knows who he is.
There's still no direct threat.
Oh, for heaven's sake, Nick. This is the third letter.
How many more do you need before it becomes a police matter?
Do you want to tell me the man's name?
No.
It can't be anything to do with him.
If he's a public figure, he'll have enemies.
I thought that was a possibility until I heard about the other two letters.
This isn't an outsider, Nick.
This is someone here in the village.
Now then, George.
What's all this I hear about you trimming your toenails with a chopper?
What do you want?
Well, concerned customer come to take the...
...come to see how you're getting on!
Oh, aye?
- How's it feel? Painful? - Not for you to worry about.
I'll be back behind that bar in no time.
Not before we get used to these full measures, I hope!
What are you reading?
- Wheeler left them for me. - Wheeler?
The fella we've got staying here.
What, him with the blue convertible and stinks of perfume?
- Aftershave. - Same difference, ain't it.
Seems to knows his stuff.
"Investment without risk"? "Double your money in a year"?
Laid up like this, a bloke starts thinking, Claude.
Ah. Or not, as the case may be.
There's only one safe way to double your money, George.
That's to take your notes out your pocket,
fold 'em over and bung 'em back in again!
You'll get your money.
I know what I said, but...
Listen. You're already sharking me for 10% over the odds, so you can't lose.
Look, get off my back.
You'll get your money.
- Just the man. - What's up?
Think back, Claude. About eight years go, to be exact.
- You gave me a Cup Final ticket. - Did I? What about it?
Why?
Eight years?
I can't remember what happened this morning.
Well, try.
I don't know.
I probably didn't want to use it myself.
So where did you get this Cup Final ticket from?
- I used to get one every year. - What for?
- What's all this about? - What for?
Well, I used to do some deliveries for a bloke, you know, cash only.
Cash only?
The bloke who owned the firm, he had two sets of books.
One for the inland revenue and a proper one.
What, you're looking for another ticket?
- No. - What's all the fuss about?
I've had a unsigned letter,
accusing me of obtaining a cup final ticket from a dubious source.
- Did you tell anyone about it? - Course I didn't!
I mean, if you remember rightly, officer,
the reason you have a ticket in the first place was because
you've been a bit understanding about a slightly overdue tax disc on my lorry.
You done me one, so I did you one.
I've been waiting for you.
Can I have a word?
Said I'd be back, didn't I?
Did you find what you wanted in Aidensfield, sir?
Yeah, but I prefer it much better here.
There's only one thing you can do, Alf.
And it was going spare?
Well, I think that's what he said.
It was eight years. Hard to remember.
- Well, somebody hasn't. - Yes, sarge.
And there was no, "You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours" about it?
You know me, sarge.
Is that a 'yes' or a 'no'?
My memory's playing tricks.
As far as I remember, there's something about an old tax disc.
Go on.
Oh, Greengrass said he's got a new one at home
and I gave him the benefit of the doubt.
Knowing he'd go straight to the Post Office and buy one?
Yes, sarge.
Anything else playing tricks with your memory, Ventress?
I don't think so, sarge.
You're a fool, aren't you?
Yes, sarge.
Well, if this letter writer chooses to make mischief...
...who knows.
What have you got so far, Rowan?
Well, next to nothing, sarge.
There doesn't seemed to be any link between those who have had letters
to suggest a common enemy.
And typewriters?
All four letters appear to have been typed on the same machine.
The four you know about.
Well, unless there's a sudden outbreak of honesty,
we'll never know if there are any more.
It's a delicate business, this, but I want you to pursue it.
You're looking for a nosy local
with a grudge against the world in general
and the police in particular.
- You can start with Greengrass. - What, as a suspect?
Not this time.
But his ragbag of a mind is full of tittle-tattle.
Something useful might drop out.
On your bikes.
What's all this? Mob handed?
Must be summat serious.
We're hoping you can solve a little mystery, Claude.
There's only one mystery I've never been able to solve.
That is, why, when there's summat's up,
you always seemed to come straight here.
What's all this then, Claude?
What does it look like?
- Office furniture. - Well done, Sherlock.
And before you asked, I've got all the receipts.
I never said a word, Claude.
There's a bloke who will take all this stuff off me he can get.
I think he ships it to underdeveloped countries like Lancashire.
Mind you, I usually nick all the best stuff for myself.
New typewriter, Claude?
Ah. How did I ever manage without it?
I mean, a businessman without a typewriter...
...it's a bit like a copper without a suspicious mind, ain't it!
It's not natural.
Didn't know you could type.
Only with one finger.
Mind, I don't use the same one every time.
Are you going to tell me what you've come for or not?
Well, funnily enough, we're looking for a typewriter.
It's being used to send malicious letters.
Oh I see. And as usual, it's down to me, is it?
I never said it was you.
I'm surprised. I mean I've got no time to type malicious letters,
let alone the inclination.
Just for the record,
we better eliminate this machine from our inquiries.
Well, if that's all you've come for,
you better have a look at this lot, too.
I hope I haven't call at a bad time.
I wasn't doing anything that can't wait.
It's just that when I saw you at the church...
...I wondered if you'd care to give me a hand with the flowers?
If you had the time.
Well, uh...
There's no need to give answer now. Think about it.
I will, thank you.
Thomas wasn't very churchy, but I used to be a regular.
Is this Mr. Jowett?
Yes.
I gather he was interested in local politics.
Oh, he gave all that up years ago.
Why was that?
Disillusionment, I suppose.
He voted for the quiet life, and I wasn't going to argue.
Will you find things a little too quiet now?
Possibly so.
Oh, I had another surprise caller, gentleman called Nigel Wheeler.
A financial adviser.
Yes, I've heard his name mentioned.
He was recommended to come and see me by Miss Weston...
though I don't think I've ever haven't met her.
Oh?
I've got a lump sum of money and he suggests I buy an annuity.
I don't suppose you know anything about that sort of thing, do you?
Nothing at all, I'm afraid.
I suppose that's why we need the Nigel Wheelers of this world.
Well, thanks for holding the fort. Any problems?
No, good as gold, eh, Katie?
I've been onto the criminal records office about your friend Wheeler.
You're determined to paint him black, aren't you.
He used your name to introduce himself to Mrs. Jowett.
He's pushy Nick, that's all. He's a go-getter.
It's what he 'goes getting' that worries me.
Oh, what did the records office say?
Well, they've got nothing under 'Wheeler'.
Oh, there you are, then.
Who's to say that's his name?
Oh, come on, what more do you want?
- A trip to his office in Leeds. - Why?
When I spoke to on the phone, they sounded kosher enough,
but I won't be convinced till I've been there myself.
Alright, Phil?
No, I've got typist's elbow.
Hello, Phil.
Hello, Jo.
Hey, get in there, you.
I'm serious, you know, about Leeds.
You know where to find me.
Excuse me?
It can't be.
Can't be what?
Greengrass's typewriters.
It looks like the same machine that typed the poisoned-pen letters.
CAR HORN BEEPS
Okay. Thanks very much.
- Is she all right? - Well, she's badly shaken up.
They're keeping her in for observation.
Do you know what happened?
Well, she ran into a van, apparently.
Lucky, by the sound of it.
Poor Maggie. I'll go and see her.
Get her some flowers from us all.
And go easy on the questions, eh?
I've got to see a man about a typewriter.
You're cocking your leg up the wrong tree.
I mean, whoever typed them letters
they were using phrases I never knew existed.
How do you know?
Because I've had one myself, haven't I.
- So, where is it? - Why?
I want to see it.
You can't.
This is serious, Claude.
All right. But it's for your eyes only.
Phil.
Here... and don't laugh.
In broad daylight?!
I didn't know the van was gonna drive off, did I.
So where did you get the typewriter from?
Well, I got them from an auction, didn't I.
I mean, the lot, you know.
I mean, as far as I know,
most of them came from that Ashfordly Secretarial School.
Yeah, all right.
Phil.
- Which one is it? - Which one?
The guilty machine. Which one?
I've no idea.
(SNIGGERING) You'll be stopping for supper!
♪ Who'll be the next in line?
♪ Who'll be the next in line for heartaches?
♪ Who'll make the same mistakes I made over you?
♪ Who'll be the next in line?
♪ For you
♪ Who'll be the next in line?
♪ Who'll be the next to watch your love fade?
♪ All your affections finally fade away ♪
I'll make sure he gets it. Thank you. Bye.
Fire and Safety?
No. We're looking for Nigel Wheeler.
He doesn't see people here.
I'm just a telephone answering service.
So you provide the same service for other companies?
Yes. I told them not to give people the address.
There's been two men looking for him as well.
Really?
I told them, "I don't know where he is", which I don't.
They said they'd be back.
Scared me, to be honest.
It doesn't actually prove anything.
No, not a thing.
If you're still happy for your father to sign checks with this fellow.
Okay. We'd better go and see him.
I'm still not sure.
Tell me again what it is that's worrying you.
Well, it's not one thing. I'm just not sure, you know.
Surrender the policy now,
and you release the money for the scheme that we've discussed.
If I let the policy mature...
You'll miss your chance.
In money matters, timing is all.
Seize this opportunity and I guarantee you'll have no regrets.
Uncle George.
Can you give us a hand?
Yes, coming.
We'll do this another time.
- Jo? - Hello, Dad.
Nick! What are you doing here?
We're just on our way back from Leeds.
Well, you couldn't have come at a worst time.
I'm just leaving for a meeting. Is it important?
It could be.
We were in Leeds looking for Nigel Wheeler's office.
His office? Why?
Nick doesn't think Wheeler's what he makes out to be.
- Oh? - So we went to check.
We think you should be very cautious, dad.
- We? - Nick and me.
You discussed my private affairs with Nick?
Only as regards Wheeler.
Something of a financial expert are you, young man?
No, no. Of course not.
No, I rather thought not.
Perhaps you should stick to what you know and allow me to do likewise.
Nick's only trying to help, Dad.
Oh, I see.
Quick to leap to his defence
but happy enough to make a fool of me, is that it?
You know it isn't.
We made very general enquiries, Mr. Weston.
Well, general or particular,
I take a dim view of anyone interfering in private family matters.
Well, that wasn't my intention.
As for Nigel Wheeler,
I believe keen professionals like him should be encouraged,
not disparaged.
If that's your opinion, Mr. Weston.
It is. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go.
You probably think it's none of my business.
If Nigel Wheeler used my name as a reference, then it is in a way.
But if you didn't suggest it,
why did he take it into his head to come?
PC Rowan thinks he saw your husband's obituary.
Oh.
I gather it's a common tactic.
He thought I'd be vulnerable.
Well, yes, I was.
I am.
I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interfere.
No, no, no. You were right.
All I'm saying is be careful.
Ask your solicitor to look at what he's selling before you do anything.
Such a charming man.
He reminded me a little of Thomas, years ago.
- And you believe Greengrass? - Yes, sarge.
Because he had a letter himself?
An obvious way of avoiding suspicion, surely.
What was the substance of his letter?
Well, I'm sorry, sarge. I can't tell you.
What?
Greengrass wouldn't show me, sarge.
This is a police investigation, Rowan.
I know, but I gave him my word.
I'm sure he has nothing to do with these letters.
Well, not knowing any of the details, I'm in no position to judge.
Well, he bought these typewriters at Ashfordly auction.
- I'm hoping they can help. - You best get on with it, then.
And in future, remember, Rowan.
Your duty to share information with fellow officers,
comes before any other obligation.
Yes, sarge.
Oh, one thing, sarge.
What's that?
You didn't by any chance, happen to get a letter yourself?
If I had, I'm sure you would have heard about it by now.
That's what I thought, sarge.
I can tell you who the buyer was,
but not necessarily the seller.
Why is that?
Well, sometimes, they don't like to broadcast it.
Right. Typewriter, batch of them.
Ah, Claude Greengrass.
He bought a lot of other stuff too.
I'm only interested in the typewriters.
He bought 21 of them in two lots.
20 assorted typewriters from the Ashfordly Secretarial School.
And an Imperial, on its own.
- This one? - Uh, yes.
Do you have the seller's name?
There. Any use to you?
Yeah. Thank you.
KNOCK AT DOOR
Yes?
Wheeler Financial Services?
Not here any more.
If you're after money, join the queue.
He hasn't paid me for weeks.
And now I've got people threatening me because he hasn't paid them.
I told him when he rang, 'I'm finished.'
Checking up on me again?
Sorry?
Her solicitor's on the case now, so you can relax.
I'm gonna report you for messing about in my business.
Constable?!
Mrs. Jowett. Can I have a word?
Yes, of course.
I was just showing Mr. Gibson out.
Well, it might be a good idea if he stays.
Oh.
Some motor you've got here.
Yeah. Looks good on the forecourt, eh!
Fine-looking thing.
Tell you what. 650 and it's yours.
You're kidding me.
- Think you've got a market for it? - I might have.
I couldn't raise the cash straightaway.
Alright then, 600.
It's worth nine, easy.
It's still a lot of money.
Oh, forget it.
I'm sorry, I can't take this in.
Are you accusing me of sending anonymous letters to people?
All I'm saying is that the letters were typed
on a machine that you recently sold at auction.
But I haven't used it for years.
It was Thomas's typewriter really.
What about the person who bought it, constable?
Well, he's already been eliminated.
When did your husband last use the typewriter?
It must have been two years or more.
He hasn't had the will to do anything for the past year.
Mr. Gibson can testify to that.
Did your husband hold a grudge against anyone?
There were people he disapproved of, certainly.
But a grudge.
Well?
Thomas felt badly let down
when he was running for re-election as leader of the council.
He never rose above deputy manager at the bank, constable,
but he dreamed of going all the way in politics.
I believe he would have made Parliament eventually.
So what happened?
He was found guilty of exceeding the amount
allowed for his election expenses.
He forgot the cost of his postage - £15!
For that, he was disqualified from office.
Well, who did he blame?
The voters, finally.
He worked hard for them,
and after that one slip-up, they turned their backs on him.
Shunned him like a criminal, that's how he saw it, anyway.
And did he write them letters about their slip-ups?
He sometimes get angry and write a letter just to get it off his chest.
But he never sent them.
- How do you know? - I wouldn't let him.
He'd write a letter and put the envelope on the mantlepiece and
after a day or two, when he calmed down,
and put it in the drawer with the others.
- Have you still got them? - Yes.
I couldn't face clearing out his desk yet.
- Mrs. Jowett. - They're in here somewhere.
I'm sorry, you won't find them there.
Why not?
When I came to see Thomas for the last time,
he told me where they were.
Whatever for?
He instructed me to take them and post them after his death.
Oh, no. You knew he was ill.
I had no idea what was in them.
I thought they were probably letters of thanks.
No. Please, no.
I'm so sorry, Mrs. Jowett. So sorry.
Jowett must have picked up
most of the details through his job by observation.
But how did he know about you?
The man I was having the affair with was his political opponent.
The one who lobbied hardest
to get him disqualified as leader of the council.
Oh.
Thomas Jowett must have known about us.
And I suppose with his job at the bank
he'd have known about our finances.
He would have seen the cheque being paid in.
And then later, when I wrote another one for the same amount
to pay for the abortion.
It must have been pretty evident what was going on.
Well, you must be relieved.
I suppose so.
Sad as well.
I thought I'd come to terms with what had happened.
Yeah, well.
It was the right thing to do at the time.
And later, when I didn't have children...
How's Joyce Jowett taking it?
Well, she's very upset.
He died a bitter man.
There's not much she can do about that.
Mr. Mitchell.
Good of you to see me at such short notice.
Not at all. Take a seat.
Thank you.
Now, how can I help you?
It's a matter of money, Mr. Sims.
Naturally. You have a property in mind?
Number nine, Park View Road.
Nine... I see.
Very amusing!
I'm sorry, Mr. Mitchell, my property's not on the market.
No, but your wife is.
What the hell are you talking about?
- Your wife is safe. - Safe?
And she'll stay safe as long as you do everything I say.
What's going on?
Where is she?
She's at home
with a couple of colleagues of mine to keep her company.
Do you understand?
What do you want?
Three thousand pounds.
Three thousand pounds?
She's worth that, surely?
How do I know you've got her?
You want to take the risk?
Phone her.
Dead?
Only the phone, Mr. Sims.
Now... I need you to go out there...
...put the money in this case, come back in here...
...sit quietly for 20 minutes.
And no-one need get hurt.
Police.
- Hello, Nick. - Mr. Weston.
I'm on my way to see Jo.
- Well, come in. - No, no, you must be busy.
I just wanted to say you were right...
...about Nigel Wheeler.
Oh.
A golfing acquaintance referred him to me,
and I rather let my guard down.
Yeah, well.
I'm not often fooled as easily.
Appearances are deceptive, hey?
Part of your training, I expect?
Anyway...
...thank you.
I stopped my cheque, so no harm done.
PHONE RINGS - Well, I'm glad you called by.
Sounds like trouble. I'll let you get on.
See you soon, perhaps?
Yeah.
Anything?
I've only just got here. It's all very quiet.
The phone wire's been cut just... there.
Alright, Mr. Sims, let's have a look.
Linda?
Mr. Sims?
Linda?
Linda!
Maurice?! What are you doing here?
Tall, dark hair, fortyish,
tweed jacket, grey trousers and glasses.
Yeah. Ordinary-looking, really.
Respectable.
Just another customer.
Is there anything else you remember about him?
The way he spoke or acted?
No, nothing else.
Oh, other than...
It was when I tried to phone Linda.
He reached across and took the phone off me.
I know it sounds daft, but he smelled, of perfume.
Like a woman.
Time for a word, Mr. Wheeler?
♪ Who's got the love
to keep a man like me
♪ Oh oh oh
♪ When I'm dead and gone
♪ I'm gonna leave some happy woman living on
♪ Oh oh oh
♪ When I'm dead and gone
♪ Don't want nobody to mourn
♪ Beside my grave
Where is he, then?
In the Interview Room with Alf.
What's his story?
Well, he says he got in too deep with loan sharks.
Scared stiff he's gonna lose some part of his anatomy.
Well, he'll be safe enough where he's going.
And it's useful to get this letter business off our plates as well.
Yes, sarge.
Means that people can rest easier
knowing their misdemeanours have gone to the grave.
Well, only the ones I'm able to tell.
His solicitor sent two dozen in all.
Two dozen?
Well, there's nothing we can do about that.
No, sarge.
You didn't get one yourself, then?
No, sarge.
Just wondered.
♪ Oh oh oh
♪ When I'm dead and gone
♪ Don't want nobody to mourn beside my grave
♪ Heartbeat
♪ Why do you miss when my baby kisses me?
♪ Heartbeat
♪ Why does a love kiss .stay in my memory? ♪
subtitles by Deluxe