[smooth jazz music] [birds chirping] [people chatting] I think Tucker's wasting his time.

Don't you?

I reckon Jude's stood you up.

And what's it to you?

[Jerry] Not much.

[Ben] Then mind your own damn business.

-Or what?

-Now then, lads!

Now then!

Yeah, off he goes, running to the boss.

Forget it.

Come on, Tucker.

I'll buy you another drink.

And I'm sure we're all most grateful to him for making the time to be with us here tonight.

Assistant Chief Constable Fisher.

[audience applauds] Okay, Chef.

All clear.

Henry, I've got it!

Got what?

The Bishops Cider account!

[Henry] Oh!

Oh, great.

Oh, that's wonderful, Margaret.

And Bob Bishop has invited us both to Haybury Races tomorrow as his guests!

Oh, great!

Uh, yeah.

Well, I don't know.

Oh, come on, Henry.

It'll be fun.

Oh, go on, Chef.

Don't worry about us.

We'll manage.

Won't we, Gary?

Yeah, but you see, I was planning to spend tomorrow working on the new menu.

Yes, I'll tell you what.

You come with me to the races tomorrow, and I won't ask you how much it cost.

How much what cost?

[Margaret clears throat] Oh, you mean the sorbetiere?

-The what?

-Ice cream maker.

Well, I was going to mention it.

So it's a deal?

Or shall we have that little talk about the overdraft?

[dog barking] [sighs] [horse neighing] Hello?

Is that you, boss?

-[horse neighing] -[dog barking] And as Councilor Bishop has highlighted, partnership is the key -to the modern police-service approach.

-Hear, hear.

[Fisher] Take, for instance, the vexed question of graffiti, which regularly defaces the walls and buildings of Barstock.

Together, the police and the people... [horse neighing] [dog barking] [dramatic music] [Announcer] They're on to something, and they're off.

[people chatting] And they're back.

We have the track path.

[announcer speaking indistinctly] [Man] You're putting on the sticker.

I just don't like canapes.

That's all.

Henry, try not to look so miserable.

Don't you like the food?

Food?

It's not food.

It's jewelry.

Oh!

Devils on horseback.

Margaret!

Bob!

[Bob laughs] Good of you to come.

[both laugh] Oh.

Bob, this is Henry.

Ah.

The cooking policeman.

[chuckles] Come and have a look at the portrait.

[horse neighs] What the hell's the matter with him?

Missing his lad.

[horse neighs] Still no sign of Tucker, then?

Hell!

Look, I'd better get changed.

And the only two things old Joshua ever gave a damn about, cider and horses.

So this all a bit of a family tradition, all of this.

Well, he certainly looks quite a character.

He was a bit of a roughneck, actually.

He put the fear of God into a number of bookies at times.

[chuckles] Oh.

Henry.

I'd value your opinion on the methode champenoise.

Right.

Thank you.

[sniffs] Well, it's a perry rather than just a cider.

Correct.

Well, it's crisp, light.

Full of fruit.

It's very pleasant.

Cheers.

Oh, Liz!

I don't believe you've met my daughter.

Liz, this is Henry and Margaret Crabbe.

Hi.

How do you do?

Hello.

Well, I can see you've inherited old Josh's racing blood.

Yes.

Like Uncle Tony.

[Bob laughs] My little brother runs Larkhill Stables, where I keep Bishops Vintage, my nag.

Ah.

Which will win today, I trust?

Oh, he's looking pretty good.

We should... Oh, yes.

Of course.

If you'll excuse us?

-Good luck.

-[Margaret and Bob laugh] Emma?

Morning.

Good morning, sir.

What's he doing here?

Sh!

Henry, that's Emma Bishop.

Bob's wife.

Who?

Councilor Emma Bishop.

She's the new chair of the police authority.

Oh, well, that would explain it.

Never mind about Freddy Fisher.

Fun, Henry, remember?

Fun.

-[people chatting] -[gentle music] [Announcer] Star is number one.

Banker off the top.

All I'm saying is, I wouldn't mind the odd day off myself.

Oh, shut up, Henderson.

We're not exactly rushed off our feet.

Can't resist a new toy, can he, old Crabbe?

Uh, it was my suggestion, actually.

Customer?

Bit tasty, as it happens.

[Gary] Anyway, you're always on at Chef to buy more of your strawberries, aren't you?

Yeah?

Well, there's nothing like fresh strawberry ice cream.

Right.

Great idea!

Table for one?

[Stella] Nickie!

-Sorry?

-It is Nickie.

Stella.

Stella Jackson.

Oh.

[hooves clattering] See, that's Bob's horse there, number five.

6-to-4 favorite, Bishops Vintage.

He's beautiful, isn't he?

Mm.

It's good lean meat, too, I believe.

Very low cholesterol.

Henry.

[horse neighs] Well, Vintage doesn't look happy.

And that's not his usual lad.

Where's Tucker?

God knows.

Ben didn't show up this morning for some reason.

It's not a problem, Dad.

It better not be.

I've got a packet on this.

Actually, I think I prefer Derby Lad.

Number nine.

Five-year-old.

10 to 1, he likes the going, and he's a seven-pound claimant.

What's that in English?

Margaret, you're not proposing to actually put cash on this creature?

Well, of course I am.

A race card isn't any different to a stock forecast, is it?

It's all in the figures.

Isn't it?

Margaret.

Trust me.

I'm an accountant.

Excuse me.

Excuse me, please.

Thank you.

Actually, I'm just checking out the competition.

I'm working for Palatine, the hotels group.

On temporary placement as manager at The Oak Tree.

And you're waitressing now?

That's right, yeah.

And that's, how is that?

It's fine.

Well, that's great.

You know, I always admired that about you, Nickie.

I mean, the whole ambition thing, it's so '80s, right?

Excuse me.

[announcer speaking indistinctly] [audience cheering] What did I tell you?

[Margaret laughs] With odds like that, it's not gambling, it's an investment.

Margaret, you never fail to amaze me.

Well, I hope not.

Come on.

Let's get the winnings.

Whoa.

Don't pull me!

[people speaking indistinctly] [Man] Hi, Lauderdale.

Sorry, Dad.

He just faded completely in the last two furlongs.

That's racing.

These things happen.

Yeah, rather a lot just recently.

-Now, look, Bob!

-Well, if he'd had his own lad with him.

It's not my fault if the little bastard didn't show up.

Oh, yes?

Whose fault is it, then?

Dad, Uncle Tony, please!

80, 90, oh, it's 100 pounds.

-Mm.

-[Margaret laughs] Oh, the Bishops don't seem very happy, do they?

[Margaret] They don't?

No.

[suspenseful music] Back in a minute.

Why do you always have -to have someone to blame?

-I already put it on.

Mr. Bishop.

You're called for a test.

Oh, great!

[horse neighs] What is this?

Dope test, Dad.

No panic.

It's just routine, okay?

-[phone ringing] -Well, it's been so lovely seeing you again, Nickie.

And looking so contented.

[chuckles] Okay, I've got it.

-Is that the chef?

-Uh, bye, Stella.

-[Gary] Pie in the Sky.

-I'll be popping in again.

[Nickie] Yeah, bye.

[Gary] Yeah, okay.

Thanks.

So who was that, then?

Just somebody I went to school with.

Shut up, Henderson!

[birds chirping] [horse neighs] What's wrong with the bloody animal today?

Go on, Vintage!

Go on!

Come on!

Try opening the other stall.

Give him a bit more room.

Keep him steady, Jude.

Oh, bloody hell!

Boss!

It's Tucker.

[horse neighs] [Announcer] A mystery coming.

Kelly Long is coming around and following behind him.

Mystery coming.

We got this game on the line here, and he is clearly not regressing.

Nothing but the odds.

This is a special announcement for Mr. Henry Crabbe.

Would Mr. Henry Crabbe make his way to the lorry parking area immediately, please?

[suspenseful music] Cambridge.

You as well?

What's going on?

-Don't know.

-But I'm sure we'll soon find out.

-Hm.

-Ah, good.

We've got a body.

In the horse box.

Head wound.

This way.

[siren wailing] Go on.

Go on.

[sighs] It's quite warm today, wouldn't you say?

Yes, I would, sir.

Hm.

Ah.

There's a torch with what could be the victim's blood on it.

Maybe even fingerprints.

Make sure you get a good shot of that, won't you?

-Okay.

-Thanks.

[camera clicks] I want this whole area sealed off.

No one in or out.

But discreetly, Constable.

Don't want the media getting in on the act before we're ready.

Who is he?

Do we know?

His name's Ben Tucker.

One of my stable lads.

God, this is awful.

Awful.

He was supposed to travel with us this morning, but he was late, so we had to leave him to make his own way down.

Well, someone must have seen him arrive.

I've got a man checking the main gate now.

I thought I said-- Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Bishop.

I didn't recognize you for a moment.

Can I ask who drove the lorry this morning?

Well, I did.

Directly from the stables?

Yes, of course.

Mr. Fisher.

The list you wanted.

Everyone with access to this area.

That should narrow the field a bit.

Crabbe, over here.

I think we could be looking at a quick result on this one, Crabbe.

The head lad there found the body.

Claims to know nothing.

Probably a row over a bet or something.

So you're assuming that Tucker was killed here in the racecourse, sir?

Aren't you?

Well, I'm no pathologist, but rigor mortis seems to be quite well established, which puts the time of death at least 12 hours ago.

And judging by the way he was dressed and the fact that he was also carrying a torch.

Could have happened last night while the truck was still at the stables.

Hm.

Which would explain why he failed to turn up for work.

Exactly.

Just what I was thinking.

All right, Henry, this could be a tricky one.

I'm putting you and Cambridge onto it.

But in view of the family connection, I wanna be kept informed of every move.

-Is that clear?

-Sir.

Well, I think everything's pretty much under control.

[horse neighs] You'll have to make alternative transport arrangements, I'm afraid, Mr. Bishop.

Forensics are going to need your lorry for quite a while.

-[Tony] Damn!

-Sorry.

[Tony] Tom!

Cambridge, when the SOCO boys are done here, would you send them up to Mr. Bishop's stables?

[Fisher] Right, carry on, Inspector.

Sir.

[melancholy music] Evening, Chef.

Hello, Gary.

Henry, you look exhausted.

Yeah.

I've been questioning Tony Bishop.

And he's not exactly overfond of policemen.

[Margaret] His brother's a real charmer, though, isn't he?

Oh, Bob?

Yes.

Took a shine to you, didn't he?

Talk about fun at the races.

How was dinner?

Oh, fine.

Nicola was a bit out of sorts.

I sent her home early.

Oh.

I'd better go up.

It's the first day on the Bishop account tomorrow.

Gotta make a good impression.

Night-night, Margaret.

This new machine is tremendous, Chef.

I did a test run with some straight custard-based vanilla.

-You wanna try some?

-No, thanks, Gary.

[sighs] Tell you the truth, I'm not really in a vanilla sort of mood.

[somber music] Hello.

Yeah, I want a taxi, please, to-- [knocking on door] Oh, hold on a moment.

Thanks.

[Margaret sighs] Mrs. Crabbe?

Yes.

Hi, I'm Jason, Mr. Bishop's driver.

He thought you might appreciate a lift.

[Policeman On Radio] Yeah, go check, please, sir.

[indistinct chatter on radio] [Cambridge] Morning.

Morning.

Well, that's where the horse box is usually kept.

But forensics confirm there are no signs of struggle in the truck itself, which means, presumably, that Tucker was killed somewhere nearby, and the body moved later.

[Henry] Mm.

[Policeman On Radio] Let's check everything.

Right.

Where is everybody?

Out on the gallops.

They're pretty early risers.

Any word from pathology yet?

Well, initial examination suggests a time of death somewhere between 10:00 p.m. and 2:00 a.m. on Monday, night before the races.

Uh-huh.

[door rattles] [Henry sighs] Hmm.

Security.

And, uh, murder weapon?

[Cambridge] Heavy blunt object.

Smooth-sided.

Circular in profile.

Golf club, cricket bat.

Polo stick?

[Cambridge] Mallet, I believe it's called, sir.

Well, let's get this lot checked anyway.

[suspenseful music] [hooves clopping] I'm not really sure I like horses, Cambridge.

They've got this way of looking at you.

You know what I mean?

Hm.

Speaking of which, Mr. Fisher called.

Three times.

Apparently he's most anxious we should avoid unnecessary friction with the family.

Hey, you!

Get this bloody car moved!

I've got a business to run here!

Oh, good.

[gentle guitar music] -[Margaret] Thanks.

-[Bob laughs] Margaret!

[Margaret] Bob, there was no need to go to all this trouble.

Nonsense!

We're an old family firm.

We treat our people right.

You're a valued member of the team now.

Whoops.

Steady, lads.

Drop that, and old Josh'll come back to haunt you.

[Bob chuckles] Good lads.

Now, I did mention on the phone the priority of the management accounts for the board meeting on Friday.

I realize it's short notice.

Oh, I'm sure we'll manage.

I'm quite sure you will.

[Bob laughs] So, coffee and I'll show you 'round.

So how long did Ben Tucker work at the stables?

[Tom] Six months, I suppose.

Move 'round, these lads.

Newmarket.

Lambourn.

Up north.

[Henry] Was he popular?

I wouldn't say popular, exactly.

Had a temper on him.

Especially when he had a few.

There were a couple of fights.

Oh, yes?

With whom?

He wasn't fussy.

None of my business.

Unless it affected the work.

You said you saw him at the pub on Monday night.

What time did he leave?

I wouldn't know.

He was still there when I left to go home at 10:00.

Was he alone?

[horse neighs] He was waiting for Jude O'Brien, I think.

Chalfont Spring's lad.

Hm.

Were they having a relationship?

You could say that.

Well, what would you say, Mr. Carey?

I would say he was a bloody fool.

She likes a bit of competition among the runners and riders, does Jude.

Know what I mean?

[Tom sighs] [metal clatters] [glasses clinking] Of course, the big boys add water.

Up to 50%.

We stick with the pure juice.

As your accountant, I'd have to say that's not a very good idea.

Why didn't you turn up for your date with Ben in the pub on Monday, Miss O'Brien?

It wasn't really a date, was it?

All I said was I might meet him at the Jockey, and then a friend suggested doing a club at Brayfield Estate.

[Cambridge] Girl or boyfriend?

[Jude] Girl, all right?

Well, he was obviously expecting you.

I can imagine he must have been disappointed.

Well, can't let them get too sure of themselves, can you?

Ask her.

I bet she knows.

What time did you get back?

I didn't.

Stayed at my mate's.

[horse neighs] Now, you rent a room in a cottage just down the lane here, don't you?

Yeah.

So?

Well, Ben was in digs in the village.

We know he was late at the pub on Monday night.

I've just been wondering what brought him all the way down here to the stables.

You think it's possible he might have come looking for you?

What are you, what are you saying?

Are you saying it's my fault?

[Cambridge] Do you know who killed Ben?

No!

If I did, I'd tell you.

I really liked him, you know?

I know what Carey and that lot say.

It's not true.

Honestly, I really liked him.

[machinery grinding] -[Bob] Mind the bump.

-[Margaret] Yeah.

There you go.

[Margaret] Oh!

40,000 gallons of single vintage.

And we've got 30 more of them here.

That's what you call liquid assets.

-Come on.

-[bell rings] [hooves clopping] [horses neighing] [Tony] Oh, God.

[Henry] Can you tell me where you were on Monday night, sir?

[Tony] Well, what the hell is that supposed to mean?

It's a perfectly simple question.

Where were you on Monday night between 10:00 p.m. and 2:00 a.m.?

-I have to ask.

-Well, you may have to ask.

I don't bloody well have to answer!

-Uncle Tony.

-No.

I'm just about sick of your attitude, Crabbe.

Let's see what your boss has to say, shall we?

Uncle Tony, please!

Mmm.

Who's the cook?

Sorry?

Well, you've got sage, rosemary.

Chives, thyme, bay.

I wish mine looked as good.

Oh, I see.

No, the garden was my aunt's.

She died five years ago.

I'm sorry.

And the answer to your question about Monday night, Uncle Tony and I went out to dinner.

I always sleep over at the stables before a race, you see, and neither of us can cook.

So you went to a restaurant?

Isola Bella in Barstock.

Ring them.

I'm sure they'll be happy to confirm it.

I'll do that.

Thanks.

You've got to understand, he's under a lot of pressure at the moment.

What sort of pressure?

You saw what was happening in the yard.

Those are some of our best runners, and they're being moved to another stables today.

Owners want winners, and the fact is, we've been going through a pretty lean patch.

Like your father's horse at Haybury?

Favorites lose, Inspector.

It happens.

But it's not good for Larkhill's reputation.

And this awful business with Ben Tucker isn't going to help.

You're obviously very fond of your uncle, Miss Bishop?

I owe him a lot.

He gave me my start as a jockey, apart from anything else.

Oh?

How did your father feel about that?

Not too happy at first, I suppose.

But he got used to it.

The cider business doesn't exactly get the adrenaline pumping, you know?

[both chuckle] Well, that's the lot, sir, apart from one Jerry Lawless, and apparently it's his day off.

Right.

Jerry?

But that's ridiculous.

Why would Jerry hurt Ben?

Miss O'Brien gave me the impression they were rivals.

Didn't she and Jerry go out together at some point?

I don't think it was ever really serious.

At least not on his side.

And I'm told they had a fight outside the pub on Monday night.

That was nothing.

Anyway, Jerry came to Barstock with us.

Did he come to dinner with you too?

No.

But we gave him a lift into town.

He's got no transport, you see?

Just this terrible old push-bike.

Did you give him a lift home afterwards?

We arranged to meet him at 11:30, but he didn't show up.

But that doesn't mean anything, does it?

He could have been anywhere.

Of course he could.

Anywhere.

There you go.

You see, the trick is to sprinkle the wholemeal breadcrumbs with Demerara and toast it in the oven.

That way the sugar sort of melts over the breadcrumbs and gives you that nice sort of nutty texture.

Here.

Try that.

[laughs] Mmm!

-It's magic.

-Eh?

Next, you work it over a bit.

Just to get rid of any lumps.

And mix it with your cream.

Next, add the rum and vanilla.

Like so.

Give it a quick mix.

And there you go.

Gary Palmer's traditional brown-bread ice cream.

[machine whirring] And how long does that take?

Oh, about half an hour.

Oh, I've got some lemon sorbet in the fridge, though, if you'd like to try.

-Love to.

-All right.

Hello.

Hi, Nickie.

I just popped by to see if you'd fancy going for a drink after work?

Thanks, but I'm normally pretty bushed after.

How about you, Gary?

Uh, well, I don't actually drink.

Here.

Mmm!

That is dreamy!

Shouldn't we get on?

Oh.

Yeah, right.

Could I?

You two aren't an item, are you?

[scoffs] No.

All right.

Just checking, Nickie.

Nicola.

The name's Nicola.

Maybe next time.

Oh, yeah.

Fine.

Hello, there!

Here.

I brought you a few pounds to be getting on with.

[Bob] Well, now you've had a chance to look us over, what do you think?

[Margaret] Well, I am very impressed.

Good, Margaret.

I had hoped you were gonna say that.

You see, there's something I haven't actually told you yet.

We've had an offer.

A takeover bid from a firm called Appledale.

One of the big boys.

All this will go, of course.

They're not interested in the mill or the orchards, just in taking the name and picking off a rival.

The trouble is, they're offering a pretty good price.

But you don't want to accept.

Oh, no.

I care about this firm, Margaret.

I'm proud of what we do and the way we do it.

My family's been making cider here for over a century.

But it's not just that.

It's not just that 60 people are working here and their families.

You see, we have over 200 local suppliers, from the specialists to the vicar's wife who brings in the windfalls from her garden, and I feel like I owe it to them to fight this.

It's just that, well, when you present the accounts to the board, it would help if you could make the bottom line as good as possible.

I can't falsify the books, Bob.

I can't do anything even remotely fraudulent.

Oh, good lord, no, Margaret!

I wouldn't dream of asking.

On the other hand, it's a very profitable business.

If it's a case of just putting the best gloss on the true figures, then I'm not against a bit of creative accounting in a worthy cause.

Well, that's wonderful, Margaret.

[Liz] Hi, Dad.

Liz.

That's one of my board members.

Well, she won't need much persuading.

I wouldn't count on that.

[suspenseful music] [Cambridge] Well, this is it, sir.

Apparently Jerry Lawless rents this place from a local farmer.

[Henry] Hmm.

Hmm.

Hardly Ideal Homes material.

Hmm.

What is that?

[Cambridge chuckles] Wild mushrooms?

-Garlic?

-[Henry] No.

[Cambridge chuckles] Truffles?

No.

No, it's two-stroke.

Motorbike fuel.

Stables are that way, aren't they?

Mm-hmm.

Probably a shortcut.

What, you mean you think someone tried to warn him we were coming?

Well, I did see one of those trail-bike things at the stables this morning.

Remind me to ask who owns it, will you?

Aha.

Mr. Lawless?

Yes.

Detective Inspector Crabbe, Barstock C.I.D.

This is Detective Sergeant Cambridge.

May I ask where you've been, sir?

Barstock.

Just doing my laundry and getting a bit of shopping.

Bit of an expensive cab ride, isn't it?

What is all this?

Just can't believe it.

I mean, Ben dead.

Good friends, were you?

[Jerry] We got on all right.

So it's not true you had a fight on Monday night, then?

Okay, we had a few words outside the Jockey, yeah.

[Cambridge] About Jude O'Brien?

We were finished weeks ago, me and Jude.

But try telling him that.

He was a bloody nutter, Ben.

Is that how you hurt your hand?

This?

No.

Fell off my bike.

It's nothing.

I understand the Bishops gave you a lift into town on Monday night.

Yeah.

So?

So after they dropped you off, Mr. Lawless, what did you do?

Went to the pictures.

The new Tarantino.

Then down The Silver Ball on the high street.

Had a few drinks.

Got a bit legless, to be honest.

Wandered around for a bit.

Caught a minicab.

What time was this?

About 11-ish.

So, although you already had a lift arranged, you took a taxi home rather than wait for half an hour.

Is that, have I got that right?

Well, like I say, it was a spur-of-the-moment sort of thing.

-[phone beeps] -I'd had a skinful.

Still, another expensive cab ride, eh?

I'm surprised.

-Officer Cambridge.

-I didn't realize stable lads were quite so highly paid.

Well, had a bit of luck on the horses, didn't I?

-Ah.

-Mr. Fisher for you, sir.

Excuse me.

[Henry clears throat] Thank you.

Yes, sir.

Well, I'm interviewing Jerry Lawless at the moment, sir.

[Fisher] Jerry Lawless?

Who's he?

He's one of the stable lads.

I think he's just given us a false alibi.

I'd like to bring him down to the station.

No, don't do that.

I've just had a call from Tony Bishop.

-He's complaining of harassment.

-[Henry] Well, that's nonsense.

Look, all I'm just saying is let's not rush into things.

As I recall, you were all set to charge off and arrest the head lad yesterday.

Softly, softly, catchee monkey, Crabbe.

Monkey's right.

What was that?

[Henry] What?

Now you're breaking up, sir.

It's a bad line.

Get some hard evidence first, then pull him.

That way we minimize the opportunity for embarrassment.

Is that clear?

Yes, sir.

Crystal.

-[knocking on door] -Ah.

Thank you very much, Mr. Lawless.

I think that'll be all for now.

I wonder, um, I've got this terrible thirst all of a sudden.

Do you think I could possibly... Of course.

That's very kind.

How much can I give you for that?

[Jerry] No bother.

Oh, well, thank you very much again.

Bye-bye.

[sighs] What's going on, sir?

Emma Bishop is what's going on, Cambridge.

She's going on Fisher's list of people whose brothers-in-law are not to be offended.

Oh, God.

Well, I take it you're not actually gonna drink that.

Well, hardly.

I don't think forensics will either.

But if they can match the prints on it with those on the torch from the horse box, we just might be in business.

[Henry] Hmm.

[suspenseful music] Do you really think it could be that simple?

Some sort of a lover's quarrel over Jude O'Brien?

Well, we shouldn't really prejudge things.

But assuming that that alibi of Jerry's is false.

Mm-hmm.

It suggests that Tucker came out of that pub with lots of drink in him, very angry about being stood up.

On his way to Jude's place, he meets Jerry, they have a fight, serious one this time, and...

But, then, why hide the body in a horse box?

I mean, he must have known we'd trace it back to the stables.

Yeah, but this wasn't a carefully planned and calculated murder, was it?

He must have been frightened, confused.

Did the first thing that came to mind.

Hang on a minute.

[suspenseful music] Hang on.

Stop, stop, stop.

Stop the car.

There's that man from the racecourse.

Well, go on.

Get after him!

[Cambridge] Are you serious?

What did he want, then?

Oh, he was just asking about the horses or something.

A bookie's snout.

Well, I missed him.

Who was he?

No idea.

-Well.

-He obviously knows me, though.

Every time he claps eyes on me, he's off like a frightened rabbit.

So you got his car number, all right?

Afraid not.

[gentle music] Hello, Henderson.

[Henderson] Aye-aye.

-Hi, Gary.

-Evening, Chef.

One sorrel soup, one smoked trout, two, hi.

Hello, Nicola.

Margaret back yet?

She's on table four.

Fine.

With a guest.

[both laugh] [Bob] Oh, the man himself!

[Margaret] There he is.

Good evening.

Well, Margaret's told me so much about your steak and kidney pie, I just had to try it for myself.

[Bob and Margaret laugh] Oh, and a prezzie.

Bishops Special Reserve.

10-year-old apple brandy.

We have it distilled by a marvelous chap in Devon.

Oh.

That's very kind.

Thank you.

Oh, you're welcome.

Will you join us?

Oh, you can't, can you, Henry?

He's much too busy working in the kitchen.

Henry, be an angel.

Send something out for Jason.

Jason?

Bob's driver.

He's waiting outside in the Bentley.

Oh.

Yes, of course, yes.

Enjoy your meal.

-Mm.

-[Bob and Margaret laugh] Have you got it?

Are you crazy?

You know I had the law 'round my place this afternoon.

Relax, Jerry.

[people laughing] Later, okay?

[suspenseful music] [Bob and Margaret laughing] And then it just goes the other way.

God, that's terrible.

You know, I reckon this would be great in a parfait.

Mmm.

Dreamy.

I thought you were off the hard stuff, Gary?

Shut it, Henderson!

So is it all right if I push off home?

Sure.

Good night.

What on earth's the matter with Nicola?

Oh, God knows.

-So what do you think?

-Yes.

It's good.

It's not bad.

Not bad at all.

What's all this?

Night, all.

[Cambridge] Evening, sir.

Cambridge.

What are you doing here?

Well, you were right.

According to forensics, the prints on the cider can match those on the torch.

[Henry] Uh-huh.

Mm.

Dynamite sandwich.

I got lucky with the minicab firm as well.

The driver picked Jerry up just after 10:00, dropped him off at the caravan half an hour later, stone-cold sober, he says.

[Henderson] Any chance for a cup of coffee?

Which means he could have got to the stables well within our time frame.

What time do they start work down there?

5:30 in the morning.

Well, let's visit them at 4:30, shall we?

And we can advise Mr. Fisher when we're on our way.

Brown-bread ice cream.

I don't think you'll like it.

[phone rings] [suspenseful music] [Jerry] Come on.

[Margaret] You would love it, Henry.

The process hasn't changed at all in a hundred years.

It tastes like it.

And this Appledale lot are nothing but a bunch of blatant asset strippers.

Do you know they don't even make proper cider?

Just this horrible sweet, fizzy muck -in a bright-green aluminum can.

-Oh, yeah.

I know.

I took a can off a suspect this afternoon.

Well, I didn't know it was actually illegal, but there you go.

And do you realize they don't use real apples?

They import millions of gallons of foreign concentrate.

British orchards are being cut down just so a few people can save a few measly pounds.

You surprise me.

I'd have thought you'd have approved.

Henry, how can you say that?

[laughs] Come on, Margaret.

This is me.

I mean, you can't tell the difference between steak and kidney pie and blueberry cheesecake.

Your idea of a traditional food product is prawn-cocktail-flavored Monster Munch.

[Margaret] Mm.

He wants you to fiddle the books for him, doesn't he?

Course not.

Aha.

[Margaret] I'm just massaging a few projections, that's all.

Mm-hmm.

It's entirely legal and aboveboard.

Oh, yes, dear.

I think he's lonely, if you want the truth.

Emma's always out at council subcommittee meetings.

Liz is obsessed about her racing.

And he and Tony obviously don't get on.

Well, Tony's got a few problems of his own at the moment, thank you.

The mill is the only family he has got left.

And he really does care about that cider, Henry.

He is passionate about it.

In fact, do you know it struck me?

You know who he reminds me of?

You.

[gentle music] Ha.

[motorcycle engine roaring] [Cambridge] Fisher obviously wasn't too happy being woken up this early in the morning.

[Henry] Well, he did say he wanted to be kept informed of every move.

Forensics have come up negative on the polo mallet and the other stuff from the tack room, by the way.

Ah, it's hardly surprising.

[knocking on door] Mr. Lawless!

[banging] [Cambridge] He's out the back.

Aah!

[engine revs] Oh, dear.

[sighs] What's in the bag?

I don't know what you're talking about.

Oh, come on.

Look, I can explain.

Later.

Where's Jerry?

[suspenseful music] Oh, no.

Oh, you do it, Cambridge.

I can't remember the damn thing anyway.

[Cambridge] Elizabeth Bishop, I'm arresting you for the murder of Jerry Lawless.

You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned anything you may later rely on in court.

[smooth jazz music]