[theme music] -[birds squawking] -[car horn honking] [tires screeching] ♪ Is all I need to calm the pain ♪ ♪ We all need a love ♪ ♪ Resurrection ♪ ♪ Just a little divine intervention ♪ ♪ We all need a love ♪ [birds chirping] There's no holding your mum, is there?

[birds chirping] [Roger sighs] Come on, son, we've got work to do.

[birds chirping] [intercom buzzes] Fisher.

[Secretary] The new chief is entering the building now, sir.

Right, thank you.

Morning, sir.

Did you want the lift?

And remember, Sergeant, we're paid to nick villains, not to sit around the office all day -polishing our backsides.

-Sorry?

Sir, I'm sorry, I didn't see you for a moment.

Oh, morning, uh... A.C.C.

Fisher, sir.

Right.

Right.

Trouble with young officers today.

Obsessed with paperwork.

Right.

Incidentally, I wondered if you'd had a chance to look through the cost-benefit analysis of the proposed redeployment of subdivision.

Haven't the foggiest.

-Did I, Pearce?

-In your pending tray, sir.

There you are, then.

Well, carry on, then, uh, Fisher.

Oh, by the by, are you a sporting man, by any chance?

Well, yes, I do like the occasional round of golf, uh, when I get a minute.

Golf?

Whacking a little ball 'round a park's not what I call sport.

I'm talking about shooting.

-Ah.

-You don't shoot, I suppose?

-Well, yes, of course, sir.

-Oh, grand.

Only I've got a little party booked for Thursday.

Senior ranks, old pals, mostly.

And one of the Met chaps has had to pull out at the last minute.

400 apiece, all in.

-Fancy it?

-Well... Well, yes, sir, very much, sir.

Grand, grand.

10:00, then, Pilbury Hall.

I'll see you there, then, uh... -Fisher, sir.

-Fisher.

So, when the fish lorry comes, we'll get a couple of sea bass and half a dozen lobsters, splash out a bit.

[Henderson] Blimey.

Don't let Mrs. Crabbe hear you.

-Morning, Henderson.

-Morning.

Mrs. Crabbe's off for a few days.

[Henderson] Oh, I get it.

[Nicola] Talking about easy tax-avoidance for a client.

And while the cat's away, eh?

The mice shall dine on the very best Stilton, untrammeled by the constraints of dingy commerce.

Which reminds me, I really ought to go and bank the weekend's takings.

No, I'll go.

Oh, bless you, Nicola.

They're in an envelope under the till.

Okay.

Oh, um, uh, thingy's out front, by the way.

"Thingy"?

-Yeah, what's his name?

-Um... Alistair!

Just the man I wanted to see.

[Henry sighs] Get me the chief firearms officer.

[Secretary] Yes, sir.

Ringing for you now.

[phone rings] -Watson.

-Jim.

Freddy Fisher.

How are things?

-Fine, thanks.

-Wife and kids?

[Jim] Oh, yes, fine.

And how's that charming young W.P.C.

of yours?

You know, Mandy, from the Christmas party.

How is she?

[Jim] All right, you bastard, what do you want?

[Fisher chuckles] Well, let's see.

We're looking for young birds ideally, aren't we?

Soft, even breast feathers.

Good V-shaped wings.

Yes, pliable, smooth feet and short spur.

And a nice dark glossy beak.

Yeah.

-How much?

-4.50 pounds a brace.

Oh, done.

I can see I'm going to have to watch you two.

We've been reading up.

We're thinking of trying game pie, actually.

Maybe we could do one another a good turn.

I've got a shooting party booked for Thursday, but my regular caterer's called in sick.

Uh, you... Well, I don't know.

I could offer a pretty decent fee.

Yeah, well, to be honest with you, I don't think it sounds quite my sort of thing.

I was shot myself once, and it does tend to give you a slightly different perspective, if you see what I mean.

Okay, no harm in asking.

Well, see you next week, then.

Right.

Mr. Crabbe.

It's gone.

What's gone?

The envelope.

The weekend's takings.

What?

Are you sure?

Under the till, you said.

Dear God, what am I gonna tell Margaret?

-[engine whirring] -Stop him, quick.

[Nicola taps door] What's up?

Um, this shooting party... Did you mention something about a fee?

[machine snapping] [shotgun firing] [birds chirping] Maybe we should send her along -in your place?

-Oh, please.

-Face it, Freddy.

-[Fisher sighs] We've been at it almost three hours and you haven't managed to hit anything yet.

-Don't you-- -Let's just remember what's at stake here, shall we?

For both of us.

Okay.

For heaven's sake, loosen up a bit, can't you?

[birds chirping] Right.

[cocks shotgun] [birds chirping] Ready.

And pull.

-[buzzing] -[machine snapping] [shotgun firing] Yes!

Yes!

Well done, Freddy.

[Fisher sighs] [engines whirring] -[dog barking] -[birds chirping] -Morning, Henry.

-Hello.

Um, Roger Hoskins, our head keeper.

-Henry Crabbe.

-How do you do?

All set?

Yes, thanks.

I must say, I'm very impressed.

But it has to pay its way, Henry.

Business.

And I don't really like safari parks.

Cynthia.

Mrs. Hoskins looks after the office.

She'll be helping you out today.

-Henry Crabbe.

Hello.

-Hello.

If you'll excuse me, I'd better see to the beaters.

[birds chirping] The first guns are just arriving, -Alistair.

-Right, then.

Let's get you organized.

Right.

[peaceful music plays] Freddy "Fishface" Fisher, as I live and breathe.

Kevin.

Kevin Turner.

Well, this is a surprise.

Dear, oh, dear, someone tell you it was fancy dress?

[Alistair] I think you're about the last.

-Sorry?

-We're drawing peg numbers.

Oh, yes.

Yes, of course.

[chuckles] Oh.

Right next to me.

Now, there's a bit of luck.

[birds chirping] Well, good luck with the lunch, and I'll see you later tonight.

[birds chirping] [car engine whirring] [Henry puffs] [birds chirping] [sighs] Thanks.

Beauty, isn't it?

Caught myself with a car door, dozy cow.

[birds chirping] Go on in, Tommy.

[horn blowing] Go on, then.

[men shouting] [birds squawking] -[shotguns firing] -[men shouting] -[dogs barking] -[shotguns firing] Damn!

Blast.

-[shotguns firing] -[dogs barking] Yours, Fishface.

-[shotguns firing] -[dogs barking] [chuckles] Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear.

[dog whines] Bugger off, will you?

[dogs barking] [birds chirping] [people murmuring] Didn't expect to see you here, Crabbe.

Ah, likewise, sir.

Having a good day's sport?

No, I'm bloody not.

See that little squirt over there?

-Recognize him?

-No, sir.

Detective Superintendent Kevin Turner, Regional Crime Squad.

Oh, wasn't he your rival for the A.C.C.

's job?

Yeah, and he's not gonna let me forget it, either.

It's not bad, this.

What's in it?

Oh, venison, rabbit, pheasant, sausage meat amongst other things, along with garlic, onion, mace, marjoram, black peppercorns, and garnished with cranberries.

Good grief.

[clears throat] Oh, hello, there, uh... -Fisher.

-Right tasty bit of pie, that.

Um... About the subdivisional redeployment, sir-- Well, now, then, no shop talk while I'm eating.

Excuse me, sir.

-[people murmuring] -[birds chirping] So, how does this fit in with your ecological principles?

Here, keep your voice down.

They're like something out of "Straw Dogs," that lot.

Don't want them getting the idea I'm some sort of a green.

So, what are you doing here, then?

Well, the way I look at it, if you're gonna take up residence in a rural community, you got to make a bit of an effort to assimilate the local customs, haven't you?

Oh, yeah.

[Henderson] Anyhow, it's 15 quid a day in your hand and all the sarnies you can eat.

Ah.

-[birds chirping] -[people murmuring] [Cynthia laughs] [Henderson] Talking of nosh, that game pie looks a bit tasty.

Any chance of slipping me a bit on the quiet?

No.

The pie is reserved strictly for the gentry.

One of those old rural customs you're so keen on.

[birds chirping] [people murmuring] Fancy making things a bit more interesting?

What did you have in mind?

Oh, a little wager on the next drive?

Say, 50 quid?

[glass clinking] If, um...

If I could have your attention for a moment, gentlemen.

'Course, I'd give you a two-bird start -to even things up a bit.

-Certainly not.

As you'll appreciate, this afternoon's drives are in quite dense woodland, and safety is a prime consideration.

So just a reminder, no ground game and no low birds, please.

Can't say I blame you.

You'd be lucky to bag a frozen chicken, on your form.

Look, I tell you what, let's call it a nice round hundred, shall we?

So, if you'd like to make your way down to the next drive, we'll get the afternoon's sport under way.

Right.

A oner.

-You're on.

-Right.

[people murmuring] [birds chirping] Are you with us, George Acton?

Don't you worry about me, keeper.

Just go and blow your little horn.

[horn blowing] [men shouting] [shotguns firing] Oh, hard lines.

[shotguns firing] -[men shouting] -[shotguns firing] Keep in line.

Straight line.

-[shotguns firing] -[men shouting] Turner, you bastard, that was my bird!

-[Turner] Sorry.

-Everything all right, gentlemen?

Yes, thank you very much.

Low bird.

-Mine!

-Leave it!

[shotgun firing] [bird chirping] [heart beating] [dogs barking] Oscar Five to Oscar Bravo.

[Man On Radio] Receiving, Oscar Five.

What's going on?

You'd better get an ambulance to the Pilbury Estate fast.

There's been an accident.

[people murmuring] [siren wailing] I didn't see him.

I just didn't see him.

[birds chirping] Well?

It's no good, I'm afraid.

God almighty!

-Who is he?

-George Acton, one of my tenants.

I warned them, Henry, I told them, no low shots.

Get the boy out of here.

You heard me.

Take him home!

[birds chirping] I heard it over the radio.

Accidental shooting, is that right?

Apparently, yes.

Well, what do we do now?

I don't know if you've noticed, but half the top brass of three counties are over there.

So, for once, I'm glad to say, the decision's out of our hands.

[Cambridge] Mm, I wouldn't count on that.

[Braithwaite] Crabbe?

Uh, yes, sir?

Detective Inspector Crabbe, is that right?

Yeah, that's right, sir, yes.

Well, it's your lucky day.

As the nearest thing we have to an officer of appropriate rank, I'm putting you in charge of this mess.

Thank you very much, sir.

There'll have to be an inquest, of course.

And in the circumstances, we're probably looking at an official inquiry.

So, I want everything done by the book: photographs, witness statements, the lot.

Yes, sir.

Will you be giving a statement yourself, sir?

No, I bloody won't.

I was on the other side of the wood, I didn't see a thing.

And the same goes for the rest of those chaps.

-Clear?

-Yes, sir, very clear.

Well, go on, get on with it, then.

-Sir.

Better tell them to leave the body where it is until the police surgeon and forensics get here.

Right.

Come on, sir, let's get you home.

[birds chirping] [phone rings] Good evening, Pie in the Sky.

-[Henry] Hello, Nicola.

-Oh, hello, chef.

Uh, look, I'm sorry I didn't get back, but I'm afraid something's come up.

Oh, it's no problem.

It's a quiet night, actually.

[Henry] I don't think I'll be able to get back before closing.

Oh, not to worry.

I'll make sure the takings are safely locked away.

[pan thuds] Excuse me.

Thanks, Nicola.

Good night.

Is there any other witness I should be speaking to?

I don't think so.

Is that the lot?

Oh, apparently, no one saw a thing.

They were too spread out, and the cover was too thick.

Shouldn't be surprised, I suppose.

Thank you.

Alistair, do you happen to know Mr. Acton's next of kin?

Well, um, he was married.

I think she left him.

Look, you really should talk to Hoskins about this.

He knows the beaters much better than me.

Right, I'll do that, thanks.

Um, Alistair, it wasn't your fault.

You do know that, don't you?

Good night.

Good night.

Shouldn't be too difficult to trace the wife.

Can I leave that to you?

-Right.

-Thanks.

-Um, sir.

-Hmm?

I was just thinking about Mr. Fisher.

Good night, Cambridge.

[birds chirping] Hello.

Tom, isn't it?

I keep chickens, too, you know.

Castilians and Welsummers mostly.

These are bantams, aren't they?

That's right.

[Henry] They're lovely.

[chicken clucking] Mm.

They're little, like, but they give good eggs.

I'll bet they do.

Is your dad about?

What do you want him for?

Oh, morning, Mrs. Hoskins.

Uh, well, just some questions about the accident.

Tom, leave them now, eh?

[chicken clucking] Go on.

Sorry about this.

Just boring old police routine, you know.

Yes, right, of course.

Look, I'm sorry, it's just...

It's been a bit of a shock, you know.

I'm sure it has.

And for Tom, too, I imagine.

Roger's up at the Hundred-acre Woods.

It won't take ten minutes in the car.

Right.

Thanks a lot.

[chicken clucking] [children playing] Mrs. Acton?

Yes?

[Cambridge] Police.

I get the impression that, uh, Mr. Acton wasn't too popular locally.

Why was that?

Flash bugger, wasn't he?

Thought a lot of himself.

-Did you get on with him?

-Well enough.

-Same as the other tenants.

-Mm.

So, you wouldn't know of any particular enemies he might have had?

No, not at all.

Aha.

You seem to have made an arrest there, Mr. Hoskins.

[birds chirping] They really are rather beautiful seen close to, aren't they?

Vermin, though, see.

Get in the runs after the eggs.

Chicks, too, given half the chance.

[Henry] Mm, what a pity.

You can't afford to be sentimental in this job.

Why all the questions?

It was an accident.

Ah, but was it an accident?

In other words, that copper's one of your own, and you wanna get him off the hook?

Well, I'm sorry you see it that way.

But, really, it's just a matter of following the rules.

Oh, I'm not saying I blame you.

Daresay I'd do the same.

You didn't see Mr. Acton get hit yourself?

Afraid not.

I think I might've heard a sort of yell.

Really?

Could you be a bit more specific about that?

Not really.

I mean, I heard Alistair shout something.

A warning, "Low bird," something like that.

Then a shot, then this sort of yell.

More of a scream, really.

How long between Alistair's warning and the scream?

No time at all.

[birds chirping] Well, you really have been most helpful.

Thank you very much, Mr. Hoskins.

[birds chirping] When you talked to Hoskins yesterday, did he say anything about hearing a scream shortly after Alistair's warning?

-No, sir.

-Yeah, that's what I thought.

Well, from the impression I got, with all the gunfire and the noise the beaters were making, no one could've heard a thing.

Yeah.

I hope you're hungry.

My boot's full of yesterday's leftovers.

[closing door] Well, now, Fisher.

Nasty business, this.

Yes, sir.

I would just like to say-- Very nasty.

Which is why the chief wanted me to have a word, really, just to put your mind at rest.

Sir.

He wants you to know you have our full support, both as a fellow officer and as a representative of the service.

Well, I appreciate that, sir, but if I could just say-- In fact, I've been working on a statement for the press.

Tragic mishap, officer deeply distressed, blah, blah.

"Formal leave of absence "until such time as the inquiry is resolved."

[phone ringing] I imagine you're happy with that?

Not entirely, no.

-Fisher.

-Really, sir, I do think you should listen to what I have to say.

[Henry] So, um, how did Mrs. Acton take the news?

Not exactly grief-stricken.

Seems hubby had an eye for the ladies, though she didn't put it quite as politely as that.

Oh, yeah, I see.

Yeah.

[Cambridge] Am I missing something, sir?

Well, I saw them together, Cambridge.

Acton and Cynthia Hoskins.

It was at the lunch just before the final drive.

My guess is they were having an affair.

[Cambridge] Do you think Hoskins knows?

Well, I don't think she got that black eye from any car door, do you?

[birds chirping] There's something not quite right about this.

All these ingredients.

Yeah.

The balance has to be just so.

The ingredients in this case being?

Pheasant, rabbit, and venison.

Look, sorry, sorry.

Um, well, Acton's reputation as a womanizer, Cynthia not wanting me to talk with Tom, Hoskins coming up with this story about hearing a scream.

You're saying you think it could be murder made made to look like an accident.

No, a shoot.

It would be the perfect place for it.

Don't you think?

All those guns?

But Hoskins didn't have a gun, did he, sir?

Are we sure about that?

Yes.

Neither did any of the beaters.

The witnesses were very specific, anyway.

It's all pure speculation.

We don't have a scrap of evidence.

Tsk.

Well, maybe Hoskins was right.

Maybe I am trying to cover up for one of my own.

[foreboding music playing] [woman laughing heartily] -[machine buzzing] -[phone ringing] Come on, come on.

I've just been talking to Mrs. Fisher.

Oh, yes?

Apparently, he isn't home yet.

His secretary said he left at lunchtime looking depressed, but she can't get an answer on his mobile.

[fax beeping] I do hate these things.

I think she's quite worried, actually.

-Hmm.

-Is that the path report?

Cause of death is a single gunshot wound.

"Radius of impact suggests a range "of approximately 30 meters.

"And 74 pellets were recovered from the heart, "lungs, and thoracic cavity."

Dear God, I think we're dealing with a seriously deranged mind here, Cambridge.

How do you mean, sir?

What kind of psychopath does it take to dig a handful of pellets out of a dead body, then actually sit down and count them?

Give them a ring, would you?

Ask them to send a sample down to ballistics.

You never know.

Right.

And, um, where will you be?

Me?

Home, of course.

With Fisher out the way, there's no point hanging 'round this place, is there?

[Nicola] Evening.

Evening, Nicola.

Henderson.

Gary.

Still no sign of the missing takings yet?

Um, you've got a visitor, though, chef.

Oh, yes?

Oh, no.

He's been soaking up the house white since we opened.

[people murmuring] Henry.

Come and join the celebration.

Uh, what are we celebrating, sir?

End of my glorious career.

You're not serious.

Absolutely.

I formally tendered my resignation to Pearce this afternoon.

Did he accept?

What do you think?

[claps hands] Told me it was out of the question.

Said I should take a few week'' leave, time for reflection.

Said that I was emotional, under stress.

Maybe he was right.

Well, of course I'm bloody emotional and under stress.

I killed a man yesterday, Henry!

I killed a man.

Actually.

Because I wanted to impress that fat idiot, Braithwaite.

Because of my vanity and stupidity, another living, breathing human being is dead, Henry.

Isn't that for the inquiry to decide?

Bunch of flatulent desk jockeys, babbling about "the image of the service."

Please.

Anyhow, [chuckles] you know as well as I do, the only thing Pearce cares about is that if I resign it means I'm guilty and it makes them all look bad.

Well, I am guilty.

And I'm the one that's got to live with it.

So damn the lot of 'em.

What's wrong with that girl of yours?

-Waitress.

-I'll tell you what, sir, uh, why don't we go upstairs?

Good idea.

I mean, no wonder the public think we're all complete bastards.

We are complete bastards, aren't we?

Don't you think?

[people murmuring] [Henry groans] You know what, Henry?

You're the only real friend I've got in the police.

Oh, now, I'm sure that's not true, sir.

No, I mean it.

In 25 years' service you're the only one who's ever cared enough to give it to me straight.

I feel I'm seeing you for the first time tonight, Henry.

I mean...

I mean, really seeing you.

That's nice, sir.

[Henry groans] Hello, Henry.

Hello, sir.

No, no, I mean... Hello, Henry.

Yes.

Hello, sir.

Hello.

Hello.

[Fisher moans] [Henry sighs] [phone rings] Hello?

Margaret!

No.

No, no, I'm fine.

No, no.

[clicks tongue] [sighs] Honestly, Margaret, everything here is fine.

[Fisher groans] [Cambridge] Morning, sir.

Cambridge.

-Breakfast?

-Oh, no, thanks.

I had mine hours ago.

No need to sound so cheerful about it.

Oh, I don't know.

-Guess what.

-Cambridge.

Ballistics say the shot that killed Acton almost certainly was not fired from Mr. Fisher's gun.

-Really?

-They don't believe the sample pellets were from a 12-bore at all, but a much smaller gauge called a .410.

Well, that's wonderful.

And since the gauge affects the impact radius, they now believe it was fired at much closer range.

All right, so who do we know that owns one of these things?

Well, that's the bad news.

I checked the license records, but the nearest registered owner's in the next county.

Oh, great.

The other slightly worrying thing is that Mr. Fisher seems to have totally disappeared.

No, he hasn't.

He went home in a minicab just five minutes ago.

Looking rather peaky, I thought.

What?

You mean he's been here all night?

Mm-hmm.

He's quite human, as a matter of fact.

Well, I suppose we ought to go and give him the good news.

Don't you?

Hello, Alistair.

I've come about your fee, Henry.

With one thing and another, we seem to have forgotten all about it.

Oh.

Oh.

These are just a little thank-you for the way you handled things.

Oh, thank you, Alistair, how very kind.

Um, actually, since you're here, could I ask you a firearms question?

The .410 shotgun, sort of thing you keep for vermin, isn't it?

Rats and crows and so forth.

My old dad taught me to shoot with one, actually.

Oh.

Um, why do you ask?

Do you know anyone who has one?

It could be very important, Alistair.

Oh, well, all right.

I have, as a matter of fact.

You, sir?

Look, I know, technically, I should have handed it in to the police, but I just never got 'round to it.

Anyhow, the thing's a virtual antique.

Go on.

It's what they used to call a poacher's piece.

The barrel folds into the stock so that you can hide it under your jacket.

I took it off a couple of lads I caught out after rabbits on the estate.

And where is it now, this "virtual antique"?

[dog barking] [Cambridge] Oh, this is your gun cabinet?

Yes.

Well, seems secure enough.

Well, it is.

We were inspected only last month.

Could I have the key, do you think?

[keys clinking] [Henry clicks tongue] Oh, Alistair.

Well, what?

May I?

Who else would know that's where you kept the keys?

Just a few of the estate people.

Cynthia, of course.

Hoskins.

[Cambridge] Could you point out the gun in question?

Ah.

Um... Oh, dear.

[birds chirping] It seems a gun has gone missing from the estate office.

Well, what's that got to do with me?

We have reason to believe the same gun was used to murder Mr. Acton.

Murder?

[Henry] George Acton was your lover, wasn't he, Mrs. Hoskins?

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

I hardly knew him.

Oh, come on.

I saw you together on the day of the shoot.

Is that why your husband hit you, Mrs. Hoskins?

[Cynthia chuckles] No!

[Cynthia] No.

[Henry] It really would be better if you tell us the truth, you know.

There was no shooting accident.

Mr. Acton was murdered.

So, please, no more covering up, now.

No more lies.

Your husband knew about it, didn't he, the affair?

He's a violently jealous man.

There were rows.

Is that what you were afraid Tom might tell me?

-No.

No!

-All right.

Mr. Hoskins.

[chuckles] Don't worry, Inspector.

It's not loaded, see?

[chuckles] You, get away from me!

[birds chirping] No more lies, you said.

Well, that suits me fine.

What I tell you now, it's all legal, right?

I mean, she can witness it?

I'm obliged to advise you that, uh, if you want a solicitor present-- There's no need.

You're right.

I knew about her and Acton.

And, yes, we rowed, and I hit her.

I'm not proud of that.

She promised to end it, but I knew she never would.

-Roger!

-You shut your mouth!

When I tackled Acton, he laughed at me.

Said if I couldn't keep her satisfied, I didn't deserve to have her.

What else could I do?

I couldn't leave Tom, and the house goes with the job.

If we'd all left, we'd have had nothing.

So I decided to kill him.

Just like that.

Well, if you got a fox in the run, you don't waste time sermonizing, do you?

You just get on and do it.

I thought it all out, went down the office, took the poacher's piece the night before the shoot.

I had it under my jacket that morning, when I met you.

I waited for the fourth drive for the best cover.

I put Acton on the end of the line where the woods are thickest and followed him in.

Well, the keeper's up and down everywhere, isn't he?

Part of the job.

And when we were almost at the guns-- You shot him.

Oh, my God!

I knew no one could pick out that one shot when the birds were up, see?

And when he was found at the end of the drive, I thought it'd pass as an accident, an unlucky shot.

It happens.

When I heard about your copper friend blasting off like that, I couldn't believe my luck.

George Acton was vermin, Inspector.

I'm glad I did it.

And what about this famous poacher's gun?

Where's that?

He claims he dumped it in the river, sir.

The underwater search team's looking for it now.

And his statement will stand up in court?

I mean, he's coherent and so on?

Oh, yes, sir.

Icy calm, I'd say.

Well, that lets your Mr. Fisher off the hook, anyhow.

[Braithwaite sighs] All right, good work, both of you.

Thank you, sir.

Oh, and, uh, you must let me have that pie recipe for the wife.

Yes, of course, sir.

[phone rings] Ask Fisher to step in on your way, would you?

Yes, sir.

Sir.

I think the chief constable would like a word.

[phone ringing] [Fisher sighs] There's something worrying you, isn't there, sir?

Well, it's this gun.

I mean, Hoskins was a man who really knew about guns.

He must have realized ballistics would spot the difference between .410 and 12-bore ammunition, surely.

And why did he dump it afterwards?

Why not put it back in the estate office?

Well, he just killed a man.

You wouldn't expect his thinking to be entirely logical.

His confession was very logical.

Still, as long as the search team find the gun, I suppose there's nothing to worry about.

[phone ringing] [dog barks] -Tommy.

-[birds chirping] It's all your fault.

You and that bloody copper!

Tom.

Tom!

Tom, wait!

[car engine roaring] Well, you tell me, then.

Why has he been so moody since it happened?

What?

Guilty conscience, you think?

It's what's name... With some people-- Compulsion.

He must've seen the money sitting there and just snapped.

[thudding] Ooh.

Hello, there.

Henderson.

[squelching] [Nicola chuckles] Gary, outside please.

Now!

[phone ringing] Good night.

Sarge.

A Ms. Hoskins for you on the blower.

It's urgent, she says.

Gary, if I suspected you of stealing from me, do you think for one minute I'd let you stay on here?

-No, chef.

-No.

Absolutely right.

So, come on, give it a break.

How can you expect anybody to forget about your record if you won't?

[sighs] Okay, point taken.

Right, well, let's get back to work.

-Oh, and, Gary?

-Yes, chef?

If I ever catch you treating good food like that again, you're fired, understood?

Yes, chef, understood.

[sighs] [clicks tongue] [sighs] [gun cocks] Don't yell, right?

Right.

Just sit down quiet, or I'll blow your head off.

Right.

-[Cambridge] Yes.

-They're on their way now, Sarge.

And I want an all points alert on a maroon Volvo, registration Juliet-Bravo-Whiskey-206-Yankee.

Have you got that?

Right.

What are you doing here, Tom?

[Tom] You put my dad in jail, and he never done nothin'.

No, T... No, Tom.

I didn't put your dad in jail.

He did.

That's stupid.

He was just trying to protect you.

That's why he made up that story about the scream.

He probably guessed almost from the start.

What you talkin' about?

You shot Mr. Acton, didn't you, Tom?

No, I never.

My dad said he was vermin.

Not fit to live, he said.

He didn't really mean it, Tom.

He was angry and upset.

People say all sorts of things they don't really mean.

You know, he didn't really want you to-- Don't you, Tom?

He says you shouldn't ever point a gun at no one.

Well, he's right.

[Tom sighs] All I wanted was to stop the rows.

Yeah, of course you did.

[Tom weeping] I just wish he'd left me alone.

Yeah.

All right, Tom.

All right.

[policemen cock guns] Lay down your weapon, Mr. Hoskins.

It's all right, I've got it.

[Policeman] Lie down, face down!

Arms, legs spread.

Do it!

For heaven's sake.

It's all over now.

It's all over.

[policeman on loudspeaker] -[birds chirping] -[chicken clucking] [Henry] I'm getting a bit too old for all that sort of nonsense, Cambridge.

Oh, I wouldn't say that, sir.

Mmm.

And thanks for calling the cavalry, by the way.

Doesn't seem as if you actually needed it.

Ah, but I might have done.

That's the point.

Oh, dear God, now what?

[Fisher] Morning.

-Morning, sir.

-Morning, sir.

Give us a moment, will you?

Okay, Crabbe, I just wanna say, um... Well, the fact is, I'm extremely grateful.

Not at all, sir.

Look.

Yes, yes, very nice.

And, um, also, about the other night, Crabbe...

Yes, sir?

The thing is, I was slightly overwrought, obviously.

And I just wanted to make it clear that any, uh, comments that may or may not have been passed about our senior colleagues-- "Flatulent desk jockeys" is the phrase that sticks in the mind, sir.

The point is, whatever I may or may not have said was strictly confidential, Crabbe.

[chicken clucking] Excuse me, sir.

There's really quite a lot of money in here.

You're not paying your chickens these days, are you, sir?

Good God, Cambridge, you're a genius!

I must have dropped it -when I was-- -Mr. Crabbe.

[puffs] It's Margaret.

It's all right now.

It's all right, it's all right, don't panic.

Here, take this, go out the side way and bank it.

But how did you... We've got no time for all that, Nicola, just bank it.

Oh, um, be with you in a minute, sir.

Margaret, how wonderful to see you.

[Fisher sighs] [theme music]