Leave me alone, Stephen!
Get off me!
It's good to breathe Cornish air.
How long you staying down for?
Haven't decided yet.
Is Helen coming?
It's rather complicated. Tommy! Well, about Helen.
Please, not a word to Mother. The more you keep her in the dark,
the worse her suspicions will be.
Just until I'm ready for the barrage of questions.
Sister's honour. Please. What?
I just made that up. Promise me? I promise.
You said Mother's been struggling to look after the estate.
She seems perfectly fine to me.
Yeah, because she does a good impersonation of a swan -
beautiful feathers above the water and madly paddling feet below.
Penellin hasn't been here for months.
Looking after his father. We spoke.
But when he comes back.... When? If! Increasingly if.
His father has Alzheimer's. Oh.
Even so, you know... SIRENS WAIL IN DISTANCE
I wonder what that's about. Get on! Go!
Lord Asherton? Please, Inspector Lynley.
DS Tremayne, Howenstow CID.
Bit galling you got here quicker on horseback than I did in the motor!
I was riding nearby with my sister when I saw the squad cars.
The officer on the scene asked me to look. How long would you say he'd been hanging there?
I tend to leave that kind of thing to the path boys.
But if you had to put £10 on it, based on your experience in London.
If I had to put £10 on it, I would say not more than 24 hours. That's cheating!
My constable said the groom last saw him 24 hours ago.
It's not cheating, it's called prudence.
I knew he had money problems, but I...
well, just never thought... Judith?
I'm just going there. Back in a minute.
Detective Sergeant Tremayne, my sister Judith.
A terrible shock for her, finding her boss like that.
What is this? Suicide? We don't know yet. We haven't anything to go on.
With all due respect, WE haven't got anything.
I've got a corpse with a cut forehead, hanging in his stable.
Yes, of course, I'm sorry.
Who was he? Stephen Fenner. Small-time trainer.
Was on a winning streak a few years ago when he bought this place but according to his groom,
things haven't been going well recently.
Sir? We've found something.
Flesh, blood and a bit of skin by the look of it.
It would appear Mr Fenner was rather a fan of Japanese whisky.
So, what? He tanked himself up on Dutch courage, stumbled, and banged his head on the table?
Hence the gash on his forehead.
But if he succumbed to the booze in here, he's unlikely to make it to the far stable,
rig up a noose and stool, and dispatch himself so cleanly.
Unless the noose and stool were already in place. Then you'd only have to get there and climb up.
I suppose his determination to do the deed could have allowed him to manage that.
Some people only have to look at a wine gum before they feel tipsy,
others can manage the high wire on a litre of Vodka.
So...suicide?
It certainly looks that way to me.
OK.
What? Well, it...
Sorry, but if it was my investigation
I'd still treat it as a crime scene for now, until the pathologist says otherwise.
It's...always easier to scale down later than it is to scale up.
OK, so I'm inebriated enough to be very wobbly on my feet, particularly after the fall in there.
But I'm still hell-bent on self-annihilation.
So I stagger out of the house and head straight towards...
the stable block.
Hopefully, leaving some nice muddy footprints.
Well, there's been a lot of traffic through here. What about these?
Yeah, yeah, possibly.
So I veer slightly en route to the stable, not surprising considering the condition I'm in.
And on I go...
What is it?
Looks like I had a second stumble.
It looks like a handprint.
Yeah. I stumble, put out my hand and break the fall.
I didn't notice either of Fenner's hands being muddy.
Well, could have wiped them on something in the stable.
There's nothing in there except Fenner and a knocked-over stool.
Did you see his clothes? Fenner's clothes were clean.
All right, well, we can move on to the next possibility.
Which is? It's not Fenner's hand.
Must be someone else's.
Judith, how is she? She's perked up now her boyfriend Lachlan's arrived.
You couldn't do me a favour, could you?
Take the horses home? Tommy! I know, I know... I'm down here to see Mother.
But it'd be stupid to be on the scene and not try and contribute something.
The police can do perfectly well without you. I'd like to have a word with the groom.
You wouldn't sit in, would you? I'd value your opinion.
Of course. Thanks.
Just a couple of questions, Moira, then you can go.
Wouldn't it be better to do this some other time? For Moira, probably. But not for us.
Sorry, love. I'll be all right, Lachlan. Sure?
Right, Moira. As Stephen Fenner's head groom, you probably saw more of him than anyone else. I s'pose.
Is there anything in his business or personal life that would lead him to take his life?
Not really.
I mean, he had money worries.
But then he's had money worries as long as I've worked for him.
Which is how long? Two years.
Would you know if they've got worse recently? Well, I haven't been paid in a month.
I tell Moira she's stupid to stay, but working with horses is her life.
Anything else you can think of?
However trivial it may seem to you...
He was pretty upset about Artemis. Artemis?
He's a National Hunt horse he bought about two weeks ago.
Stephen thought he'd be the answer to his prayers. Cheltenham we hoped.
And, much like the man himself, wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
How so?
Turned out it had navicular disease. Come again?
It's a severe inflammation of the navicular nerve and the area surrounding the hoof.
Some horses never recover.
It would've been catastrophic in Fenner's game.
That's brilliant, Moira. Now, I want you to think one last time.
I know you're doing your job, but he already asked her one last time.
Is there anything else you can think of that might've been troubling him?
No. I'm sorry. I wanna go home.
OK. Thanks, Moira. You've been a lot of help.
I'll go and wait in the car.
The image of him hanging there will be with her for the rest of her life.
If she thinks of anything, ask her to call me.
Fenner treated his staff like the muck they spent most their time shovelling.
Not paying their wages you mean? Not just that. What then?
Nothing. No, speak your mind. If you've something to say, Lachlan, now's the time to say it.
What type of people tend to like working with horses?
Young women. Young women like Moira.
Are you suggesting...? Fenner was an unpleasant, dirty old man.
Probably topped himself in a moment of self-awareness.
I've got a job to get to. Can I go?
You always could have, Lachlan. We were interviewing Moira.
Thank you for your time.
Inspector Lynley? Moira.
Lachlan said he told you about Fenner being a bit of a letch. Yeah, he mentioned it in passing.
Well, I just wanted to let you know that...it's nothing to make a big deal about.
No? No. I mean he'd slap you on the bum occasionally, or...you'd catch him looking or whatever, but...
you never felt threatened.
Sexual harassment can build over time.
I know. But this was more pathetic than anything.
I guess what I'm trying to say is,
you just got used to it. OK. If you say so.
Lachlan just shouldn't have mentioned it. Thank you for coming over to clear that up. It's OK.
Very impressive! How much did you see?
Enough to treat you with more respect next time!
As long as no-one attacks me faster than a tortoise, I'm bloody lethal.
Considering you've only trained for two weeks, you're remarkably accomplished.
Mostly thanks to this place. Money well spent. Glad it's been of use. Of use?
I'm thinking of getting someone to shoot me again so I can stay!
The retreat has been amazing, sir. Thanks for recommending it.
No thanks required, Havers.
How did you know about it? My mother's been there.
She read a book on holistic medicine and can't stay away. I thought it'd be up your street. How is your mum?
Annoyed with me for working while I should be on leave.
Working? Something's come up at the neighbouring estate.
I'll tell you later. I don't want you running yourself ragged... Sounds interesting!
I could do with a challenge to get me back in the swing of things.
It's very nice of your mum to invite me back to the family pile for a few days.
She thought it would be the perfect end to your time in Cornwall.
One thing - she doesn't call it a "pile". It's a house.
So we tend to call it a house.
Right.
How've you been keeping? -Me? Fine.
And Helen? -Fine.
So everything's basically fine. Everything's basically fine.
Word of advice, sir.
When your mum asks, you'd better have a better lie than that.
Sergeant Havers! Lovely to see you again!
You too, Lady Asherton.
Judith. This is DS Havers. Havers, this is my sister Judith.
Hello. Have you got a first name?
After boarding school, he doesn't hold much truck with them.
Barbara. Hello, Barbara. Oh, thanks. Is Peter here?
No. He's still not well.
He's in rehab, but Mother doesn't like to say that.
Tommy's great grandfather. Fine looking chap, isn't he?
Yeah, he is.
Unfortunately, something of a pig when alive.
Really? Mmmm. Two people attended his funeral, including him.
The other was the officiating pastor.
I've always kept him there to remind the children it's not who you are that counts, but what.
How's your room? Oh, very comfortable. Thank you.
I imagine that working so closely together you and Tommy must share a few confidences.
We're pretty stretched time-wise.
But you know his wife lost the baby?
Yes, of course.
How is Helen, do you know?
Um... It's just that whenever I ring the house, all I get is that infernal answer machine.
It's as if she's completely disappeared. As I say...
I'm sorry. I'm putting you in an awkward position. No, not at all.
I don't know any more than you do.
And if you did you wouldn't tell.
Probably not.
I appreciate your loyalty to my son.
Do you think you can amuse yourself while I get on with supper?
Course. Can I help you with anything?
No, no, it's fine. Are you sure?
My dear girl, in my heyday I used to knock up a banquet for 20 without breaking sweat.
So I ought to be able manage a little supper for five.
Barbara! You know Judith, and this is Lady Keach, Barbara Havers. Hello.
Nice to meet you.
Unless you want me to call you Lord Asherton, my name's Sarah. I'm sorry, of course.
I couldn't think of anything worse. Me neither!
Another drink, Sarah? Yes, a small one, please.
I'm in shock over Stephen Fenner.
Even though his house borders ours, Mother hardly ever knew him.
He kept his cards pretty close to his chest. Did you know him well?
Our mutual interest in horses brought us into contact.
Our paths crossed socially at times.
Would you say he was the suicidal type?
Is there such a type?
He wasn't one of those people who radiated joie de vivre, but not everyone does.
I got on with him perfectly well, but I can't say that for everyone else around here.
Oh? How do you mean? He wasn't exactly endearing.
He was plain spoken. Didn't suffer fools,
and he showed little interest in joining in,
which, in a small community, can be a problem.
Apparently, he had terrible money problems. Your drink, Sarah.
Would you like to come through? As they say in the best tennis clubs, "dinner is served."
Mother! That was terrible!
Sarah found it mildly amusing even if you didn't!
Barbara's smiling. Oh, I thought it was hysterical, Lady Asherton.
Thank you, dear. Come along.
You're too polite!
She'd never say it, but your mother's anxious about your visit.
I gathered that. She thinks you and your sister came to find fault with the way she's running the estate.
We haven't. We're just concerned.
She's a very independent woman.
I do know that about Mother.
Your concern implies her days of independence might be numbered. That's ridiculous.
You can see she's a million miles from that.
It's frightening when your children no longer consider you immortal.
I realise you're Mother's friend. And you are admirably protective toward her.
But neither Judith nor I want to see her over-reaching herself. That's all.
Of course, if you were to come back to Howenstow your fears would be eliminated in a stroke.
Unfortunately, it's not as simple as that. Shame.
Come on, you two. No stragglers!
Very interesting woman. And attractive.
I hadn't noticed. Of course not(!)
Just bear in mind, Tommy, that the grass isn't actually greener on the other side of the fence.
It's just a trick of the light.
Isn't there somewhere else you'd rather be?
Mmm. Special Branch in five years.
Which is why I don't want to miss a trick now.
Fine. We don't often see naked ambition in this part of the world.
Rather refreshing. Not too naked, I hope.
I like to think of it as ambition with at least its pants on.
Good for you. Ever watched one of these before?
I was present at the birth of both of my kids, if that counts.
No. Suicide by hanging? Certainly looked that way when we cut him down.
Had my gut-full of these during the foot-and-mouth outbreak. One a week at least. Often more.
So... Let's introduce ourselves to our new best friend.
How do you feel about large hypodermic needles?
As a rule, not good. Then I should look away...now.
What is it? It's Fenner's report, sir.
Could you leave that on my desk?
Brief change of plan.
If you want him revived, you'll need Dr Frankenstein from next door.
Can we see if this cast is his?
Close. No cigar.
In fact, not even a cigarette.
A development? Just a little.
I'm sure you can manage without me down here.
I'll give it my best shot(!) No longer assume suicide.
I never assume anything.
I didn't say you can't cope... Judith, did I say Mother couldn't cope with running the estate? No.
I wouldn't expect you to be so crude as to use the actual words, Tommy.
But the inference is plain for all to see. No, I don't agree.
I'm simply saying it takes more to run the estate than you can manage alone.
But I'm not alone. John does 90% of the estate business.
And when he's not here he does 0%, leaving you to do it all.
Well, most of the time he is here.
But the situation as it is now,
John is away, with no idea of when he might be returning.
Given that situation, you're running the place single-handedly.
We're suggesting that's too much.
Don't you think you're under-estimating your mother?
I'm doing no such thing.
Sounds exactly like that to me.
I'm simply looking at the bigger picture.
But from your side of the gallery.
From her side the bigger picture might look quite different. Aah!
I see why you invited her now!
She's an advocate. That's very clever. Not an advocate, a friend.
MOBILE RINGS What on Earth is that?! My mobile. Excuse me.
I have told you before, I don't allow mobiles at the dinner table.
Mother, I'm trying... I don't care what you're trying to do! It's incredibly rude!
Go on, Tremayne. Sorry.
Yes.
Yes... All right, I'll be there. Oh, Tommy! You can't...
I shouldn't, I know, but I'm afraid I'm going to.
Mother, apologies...
Sarah, I have to go... Alone.
If he didn't have this damned job, he might have a marriage worth the name!
Sorry to bother you at this hour. It's OK. Ashamed to say your call came at just the right moment.
Oh, glad to be of assistance.
You were right about the handprint.
If Fenner had put his hand out to steady himself, his would've left a much bigger impression in the mud.
Is that why you called? No, not exactly.
I've also been speaking to my chief about you.
Ah. Well, we don't get too much of this sort of thing down here.
This is a murder investigation now
and he agreed it'd be useful to have the benefit of your experience, if you were prepared to be involved.
He could always square it with your guv'nor. Strictly speaking, I'm on leave to visit the family.
I'm a family man myself, so I completely understand your position.
On the other hand, if there's a murder in the next door estate, I am delighted to help any way I can.
Thank you, Inspector. Much appreciated.
OK, let's meet in the morning and compare notes. Nine o'clock? In the harbour?
KNOCK AT DOOR
KNOCKING CONTINUES Havers? Havers, wake up!
I thought you said we were meeting Tremayne at nine?
Yeah, we are. So why've you got me out of bed at seven?
Because a thought occurred to me at 6.30.
Couldn't you have quietly mulled it over to yourself?
No. Now come on, Havers, follow me. See. Now you want my help,
it's "Bye bye, Barbara, hello, Havers." Come on! Sir.
Is this where you played hide and seek with Julian, George, Timmy and the rest of the Famous Five?
No, John Penellin has been aware of some nocturnal activity on the land over the past months.
Teenagers snogging? Idiots making crop circles? No - alien visitations!
Look, Penellin said he found boxes of foreign cigarettes.
I was thinking, Fenner, our victim, was drinking Japanese whisky.
So? Tremayne and I looked in his drinks cabinet. There were 20-odd bottles exactly the same, waiting.
What are you getting at?
Think, Havers, what is Cornwall famous for?
Pasties. Yeah, well, apart from that.
Smoked fish. Forget the food!
I wish I could, but we came out without breakfast. Smuggling.
Smuggling? Whenever you've got a coastline like this,
and a population as happy on sea as on dry land,
you get a thriving black market in things washed ashore.
John Penellin suspects local lads were using a track
by our estate to get to their drop-off point. And you think Fenner was a customer?
Maybe something more.
It's a bit early in the day to go all cryptic on me.
Keep up!
This is all Stephen Fenner's land.
It's beautiful.
Forget about the scenery. Easy for you to say, you grew up here.
If the locals are using this place, could they do so without Fenner knowing?
The groom, Moira, told me the business was in trouble.
Maybe he was letting this place out to get some extra cash. He got greedy. Upped the rent.
Or even blackmail.
Sir...
That's Moira's boyfriend, Lachlan.
Well, well, well! Out of interest,
how much of this are we passing on to local police? It's pure speculation now.
I'll keep it to myself until I know anything more.
Come on, we should be getting out of here.
Eager! He was up at six.
How come? He woke up with... An overwhelming urge for a walk.
And an equally overwhelming one for me to go with him.
This is my colleague, DS Havers.
Nice to meet you. Likewise. Pathologist's report.
He must've been up all night. She.
In addition to a large quantity of whisky in his blood,
he also had enough Phenylbutazone in his system to make him question which way was up.
Phenylbutazone? Phenyl-who?
Known as Bute, it's a painkiller for horses.
No-one would put it in their drink, unless... His whisky was spiked.
And so Fenner's drink is spiked,
he's carried to the stable, and strung up to look like suicide.
Carrying Fenner would account for the anomalous footprints. Also the handprint.
I was role-playing the wrong person!
Instead of Fenner stumbling with inebriation, I should've been Fenner's murderer,
stumbling with Fenner. We also found this in his office.
What is it? Horse passport.
Why? Was it planning a break to the continent(?) It's like a log book. List of details - pedigree,
where it was born, previous owners, when and where it was sold...
This one belonged to the lame horse he bought recently.
If Fenner was doped with a horse drug, we should pursue every equine connection he had. I agree.
Artemis was sold to Fenner by Lawrence Chilcott. You know him?
By reputation, he's a successful horse trainer. We've got Fenner's phone records.
There was a flurry of calls between them in the last two weeks. Interesting.
Chilcott's yard's about ten miles west. It can be our first stop.
MOBILE RINGS Excuse me.
Yes... Right... OK...
SOCO have found something at Fenner's. What? Too early to say.
I'd better go. Could you interview Chilcott? Of course. There may be nothing in it...
Bound to be some bad blood over Artemis. No-one likes to buy a donkey for 80 grand!
Let us know. OK. I'll drop you at the house.
Don't make me speak to your mum all day!
Excuse me, I'm looking for Lawrence Chilcott. He's just there.
Lawrence Chilcott? I'm Inspector Lynley.
Bit out of your way, aren't you?
Pulled in for directions home?
Actually, I've come for some advice. Oh, yes. What about?
Navicular disease.
Lot of people in the racing game don't think there's any such thing.
Lot of people think it's a catch-all for a number of conditions.
A horse's foot is complicated. Any part can become inflamed for a number of reasons -
the individual anatomy, or the ground they're running on. But you do know it exists.
You've sold a horse with navicular disease.
Prove it. You sold a horse called Artemis to Stephen Fenner.
Artemis had navicular disease. But you disguised that with Phenylbutazone.
Is that what he's saying? He's not saying anything much.
He was found hanging in his stable yesterday. What?
Mr Fenner's phone records show a lot of calls to you.
What did you talk about? Cricket?
I take care of my animals.
I noticed Artemis was tender on her hoof, and gave her Bute for the pain.
I thought it was a twinge that'd pass. And you told Fenner that?
He didn't ask. That wouldn't wash in a Moroccan bazaar!
You hid the lameness to make the sale. OK. OK, you want the truth?
It's always refreshing(!) The truth is there's one born every minute in this game.
Fenner was in a hurry to buy. I met his need. He wasn't thorough in his purchase.
He didn't have the blood checked, he didn't bring a vet. What was I supposed to do?
Caveat emptor - buyer beware.
Quite right, Inspector. If he wants restitution he can take me to court.
Oh, yeah! He can't. He's dead.
Are we done? Cos this conversation is starting to bore me.
I think we should've told Tremayne about seeing Lachlan this morning. We? You're on leave.
There is no "we." OK.
You are supposed to be assisting Tremayne on his enquiry, not running your own on the side.
Is that what you think I'm doing?
You're withholding information that may be relevant, if not significant, to the case.
Listen. When I first made Detective Sergeant, I wanted more than anything to prove myself.
Tremayne's no different. I'm not withholding information, I'm giving him the chance to prove himself
without muscling in, and throwing up possible wild goose chases. Sir...
For all we know, Lachlan went for a walk this morning the same time as us.
He happened to go to the cove at the same time.
He went into the cottage, which suggests he's using it.
Alternatively, he wandered into a derelict cottage to take a call on his mobile out of the wind.
Ha! You don't believe that!
You're still on leave remember? So you keep saying. Then back off.
What do you want to do now, sir?
I'd say open it. Yeah.
Open it. OK, ladies and gentlemen.
Place your bets. What do you reckon?
Cannabis. Havers?
The Holy Grail(!)
Nice. Mike?
Cheese sandwich.
And you're all wrong!
It is in fact an absolute bloody fortune in euros.
So Fenner was actually loaded? This makes no sense...
Fenner being loaded is one theory.
Inspector Lynley might have another. Mightn't you, sir?
Helen's left him, hasn't she?
Ah, I don't know. Oh, don't give me that!
I'm sorry, Mother, we haven't talked about it. Now that I don't believe!
OK. Yes, I asked after Helen and received the same response you did.
Helen's fine, everything's fine.
And you believed it?
No. But I believe Tommy doesn't want to be pressed on the subject so I decided not to.
You're right. He'll tell us when he's ready.
Are you sure about this?
We saw Lachlan at the cove.
We saw him at the cottage. When you go in, look at his watch. It's real. Expensive.
Expensive isn't the same as illegal.
If we can make a connection between the money, Fenner's murder, and the smuggling,
we can start to build a case against Lachlan. So we lay a trap?
Yeah. We have several possibilities. If we prime him, he'll lead us to the right one.
I know, I know. I'm still on leave...
How would you play this in London? Good cop, bad cop? High status, low status?
Softly, softly? We'd knock on the door first. And then? Play it by ear.
My thoughts exactly.
Hello, Lachlan. Is Moira around?
Please keep your voices down. Moira's asleep in the bed.
How is she? Took some sleeping tablets last night. Poor kid.
You lot get time to compose yourself before seeing something like that.
Moira just walked straight in...
We thought we'd drop by in case she thought of something else overnight.
Afraid not. We interrupted your work.
No problem. I was on a break.
What is it you do exactly? Something mechanical, obviously. I work the resorts along the coast,
repairing boats, patching up. There's a lot of rich people in Cornwall,
driving boats they can't handle along coastlines they just cannot navigate.
Always something blowing up, or falling off.
And along you come with a strong net and a big spanner.
I suppose. You must know the coastline like the back of your hand.
The backs of my hands are usually covered in engine oil.
I grew up here and I still don't know it. You know there's a cove on Fenner's land. Yeah. With a cottage.
I've seen it from my boat. Strange though, isn't it?
What? With his financial situation, you'd think he'd do it up to rent it out to holiday-makers.
Make a fortune. Perhaps he couldn't raise the money for repairs. Perhaps.
The roof is in pretty poor condition. The timber's rotted. Tiles've gone.
You saw all that from your boat? I must have.
Have you found out why Fenner killed himself?
We've found out he didn't kill himself.
But he was found hanging in the stable. Moira saw him. She saw the overturned stool on the floor.
What she saw was the final tableau. Someone was with him. He was drugged and then murdered.
Forensics are tearing the place apart as we speak.
Good luck. Lachlan?
I heard voices.
Go back to bed, darling. Oh, it's you.
She sounds just like my wife after a long shift.
Yesterday, Lachlan, you alluded to Moira suffering some sexual harassment at work.
Yeah, and I told you yesterday it was nothing.
But it must have made you quite angry? What are you getting at?
Moira's boss, leering at her all the time, touching her up.
You must have felt him a sexual threat.
He shouldn't have said anything! It was nothing I couldn't handle! I told you yesterday!
Moira... Shut up, Lachlan. My apologies. I seem to have touched a raw nerve.
I didn't mean to start an argument. There's no argument or raw nerve.
I handled it, OK? Like I said!
Talk about a cool customer! What happened? Your boss looked him square in the face
and told him Fenner was murdered and his place was being taken apart,
to which Lachlan says, "Good luck."
Did he give anything away? Not a sausage. He's very cool. Too cool.
So we wait for him to come for the money.
If it's his, he'll come when he thinks the police have moved out.
You seem sure he won't leave it. If he's involved in the murder,
he knows he can't afford to have the police come back. He needs to retrieve the money immediately.
I'm going to see when we can pull out.
Visible enough to be noticed but not attract attention.
Lights, no bells.
You look troubled. I was thinking while you were in there,
whoever spiked Fenner's drink must have known him well enough to do it.
I know that. Yeah, but...
I know that this black market's really strong, but Bute is from the horse world, Lachlan isn't.
His girlfriend is though.
I'm not so sure, sir. What are you driving at? I don't think it's that simple.
Fenner was drinking contraband whisky. He had £250,000 in euros stashed away.
Lachlan appears to have been using the cove, probably a smuggling operation.
You make the connections. What about the connection with horses?
Fenner was immobilised by Bute. Only someone who knows horses would be familiar with its effect.
So your question is who from the horse world would want Fenner dead?
That's my second question. First, who from the horse world knew Fenner well enough to have a drink with him?
Maybe Sarah Keach can help us with that.
What? No.
I think it's stunning. It could do with a spot of varnish. Against the rain.
It's driftwood, Havers.
The wood's natural response to the elements that brings out its sense of vitality.
It won't be very vital if it goes rotten, will it?
My late husband had it made for our wedding anniversary.
Connor, I'll leave your tea over here.
Thanks.
How long were you married?
He died in our tenth year together.
It's a beautiful house, Sarah.
Once the front garden's completed it will be my vision of perfection.
But I'm sure you didn't come to discuss aesthetics. No.
Pity...
We now know Stephen Fenner's death wasn't suicide,
and we also know before being killed he was drugged with horse painkiller.
You intimated the other evening at dinner that...
Fenner put a lot of people's backs up in the local equine society.
I was wondering if anyone in that group might have a sufficient grievance to...
You're laughing. I'm sorry.
The idea that the local horse brigade might be lining up to bump off Fenner...
But he was drugged with Bute.
He wasn't liked. But that's a million miles from him being so hated that someone wanted him dead.
Yes, I appreciate that. You also said your paths crossed socially.
On occasion. Well, did he ever have anyone back? Entertain at his home?
I don't know. I expect so. Do you know if he had any enemies?
Not really. Sorry I can't be more helpful. On the contrary, Sarah.
You've been more than helpful. We'll take up no more of your time.
One more question... No, we're finished, Havers. But... I said we're finished. Inspector.
Havers. Sarah.
That looks beautiful. Excellent work, Connor. One more question, Lady Keach.
Sorry. Lawrence Chilcott. Do you know him?
He's a local personality. Why?
Two weeks before Fenner died, Lawrence Chilcott sold him a horse
which Fenner believed would dig him out of a financial hole.
I don't understand why this is relevant... He sold the horse knowing it was lame.
In your dealings with Chilcott, was there anything of a similar nature?
Threatening in any way?
No.
He had a bit of a reputation as a slippery customer.
But I can say I've never found him to be anything other than pleasant and businesslike.
OK, thank you.
I'm sorry.
Fenner being doped is taking us nowhere except up a blind alley.
Which is possibly where it was meant to lead us.
Until further notice, let's set that aside and focus our minds on Lachlan and the money.
The Bute was, after all, the means.
And money, in nine cases out of ten,
is the motive. Yes?
Yes, sir.
My people are ready to ostentatiously pull out of Fenner's in a couple of hours.
Excellent.
Sir. There's Connor, Lady Keach's gardener.
Gardeners are allowed a lunchtime pint at their local, Havers. Just making the observation.
You don't get a pint like this in London.
You're telling me!
Your name, Tremayne.
Cornish. That much is apparent. What is also apparent is...
My accent?
Manchester? My parents moved up there when I was eight.
But you came back.
Wherever we moved when I was a kid, my roots were always here.
I wanted my kids to have theirs here too. You're a traditionalist, Tremayne.
Just think it's important to know who you are. Sir? I agree.
It's Lachlan.
Sir? Come on then.
This morning, he came round there and went into the cottage. We didn't look closer in case we alerted them.
I'd say they use the cove to land the contraband, and the cottage to store it.
Do you think this is where they'll rendezvous with the money? Maybe.
If we aim to catch them at Fenner's, we'll catch both them and the money.
Instead of grabbing them right away, we follow them to the rendezvous,
we stand a chance of catching the whole lot of them.
I admire your ambition, but I think it's a bit risky.
It'll be almost impossible to follow them unnoticed in daylight.
As soon if they spot us, they'll head anywhere but the rendezvous.
You haven't seen me in stealth mode.
I'm sure you're preternaturally discrete. Nevertheless...
I think we can do it.
And I think it's worth the risk.
All right. It's your call.
Nine tenths of this job is knowing your own mind.
I think I do on this one, Sir.
He's a bit determined, isn't he? He's got the scent now.
The Bute in Fenner's whisky puts Chilcott near the frame, if not completely inside it.
But we know Lachlan's involved in smuggling. I sense there's more to him than meets the eye.
With due respect, you sensing Lachlan's behind it all isn't the same as evidence that he actually is.
Fair point.
But his guise of boat mechanic
is perfect cover for going all over the coast all day.
And then at night he's a Black marketeer. Word spreads.
Pretty soon he's a major player.
ON POLICE RADIO: Quiet as a grave down here. Anything your end?
You'll be the first to know, Tremayne.
That's why we have walkie-talkies.
Just keeping you informed, Inspector.
Sarge! You have guests, Lynley.
Repeat, you have guests.
OK, we've got a Land rover. And what car does Lachlan drive? A land rover.
He's stopped outside the stable. He's getting out and moving directly to the target.
Sir, it's not Lachlan. What? It's Connor.
OK, he's going into stable. Let's go.
What's that smoke? The cove!
When the car comes, stop it. I thought the order was to follow?
The order's changed. Stop the car. Yes, sir! There's smoke coming from the cove.
I'm going to take a look. Wait for back up. Wait for back up, Tremayne!
Tremayne! He's coming out of the stable with the box.
What do you want to do? Tremayne, talk to me!
ON POLICE RADIO: Tremayne! Tremayne! Wait for back-up! Tremayne!
The cottage is on fire! Tremayne, wait for back up.
There's someone in there! Tremayne! Sir, you go! Leave Connor to me.
Help me! Help! Hold on!
Lachlan. Hold on!
You all right?
Yeah, fine.
Help!
Tremayne!
Sir?! Havers, get an ambulance...
Request ambulance immediately. Man down. Listen to me.
Come on, Tremayne. You'll be all right.
You all right?
The pathologist thinks that Lachlan received a blow to the head prior to the fire.
How humane of his killer to render his victim unconscious before the execution(!)
Whether it was enough to knock him out, we'll never know.
If he was conscious, it would explain Tremayne's efforts to get in.
So...
..if Lachlan killed Fenner in a dispute over smuggling,
who killed Lachlan?
Connor? In an attempt to take over the racket?
Money is usually the motive, you said. Why settle for half?
That's assuming with Fenner gone, it was a just two-way split.
Someone else? Seems likely.
Come on, we should get to the hospital.
Has he... Has he regained consciousness yet? No.
I know this is no consolation...
but I think your husband is a very fine police officer. Thank you.
But you're right it's no consolation whatsoever. Excuse me...
Why were you so keen to play down the way Fenner treated you?
What were you trying to hide?
Lachlan did a bit of stuff with his boat out of Fenner's cove.
He called it importing.
Drink, fags, DVDs.
I helped him with storage, and flogging it.
I told him about the cottage in Fenner's cove.
Like I said, we didn't make much, but we got by and that was fine.
Fine for me. But not for Lachlan?
So once a month he'd take a box out to a boat offshore, and exchange it for a another box. A box?
Mmm hmm... He did this for who? I don't know.
And this box was stored underneath Fenner's stables, yeah?
Most of the other stuff was kept in the cottage.
But Lachlan said the boxes from the boats needed somewhere more secure.
Did Fenner know?
He was being paid for the use of the cove.
He was desperate for cash. He took the money. So Fenner was being paid for its use,
and for storing the boxes? Lachlan didn't want anyone to know about the boxes.
Fenner didn't know about the hole.
I made it one night...with Lachlan.
Do you know what these boxes contained?
No. Did Lachlan?
I don't know.
I don't think so. He just did the drop.
He knew the identity of the person he did the drop for? Yes.
Who was it?
I said I don't know.
Come on, Moira... I swear...
Was it Lawrence Chilcott? Chilcott?
Was it? Why do you say Chilcott?
Do you believe she doesn't know who Lachlan worked for?
With Lachlan dead, she has no reason to conceal what she knows. Unless she's involved.
In which case, she played the part of grieving girlfriend impeccably.
Someone ordered those boxes to be shipped out.
Connor makes an unlikely ringleader. Yeah, but he must know something.
I don't know. I just helped him move them.
I think you're lying. I think you know full well what was in the box you collected.
A quarter of a million pounds. Quarter of a million?
Where were you planning to go with that?
Nowhere. The person whose money it was would've come after you.
I don't know whose money it was. I didn't know it was money till you just told me! Lying again.
I think you knew about the money. I think you killed both Fenner and Lachlan to get hold of it.
I've told you I didn't kill them!
Did Lawrence Chilcott pay you to do it? Who?
We have a cast of a handprint we found in Fenner's yard that matches your hand.
That doesn't prove anything.
I knew Fenner, I've been to his yard.
You'd be amazed how much forensic evidence can be retrieved from the site of a fire.
Now if we find anything, anything, that suggests you've been to the cottage it won't look good for you.
We'll be able to place you at the scene of both murders.
It's surprising how many years come off a life sentence with a full confession.
Of course I've been to the cottage!
That's where we kept the stuff.
Who was in charge of the smuggling, Connor? Who paid you to exchange the boxes?
I don't know.
I was bottom of the chain. That's the way Lachlan worked.
He said it was best if I didn't know certain things. Safer if everything went through him.
I trusted him.
I told you before, if you're looking for London, turn right and go until you're knee-deep in eejits.
I'm arresting you on suspicion of conspiracy to murder. You don't have to say anything,
but it may harm your defence if you don't say something you later rely on in court.
Anything you do say may be given in evidence. What? You heard.
Let me know when his brief arrives, yeah? OK.
Do you want me to talk to her?
No. I'll do it.
I just want to say how desperately sorry we are.
Thank you.
Your husband was an extremely good officer.
Very brave.
I don't know for certain, I got there too late,
but I understand he was trying to get into the cottage when he was hit by the blast.
I think he knew someone was trapped inside.
Did he get them out?
No. In which case, he died in vain.
It's trying that makes us heroes, not that we necessarily succeed.
Your husband was a credit. A real example to us all.
He really relished working with you.
Transferring to London was his dream. He'd have done extremely well wherever.
My ride home... Yes.
Tell me, Inspector Lynley...
How do I tell my children that the daddy they had breakfast with yesterday has gone forever?
I don't know. No...neither do I.
Give me an hour, Havers. What about Lawrence Chilcott?
Let him stew till I'm good and ready.
Lynley! Lynley!
You have no right to hold me!
Lynley!
Mother? In here!
I'm just fixing some Pimms for us all.
Us all? Sarah popped around to say thank you for the other evening.
Aren't those flowers lovely? Splendid.
Shall I make enough for you too? By which I mean, are you going to grace us with your company?
I need to talk to you.
Ha! Sure you've got the right word, dear?
I was under the impression you'd given up talking,
unless it was to that wretched mobile of yours.
OK, OK, point very much taken... If you want to talk to me about the estate again...
Mother!
I should have said something earlier...
..but I wasn't sure how much I wanted people to know
about Helen and me. I'm not "people", Tommy.
I'm your mother. I know, I didn't mean to exclude you, it's just with Peter back in rehab
and you looking after the estate alone. I didn't want to burden you.
I know how much you worry about us.
You must have realised I'd worry much more not knowing.
I'm sorry.
Perhaps my reticence to talk...
..was also a question of damaged pride. Or guilt.
In reality I have...
a sense...a very real sense...
..that I have failed Helen.
She's left you?
We're temporarily separated.
Oh, Tommy!
I think we both need time and space...
..to get over the loss of the baby.
It was her decision to go,
and I'm prepared
to wait as long as necessary for her to come back.
Do you think she will come back?
I have to hope so.
Thank you for telling me, anyway.
Sorry it took so long.
These things take as long as they take.
Can you take this tray out for me? There's a good boy.
I'm sorry I...
Of course, Mother.
Judith and I were wondering if you needed a hand, Dorothy,
but I see you have the long arm of the law to help. Thought I'd grab him while I could.
Are you staying for a drink, Tommy? I'm afraid not no.
No-one ever went to their grave wishing they'd spent more time at the office.
True. But the most important time in a murder enquiry is the first couple of days so...
I thought we were going to spend some time with Tommy, and we get Inspector Lynley.
He was the same at Eton. He'd come home for holidays and we never knew who we'd get -
carefree Tommy, or bookish Tommy.
My husband was an old Etonian.
Was he? Which house? Oh...
don't ask questions like that.
He'd go on about the place for hours at a time, I stopped listening.
Was he in College? That's right.
Always admired the scholars. Don't think you'd call Peter a scholar.
Really? He could never sit still for more than an hour.
Don't think I ever saw him finish a book in the time we were together.
Well, I'd better be off. Bye, Mum. Bye, Tommy.
Sir! Good to see you. I thought I'd lost you for a moment.
Are you all right? I'm fine.
How is Chilcott bearing up?
Stewing nicely. And you?
Are you bearing up? Me?
I'm fine.
I'm...fine.
You will tell me if you're not, won't you?
Yeah, we should speak to Chilcott.
I think it's time to bring him to the boil.
I don't know what you're talking about. I think you do.
DS Havers here is convinced of it.
You can think what you like.
You got hold of Stephen Fenner, a small struggling trainer
in comparison with yourself, but competition nonetheless.
On his land is a nice, hidden- away cove with an empty cottage.
Perfect for landing and storing whatever you were bringing in.
But things get complicated when serious money gets involved, don't they, Mr Chilcott?
Whatever you say, Inspector.
Well, you never really liked Fenner.
You sold him a lame horse.
Tried to mask the lameness with Bute, but when he realises this, he wants reparation.
He asks for more money to keep quiet about your smuggling operation.
But then he gets greedy and asks for too much, so you drugged him with Bute. Again.
And then you killed him.
Made it look like suicide. Rubbish.
But by now you think the police might be on to you.
So you arrange to meet the one man who knows the whole truth.
Lachlan. You arrange to meet him at Fenner's cottage.
Where you kill him.
Try and burn the cottage.
But it wasn't just him you killed.
Detective Sergeant Tremayne also died in that fire.
That's three murders you're responsible for, Chilcott. Three murders.
That's very good. I advise you to say nothing. No, no, no!
I want to congratulate him for his storytelling. Marvellous.
And completely and utterly incorrect in almost every detail.
Almost? I didn't even really sell Artemis to Fenner.
The horse's passport says you did.
Any idea how many Eastern European horses get into the country on those passports?
Lawrence. I didn't smuggle anything. And I didn't murder anyone.
All I did was sell a horse as a favour to a friend. A friend?
Lady Keach. She wanted to give someone a horse without it looking like a gift.
Lady Keach? She gave me a little help to doctor the passport
so her name wouldn't appear on it. For tax reasons, she said.
How much "help" did she give to doctor the passport?
You tell me how much you earn and I'll tell you. You're really in no position to be cocky. How much?
Nothing so vulgar as cash with Lady Keach.
If not cash? She has a rather fantastic statue in her front garden.
She promised me it. Lawrence, say nothing... I'm co-operating with the police.
I've got nothing to hide. I'm sorry. I don't understand.
Why would she give you a treasured anniversary present from Lord Keach?
There is no Lord Keach! Not any more, I know.
Not ever.
You really don't know anything, do you?
Get me a copy of Debrett's Peerage. Thought she was your mother's friend.
Mother took her under her wing when she got here. She took her at face value.
Get me that book. Yes, Sir.
There was something she said at my mother's this afternoon.
What? She said her husband was in College at Eton.
That's no crime. Except against the working classes.
She said her husband was in College and I said how I'd always admired the scholars.
OK... But then she said her husband wasn't a scholar.
Barely read a book in his life. OK, you're losing me.
If you're an academic scholar you're said to be "in College."
Only the true scholars were in College. So she made a mistake.
It's not a mistake anyone married to an old Etonian would make.
Unless she was winging it in the moment. Exactly.
Lord Kale. Lord Karn. Lord Kassleman...
Well, well. No Lord Keach.
So, no Lord Keach, no Lady Keach. And if no Lady Keach...
Then who the hell was at dinner the other evening? I'll get her in and find out.
No, you stay and pressure Chilcott. I'll find out where she bought her title and pay her ladyship a visit.
Can I fix you a drink, Tommy?
No thank you. I'm on duty.
So it's not Tommy, or even Lord, but Inspector.
Don't you find, Lady Keach, that most of the time a title just gets in the way?
And yet occasionally it can help to keep things clear?
It doesn't hurt when I want to reserve a table in London.
Do take a seat. Thank you.
And if you call me Lady Keach once more, I shall be forced to bop you over the head.
I'm sorry. Apology accepted.
At my school there were quite a few titled boys, it wasn't anything anyone made a fuss about.
Which was a blessing for me really, because it meant I grew up
not making much of a fuss about it either. What about your school? School wasn't a problem.
And when you got into the big wide world, it must have become an issue. In what way?
Well, I always find that people think having a Lord or a Lady involved in whatever it might be
brings added value.
Whereas in reality, if it were the person behind the title,
then the opposite would usually be true.
I take it you don't have much time for London society.
I decided when I was in my early 20s that it was a treadmill with canapes, so consequently not for me.
It's not easy though, just being oneself.
People often expect the role rather than the person.
I don't believe people have just one self, Inspector Lynley.
Good point, Lady Keach.
Sarah!
OK, Sarah it is.
But it's not really Keach, is it? And if we're being brutally honest, it's not really Lady.
Is it?
How long have you known her true identity? So you've done your homework then?
So you do know it? I know who she is.
Because you run the operation together? I've told you before!
I'm not, and never have been, involved in any kind of smuggling!
So she ran it alone? I've no idea.
OK. But from what you know of the real person behind the facade, do you think she's capable?
That's for you to find out.
How did you find out?
You mentioned Lord Keach.
I've subsequently discovered there was no such person.
This afternoon you said your husband had gone to Eton.
I made a mistake, didn't I? I'm afraid you did.
I panicked in the moment and gilded the lily. I haven't done that for ages.
It must be you making me nervous.
Policemen often make people feel like that.
When I buried my husband, I decided to buy myself a new life.
A new life meant a new identity.
I thought about it for a while, and decided it would be fun to be titled.
Is that so terrible? If you have the means and the temperament, why not?
I play the role of a baroness, and to all intents and purposes I am a baroness.
We are who we pretend to be, Lord Asherton.
You play the role of a police officer and voila! You are one!
I don't play the role, Sarah.
I really am a police officer.
Given how much trouble I can bring to your door for doctoring a horse's passport,
I suggest you help me find out sooner rather than later.
Her name is Sarah Marlowe. Married to Duncan Marlowe.
Up to his death on the Costa Dorada six years ago.
Stabbed outside a nightclub.
A consequence of his lifelong career in serious fraud.
Why are you here?
You haven't actually said.
I'd like to know more about your husband. Your late husband.
Anything in particular?
Why don't we start with how much you learnt from him about fraud and money laundering?
And then on to how you took over from him where he left off, after his rather gruesome demise.
Why did she give Artemis to Fenner?
When Sarah first moved into the area, she believed he could be trusted with her real identity.
Only he wasn't.
And he saw how important her new life was, and being the scum he was,
he tried to blackmail.
So he wasn't blackmailing you? No.
My husband was very good at what he did...
He once told me he could take the dirtiest ten pound note in the world and make it pristine in an hour.
But that's all he did. He serviced crime, he didn't do crime.
Not a semantic difference the law recognises.
He processed money.
He taught you how?
It wasn't difficult to absorb his technique and if you know the right people, it's not rocket science.
And you knew the right people?
Businessmen. Bankers. Lawyers. They were our friends.
We holidayed together. Dined together.
After my husband was killed they were only too eager to help me re-establish myself.
Yourself, and your late husband's operation, here in Cornwall.
I made one mistake.
I trusted Stephen Fenner with my identity.
She told me what Fenner was trying to do.
I told her to ignore him. But she couldn't.
She paid him for a while, then she'd had enough.
She asked what could settle things once and for all. He said he needed a top-quality horse.
That's where I come in.
But you gave him a lame horse. He was a lame human being.
Was Fenner trying to expose you?
Was he blackmailing you?
Did you have Fenner killed because he was trying to expose you?
No-one was meant to die.
Lachlan was only to scare Stephen into leaving me alone once and for all.
The Bute was just to disorient him.
And if Lachlan hadn't delegated to Connor, that would've been the outcome.
But Connor messed up.
I had no choice, I had to draw every stump on the pitch.
Why waste a pearl on a swine? If you had, he might still be alive.
As would the two other men who died as a consequence. As your boss said.
"Let the buyer beware". You're a real piece of work.
No. I'm a businessman.
Is that how you see Lachlan? A drawn stump?
Is that how you see Sergeant Tremayne?
Tremayne was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I can't tell you how sick I felt when I heard.
But Lachlan wasn't, was he?
He was in precisely the right place at precisely the right time.
Where you told him to be! I wish it could've been any other way. But he knew everything.
And I have learnt it's sometimes necessary to read a situation without compassion.
We think Lachlan was still conscious when he was consumed by that fire.
Feelings obscure clarity, Inspector.
I did what I had to do.
Do you think that's going to stand up in court?
I've no intention of finding out.
It's over, Sarah!
The minute you get on that boat I call customs,
then what?
Come on, Chilcott is talking to Havers down at the station now.
Lawrence Chilcott is as crooked as a pint arm.
Judge a person by the company they keep, eh?
If only Stephen Fenner had let me be who I wanted to be.
Put that gun down, Sarah.
If only people would leave other people alone.
You made the decision a long time ago to be the wife of a money launderer.
Do you really think that entitled you to great wealth and peace of mind?
My husband was a financier.
He took money soaked in human misery and rinsed it out for profit.
My husband was a wonderful man.
Death cancels out everything but truth.
And strips a man of everything but genius and virtue.
But of course, your husband had no genius, did he?
Or virtue.
He was just a ruthless criminal.
Like you.
You don't know me!
I know everything I need to know about you.
I could kill you.
This day's been a long time coming for you, Sarah.
My advice,
let it come...
Where's she going?
GUNSHOT
So let it come...
Thank you so much, Lady Asherton. You couldn't've made me more welcome.
You couldn't have been a better guest, I wish we'd seen you more.
Perhaps next time I'm on leave. Barbara, you're one of the family now. You know that.
Take care of yourself. Thank you. I will.
Bye. We're all packed.
I hardly feel you've been here. I'll come down again soon properly.
With Helen. If I can.
See you, Judith. Bye. How long you staying on for? Until John's back.
Take care of the old girl, will you? Ah ah ah! I heard that!
You were meant to.
Now remember, you're a husband first and a policeman second.
Yes. Be happy. Bye, Mother, Judith. Bye, Tommy.
If you want a few more days at the retreat, I can drop you off.
No, sir.
Seatbelt. Yes, sir.
Subtitles by Catherine Weston BBC Broadcast - 2005