Dalziel and Pascoe (1996) s01e01 Episode Script
A Clubbable Woman
Come in.
Good morning, Mr Dalziel.
How long have been with us, Mr Pascoe? Not long, sir.
Seems longer.
The first time you walked in, you said, "Good morning, Mr Dey-ell".
Sir? The first bugger that ever got my name rightfirst time.
Unforgivable, that is.
Smart arse, I thought.
I was right.
Come on! Come on! Leave it! Eh, eh, eh! Come on! Connie? All right? He's all right.
He's immortal, aren't you? What happened? It was that fat git in the second row.
I'll have him! I'll take a few minutes off.
Aye.
This match is beyond redemption.
I'm surprised they haven't declared! We're old enough to know better, eh? But we never bloody learn, do we? No.
We never bloody learn.
DOOR OPENS We're not open yet! Eh, what's this?! This is medicinal! - Open up! - What are you having? He doesn't remember the game.
So, two men short, reserve playing fullback.
We lost 43-5.
Who scored for us? YOU did! Like the old days, eh?! Good.
Right .
.
I think we're ready to open now! About bloody time! You know you're on tonight? Oh, God! So I am! Get behind the bar! Start pulling pints! Another one? No.
Mary's expecting me.
She didn't know you were playing? I didn't either(!) Mary's never in the club these days.
Wellyou knowwomen.
Ayewe know.
Fancy scoring a try like that and not remembering it.
He's got better things to remember.
And worse.
TELEVISION IS ON VEHICLE IDLES OUTSIDE Legless as usual.
Who is? Connon.
- What's he ever done to you? - He's my boss, isn't he? No, he's the personnel officer.
I'm a mechanic.
I've served my time and what's he got? A big house and influential mates at the rugby club.
- He nearly played for England.
- Yeah(?) - He's a stand-off.
A what? It's a kind of half-back at rugby.
Mary told me.
- Aye? Over coffee(?) - Yes.
"PETS WIN PRIZES" IS ON TV Sorry I'm late.
I'll get a cup of tea.
VOMITS He should have thought of that! What's his surname? Jones.
Can I help you? I'd like to speak to Sgt Pascoe.
He isn't in.
Out cleansing society(?) He's in Leeds, at the opera.
Can anyone else help, or is it personal? It's personal.
I could give him a message.
Or he could ring you.
The arrangement is I ring him.
Tell him I called in.
Who shall I say? He's having a night at the opera? Tell him, Mrs Claypool.
Claypool In connection with? Sex.
Five pints of best and a G and T.
She's here? Yes.
- Mrs Evans? - There's a long waiting list.
Gwen should have been here an hour ago.
Arthur went out to look for her, then she came in ten minutes later.
- Words like shit and fan come to mind.
- What is it about women's breasts? They sustain life.
BARMAN: Batten down the hatches.
Where the hell have you been?! I haven't been anywhere! Ted Morgan's buying me a drink and all's right with the world.
Dick and Joy came to collect you and you weren't there.
Sorry.
I forgot.
I'm an independent woman.
I came in on the bus.
Look! Marcus Felstead, temporary barman and bringer of peace.
Mary? Brain haemorrhage.
Ruptured the meningeal artery.
A blow from a metal implement.
Someone knocked a hole in her head.
Probably a toffee hammer.
Do they have toffee hammers any more? Don't suppose so.
Probably banned by those clowns in Brussels.
Any sign of the weapon? No, sir.
We started a search this morning.
And house to house.
Right.
Let's go and shake 'em up a bit.
Hey, who's Mrs Claypool? A character in A Night at the Opera.
Marx Brothers film.
She was in here last night, looking for you, in connection with sex.
I can explain.
Save it till I'm feeling strong.
What did Connie say when you got there? Not much.
It was 1am.
He was half asleep.
And he'd had a kick on the head playing rugby.
Who kicked him? Could have been anyone.
You haven't played rugby, have you? You know Mr Connon, don't you? Why do you say that? You're vice-president of the rugby club.
You HAVE done your homework.
I'll tell you the Sam Connon story.
It's very sad.
You're 20 years old.
A local hero.
Dead cert to play for England and become a legend.
Then you crack your ankle.
Nobody kicks you.
You just fall over.
It's your own stupid fault.
Nobody to blame.
And that's the end of the dream.
You get trapped into marriage with an older woman, play for the local team, get pissed on a Saturday night Trapped into marriage? Mary Connon.
The deceased.
Where's Connon? Inside, having a cup of tea.
I'll make him wait.
See if he sweats.
Shall I? What? Stir his tea? Speak to him.
Why? You're friends I didn't say I liked him, did I? No.
You can help these lazy sods find a toffee hammer or a useful witness.
Then at midday, take yourself for a drink at the rugby club.
Here's a list of suspects.
We need a gentleman who's acted like a hooligan.
Don't be clever.
Soccer is hooligans acting like gentlemen and rugby union is gentlemen acting like hooligans.
Bollocks! Men play soccer to make money.
Rugby is violence for the love of it.
Or was until it got corrupted by sponsors.
I'll go in.
Found any possible weapons? A garden gnome.
But no bloodstains.
Witnesses? People opposite.
They've got a bit to say for themselves.
Mr and Mrs Fernie.
Number 277.
Not pleased.
Sunday morning.
We got them out of bed.
You woke 'em up? No.
We got 'em out of bed.
There you go.
How well did you know Mr and Mrs Connon? Well, I knew Mary.
I see him at work.
Mostly we keep out of each other's way.
She was a friend, really.
Oh? I had a cup of tea with her yesterday.
I was at the match.
Another rugby man? No! Football.
United.
Was I the last person to see her alive? It's possible.
Apart from the murderer, of course.
And he got home at 8.
30.
Who did? Connon.
I meant the murderer.
Me too.
You can't say that! Dave doesn't like Mr Connon.
Does Jenny know? Jenny? Their daughter.
She's at university.
Ertheir daughter has been informed.
So, you left the club at about 8.
10 and you got home at 8.
30? Yes.
Can you be more precise about that? Mary were watching a so-called game show.
Hamsters were doing an obstacle course.
Is that a clue? Oh, could be vital, Mr Connon.
Oh, lookthis is daft! I'm going to call you Connie - everybody calls you that.
And everybody calls you "that bastard".
Ha-ha(!) And on that more informal basis, let me ask you something personal.
What was wrong with your marriage? You'll have to explain.
You get kicked in the head, you come home, you're sick in the bathroom, and she doesn't move from her chair.
She doesn't even make you a cup of tea.
She just carries on watching these idiots farting about on television.
There are men who play rugby who'd have kicked in the screen.
Men who have no respect for their wives don't deserve to keep them.
Is that where I went wrong? Aye, mine upped and offed with the milkman.
When was it? Fifteen years back.
I remember.
You were a class player, Connie.
You still know how to go for the man.
Which makes two of us.
Oh, I hate working Sunday mornings.
What happens now? Formal statements, legal safeguards of your civil liberties.
As a great man once said: we'll have you looked at, and then we'll decide if you need seeing to.
Sid Hope.
Club treasurer.
Impressive! Sergeant Pascoe.
What's the problem? Kids been chopping up the goalposts again? You were here last night? Saturdays - our main income source.
How many were in last night? Sixty, seventy.
Including Sam Connon? Yes.
But he left early.
DOOR OPENS Sorry, Sid.
Late again.
No excuses.
Seventh deadly sin.
Sloth.
Ohwell done.
Sergeant Pascoe.
He's a police officer.
This is Marcus Felstead? How do YOU know that? My boss briefed me.
Dalziel? Yes.
What did he say about me? Sorry! "A bald runt with a pot belly.
" And the face of an angel.
Huh! Spot on! So, what's the trouble, officer(?) It's about Connie.
Mary Connon.
Mary?! You know her? We all do.
She was always in here once.
Not so much now.
We all grow old, don't we? Mary Connon won't grow old.
She's dead.
Someone killed her last night.
The merciful goodness of the Lord endures forever towards those that fear Him, and His righteousness upon their children's children.
We have entrusted our Mary to God's merciful keeping and we now commit her body to the ground.
Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ.
What are YOU doing here? Same as you, sir.
Wrong.
Friend of the family, me.
Member of the club.
Last respects must be paid.
But you HIGH-PITCHED SNOR .
.
stranger in town, AND a bloody policeman.
Intrusion into private grief.
Gets us a bad name.
I'm learning my trade.
"In his master's steps he trod.
" And which one of us is the very sod? I'm here to look for a murderer.
You won't find him down there.
Not a bad gate for a midweek match.
Arthur! Oh, hello, Uncle Marcus.
Don't call me that.
It makes me feel even older than I am.
I'm sorry, I forgot.
Well I'll, erm I'll sit in the car till you're ready, Dad.
Take your time.
All right, lass.
PHONE RINGS Pascoe.
How the hell did YOU get this number? No.
It's very nice to hear your voice, Mrs Claypool Jenny, I shall miss your mother.
You're the first person who's said that.
I didn't mean to speak out of turn.
Don't apologise.
Everybody else has said the usual stuff - deepest sympathysad loss can't find the words to express but you're the first person to say you'll miss my mother.
Thank you.
I'll have to go.
Bus to catch.
Did you hear anything from the bereaved? Yeah, I heard Ted Morgan.
What did he say? He said that Connon was kicked on his head in aloose maul.
Is that the word? Yes.
Morgan says one of Connie's own team kicked him - Arthur Evans.
The captain? He wouldn't do that even if he is Welsh! The match was already lost.
If he was going to stick the boot in, he'd do it the gentleman's way, up a dark alley.
I don't buy it.
Ted Morgan's always been a shit-stirrer.
PHONE RINGS We've got to do better.
Sergeant Pascoe.
Mary knew the killer, otherwise why did she just sit there? We'll be there.
We're not looking for mysterious homicidal intruders, we're looking for an acquaintance of Mary What is it? Jenny Connon's had an anonymous letter.
And? Shit-stirring.
That's not the sort of language we expect from an educated man! Ohh How did it go off then? What? The funeral.
Was our Stanley there? Yes.
And it went very well.
He took time off work, special.
He worships Mr Connon.
It's a shame, isn't it? What? When your hero turns out to be a murderer.
Who says Mr Connon's a murderer? Well, your Dave, for one.
Dave's never been right about anything in his life.
You got back from the funeral at what time? Oh, it were about half past five.
There were a time check on the radio.
You switched it on as soon as you were home? Well I wanted some noise in the house.
And, er this was waiting for you? Yeah.
I thought it was just another card.
May I talk to you in private, Mr Connon? We'll go in the kitchen.
Sgt Pascoe will take a statement from Miss Connon.
What would you like me to state? Won't you sit down? Sorry.
OUR house.
Won't YOU sit down, Sergeant? Why don't WE sit down? You don't really want a statement from me.
The fat controller wants us out of the way so he can chat up me dad in private.
You don't like Mr Dalziel? Wellit's hard to respect any man who scratches his balls in public.
"Dear Miss Connon It must be terrible to realise that your father is a murderer.
"But it may be some comfort to know that the man you think is your father is not your real father.
" True or false? I can't offer you proof either way.
We were married.
Jenny were born eight months later.
A bit premature.
We'd had sex before we married.
It were called intercourse then.
They took it away with the trams, intercourse.
She didn't like me playing rugby.
Stuck at home with a baby.
I can understand it now.
But you didn't then? What does any man understand at 20? Primal urges? I suppose.
And Mary was older than you? Only five years.
But she understood your primal urges.
You really ARE an evil bastard.
Are you Jenny's natural father? I'll tell you what I know.
We had a row one night and she said, "Keep going to the club.
That way you might meet Jenny's father.
" I'd have knocked her block off but I'm an evil bastard.
When was this? Thirteen, fourteen years ago.
Too long ago for a motive.
You could have been having the same row ever since.
Every man has his breaking point.
I'm not the breaking kind.
What did you tell him? The same as I told you.
I have no clinical proof of paternity, but in every way that matters a damn, you're my daughter.
And you're my dad.
Did you get a statement from the lass? Nothing very helpful.
Good.
You weren't meant to.
Play your cards right, you could be in there with your primal urges.
What's today? Monday? Monday.
Tomorrow night's training night.
And committee night.
I'll drop in at my club - chuck my weight about.
It'll make a nice change.
Cheers.
Cheers.
Welcome back.
Welcome back? Haven't seen you in here for years.
Just coincidence(!) See? The acumen of a bank manager.
He understands.
A coincidence.
Mm.
How's the building trade, Jacko? Still wiping out the green belt? I scratch a living.
How is the detection trade? I just scratch till I draw blood.
You been scratching Connie? No.
Time to rig the agenda, Mr Chairman.
Can I have a look at those? Last week's team sheets? I want to see who's playing now.
Good God! Is he still alive? I'll see you.
You used to sniff around Mary Connon in the old days, didn't you? We all did.
YOU did.
Me? Connie got to the line first, right between the posts.
I didn't know you'd brought the wife.
What are you doing here? I'm a fully paid-up member.
This place is going to the dogs.
I want to become a pillar of the community.
A pillock? No Two pints of best and get yourself a fruit juice.
My pleasure.
There's one in every rugby club, isn't there? A smooth-talking graduate copper? A nubile woman to inflame the loins of the pack.
Once it were Mary Connon, now it's Gwen Evans.
And Arthur Evans doesn't like it.
I'd need a set of jump leads on my loins.
Arthur! It's eight o'clock.
Yeah, all right, bit.
On my way.
It's starting.
Teams for Saturday.
Mr Wallis? For obvious reasons, I wasn't able to consult as usual.
Tonight I'm back to normal.
That's my suggested first team.
Thank you.
Young man who lives opposite me, Stanley Curtis says he's the best wing three quarter that lives opposite me.
I don't know I promised I'd mention it.
Now I have.
I've found it! Application form for the Wales v England international.
It's the usual arrangement, isn't it? We'll ask for 150, get 40 and carve 'em up amongst the committee, eh? The international is after Christmas.
We have more pressing matters to consider.
Can I get anybody a drink? I'm all right, ta.
A bitter, please.
Half? A pint - if you're working.
I can afford it.
Poor Stanley.
At school he'd always try to look up my skirt.
He's a fitness freak now.
He jogs.
Sublimation.
Hmm? Sublimation.
Now, then how's my toy boy this evening? Fine, thank you, Mrs Evans.
A pint of bitter, please.
Aren't you in training? It isn't for me.
I have a rival? Justjust a friend.
Just good friends The most lethal words in the English language.
Er Thank you, Stanley.
Cheers.
Oh Are you going? Mm? Good night.
CRASH! Oh! Hello, Stanley.
Hello, Mrs Fernie.
How's the Sportsman of the Year(?) At least he's trying to make something of himself.
Yes.
A bleeding idiot.
Ignore him, Stanley.
I'll see you.
Hey, you could race him.
I might do myself a permanent injury.
Well, who'd notice the difference? Last call for any other business? In that case Oh Yes, Connie? Mr President yesterday, immediately after my wife's funeral my daughter received an anonymous letter.
I believe it came from someone connected with this club.
What did it say? The writer knows.
I know.
Jenny knows.
We realise what a dreadful time this has been for you, but, er let's close the meeting and discuss this informally.
I propose that the writer of this letter, when identified, should be banned from this club for life.
There's, ernothing in the rule book to cover this.
No.
We can't ban somebody we don't know.
No.
I've made a proposal.
Do I have a seconder? I'll second it.
Now, I think, according to the constitution, it goes to the vote.
Unless there's any further discussion? Wellall in favour? Carried.
Thank you.
Right, gentlemen, meeting closed.
Are you all right? No.
No, I'm not all right.
But I intend to be better soon.
I got you two.
Saves on the legwork.
You're a gentleman, sir.
Now, you wanted to ask questions? Who'd want to kill Mary Connon? Who's got it in for Connon? Next.
Who's having it away with Mrs Evans? Well, Arthur Evans is convinced that somebody's digging in his allotment.
Connon? Connon.
The golden boy.
Aren't they mates? Your first suspect is always your best friend.
Is Evans right? Welshmen weren't born to be right.
Is there a policeman in the house? Sergeant, it's for you.
Sergeant Pascoe.
We'll be there immediately.
Your neighbours have seen a man in your garden.
Don't spread it around.
I'll kill him! SIREN WAILS All right.
Who saw him? We did.
Name? How should I know? YOUR name.
This is Mr Fernie.
Oh, aye.
We've heard about you.
Round the back, you two.
He's stillover there.
Now, pay attention, sunbeam.
I have been called away from a half-drunk pint because of you and I am not best pleased.
So let's have a good look at you, nice and easy, and I'll try and keep my rottweilers under control.
Who are you? Anthony Wilkes.
University of South Warwickshire, reading media studies.
Oh, Anthony! Jenny! Would that be a boyfriend you're mauling there, Miss Connon? Well, yessort of.
Unrequited love.
I wouldn't say that.
It looks to be reasonably requited.
Not his, YOURS, buggerlugs! What's this? It's a sequence-of-events chart.
Never had them when I was a lad.
Deprived childhood.
It's a chart of the night of the murder.
Here, the hours from 6pm till midnight, and here, the main protagonists.
What? It means The participants in a great drama.
Now we can track the movements of our protagonists on the night of the murder.
So they were drinking in the club on Saturday night, but not all of them and not all the time, right? Right.
I knew that in me head.
Well Do you ever watch motor racing on your telly? Only in an emergency.
At the end, some overpaid prat in a daft hat shakes a bottle of champagne so it pisses all over the runners-up.
Yes, I've seen that.
This case has gone flat.
We need to shake the bottle, see who we can splash.
Let's have a look.
Yeah.
He'll do.
Listen, Arthur, we've known each other a long time.
Now I give you my word, as an old friend, whatever you tell me will be in strict confidence.
Confidence?! With a tape recorder and him there? Regulations.
Law of the land.
Hands tied.
If it wasn't Sgt Pascoe, it'd be a total stranger.
AND he's a paid-up member of the club.
It keeps it in the family if he is myamanuensis.
Is that the word? That's the word.
Look, I've got a match.
The coach leaves for Ilkley at 12.
45.
Ilkley? Do you fancy your chances? Well, they're all 16, run like the wind We'll get another good hiding, but I want to be part of it.
I'm sentimental like that.
So, what do you want to know? Oh, aye.
Umwhere did you go when you left the club at 8.
15 last Saturday night? I went home.
Why did you do that? It's where I live! Home! That's what it means.
Ask your bloody amanuensis.
Sergeant? Mr Evans went to see why his wife was late.
What's wrong with that? Nowt.
It does you credit, Arthur.
Husband concerned about his wife's well-being.
So, she wasn't at home.
What did you do then? Went back to the club.
Sergeant? Mr Evans left the club at 8.
15.
Returned at 9.
15.
You livenot five minutes away from the club.
And which ever way you do your sums, that's 50 minutes unaccounted for.
Would YOU like to account for them? Ease my troubled mind.
All right.
I was there.
There? Where's there? Hurley Drive.
Connon's house? Yeah.
But I didn't go in, right? What DID you do? I followed him there.
I could see, erlights on in the house Mary watching television in the living room.
And you came to the conclusion that your fears were unfounded and Connie was not having an illicit tryst with your Gwen? I wouldn't put it QUITE like that.
And, of course Connie had a headache.
You kicked him, didn't you? I persuaded him to play, see? I thought, at least I'll know where you are this afternoon, you bastard.
Then he went down in this loose maul.
He had no right to be there, did he? Always was a bit of a hero like that.
That's what made him different from the rest of us.
I saw my chance and I took it.
Might have killed him.
Thought I had for a minute.
I do feel bad about that.
Guilty as charged.
You've got a bus to catch, Arthur.
You mean I'm free to go? Saturdays we're only open for confessions.
Excellent.
We've got Arthur Evans at the scene of the crime.
Eh? Give us your pen.
If I think you're shafting my wife, I don't murder YOUR wife.
Those things are not dreamt of in our philosophy, Malvolio.
Horatio.
Whoever.
Connon's the man with the motive.
Paradise lost.
Then he meets Gwen Evans - Paradise regained.
Go and see her.
Me? This afternoon, when Arthur's safe in Ilkley.
If Connie doesn't come, you could be in with a chance yourself.
Here.
A-hem UmDad We've, umwe've hatched a plot.
I can tell.
The first XV are playing at home and we think you should take Anthony.
I've never seen a rugby match in the flesh.
I've watched it on TV and found it bewildering.
Who better to explain the finer points, if there ARE finer points? Oh, yes, there ARE finer points! Will you come? I thought I'd sort through some of Mum's personal things I thought you'd prefer to be out of the house while I do it.
You're both very thoughtful.
I've got a book coming out and a new job.
So have I.
I know about your job.
You don't know about mine.
Tell me about it.
Lecturer in social science, Holm Coutram College.
Holm Coutram? That's dangerously near.
25 miles north.
You're familiar with the points of the compass? Yes.
We do a written paper and an oral examination(!) Good.
I'm pleased.
At one time you'd have been proud.
I am.
Pleased and proud.
Late but welcome.
I hear the siren call of criminal investigation.
The message from Mrs Claypool said it was in connection with sex.
Are you getting any? No.
You? No.
I'll put a notice on the board.
I hear the hallelujah chorus of social science.
You don't change.
Neither do you, that's the problem.
Something wrong? Isn't there always? Goodbye for ever(!) (Come into my parlour.
) If you're going to have secret assignations, don't have them in my pub.
This is CID territory.
Noted.
Single malt arrives, unbidden.
Also noted.
Now for the sermon.
I've got nowt against women.
You're a young man.
Young men have to get their end away.
What's her name? Ellie.
Eleanor Soper.
Love's young dream? At university we were a number.
An odd number? Even number? Or what old farts like me call a couple? We were an odd number.
She gave you the elbow.
Yes.
She didn't approve of my joining the police.
She's right.
What would she think of you, calling on a married woman while her husband's away? At least it's not your big fat boss.
Doesn't anybody like Mr Dalziel? Not that I'm aware of.
I have to ask one or two questions on his behalf.
Go on, then.
You're aware your husband is jealous of Mr Connon? Yes.
Does he have reason to be? None whatsoever.
You've rowed about it? Our marriage wasn't made in heaven, it was made in Ebbw Vale.
So you have rows? Certainly we have rows.
And what the hell business is it of yours? None, probably.
But we have to find out what IS our business.
The lads were right about you.
What? They say you're a silver-tongued bastard.
DOORBELL Are you expecting someone? I've no expectations of anything, Mr Pascoe.
The gospel according to Gwen.
Hello, Gwen.
- Are you all right? - You'd better come in.
Ah! Hello, Mr Pascoe.
Mr Felstead.
I thought you'd be in Ilkley.
You haven't been dropped? Nobody is ever dropped from the Fourths.
I've retired.
Age has begun to wither me.
What happened to Connie last week - could be my turn next.
Marcus phoned to tell Arthur he wouldn't be playing.
I told him that Arthur was under arrest.
No.
Assisting us with our enquiries.
He's gone to Ilkley.
So he's all right, then? He's fine.
- And you? - In the time-honoured phrase, as well as can be expected.
Ah, that's what I need to know.
Right I'll be off to the match, then.
Is the game better if seen through a glass mistily? This one is.
Is this not a good example of the genre? Not good.
Haven't got any better, have they? We've, er We've had complaints about you, Andy, from various members of the club.
Oh? What are they moaning about? Well, if I might quote - "He hangs around, all cheerful, but he's still a dirty copper wanting us to grass on our mates.
" Sounds about right.
Who said that? Jacko Roberts? Oh, I couldn't possibly grass on a mate.
I'll tell you about Jacko Roberts.
He built the clubhouse for us.
Did it all for cost.
No profit margin.
Then the roof leaked, so he came back to fix the roof.
He made a right mess of the place.
Bloody butterfingers! You couldn't catch a dead rat! Your clubhouse has a leak, Mr Chairman, and you need a dirty copper to fix it.
And you've got the dirtiest around.
I don't care how much mess I make, your rugby club will end up fixed! MOBILE PHONE RINGS Dalziel.
Yeah All right.
Ten minutes.
I'm off.
Something important? Aye.
A damn sight more important than THIS insubstantial pageant! So what we've got here is another example of Dalziel's Law.
It's Saturday and half the force is out making the streets secure for the soccer hooligans, and we get a missing child.
An early result - that's what we want.
Sgt Wield will tell you how.
Michael Annan, known as Mickey, aged eight.
103 Scour Terrace, Oakfield Estate.
Went out to play last night and didn't come home.
His parents tell us he likes to play on the common.
MUTTERS We'll start the search tonight, then again in the morning, if necessary.
Thank you, Mr Connon.
That was fascinating.
Good.
There's a symbiotic relationship between skill and violence.
You think so? I'd like to see it again.
Nothing is repeatable.
That's the point about the game all gamesthe moments.
And once they've gone, they've gone forever.
Jenny? Jenny! KNOCKS ON DOOR (Oh, my God) You dragged us out here for this? It's straightforward show-us-your tits stuff.
So where is Jenny? You say this arrived after you went to the match.
So it must have been delivered by hand.
And then what? The author knocks at the door and says, "Come for a walk with me"? I think you're both underestimating the young lady.
There is a contradiction.
Do tell me.
I love hearing about contradictions.
This letter accuses Jenny of flaunting her naked body at her bedroom window.
You think that's out of character? I'm frankly not in a position to say.
But her bedroom's at the rear of the house, so to see herflaunting, you'd have to climb over the fence at the back.
And it isn't easy.
I tried.
Hello! Ehwhat's happening? Are you all right, love? I've been to the supermarket, but otherwise I'm fine.
Why? What can you tell us about this? Oh, God I didn't mean you to see that.
I found it among Mum's things.
Any more like it? Mm.
Let's be having them.
It's Mary Connon flaunting and some tit-fancier writing the letters.
So she threatens to report him and he knocks her on the head? Here's an informed guess.
These were sent over a period of time and she kept them, like love letters.
I think she enjoyed it.
Flashing isn't confined to males.
You said you didn't like her, but Nobody did.
She was a real Delilah.
All those hypocrites at the funeral, that was for Connie's sake.
Mind you, I don't like him either.
PHONE RINGS CID.
Sergeant Pascoe's desk.
Oh! Send her in.
Give all the lads a treat.
Young woman with a pram, asking for you.
What? Oh, I lied about the pram.
A parcel, that was the word.
Er, Supt Dalziel.
Eleanor Soper.
My old friend from university.
Ohyou're the ex? We don't have any secrets here.
We tell each other everything.
In that case, yes.
You're a bloody mug, Pascoe.
Giving a nice lass like this the elbow.
I gave HIM the elbow.
I can see why.
He's got funny habits.
I didn't want him to join the police.
It does bring out the worst in a man.
Open your present.
My new book.
It's about police corruption.
Oh, aye? Do I get a mention? Perhaps in the next volume.
I doubt it! Ms Eleanor Soper.
Let me confess I use foul and abusive language, I pick my nose and scratch my balls, I fart louder than is necessary, and I do it in public.
I've got sod all to hide.
I do my job, go home and have my tea, often in the middle of the night.
And you will have observed that I don't know any funny handshakes.
Have you done any in-depth research into children who go missing? No.
Or women who flaunt their naked bodies in full public view? No.
Then Mr Pascoe will see you off the premises.
We have to be very careful with liberal-minded do-gooders, especially on a Saturday night.
What a monster.
Yep.
But he's all right when you get to know him? No.
Monster all the way through.
Correct? King of all the beasts.
What was that about missing children? We've got one.
Eight-year-old lad.
I'llI'll be in touch.
Why? When I've read the book.
Right(!) See you aroundWatson.
She's a clever lass.
You're well rid of herunless she's a phenomenally good shag.
You were at the match.
Was Marcus Felstead there? No.
When I saw him at Mrs Evans', he said he was going.
He changed his mind.
Yeah, but what did he do instead? I don't know.
Stayed at home.
Maybe he went back to Gwen's.
Marcus and Gwen?! Even standing on a box, he'd suffocate.
Didn't Mickey Rooney marry Ava Gardner? I don't know! I'm not interested in your sexual fantasies.
Only in my own.
And our Peeping Tom's.
Give the neighbours a shake tomorrow.
He should fall out.
Morning.
Morning.
I persuaded Mr Connon that one Sunday paper isn't enough for three people.
Are you hereprofessionally? We're never off duty, sir.
May I share a speculative theory with you? By all means.
When I first arrived and there was no-one here, I telephoned my parents, and I found the Connons' number written on the wall here.
What's your theory? It's really a question.
Why would anyone phone a house 20 yards away? Why not ring the bell? Fair question.
And it also occurs to me, albeit as a somewhat degrading theory, that this telephone box does command an excellent view of the late Mrs Connon's bedroom window.
Thank you, Mr Wilkes.
Mrs Fernie, could I speak to your husband alone? Me and Dave, we don't have secrets.
It's a little delicate.
Definitely not delicate secrets! Very well.
It seems that the late Mary Connon used to appear at her bedroom window not fully dressed, so to speak.
Bollock naked, so to speak? Yes.
Everybody knows that.
Mary Connon received obscene anonymous letters and phone calls.
And you think I'm the local pervert? I'm not accusing You are! Have you any of these letters? I've got a photocopy.
Can I see it? You're talking through your bum hole, Sergeant.
I am? Well, this isn't Dave's handwriting.
It's much too neat.
And whoever wrote this is sexually frustrated.
I suppose.
Suppose nothing.
It's obvious! Now let me tell YOU something.
My Dave's big, loud and daft.
He won't mind his own business and once in a while he hits people, but he is NOT sexually frustrated.
I see.
Not since 11.
20 this morning.
And if you're going to write that down, it was during The Archers.
Thank you.
Any joy? We've found SOME bits and pieces.
Guns? Prehistoric.
Came over with the Vikings probably.
That's an air pistol.
My dad had one.
Anything on the boy? You'll be the second to know.
TV: 'After the ice had gone, 10,000 years ago' Am I interrupting? No.
I thought Anthony might find this photograph interesting.
You? England trial, 1976.
Chip-kicked over their back line, caught it, side-stepped the fullback, touched down in corner.
My shining hour.
I wish I'd seen it.
You weren't born, either of you.
Not quite.
Well HUBBUB OF MUSIC AND CHATTER Marcus Hello, lads.
Just the man I want to see.
Enquiries? No, no.
It's personal and trivial.
I just want you to confirm or deny a bit of malicious gossip that tumbled into my shell-like ears - concerning you and Gwen Evans Marcus! I want a word with you! Arthur, we'd ALL like a word with him.
Form an orderly queue.
I just want to tell him he can't retire.
We lost 55-0 yesterday! We didn't deserve nil.
Is the beautiful Gwen with you? She's in the toilets, tarting herself up.
Excuse me, we're running out of crisps.
I'll be back in a minute.
Humiliation! What? Running out of crisps? No! Our match yesterday.
We were playing against children, man, mere bloody children! Would Marcus have made any difference? Well, he's a little, fat, bald runt but he's got his share of low cunning.
At our agewhat else is left? HEAVY BREATHING GWEN: We have to tell him.
MARCUS: Then he kills you and he kills me.
In either order.
You saw what he did to Connie and that was mistaken identity.
Ahem Good evening, both.
How long have you been there? Long enough.
Mr Felstead, why don't you call in and see us tomorrow? Clarify a few things.
How long has it been going on? Two years.
Bloody hell! Nightmare! So why do it? I hesitate to mention "love" to you.
You do right.
But it's a bugger though, isn't it? Here you are, pulling the best bird in the parish and you can't tell anybody.
I'd want to shout it from the rooftops.
Who'd have believed me? PHONE Sergeant Pascoe.
So, what are your plans, apart from protecting yourself from Arthur? Sir.
Oh Excuse me.
Aye? Oh, hang on.
Piss off, Marcus.
We've found a missing child.
Your sex life is no longer of any interest.
At Old Trafford?! Don't tell me - asleep on the penalty spot.
Some kids'll do anything for an autograph Returning to base.
You can't.
Mrs Grogan at number 40 is expecting you.
Did she see something? She reckons she did.
She's nosey but she's usually right.
I'm nice to the Mrs Grogans of this world.
Give it a good long ring.
She's a bit deaf.
Thank you, Mrs Williams.
Jacko Roberts saw Mary Connon with Arthur Evans in the Blue Boar the night before she was killed.
And he's just remembered?! Yeah.
They're a tight bunch at the club, and Arthur's popular, but they all grass eventually.
What can I do? Call on Arthur.
He might talk to you.
Ask him if he's a murderer.
TOM JONES RECORD PLAYS Have you found her? Sorry? .
.
Is my momma and papa Down the road I'd look and there runs Mary Hair of gold and lips like cherries She's left me.
I'mvery sorry, Mr Evans.
Look, she'd better have gone on her own, cos if she's gone with anybody else, I'll KILL him! You do not pump out a man's stomach because he's had a drop of Scotch! It was the doctor's decision.
Oh, you trust the medical profession?! God have mercy on your soul(!) Oh, God! I hate this bloody thing! It's working perfectly well.
A police canteen should serve sausages and chips 24 hours a day! No wonder there's a crime wave! Anyway, Arthur Evans isn't your romantic suicide type.
You'll be on his hit list now.
I'll bear it in mind.
And little Marcus has done a runner? Uniform checked his digs.
His car's gone and he told his landlady he wouldn't be back.
Marcus Felstead and Gwen Evans Romeo and Juliet Who'd have thought it? Moral - anything's possible.
The world is flat.
The moon is made of green cheese.
May I have a word, sir? What's YOUR problem? A witness claims to have seen a man in Connon's front garden the night Mary Connon was killed.
What was he doing? He was climbing in the house through an upstairs window.
I wouldn't have thought that was possible.
Only one way to find out.
It's what we call a reconstruction in the investigative trade.
It looks good in the paperwork.
Well? He was a better athlete than I am.
Can you get to the window? Possibly.
Try.
Give the crowd its money's worth.
I'd rather not, sir.
Are you disobeying an order? I don't want to spoil the footprints on the roof.
Oh, get down! Erdo you know any sexually frustrated young athletes? Yes.
Oh Young man, you are trying my patience.
I didn't do anything! It's another fine mess, Stanley(!) I didn't kill her.
What DID you do? Did you write the letters? Yes.
And telephoned her? Yesbut she asked for it.
You'll have to explain that.
When did it start? A couple of years ago.
When I first started serious training.
I was out running one night and there she wasat the window likeall Naked? Yes.
Don't worry, son.
All men have a deep desire to say, "Show us your tits," to every woman we fancy.
Even Pascoe.
But we do not make obscene phone calls or write dirty letters! I was daft, wasn't I? But you saidshe asked for it.
One night I was in t'phone box and, er she must have been watching me because SHE rang ME, in the phone box.
And she got me to say things like dirty things.
Not ever so dirty.
I don't know that many seriously dirty things.
You have to work at it.
She told me she kept my letters in her dressing table, and why didn't I spice them up a bit.
Then I decided to stop.
Why? Don't laugh.
It was interfering with me training.
I'm not laughing.
It isn't funny.
But she didn't want me to stop.
She threatened me.
Sheshe kept the letters.
To show to Mr Connon? Mr Connon, the police, me parents, everybody.
So, eryou decided to steal them? On the Saturday night.
THAT Saturday night.
I went onto t'little flat roof and in through t'window.
I could hear t'telly on downstairs.
I went into t'bedroom and I was just about to open t'dressing table drawer when someone on t'bed moved and sort of groaned.
Mr Connon? Yeah.
He sat up.
What did YOU do? I ran away.
Downstairs.
There was a lot of noise, I thought no-one'd hear me.
Noise from the television? And voices.
Somebody laughing.
I was halfway down t'stairs when Mrs Connon came out into t'kitchen and saw me and screamed.
Why? You were her toy boy.
Didn't she recognise you? I had this over me head.
Show us.
Ooh, it's enough to make anyone scream.
Give it to Mr Pascoe.
So, she screamed.
Then what? There was a man in t'front room.
Who? I didn't see him.
He said something like, "What's the matter?" I threw something at her and legged it through t'front door.
Did you know his voice? It's a bit muffled with a stocking on your head.
What did you throw at Mrs Connon? What? You threw something at her.
What? I-It was just something I picked up.
When Mr Pascoe asks you a question, he's entitled to an answer! It was an old air pistol! Me dad used to keep it for the rats! It's useless! He never killed any! Is that your father's air pistol, Mr Curtis? Yeah.
Who did he buy it from? Lord Kitchener? Lord who? Don't say that.
It upsets me.
You MAY be home in time for Blue Peter Thank you.
.
.
But don't bank on it.
No.
Forensics won't thank you for that, sir.
They'll be too busy finding imaginary footprints on the roof.
How did you know? I know everything.
And I know how these buggers work.
It's a spring-loaded mechanism.
Put a pellet in and pull the trigger.
Wow.
That's not going to help anybody's frontal lobes, is it? That's our toffee hammer.
LOUD MUSIC, GENERAL CHATTER Does your heart good, doesn't it? Seeing all these young people.
This is no place for the likes of us.
Come on.
Can't talk with all this racket going on.
How's the head? Memory improving? Memory? Come on, Connie! Fill in the gaps.
What was it that woke you up? Mary screaming? The hooded monster on the stairs? Who was the man in the living room? Who got rid of the gun? Was it you or him? He did.
I know you're a man of few words but that outburst still leaves the odd gap.
I heard the scream, then the front door.
Stanley doing a runner.
I didn't know it was Stanley until Marcus told me.
Marcus? He was the man in the living room? I thought you knew.
You heard noises .
.
you went down the stairs, you found Marcus and Mary Having it away on the rug? No.
She were dead by then.
I assume you asked Marcus for an explanation.
"Excuse me, sir, my wife's dead.
" He said it were an accident.
I hope he had a good story.
I believed him.
Try it on me.
Marcus came round because Mary knew about him and Gwen.
She were threatening to tell Arthur Evans.
Why? Her idea of fun.
Describe the accident.
Young Stanley had dumped this old air pistol and Marcus had picked it up.
He were arguing with Mary.
She was teasing him about his love life with Gwen.
He was waving the gun around.
She says, "What are you going to do? Kill me?" Then she grabbed the gun and held it against her own head and pressed his finger which was on the trigger.
Bang.
She were dead.
That's Marcus's story? Yes.
Which you believe? I lay down for half an hour, give him time to get rid of the gun, then I phoned the police.
We'd had a masked intruder.
We could blame everything on him.
Stanley.
Poor little twat.
Whatever he does, he'll always be found out.
So it adds up to what? Death by misadventure? Manslaughter at worst? Yes? Not murder.
Are you prepared to stand up in court and testify that your late wife was a wicked, manipulative, conniving, sex-starved bitch? When I bust me ankle and I knew it were all over the glory that was me, do you know what she said to me? "It's only a game, Connie "It's only a game.
" That's a terrible thing to say.
It's true.
That's why it's a terrible thing to say.
She weren't talking about rugby.
I know.
CROWD SINGS "Land of my Fathers" Come on! Sid! Sid! I shall need a pint every 15 minutes for the duration of the game.
But if Wales winI shall drink a lot.
Welcome home, Arthur.
COME ON, BOYS!! Come on, England! Let's show these taffies! England! England! England! I'll explain it as we go along.
I thought you might.
Come on, England! COME ON!! Where have YOU been?! A world cruise.
Spent my entire life savings.
Worth it? Every penny! Good.
How have YOU been? I often wished I could get away from Mary.
I used to think it wouldn't matter, but it does.
It always matters.
They know you're here.
I had to tell 'em.
They met me coming in.
Well mustn't spoil your enjoyment.
WHISTLE BLOWS It's only a game, Marcus only a game.
BBC Scotland 1996
Good morning, Mr Dalziel.
How long have been with us, Mr Pascoe? Not long, sir.
Seems longer.
The first time you walked in, you said, "Good morning, Mr Dey-ell".
Sir? The first bugger that ever got my name rightfirst time.
Unforgivable, that is.
Smart arse, I thought.
I was right.
Come on! Come on! Leave it! Eh, eh, eh! Come on! Connie? All right? He's all right.
He's immortal, aren't you? What happened? It was that fat git in the second row.
I'll have him! I'll take a few minutes off.
Aye.
This match is beyond redemption.
I'm surprised they haven't declared! We're old enough to know better, eh? But we never bloody learn, do we? No.
We never bloody learn.
DOOR OPENS We're not open yet! Eh, what's this?! This is medicinal! - Open up! - What are you having? He doesn't remember the game.
So, two men short, reserve playing fullback.
We lost 43-5.
Who scored for us? YOU did! Like the old days, eh?! Good.
Right .
.
I think we're ready to open now! About bloody time! You know you're on tonight? Oh, God! So I am! Get behind the bar! Start pulling pints! Another one? No.
Mary's expecting me.
She didn't know you were playing? I didn't either(!) Mary's never in the club these days.
Wellyou knowwomen.
Ayewe know.
Fancy scoring a try like that and not remembering it.
He's got better things to remember.
And worse.
TELEVISION IS ON VEHICLE IDLES OUTSIDE Legless as usual.
Who is? Connon.
- What's he ever done to you? - He's my boss, isn't he? No, he's the personnel officer.
I'm a mechanic.
I've served my time and what's he got? A big house and influential mates at the rugby club.
- He nearly played for England.
- Yeah(?) - He's a stand-off.
A what? It's a kind of half-back at rugby.
Mary told me.
- Aye? Over coffee(?) - Yes.
"PETS WIN PRIZES" IS ON TV Sorry I'm late.
I'll get a cup of tea.
VOMITS He should have thought of that! What's his surname? Jones.
Can I help you? I'd like to speak to Sgt Pascoe.
He isn't in.
Out cleansing society(?) He's in Leeds, at the opera.
Can anyone else help, or is it personal? It's personal.
I could give him a message.
Or he could ring you.
The arrangement is I ring him.
Tell him I called in.
Who shall I say? He's having a night at the opera? Tell him, Mrs Claypool.
Claypool In connection with? Sex.
Five pints of best and a G and T.
She's here? Yes.
- Mrs Evans? - There's a long waiting list.
Gwen should have been here an hour ago.
Arthur went out to look for her, then she came in ten minutes later.
- Words like shit and fan come to mind.
- What is it about women's breasts? They sustain life.
BARMAN: Batten down the hatches.
Where the hell have you been?! I haven't been anywhere! Ted Morgan's buying me a drink and all's right with the world.
Dick and Joy came to collect you and you weren't there.
Sorry.
I forgot.
I'm an independent woman.
I came in on the bus.
Look! Marcus Felstead, temporary barman and bringer of peace.
Mary? Brain haemorrhage.
Ruptured the meningeal artery.
A blow from a metal implement.
Someone knocked a hole in her head.
Probably a toffee hammer.
Do they have toffee hammers any more? Don't suppose so.
Probably banned by those clowns in Brussels.
Any sign of the weapon? No, sir.
We started a search this morning.
And house to house.
Right.
Let's go and shake 'em up a bit.
Hey, who's Mrs Claypool? A character in A Night at the Opera.
Marx Brothers film.
She was in here last night, looking for you, in connection with sex.
I can explain.
Save it till I'm feeling strong.
What did Connie say when you got there? Not much.
It was 1am.
He was half asleep.
And he'd had a kick on the head playing rugby.
Who kicked him? Could have been anyone.
You haven't played rugby, have you? You know Mr Connon, don't you? Why do you say that? You're vice-president of the rugby club.
You HAVE done your homework.
I'll tell you the Sam Connon story.
It's very sad.
You're 20 years old.
A local hero.
Dead cert to play for England and become a legend.
Then you crack your ankle.
Nobody kicks you.
You just fall over.
It's your own stupid fault.
Nobody to blame.
And that's the end of the dream.
You get trapped into marriage with an older woman, play for the local team, get pissed on a Saturday night Trapped into marriage? Mary Connon.
The deceased.
Where's Connon? Inside, having a cup of tea.
I'll make him wait.
See if he sweats.
Shall I? What? Stir his tea? Speak to him.
Why? You're friends I didn't say I liked him, did I? No.
You can help these lazy sods find a toffee hammer or a useful witness.
Then at midday, take yourself for a drink at the rugby club.
Here's a list of suspects.
We need a gentleman who's acted like a hooligan.
Don't be clever.
Soccer is hooligans acting like gentlemen and rugby union is gentlemen acting like hooligans.
Bollocks! Men play soccer to make money.
Rugby is violence for the love of it.
Or was until it got corrupted by sponsors.
I'll go in.
Found any possible weapons? A garden gnome.
But no bloodstains.
Witnesses? People opposite.
They've got a bit to say for themselves.
Mr and Mrs Fernie.
Number 277.
Not pleased.
Sunday morning.
We got them out of bed.
You woke 'em up? No.
We got 'em out of bed.
There you go.
How well did you know Mr and Mrs Connon? Well, I knew Mary.
I see him at work.
Mostly we keep out of each other's way.
She was a friend, really.
Oh? I had a cup of tea with her yesterday.
I was at the match.
Another rugby man? No! Football.
United.
Was I the last person to see her alive? It's possible.
Apart from the murderer, of course.
And he got home at 8.
30.
Who did? Connon.
I meant the murderer.
Me too.
You can't say that! Dave doesn't like Mr Connon.
Does Jenny know? Jenny? Their daughter.
She's at university.
Ertheir daughter has been informed.
So, you left the club at about 8.
10 and you got home at 8.
30? Yes.
Can you be more precise about that? Mary were watching a so-called game show.
Hamsters were doing an obstacle course.
Is that a clue? Oh, could be vital, Mr Connon.
Oh, lookthis is daft! I'm going to call you Connie - everybody calls you that.
And everybody calls you "that bastard".
Ha-ha(!) And on that more informal basis, let me ask you something personal.
What was wrong with your marriage? You'll have to explain.
You get kicked in the head, you come home, you're sick in the bathroom, and she doesn't move from her chair.
She doesn't even make you a cup of tea.
She just carries on watching these idiots farting about on television.
There are men who play rugby who'd have kicked in the screen.
Men who have no respect for their wives don't deserve to keep them.
Is that where I went wrong? Aye, mine upped and offed with the milkman.
When was it? Fifteen years back.
I remember.
You were a class player, Connie.
You still know how to go for the man.
Which makes two of us.
Oh, I hate working Sunday mornings.
What happens now? Formal statements, legal safeguards of your civil liberties.
As a great man once said: we'll have you looked at, and then we'll decide if you need seeing to.
Sid Hope.
Club treasurer.
Impressive! Sergeant Pascoe.
What's the problem? Kids been chopping up the goalposts again? You were here last night? Saturdays - our main income source.
How many were in last night? Sixty, seventy.
Including Sam Connon? Yes.
But he left early.
DOOR OPENS Sorry, Sid.
Late again.
No excuses.
Seventh deadly sin.
Sloth.
Ohwell done.
Sergeant Pascoe.
He's a police officer.
This is Marcus Felstead? How do YOU know that? My boss briefed me.
Dalziel? Yes.
What did he say about me? Sorry! "A bald runt with a pot belly.
" And the face of an angel.
Huh! Spot on! So, what's the trouble, officer(?) It's about Connie.
Mary Connon.
Mary?! You know her? We all do.
She was always in here once.
Not so much now.
We all grow old, don't we? Mary Connon won't grow old.
She's dead.
Someone killed her last night.
The merciful goodness of the Lord endures forever towards those that fear Him, and His righteousness upon their children's children.
We have entrusted our Mary to God's merciful keeping and we now commit her body to the ground.
Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ.
What are YOU doing here? Same as you, sir.
Wrong.
Friend of the family, me.
Member of the club.
Last respects must be paid.
But you HIGH-PITCHED SNOR .
.
stranger in town, AND a bloody policeman.
Intrusion into private grief.
Gets us a bad name.
I'm learning my trade.
"In his master's steps he trod.
" And which one of us is the very sod? I'm here to look for a murderer.
You won't find him down there.
Not a bad gate for a midweek match.
Arthur! Oh, hello, Uncle Marcus.
Don't call me that.
It makes me feel even older than I am.
I'm sorry, I forgot.
Well I'll, erm I'll sit in the car till you're ready, Dad.
Take your time.
All right, lass.
PHONE RINGS Pascoe.
How the hell did YOU get this number? No.
It's very nice to hear your voice, Mrs Claypool Jenny, I shall miss your mother.
You're the first person who's said that.
I didn't mean to speak out of turn.
Don't apologise.
Everybody else has said the usual stuff - deepest sympathysad loss can't find the words to express but you're the first person to say you'll miss my mother.
Thank you.
I'll have to go.
Bus to catch.
Did you hear anything from the bereaved? Yeah, I heard Ted Morgan.
What did he say? He said that Connon was kicked on his head in aloose maul.
Is that the word? Yes.
Morgan says one of Connie's own team kicked him - Arthur Evans.
The captain? He wouldn't do that even if he is Welsh! The match was already lost.
If he was going to stick the boot in, he'd do it the gentleman's way, up a dark alley.
I don't buy it.
Ted Morgan's always been a shit-stirrer.
PHONE RINGS We've got to do better.
Sergeant Pascoe.
Mary knew the killer, otherwise why did she just sit there? We'll be there.
We're not looking for mysterious homicidal intruders, we're looking for an acquaintance of Mary What is it? Jenny Connon's had an anonymous letter.
And? Shit-stirring.
That's not the sort of language we expect from an educated man! Ohh How did it go off then? What? The funeral.
Was our Stanley there? Yes.
And it went very well.
He took time off work, special.
He worships Mr Connon.
It's a shame, isn't it? What? When your hero turns out to be a murderer.
Who says Mr Connon's a murderer? Well, your Dave, for one.
Dave's never been right about anything in his life.
You got back from the funeral at what time? Oh, it were about half past five.
There were a time check on the radio.
You switched it on as soon as you were home? Well I wanted some noise in the house.
And, er this was waiting for you? Yeah.
I thought it was just another card.
May I talk to you in private, Mr Connon? We'll go in the kitchen.
Sgt Pascoe will take a statement from Miss Connon.
What would you like me to state? Won't you sit down? Sorry.
OUR house.
Won't YOU sit down, Sergeant? Why don't WE sit down? You don't really want a statement from me.
The fat controller wants us out of the way so he can chat up me dad in private.
You don't like Mr Dalziel? Wellit's hard to respect any man who scratches his balls in public.
"Dear Miss Connon It must be terrible to realise that your father is a murderer.
"But it may be some comfort to know that the man you think is your father is not your real father.
" True or false? I can't offer you proof either way.
We were married.
Jenny were born eight months later.
A bit premature.
We'd had sex before we married.
It were called intercourse then.
They took it away with the trams, intercourse.
She didn't like me playing rugby.
Stuck at home with a baby.
I can understand it now.
But you didn't then? What does any man understand at 20? Primal urges? I suppose.
And Mary was older than you? Only five years.
But she understood your primal urges.
You really ARE an evil bastard.
Are you Jenny's natural father? I'll tell you what I know.
We had a row one night and she said, "Keep going to the club.
That way you might meet Jenny's father.
" I'd have knocked her block off but I'm an evil bastard.
When was this? Thirteen, fourteen years ago.
Too long ago for a motive.
You could have been having the same row ever since.
Every man has his breaking point.
I'm not the breaking kind.
What did you tell him? The same as I told you.
I have no clinical proof of paternity, but in every way that matters a damn, you're my daughter.
And you're my dad.
Did you get a statement from the lass? Nothing very helpful.
Good.
You weren't meant to.
Play your cards right, you could be in there with your primal urges.
What's today? Monday? Monday.
Tomorrow night's training night.
And committee night.
I'll drop in at my club - chuck my weight about.
It'll make a nice change.
Cheers.
Cheers.
Welcome back.
Welcome back? Haven't seen you in here for years.
Just coincidence(!) See? The acumen of a bank manager.
He understands.
A coincidence.
Mm.
How's the building trade, Jacko? Still wiping out the green belt? I scratch a living.
How is the detection trade? I just scratch till I draw blood.
You been scratching Connie? No.
Time to rig the agenda, Mr Chairman.
Can I have a look at those? Last week's team sheets? I want to see who's playing now.
Good God! Is he still alive? I'll see you.
You used to sniff around Mary Connon in the old days, didn't you? We all did.
YOU did.
Me? Connie got to the line first, right between the posts.
I didn't know you'd brought the wife.
What are you doing here? I'm a fully paid-up member.
This place is going to the dogs.
I want to become a pillar of the community.
A pillock? No Two pints of best and get yourself a fruit juice.
My pleasure.
There's one in every rugby club, isn't there? A smooth-talking graduate copper? A nubile woman to inflame the loins of the pack.
Once it were Mary Connon, now it's Gwen Evans.
And Arthur Evans doesn't like it.
I'd need a set of jump leads on my loins.
Arthur! It's eight o'clock.
Yeah, all right, bit.
On my way.
It's starting.
Teams for Saturday.
Mr Wallis? For obvious reasons, I wasn't able to consult as usual.
Tonight I'm back to normal.
That's my suggested first team.
Thank you.
Young man who lives opposite me, Stanley Curtis says he's the best wing three quarter that lives opposite me.
I don't know I promised I'd mention it.
Now I have.
I've found it! Application form for the Wales v England international.
It's the usual arrangement, isn't it? We'll ask for 150, get 40 and carve 'em up amongst the committee, eh? The international is after Christmas.
We have more pressing matters to consider.
Can I get anybody a drink? I'm all right, ta.
A bitter, please.
Half? A pint - if you're working.
I can afford it.
Poor Stanley.
At school he'd always try to look up my skirt.
He's a fitness freak now.
He jogs.
Sublimation.
Hmm? Sublimation.
Now, then how's my toy boy this evening? Fine, thank you, Mrs Evans.
A pint of bitter, please.
Aren't you in training? It isn't for me.
I have a rival? Justjust a friend.
Just good friends The most lethal words in the English language.
Er Thank you, Stanley.
Cheers.
Oh Are you going? Mm? Good night.
CRASH! Oh! Hello, Stanley.
Hello, Mrs Fernie.
How's the Sportsman of the Year(?) At least he's trying to make something of himself.
Yes.
A bleeding idiot.
Ignore him, Stanley.
I'll see you.
Hey, you could race him.
I might do myself a permanent injury.
Well, who'd notice the difference? Last call for any other business? In that case Oh Yes, Connie? Mr President yesterday, immediately after my wife's funeral my daughter received an anonymous letter.
I believe it came from someone connected with this club.
What did it say? The writer knows.
I know.
Jenny knows.
We realise what a dreadful time this has been for you, but, er let's close the meeting and discuss this informally.
I propose that the writer of this letter, when identified, should be banned from this club for life.
There's, ernothing in the rule book to cover this.
No.
We can't ban somebody we don't know.
No.
I've made a proposal.
Do I have a seconder? I'll second it.
Now, I think, according to the constitution, it goes to the vote.
Unless there's any further discussion? Wellall in favour? Carried.
Thank you.
Right, gentlemen, meeting closed.
Are you all right? No.
No, I'm not all right.
But I intend to be better soon.
I got you two.
Saves on the legwork.
You're a gentleman, sir.
Now, you wanted to ask questions? Who'd want to kill Mary Connon? Who's got it in for Connon? Next.
Who's having it away with Mrs Evans? Well, Arthur Evans is convinced that somebody's digging in his allotment.
Connon? Connon.
The golden boy.
Aren't they mates? Your first suspect is always your best friend.
Is Evans right? Welshmen weren't born to be right.
Is there a policeman in the house? Sergeant, it's for you.
Sergeant Pascoe.
We'll be there immediately.
Your neighbours have seen a man in your garden.
Don't spread it around.
I'll kill him! SIREN WAILS All right.
Who saw him? We did.
Name? How should I know? YOUR name.
This is Mr Fernie.
Oh, aye.
We've heard about you.
Round the back, you two.
He's stillover there.
Now, pay attention, sunbeam.
I have been called away from a half-drunk pint because of you and I am not best pleased.
So let's have a good look at you, nice and easy, and I'll try and keep my rottweilers under control.
Who are you? Anthony Wilkes.
University of South Warwickshire, reading media studies.
Oh, Anthony! Jenny! Would that be a boyfriend you're mauling there, Miss Connon? Well, yessort of.
Unrequited love.
I wouldn't say that.
It looks to be reasonably requited.
Not his, YOURS, buggerlugs! What's this? It's a sequence-of-events chart.
Never had them when I was a lad.
Deprived childhood.
It's a chart of the night of the murder.
Here, the hours from 6pm till midnight, and here, the main protagonists.
What? It means The participants in a great drama.
Now we can track the movements of our protagonists on the night of the murder.
So they were drinking in the club on Saturday night, but not all of them and not all the time, right? Right.
I knew that in me head.
Well Do you ever watch motor racing on your telly? Only in an emergency.
At the end, some overpaid prat in a daft hat shakes a bottle of champagne so it pisses all over the runners-up.
Yes, I've seen that.
This case has gone flat.
We need to shake the bottle, see who we can splash.
Let's have a look.
Yeah.
He'll do.
Listen, Arthur, we've known each other a long time.
Now I give you my word, as an old friend, whatever you tell me will be in strict confidence.
Confidence?! With a tape recorder and him there? Regulations.
Law of the land.
Hands tied.
If it wasn't Sgt Pascoe, it'd be a total stranger.
AND he's a paid-up member of the club.
It keeps it in the family if he is myamanuensis.
Is that the word? That's the word.
Look, I've got a match.
The coach leaves for Ilkley at 12.
45.
Ilkley? Do you fancy your chances? Well, they're all 16, run like the wind We'll get another good hiding, but I want to be part of it.
I'm sentimental like that.
So, what do you want to know? Oh, aye.
Umwhere did you go when you left the club at 8.
15 last Saturday night? I went home.
Why did you do that? It's where I live! Home! That's what it means.
Ask your bloody amanuensis.
Sergeant? Mr Evans went to see why his wife was late.
What's wrong with that? Nowt.
It does you credit, Arthur.
Husband concerned about his wife's well-being.
So, she wasn't at home.
What did you do then? Went back to the club.
Sergeant? Mr Evans left the club at 8.
15.
Returned at 9.
15.
You livenot five minutes away from the club.
And which ever way you do your sums, that's 50 minutes unaccounted for.
Would YOU like to account for them? Ease my troubled mind.
All right.
I was there.
There? Where's there? Hurley Drive.
Connon's house? Yeah.
But I didn't go in, right? What DID you do? I followed him there.
I could see, erlights on in the house Mary watching television in the living room.
And you came to the conclusion that your fears were unfounded and Connie was not having an illicit tryst with your Gwen? I wouldn't put it QUITE like that.
And, of course Connie had a headache.
You kicked him, didn't you? I persuaded him to play, see? I thought, at least I'll know where you are this afternoon, you bastard.
Then he went down in this loose maul.
He had no right to be there, did he? Always was a bit of a hero like that.
That's what made him different from the rest of us.
I saw my chance and I took it.
Might have killed him.
Thought I had for a minute.
I do feel bad about that.
Guilty as charged.
You've got a bus to catch, Arthur.
You mean I'm free to go? Saturdays we're only open for confessions.
Excellent.
We've got Arthur Evans at the scene of the crime.
Eh? Give us your pen.
If I think you're shafting my wife, I don't murder YOUR wife.
Those things are not dreamt of in our philosophy, Malvolio.
Horatio.
Whoever.
Connon's the man with the motive.
Paradise lost.
Then he meets Gwen Evans - Paradise regained.
Go and see her.
Me? This afternoon, when Arthur's safe in Ilkley.
If Connie doesn't come, you could be in with a chance yourself.
Here.
A-hem UmDad We've, umwe've hatched a plot.
I can tell.
The first XV are playing at home and we think you should take Anthony.
I've never seen a rugby match in the flesh.
I've watched it on TV and found it bewildering.
Who better to explain the finer points, if there ARE finer points? Oh, yes, there ARE finer points! Will you come? I thought I'd sort through some of Mum's personal things I thought you'd prefer to be out of the house while I do it.
You're both very thoughtful.
I've got a book coming out and a new job.
So have I.
I know about your job.
You don't know about mine.
Tell me about it.
Lecturer in social science, Holm Coutram College.
Holm Coutram? That's dangerously near.
25 miles north.
You're familiar with the points of the compass? Yes.
We do a written paper and an oral examination(!) Good.
I'm pleased.
At one time you'd have been proud.
I am.
Pleased and proud.
Late but welcome.
I hear the siren call of criminal investigation.
The message from Mrs Claypool said it was in connection with sex.
Are you getting any? No.
You? No.
I'll put a notice on the board.
I hear the hallelujah chorus of social science.
You don't change.
Neither do you, that's the problem.
Something wrong? Isn't there always? Goodbye for ever(!) (Come into my parlour.
) If you're going to have secret assignations, don't have them in my pub.
This is CID territory.
Noted.
Single malt arrives, unbidden.
Also noted.
Now for the sermon.
I've got nowt against women.
You're a young man.
Young men have to get their end away.
What's her name? Ellie.
Eleanor Soper.
Love's young dream? At university we were a number.
An odd number? Even number? Or what old farts like me call a couple? We were an odd number.
She gave you the elbow.
Yes.
She didn't approve of my joining the police.
She's right.
What would she think of you, calling on a married woman while her husband's away? At least it's not your big fat boss.
Doesn't anybody like Mr Dalziel? Not that I'm aware of.
I have to ask one or two questions on his behalf.
Go on, then.
You're aware your husband is jealous of Mr Connon? Yes.
Does he have reason to be? None whatsoever.
You've rowed about it? Our marriage wasn't made in heaven, it was made in Ebbw Vale.
So you have rows? Certainly we have rows.
And what the hell business is it of yours? None, probably.
But we have to find out what IS our business.
The lads were right about you.
What? They say you're a silver-tongued bastard.
DOORBELL Are you expecting someone? I've no expectations of anything, Mr Pascoe.
The gospel according to Gwen.
Hello, Gwen.
- Are you all right? - You'd better come in.
Ah! Hello, Mr Pascoe.
Mr Felstead.
I thought you'd be in Ilkley.
You haven't been dropped? Nobody is ever dropped from the Fourths.
I've retired.
Age has begun to wither me.
What happened to Connie last week - could be my turn next.
Marcus phoned to tell Arthur he wouldn't be playing.
I told him that Arthur was under arrest.
No.
Assisting us with our enquiries.
He's gone to Ilkley.
So he's all right, then? He's fine.
- And you? - In the time-honoured phrase, as well as can be expected.
Ah, that's what I need to know.
Right I'll be off to the match, then.
Is the game better if seen through a glass mistily? This one is.
Is this not a good example of the genre? Not good.
Haven't got any better, have they? We've, er We've had complaints about you, Andy, from various members of the club.
Oh? What are they moaning about? Well, if I might quote - "He hangs around, all cheerful, but he's still a dirty copper wanting us to grass on our mates.
" Sounds about right.
Who said that? Jacko Roberts? Oh, I couldn't possibly grass on a mate.
I'll tell you about Jacko Roberts.
He built the clubhouse for us.
Did it all for cost.
No profit margin.
Then the roof leaked, so he came back to fix the roof.
He made a right mess of the place.
Bloody butterfingers! You couldn't catch a dead rat! Your clubhouse has a leak, Mr Chairman, and you need a dirty copper to fix it.
And you've got the dirtiest around.
I don't care how much mess I make, your rugby club will end up fixed! MOBILE PHONE RINGS Dalziel.
Yeah All right.
Ten minutes.
I'm off.
Something important? Aye.
A damn sight more important than THIS insubstantial pageant! So what we've got here is another example of Dalziel's Law.
It's Saturday and half the force is out making the streets secure for the soccer hooligans, and we get a missing child.
An early result - that's what we want.
Sgt Wield will tell you how.
Michael Annan, known as Mickey, aged eight.
103 Scour Terrace, Oakfield Estate.
Went out to play last night and didn't come home.
His parents tell us he likes to play on the common.
MUTTERS We'll start the search tonight, then again in the morning, if necessary.
Thank you, Mr Connon.
That was fascinating.
Good.
There's a symbiotic relationship between skill and violence.
You think so? I'd like to see it again.
Nothing is repeatable.
That's the point about the game all gamesthe moments.
And once they've gone, they've gone forever.
Jenny? Jenny! KNOCKS ON DOOR (Oh, my God) You dragged us out here for this? It's straightforward show-us-your tits stuff.
So where is Jenny? You say this arrived after you went to the match.
So it must have been delivered by hand.
And then what? The author knocks at the door and says, "Come for a walk with me"? I think you're both underestimating the young lady.
There is a contradiction.
Do tell me.
I love hearing about contradictions.
This letter accuses Jenny of flaunting her naked body at her bedroom window.
You think that's out of character? I'm frankly not in a position to say.
But her bedroom's at the rear of the house, so to see herflaunting, you'd have to climb over the fence at the back.
And it isn't easy.
I tried.
Hello! Ehwhat's happening? Are you all right, love? I've been to the supermarket, but otherwise I'm fine.
Why? What can you tell us about this? Oh, God I didn't mean you to see that.
I found it among Mum's things.
Any more like it? Mm.
Let's be having them.
It's Mary Connon flaunting and some tit-fancier writing the letters.
So she threatens to report him and he knocks her on the head? Here's an informed guess.
These were sent over a period of time and she kept them, like love letters.
I think she enjoyed it.
Flashing isn't confined to males.
You said you didn't like her, but Nobody did.
She was a real Delilah.
All those hypocrites at the funeral, that was for Connie's sake.
Mind you, I don't like him either.
PHONE RINGS CID.
Sergeant Pascoe's desk.
Oh! Send her in.
Give all the lads a treat.
Young woman with a pram, asking for you.
What? Oh, I lied about the pram.
A parcel, that was the word.
Er, Supt Dalziel.
Eleanor Soper.
My old friend from university.
Ohyou're the ex? We don't have any secrets here.
We tell each other everything.
In that case, yes.
You're a bloody mug, Pascoe.
Giving a nice lass like this the elbow.
I gave HIM the elbow.
I can see why.
He's got funny habits.
I didn't want him to join the police.
It does bring out the worst in a man.
Open your present.
My new book.
It's about police corruption.
Oh, aye? Do I get a mention? Perhaps in the next volume.
I doubt it! Ms Eleanor Soper.
Let me confess I use foul and abusive language, I pick my nose and scratch my balls, I fart louder than is necessary, and I do it in public.
I've got sod all to hide.
I do my job, go home and have my tea, often in the middle of the night.
And you will have observed that I don't know any funny handshakes.
Have you done any in-depth research into children who go missing? No.
Or women who flaunt their naked bodies in full public view? No.
Then Mr Pascoe will see you off the premises.
We have to be very careful with liberal-minded do-gooders, especially on a Saturday night.
What a monster.
Yep.
But he's all right when you get to know him? No.
Monster all the way through.
Correct? King of all the beasts.
What was that about missing children? We've got one.
Eight-year-old lad.
I'llI'll be in touch.
Why? When I've read the book.
Right(!) See you aroundWatson.
She's a clever lass.
You're well rid of herunless she's a phenomenally good shag.
You were at the match.
Was Marcus Felstead there? No.
When I saw him at Mrs Evans', he said he was going.
He changed his mind.
Yeah, but what did he do instead? I don't know.
Stayed at home.
Maybe he went back to Gwen's.
Marcus and Gwen?! Even standing on a box, he'd suffocate.
Didn't Mickey Rooney marry Ava Gardner? I don't know! I'm not interested in your sexual fantasies.
Only in my own.
And our Peeping Tom's.
Give the neighbours a shake tomorrow.
He should fall out.
Morning.
Morning.
I persuaded Mr Connon that one Sunday paper isn't enough for three people.
Are you hereprofessionally? We're never off duty, sir.
May I share a speculative theory with you? By all means.
When I first arrived and there was no-one here, I telephoned my parents, and I found the Connons' number written on the wall here.
What's your theory? It's really a question.
Why would anyone phone a house 20 yards away? Why not ring the bell? Fair question.
And it also occurs to me, albeit as a somewhat degrading theory, that this telephone box does command an excellent view of the late Mrs Connon's bedroom window.
Thank you, Mr Wilkes.
Mrs Fernie, could I speak to your husband alone? Me and Dave, we don't have secrets.
It's a little delicate.
Definitely not delicate secrets! Very well.
It seems that the late Mary Connon used to appear at her bedroom window not fully dressed, so to speak.
Bollock naked, so to speak? Yes.
Everybody knows that.
Mary Connon received obscene anonymous letters and phone calls.
And you think I'm the local pervert? I'm not accusing You are! Have you any of these letters? I've got a photocopy.
Can I see it? You're talking through your bum hole, Sergeant.
I am? Well, this isn't Dave's handwriting.
It's much too neat.
And whoever wrote this is sexually frustrated.
I suppose.
Suppose nothing.
It's obvious! Now let me tell YOU something.
My Dave's big, loud and daft.
He won't mind his own business and once in a while he hits people, but he is NOT sexually frustrated.
I see.
Not since 11.
20 this morning.
And if you're going to write that down, it was during The Archers.
Thank you.
Any joy? We've found SOME bits and pieces.
Guns? Prehistoric.
Came over with the Vikings probably.
That's an air pistol.
My dad had one.
Anything on the boy? You'll be the second to know.
TV: 'After the ice had gone, 10,000 years ago' Am I interrupting? No.
I thought Anthony might find this photograph interesting.
You? England trial, 1976.
Chip-kicked over their back line, caught it, side-stepped the fullback, touched down in corner.
My shining hour.
I wish I'd seen it.
You weren't born, either of you.
Not quite.
Well HUBBUB OF MUSIC AND CHATTER Marcus Hello, lads.
Just the man I want to see.
Enquiries? No, no.
It's personal and trivial.
I just want you to confirm or deny a bit of malicious gossip that tumbled into my shell-like ears - concerning you and Gwen Evans Marcus! I want a word with you! Arthur, we'd ALL like a word with him.
Form an orderly queue.
I just want to tell him he can't retire.
We lost 55-0 yesterday! We didn't deserve nil.
Is the beautiful Gwen with you? She's in the toilets, tarting herself up.
Excuse me, we're running out of crisps.
I'll be back in a minute.
Humiliation! What? Running out of crisps? No! Our match yesterday.
We were playing against children, man, mere bloody children! Would Marcus have made any difference? Well, he's a little, fat, bald runt but he's got his share of low cunning.
At our agewhat else is left? HEAVY BREATHING GWEN: We have to tell him.
MARCUS: Then he kills you and he kills me.
In either order.
You saw what he did to Connie and that was mistaken identity.
Ahem Good evening, both.
How long have you been there? Long enough.
Mr Felstead, why don't you call in and see us tomorrow? Clarify a few things.
How long has it been going on? Two years.
Bloody hell! Nightmare! So why do it? I hesitate to mention "love" to you.
You do right.
But it's a bugger though, isn't it? Here you are, pulling the best bird in the parish and you can't tell anybody.
I'd want to shout it from the rooftops.
Who'd have believed me? PHONE Sergeant Pascoe.
So, what are your plans, apart from protecting yourself from Arthur? Sir.
Oh Excuse me.
Aye? Oh, hang on.
Piss off, Marcus.
We've found a missing child.
Your sex life is no longer of any interest.
At Old Trafford?! Don't tell me - asleep on the penalty spot.
Some kids'll do anything for an autograph Returning to base.
You can't.
Mrs Grogan at number 40 is expecting you.
Did she see something? She reckons she did.
She's nosey but she's usually right.
I'm nice to the Mrs Grogans of this world.
Give it a good long ring.
She's a bit deaf.
Thank you, Mrs Williams.
Jacko Roberts saw Mary Connon with Arthur Evans in the Blue Boar the night before she was killed.
And he's just remembered?! Yeah.
They're a tight bunch at the club, and Arthur's popular, but they all grass eventually.
What can I do? Call on Arthur.
He might talk to you.
Ask him if he's a murderer.
TOM JONES RECORD PLAYS Have you found her? Sorry? .
.
Is my momma and papa Down the road I'd look and there runs Mary Hair of gold and lips like cherries She's left me.
I'mvery sorry, Mr Evans.
Look, she'd better have gone on her own, cos if she's gone with anybody else, I'll KILL him! You do not pump out a man's stomach because he's had a drop of Scotch! It was the doctor's decision.
Oh, you trust the medical profession?! God have mercy on your soul(!) Oh, God! I hate this bloody thing! It's working perfectly well.
A police canteen should serve sausages and chips 24 hours a day! No wonder there's a crime wave! Anyway, Arthur Evans isn't your romantic suicide type.
You'll be on his hit list now.
I'll bear it in mind.
And little Marcus has done a runner? Uniform checked his digs.
His car's gone and he told his landlady he wouldn't be back.
Marcus Felstead and Gwen Evans Romeo and Juliet Who'd have thought it? Moral - anything's possible.
The world is flat.
The moon is made of green cheese.
May I have a word, sir? What's YOUR problem? A witness claims to have seen a man in Connon's front garden the night Mary Connon was killed.
What was he doing? He was climbing in the house through an upstairs window.
I wouldn't have thought that was possible.
Only one way to find out.
It's what we call a reconstruction in the investigative trade.
It looks good in the paperwork.
Well? He was a better athlete than I am.
Can you get to the window? Possibly.
Try.
Give the crowd its money's worth.
I'd rather not, sir.
Are you disobeying an order? I don't want to spoil the footprints on the roof.
Oh, get down! Erdo you know any sexually frustrated young athletes? Yes.
Oh Young man, you are trying my patience.
I didn't do anything! It's another fine mess, Stanley(!) I didn't kill her.
What DID you do? Did you write the letters? Yes.
And telephoned her? Yesbut she asked for it.
You'll have to explain that.
When did it start? A couple of years ago.
When I first started serious training.
I was out running one night and there she wasat the window likeall Naked? Yes.
Don't worry, son.
All men have a deep desire to say, "Show us your tits," to every woman we fancy.
Even Pascoe.
But we do not make obscene phone calls or write dirty letters! I was daft, wasn't I? But you saidshe asked for it.
One night I was in t'phone box and, er she must have been watching me because SHE rang ME, in the phone box.
And she got me to say things like dirty things.
Not ever so dirty.
I don't know that many seriously dirty things.
You have to work at it.
She told me she kept my letters in her dressing table, and why didn't I spice them up a bit.
Then I decided to stop.
Why? Don't laugh.
It was interfering with me training.
I'm not laughing.
It isn't funny.
But she didn't want me to stop.
She threatened me.
Sheshe kept the letters.
To show to Mr Connon? Mr Connon, the police, me parents, everybody.
So, eryou decided to steal them? On the Saturday night.
THAT Saturday night.
I went onto t'little flat roof and in through t'window.
I could hear t'telly on downstairs.
I went into t'bedroom and I was just about to open t'dressing table drawer when someone on t'bed moved and sort of groaned.
Mr Connon? Yeah.
He sat up.
What did YOU do? I ran away.
Downstairs.
There was a lot of noise, I thought no-one'd hear me.
Noise from the television? And voices.
Somebody laughing.
I was halfway down t'stairs when Mrs Connon came out into t'kitchen and saw me and screamed.
Why? You were her toy boy.
Didn't she recognise you? I had this over me head.
Show us.
Ooh, it's enough to make anyone scream.
Give it to Mr Pascoe.
So, she screamed.
Then what? There was a man in t'front room.
Who? I didn't see him.
He said something like, "What's the matter?" I threw something at her and legged it through t'front door.
Did you know his voice? It's a bit muffled with a stocking on your head.
What did you throw at Mrs Connon? What? You threw something at her.
What? I-It was just something I picked up.
When Mr Pascoe asks you a question, he's entitled to an answer! It was an old air pistol! Me dad used to keep it for the rats! It's useless! He never killed any! Is that your father's air pistol, Mr Curtis? Yeah.
Who did he buy it from? Lord Kitchener? Lord who? Don't say that.
It upsets me.
You MAY be home in time for Blue Peter Thank you.
.
.
But don't bank on it.
No.
Forensics won't thank you for that, sir.
They'll be too busy finding imaginary footprints on the roof.
How did you know? I know everything.
And I know how these buggers work.
It's a spring-loaded mechanism.
Put a pellet in and pull the trigger.
Wow.
That's not going to help anybody's frontal lobes, is it? That's our toffee hammer.
LOUD MUSIC, GENERAL CHATTER Does your heart good, doesn't it? Seeing all these young people.
This is no place for the likes of us.
Come on.
Can't talk with all this racket going on.
How's the head? Memory improving? Memory? Come on, Connie! Fill in the gaps.
What was it that woke you up? Mary screaming? The hooded monster on the stairs? Who was the man in the living room? Who got rid of the gun? Was it you or him? He did.
I know you're a man of few words but that outburst still leaves the odd gap.
I heard the scream, then the front door.
Stanley doing a runner.
I didn't know it was Stanley until Marcus told me.
Marcus? He was the man in the living room? I thought you knew.
You heard noises .
.
you went down the stairs, you found Marcus and Mary Having it away on the rug? No.
She were dead by then.
I assume you asked Marcus for an explanation.
"Excuse me, sir, my wife's dead.
" He said it were an accident.
I hope he had a good story.
I believed him.
Try it on me.
Marcus came round because Mary knew about him and Gwen.
She were threatening to tell Arthur Evans.
Why? Her idea of fun.
Describe the accident.
Young Stanley had dumped this old air pistol and Marcus had picked it up.
He were arguing with Mary.
She was teasing him about his love life with Gwen.
He was waving the gun around.
She says, "What are you going to do? Kill me?" Then she grabbed the gun and held it against her own head and pressed his finger which was on the trigger.
Bang.
She were dead.
That's Marcus's story? Yes.
Which you believe? I lay down for half an hour, give him time to get rid of the gun, then I phoned the police.
We'd had a masked intruder.
We could blame everything on him.
Stanley.
Poor little twat.
Whatever he does, he'll always be found out.
So it adds up to what? Death by misadventure? Manslaughter at worst? Yes? Not murder.
Are you prepared to stand up in court and testify that your late wife was a wicked, manipulative, conniving, sex-starved bitch? When I bust me ankle and I knew it were all over the glory that was me, do you know what she said to me? "It's only a game, Connie "It's only a game.
" That's a terrible thing to say.
It's true.
That's why it's a terrible thing to say.
She weren't talking about rugby.
I know.
CROWD SINGS "Land of my Fathers" Come on! Sid! Sid! I shall need a pint every 15 minutes for the duration of the game.
But if Wales winI shall drink a lot.
Welcome home, Arthur.
COME ON, BOYS!! Come on, England! Let's show these taffies! England! England! England! I'll explain it as we go along.
I thought you might.
Come on, England! COME ON!! Where have YOU been?! A world cruise.
Spent my entire life savings.
Worth it? Every penny! Good.
How have YOU been? I often wished I could get away from Mary.
I used to think it wouldn't matter, but it does.
It always matters.
They know you're here.
I had to tell 'em.
They met me coming in.
Well mustn't spoil your enjoyment.
WHISTLE BLOWS It's only a game, Marcus only a game.
BBC Scotland 1996