Father Brown (2013) s01e06 Episode Script
The Bride of Christ
Sancto spiritu.
In gloria Dei patris.
Amen.
Dominus vobiscum.
Amen.
Amen.
I thought I might find you here.
I took it on myself to make sure the body wasn't disturbed.
Thank you, Father.
Sergeant, secure the scene.
And get the police surgeon down here.
I want a provisional theory as to cause of death.
Yes, sir.
The colouration on the face would suggest cyanide poisoning.
I think I can take it from here.
Very well, Inspector, I'll leave it to you.
Wipe your face.
Sister Mary Magdalene is we dare to hope, in the arms of Jesus.
You'd be better occupied praying for her soul rather than indulging in unseemly histrionics.
Sorry, sister.
Oh, there's no need for this.
I'll thank you not to pull rank where the novices are concerned.
This is not the way we do things here.
Get up dear.
Stay where you are! How dare you flout my authority.
Authority's earned, I think you'll find.
Sister Bernadette.
Go to the kitchen and get yourself a cup of tea and something to eat.
Quickly now.
You're as white as a sheet.
Go.
Inspector, this is our new novice Mistress.
Sister Paul.
She arrived last week from Calcutta.
Where standards of discipline were much higher.
Is there any news, Inspector? The Police Surgeon has provisionally mooted cyanide poisoning as cause of death.
We can only assume, it's some tragic accident.
Sergeant, find out what Sister Mary Magdalene ate and drank this morning.
I imagine nothing.
She will have been observing her fast before Holy Communion.
As were we all.
Then I can only conclude she must have broken her fast.
A wilful girl with a streak of rebellion.
Perhaps you have some duties to attend to Sister.
Do you know of any cyanide kept on the premise? Lordy.
Tons of the stuff! You need to speak to our Vintner, Sister Boniface, she's in the winery.
Nuns making wine? Our Lord asks for poverty, chastity and obedience.
He never said anything about sobriety.
Amen to that.
In that case, if someone would be kind enough to direct me.
Our Sisters lead sheltered lives and are unused to laymen.
The presence of a chaperone would be both reassuring and appropriate, I feel.
Of course, Reverend Mother.
You know our Chaplin, don't you? Father Brown.
Tom.
Father.
Terrible business.
Inspector Valentine.
And you are? Tom Evans.
Can I ask your whereabouts between nine and ten this morning? In the garden.
I'm the gardener.
You live on site? With my wife.
Does she work at the Convent? They've enough women to do their work.
She does their shopping in the village that's all.
Did you know Sister Mary Magdalene? I don't talk to the novices.
It would be asking for trouble.
I'll be sending someone to take a statement from you both as a matter of routine.
She's in Cheltenham.
Her Mother's sick.
I've told her to stay there.
How is Mrs Evans' Mother? TB.
I'll keep remember them in my prayers.
One of yours? Lapsed.
His wife attends when her health permits.
An invalid? Heart condition.
I see the nuns are used to the presence of one layman at least.
The novices are refusing to drink from the water fountain in case it's poisoned.
Sister Lawrence says the kitchen is in chaos.
They're frightened.
Or guilty.
No doubt this deplorable incident will turn out to be some of their juvenile horseplay.
It's far too early to speculate.
Sloppy discipline stems from poor leadership, which is hardly surprising given the character of some in charge here.
I didn't come all the way from India to find myself subordinate to my spiritual and moral inferior.
And if that person has atoned for their sins? Covered up more like.
The Order may be appraised, but I wonder if the Diocese is aware of their transgressions? In which case, maybe his Grace should be informed immediately.
Before another novice is poisoned.
You do as you must, Sister.
Oh, I will.
Make no doubt of that.
Hello? Thank you.
Yes.
Yes.
Put him through.
Sister Mary Magdalene's father.
I wish you luck explaining this one.
I won't let you destroy St Agnes.
And what exactly are you going to do about it? Whatever I have to.
Sister Boniface.
Father Brown.
I suspected you might be on the case.
Father Brown is present as chaperone.
He has no part in this investigation.
Righto.
Inspector Valentine.
Interesting choice of reading matter, Sister.
Oh, no disrespect to poor Sister Mary Magdalene, but I couldn't help notice the appearance of the corpse, and thought a spot of research in order.
With the help of Miss Christie.
Do you think it was cyanide poisoning, Father Brown? I am making no assumptions at this stage in the investigation.
A puzzling case.
I expect you'll be only too glad of Father Brown's help.
Like Lord Peter Wimsey and Inspector Parker.
Sister Ignatius! Sister Ignatius! How dare you run in God's house! Question.
With cyanide being such a fast acting poison, Sister Mary Magdalene must have ingested it minutes before she entered the chapel, but how and where? Potassium ferrocyanide.
We use it to remove copper and iron particles left in the wine by bentonite and metals.
There's enough to kill half of Gloucestershire.
Twelve bottles.
Or should that be eleven? It appears you have a cuckoo in the nest.
Similar to the naked eye but it's tetrasodium hexacyanoferrate, or sodium ferrocyanide.
Bravo, Father.
Your reputation clearly isn't exaggerated.
Is it toxic? Relatively non because the CN ions are bound to the FE.
If you don't mind.
Maybe you could And chaperone silently.
May God find you the grace to make yourself worthy.
Who has access to the chemical stores? We don't keep things under lock and key here.
Ours is a community of trust.
Yes? Gossips are sinful.
Saint Paul lumps them with murderers and God haters.
Although I've always thought that was a little harsh.
Father? May I? Yes.
It doesn't count as gossip if it's pertinent to a police investigation.
Right.
Well, Sister Abelard found anomalies in the stock take.
She assumed it was a mistake but I thought - how peculiar? Sister Abelard never makes mistakes.
Double first in maths.
Brain like an adding machine.
We call her Sister Abacus.
Who's responsible for this? Me.
On my orders.
You tampered with a crime scene.
I put the sensibilities of our Sisters first.
Clear the scene.
Organise a search of the body and surrounding area, and take statements from everyone.
Yes, sir.
And Sergeant, get the police surgeon back.
Yes, sir.
And Sergeantstop these bells! What are you doing? Oh! Sister Paul's relatives need to be informed.
So I'm looking for some personal information.
That's down to me, I think.
Yes.
Yes, of course, Reverend Mother.
What happens now, Inspector? A search of the convent.
All of it? Starting with the deceased nun's cells and Sister Paul's office.
Is that really necessary? I've two suspicious deaths.
Anything less would be grounds for my dismissal.
No-one here has anything to hide.
Oh, we all have something to hide.
Several things, in my case.
I'm sure we'll manage to conduct ourselves appropriately.
Father, Sister Mary Magdalene, would you say she was a looker? Holy Mary Mother of God, pray for us sinners.
She was a Bride of Christ.
Without wrinkle or blemish of any kind.
I'll take that as a "yes.
" I don't think I like what you're implying.
I told you to stay put.
You're making a show of yourself.
They seem an ill matched couple.
And while the cat's away.
Cooeee! Well you excuse me Inspector? Of course.
I'm sure I can manage.
We just heard the news.
Holy Mother.
What a thing.
And in a convent of all places.
Dreadful, Mrs McCarthy.
And who do we have here? My godchild.
I'm in loco parentis while mother's in hospital for .
.
for ailments you needn't worry about.
A proper little bruiser.
And what's your name my fine young fellow? Abigail.
Hebrew for beautiful.
Well, well, well.
What have we here? Look's like we've got secret lush.
Sir! Get that to the lab please, Sergeant.
And you better find me Father Brown.
Yes, sir.
What are you doing? Hello, Father.
I know what you're thinking.
The murderer returns to the scene of the crime.
Is that a confession, Sister Boniface? Ha! Very good, Father.
Fact.
Sister Paul was in full sight for ten minutes before she died giving Sister Ignatius a record tongue lashing by all accounts.
But like Sister Mary Magdalene, the police found nothing to explain how she ingested the poison.
A conundrum.
In Death In The Clouds, Madame Giselle was murdered with a poisoned thorn.
Dipped, as I recall, in the venom of a South African boomslang snake.
A poisonous species rarely found in the Cotswolds.
You are well read, Father.
I do love a mystery.
On the subject of which, Inspector Valentine would like you to make an identification.
You confirm these as the items missing from the winery? Yes.
I expect you need to take a statement from me.
And fingerprints? In due course.
We may have found our motive.
Sister Mary Magdalene discovered Sister Paul's alcoholism and theft and was poisoned to keep her quiet.
And then she poisoned herself? And then .
.
unable to live with the guilt, took her own life.
After finding time to berate Sister Ignatius for ten minutes before she committed suicide.
And how was the poison ingested? The only items found on the body were - reading glasses, handkerchief, keys, notebook, pencil, ball of string and a Swiss army penknife.
I took notes.
Very thorough.
No doubt the post mortem will shed light on the matter.
Alcoholism and petty theft - a motive for murder? To compound venal sin with so heinous a mortal sin? Followed by suicide.
The ultimate mortal sin.
If you'll allow the police to get on with their investigation, I'm sure things will become clear in due course.
Shush.
Now look what you've done.
Takes a man to wake a baby.
Abigail! I wondered if you'd like me to include your mother in prayers for the sick at mass on Sunday? Thank you.
In we go.
I'm in awe of your industry.
Mrs Evans is the star of my African knitting circle.
Now nothing awry there, and fed an hour ago.
So it must be teeth.
I have a teething bar somewhere in my handbag.
He wants his mother.
It's a girl.
Any news from the police, Father? I'm afraid they left none the wiser.
Shush.
I'm here.
Who's that? She is my godchild.
I'll be wanting my tea.
And were you acquainted with the dead nuns, Mr Evans? She's a weak heart.
I'll thank you not to upset her with all this talk.
Anyway.
It's their own fault.
All them chemicals left lying around in the winery.
Didn't I say it was an accident in waiting? Poor woman.
All that knitting.
When anyone can see she's desperate for one of her own.
God willing.
She'd be better off with a willing husband.
I'm not one to gossip, Father.
Lady Felicia's cousin, Lord Compton, had to let him go on account of "trouble" with the housemaids.
And the scullery maids.
Oh, and the dairy maids, I shouldn't wonder.
If Mother Augustine hadn't taken Christian pity on them, they'd be in the workhouse.
No wonder he's lapsed.
Wouldn't dare show his face in church again.
These thy gifts, which we are about to receive from thy bounty.
Through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.
My compliments to the Chef.
This can't go on much longer.
Let us pray that the police find a solution.
That this was nothing more than a tragic accident.
Of course it was.
Who would want to kill that poor sweet girl.
Or Sister Paul.
Most of the novices, they couldn't stand her.
She found our postulants lacking in the humility of their sub-continent counterparts.
I never had her down as a lush, but it explains those wretched pear drops she was for ever sucking on.
Now we know.
It was to mask the alcohol on her breath.
There's enough unseemly tittle-tattle flying around without us adding to it.
And before Calcutta.
Where was Sister Paul? Haven't a clue.
Who's there? Sister Boniface? Father Brown? What are you doing here? Same as you, I shouldn't wonder.
Have you found anything? Sister Paul liked things spit spot.
Military precision.
Rather.
Except here.
Something's out of kilter.
This is the shrine at Lourdes.
I'd know it anywhere.
But look.
St Bridget's, Gloucester.
Christmas, 1940.
What can this mean? The killer is trying to cover their tracks.
Sadly more and more parishioners are requiring your discrete services.
I blame the war.
Not least for the Americans.
Their so called youth culture and Devil's music.
None of that here, I assure you.
A programme of hard physical labour, combined with reflection and repentance.
I expect Mrs McCarthy gave you the news from St Agnes? Sister Paul was Warden here for nine years.
A fine woman.
Warden.
Of course.
The Mothers nurse them for six weeks.
Then the infants are removed to good Catholic families, and the girls released back into society.
Purged.
Free from the stain of sin.
Our Lady was a single mother once.
Which is why God sent Saint Joseph to make an honest woman of her.
These girls have no hope of divine intervention.
I hope you're impressed with what you've seen? I can't lie to you, Warden.
I have yet to see a ship more tightly run than this.
Thank you, Father.
If you would like to wait in there.
What are you doing? I told you not to get involved! Stay out of it.
I said to stay in the cottage.
Now go! Skates on Sister.
Late for vespers! Forgive me Lord.
I'm only borrowing it.
Oh, I'm sorry to have kept you, Father.
Here's a familiar face.
Call on me at his earliest opportunity.
Why aren't you at vespers? I lost my rosary, Reverend Mother.
I think I might have it dropped yesterday when I was here .
.
with the police.
Bingo.
Be sure to give thanks to St Anthony.
I thought that might be you.
I heard what Susie had planned for your dinner, and well, I took the precaution.
Angel and saint rolled into one Mrs M.
And how did you find St Bridget's, Father? Truth be told, unsettling.
Word is, Sister Thomas Aquinas provides a fine service.
The separation of mothers and their children defies nature.
Surely better if society found ways of keeping them together.
Nonsense, Father.
Those girls are moral degenerates.
Unsuitable to bring up good Catholic children.
I think it's going to be a long night, Father.
Perhaps Joyce was right, she misses her mother.
And Sister Boniface telephoned with a message.
Sometimes I feel like the telephone exchange than the Parish Secretary.
Now Father, have you room there for another dumpling? What man could resist your dumplings, Mrs M? The message.
Was it important? Oh, too mysterious to relay over the telephone.
She wants you to call in on her.
Tonight? At your earliest convenience.
Ah.
Nothing urgent then.
Hello? Who's there? Hello? A cart of black darning wool for Sister Cyril, oh, and her usual denture cream.
Morning all.
Father.
Morning, Father.
Sister Luke wants two bars of Lifebuoy soap.
But only if they're on special offer.
Joyce Evans is indisposed, so I volunteered to collect the Sisters' shopping.
And, erm, that's the lot, Mr Boot.
Right you are, Mrs M.
Sister Paul won't be needing her usual pear drops.
God rest her soul.
And all on the St Agnes account.
I'll see you anon.
I'll see you at choir practice I hope? Yes, at.
.
? Four? Four.
Splendid.
You can count on my presence.
Father.
Turf please .
.
and a quarter of pear drops.
Off you go! Any luck? No, sir.
Well, get back in, and look again.
Yes, sir.
I can't find him anywhere, sir.
Inspector! Will no-one rid me of this turbulent priest? And don't take me literally.
Sir? Never mind.
Something happened? Sister Boniface was attacked last night.
Tell me she's not dead.
Voluble as ever.
She see her attacker? No, but I'm keen to speak to the gardener when he turns up.
Tom? Turns out our man has a criminal record.
Three counts of soliciting.
It doesn't make him a murderer.
It makes him quite the ladies man.
Surrounded by temptation in a place like this.
That's quite a leap, Inspector.
You have a pure heart Father.
Unlike me.
If Sister Mary Magdalene confessed the affair to Sister Paul Tom would lose his job and his livelihood.
More than a motive for double murder, don't you think? Unless of course you know something I don't? One in particular, who has hidden her heinous character, and concealed transgressions of so serious a nature that I can only assume the diocese has no knowledge of them.
It ends there.
And the photograph's gone.
I asked Sister Abelard to check and it's vanished.
Someone from Sister Paul's past clearly didn't want to be recognised.
Sister Paul.
All paths lead to Sister Paul.
But what of Sister Mary Magdalene? Pure and unworldly.
On the cusp of holy union.
In a state of spiritual grace.
In Sister Paul's office, five minutes before she died.
Are you sure? According to Sister Luke, Sister Mary Magdalene took a funny turn before the service.
Low blood sugar.
Known fainter at mass.
Anyway, Sister Luke didn't want her keeling over at the altar, so sent her off for a sit down.
And guess whose office is right next to the chapel? Surely it must be connected? Of course.
That poor innocent girl.
You know something, don't you? Of course you do.
I must go.
Good luck.
Ah, Father Brown.
It's good to have your reassuring presence back with us.
Apologies for yesterday's absence.
Business in Gloucester.
At St Bridget's.
I hear it has an excellent reputation.
Surely you'd know so.
As you yourself were there, when Sister Paul was Warden.
I didn't deny it.
You lied by omission.
The question is - why a woman of your integrity would do such a thing? You don't have to explain yourself.
With all due respect, Father, you are not the police.
No, but I believe the key to these murders lies within the walls of St Bridget's.
If you're concealing anything, I urge you to reveal it now.
I lied to hide my sin.
The worst sin of all.
No! I'm an adulteress.
I betrayed our Lord with a mortal man.
Years ago.
A moment of madness.
He was a doctor at St Bridget's.
He brought me no happiness.
Only grief and immeasurable loss.
You confessed your sin and made atonement.
Yes, in their mercy both God and my superiors in the order welcomed me back to the fold.
Then Sister Paul arrived.
All holier than thou and righteous spirituality.
Threatening to destroy you.
Someone had to stop her.
You killed her? No! Although I was tempted.
Horrible woman.
God rest her soul.
You stole the letter she wrote to the Bishop? I'm not ashamed.
You're five times the woman she would ever be.
You shouldn't have done that.
My sin is not yours.
I'm sorry.
No, actually, I'm not.
I couldn't stand by and watch her ruin you and St Agnes with it.
I'm not worthy of your loyalty.
Fiddlesticks.
You're the best Reverend Mother we've ever had.
Don't you agree, Father? The police are looking for you, Tom.
Why? Sister Boniface was attacked last night.
I wasn't here.
Where were you? None of your business.
I'm not answerable to you or your God.
He was with a woman.
Be quiet.
She gives him what I don't.
So you couldn't have attacked Sister Boniface.
I haven't attacked anyone, and before you ask, I didn't kill anyone neither.
I believe you.
I see a man trying to protect his wife.
I never go to the convent.
No, but you do the Sisters' shopping in the village.
Rather dusty, I'm afraid.
I liberated them from Sister Paul's horde.
I'm sure she wouldn't have wanted them to go to waste.
And I am rather partial to a pear drop.
What game is this! Red or yellow? See I don't think it really matters.
I think they both taste the same.
No! Yes.
Are you trying to give her a heart attack? Coming here with your fancy theories and silly tricks.
What I couldn't comprehend, was why Sister Mary Magdalene? She wasn't the intended victim.
Don't listen to him.
It was a recent arrival.
Someone from your past.
Someone from St Bridget's.
Never heard of it.
You're lying.
"Male baby in good health.
"Mother, J Purvis.
19 years old.
"Five foot six.
Brown hair.
Blue eyes.
"Birth complications.
"Postpartum cardiomyopathy.
" He had a name.
Our son had a name.
Must have made you very angry.
Is that why you killed Sister Paul? No! Yes.
All those chemicals lying round the winery.
An accident in waiting.
All it needed was a helping hand.
A life for a life.
You must miss him very much.
He's here.
I've seen him.
Oh, dear.
I had every intention of returning that.
Now where's your proof? I don't wish to prove anything.
I want you to confess your sin and receive God's forgiveness.
My sin.
He didn't know.
You told him what you'd done? And you tried to protect her by removing the poisoned sweets from Sister Paul's body, and planting the cyanide in her office.
I suppose that's where you saw the photograph.
I'd like to see you prove it.
There's no escaping God's justice.
I abandoned your God when he abandoned me and mine.
But your wife hasn't abandoned him.
Don't say another word! Thomas Evans, I'd like you to accompany me to the station for questioning.
Starting with a full account of your whereabouts last night.
I was gone all night, and I've got an alibi to prove it.
Save it for the station.
Please, Father.
My wife.
Blessed peace, at last.
Sweet Jesus! Abigail! Abigail! Father, she's gone.
I left her for five minutes, just to take the shopping in and when I've come out, she's disappeared.
Oh, holy God, who would want to take a baby? Don't panic, Mrs McCarthy.
Listen.
Bless the Lord, Mrs McCarthy.
He gave her those lungs for a reason! Shush.
You're all right.
I'm here nowget away from me! You give that baby back right now! I won't let you take him! I'll die first.
I swear I'll kill us both! That's not your baby, Joyce.
Your baby was born at St Bridget's.
Sinners and harlots, pray for us.
You were frightened.
And very alone.
What happened to your child, Joyce? Now sign it.
My child has a Father.
Thomas Evans.
He's a Private in the Glosters.
He's a prisoner of war, who didn't see fit to make an honest woman of you before having his way.
I have a right to You have no rights.
Forfeited when you succumbed to evil lust and contravened the laws of God and society.
Now sign it.
Evil bitch.
I'll die before I sign away my child! You gave birth to a boy.
His name is Daniel.
Joyce, what happened to your child? She stole him.
Please, No! Please, No! Please, No! Get her.
No! Calm down.
Where are you taking me? No! She locked me up with lunatics.
For my own good.
A moral degenerate.
I'm so very, very, very sorry.
I wanted to wait till we were married, but he went on and on the night before he went to war.
Said he needed something to remember in case he didn't come back.
He did come back for you.
He made me an honest woman, but I couldn't be a wife .
.
stand his touch.
He looks just like him.
I'm not sorry I killed her.
Sweet baby Jesus.
Now she's the murderer! She stole my baby.
A life for a life.
A life for two lives.
Sister Mary Magdalene was someone's child too.
She was faint from low blood sugar.
Sister Paul was the intended victim all along.
For that I deserve to burn.
Will I go to hell, Father? I wouldn't be worrying about just that now! Certainly not.
God is forgiving and loving.
He won't stop crying! She's crying because she wants her mother, Joyce.
Give her back.
There've been too many lost children.
This isn't my baby.
Forgive me.
Poor soul.
She paid a terrible price for one act of love.
As did I.
I ask only that you'll allow me to inform the Bishop myself.
I ask only that you'll do no such thing.
St Agnes' convent has been through enough without losing the rock that is its foundation.
Excuse me.
What will happen? We're charging him as an accessory.
As for his wife, that's out of my jurisdiction.
You cannot blame yourself.
I thought murder was exciting.
In reality, a tragic and sordid business.
Nothing at all like one of Miss Christie's novels.
Father.
At least he isn't any worse the wear for his experience.
Quite the lungs on him.
It's anever mind.
Abigail Mary, I baptise thee in the name of the Father, the Son .
.
and the Holy Spirit.
Amen.
Amen.
In gloria Dei patris.
Amen.
Dominus vobiscum.
Amen.
Amen.
I thought I might find you here.
I took it on myself to make sure the body wasn't disturbed.
Thank you, Father.
Sergeant, secure the scene.
And get the police surgeon down here.
I want a provisional theory as to cause of death.
Yes, sir.
The colouration on the face would suggest cyanide poisoning.
I think I can take it from here.
Very well, Inspector, I'll leave it to you.
Wipe your face.
Sister Mary Magdalene is we dare to hope, in the arms of Jesus.
You'd be better occupied praying for her soul rather than indulging in unseemly histrionics.
Sorry, sister.
Oh, there's no need for this.
I'll thank you not to pull rank where the novices are concerned.
This is not the way we do things here.
Get up dear.
Stay where you are! How dare you flout my authority.
Authority's earned, I think you'll find.
Sister Bernadette.
Go to the kitchen and get yourself a cup of tea and something to eat.
Quickly now.
You're as white as a sheet.
Go.
Inspector, this is our new novice Mistress.
Sister Paul.
She arrived last week from Calcutta.
Where standards of discipline were much higher.
Is there any news, Inspector? The Police Surgeon has provisionally mooted cyanide poisoning as cause of death.
We can only assume, it's some tragic accident.
Sergeant, find out what Sister Mary Magdalene ate and drank this morning.
I imagine nothing.
She will have been observing her fast before Holy Communion.
As were we all.
Then I can only conclude she must have broken her fast.
A wilful girl with a streak of rebellion.
Perhaps you have some duties to attend to Sister.
Do you know of any cyanide kept on the premise? Lordy.
Tons of the stuff! You need to speak to our Vintner, Sister Boniface, she's in the winery.
Nuns making wine? Our Lord asks for poverty, chastity and obedience.
He never said anything about sobriety.
Amen to that.
In that case, if someone would be kind enough to direct me.
Our Sisters lead sheltered lives and are unused to laymen.
The presence of a chaperone would be both reassuring and appropriate, I feel.
Of course, Reverend Mother.
You know our Chaplin, don't you? Father Brown.
Tom.
Father.
Terrible business.
Inspector Valentine.
And you are? Tom Evans.
Can I ask your whereabouts between nine and ten this morning? In the garden.
I'm the gardener.
You live on site? With my wife.
Does she work at the Convent? They've enough women to do their work.
She does their shopping in the village that's all.
Did you know Sister Mary Magdalene? I don't talk to the novices.
It would be asking for trouble.
I'll be sending someone to take a statement from you both as a matter of routine.
She's in Cheltenham.
Her Mother's sick.
I've told her to stay there.
How is Mrs Evans' Mother? TB.
I'll keep remember them in my prayers.
One of yours? Lapsed.
His wife attends when her health permits.
An invalid? Heart condition.
I see the nuns are used to the presence of one layman at least.
The novices are refusing to drink from the water fountain in case it's poisoned.
Sister Lawrence says the kitchen is in chaos.
They're frightened.
Or guilty.
No doubt this deplorable incident will turn out to be some of their juvenile horseplay.
It's far too early to speculate.
Sloppy discipline stems from poor leadership, which is hardly surprising given the character of some in charge here.
I didn't come all the way from India to find myself subordinate to my spiritual and moral inferior.
And if that person has atoned for their sins? Covered up more like.
The Order may be appraised, but I wonder if the Diocese is aware of their transgressions? In which case, maybe his Grace should be informed immediately.
Before another novice is poisoned.
You do as you must, Sister.
Oh, I will.
Make no doubt of that.
Hello? Thank you.
Yes.
Yes.
Put him through.
Sister Mary Magdalene's father.
I wish you luck explaining this one.
I won't let you destroy St Agnes.
And what exactly are you going to do about it? Whatever I have to.
Sister Boniface.
Father Brown.
I suspected you might be on the case.
Father Brown is present as chaperone.
He has no part in this investigation.
Righto.
Inspector Valentine.
Interesting choice of reading matter, Sister.
Oh, no disrespect to poor Sister Mary Magdalene, but I couldn't help notice the appearance of the corpse, and thought a spot of research in order.
With the help of Miss Christie.
Do you think it was cyanide poisoning, Father Brown? I am making no assumptions at this stage in the investigation.
A puzzling case.
I expect you'll be only too glad of Father Brown's help.
Like Lord Peter Wimsey and Inspector Parker.
Sister Ignatius! Sister Ignatius! How dare you run in God's house! Question.
With cyanide being such a fast acting poison, Sister Mary Magdalene must have ingested it minutes before she entered the chapel, but how and where? Potassium ferrocyanide.
We use it to remove copper and iron particles left in the wine by bentonite and metals.
There's enough to kill half of Gloucestershire.
Twelve bottles.
Or should that be eleven? It appears you have a cuckoo in the nest.
Similar to the naked eye but it's tetrasodium hexacyanoferrate, or sodium ferrocyanide.
Bravo, Father.
Your reputation clearly isn't exaggerated.
Is it toxic? Relatively non because the CN ions are bound to the FE.
If you don't mind.
Maybe you could And chaperone silently.
May God find you the grace to make yourself worthy.
Who has access to the chemical stores? We don't keep things under lock and key here.
Ours is a community of trust.
Yes? Gossips are sinful.
Saint Paul lumps them with murderers and God haters.
Although I've always thought that was a little harsh.
Father? May I? Yes.
It doesn't count as gossip if it's pertinent to a police investigation.
Right.
Well, Sister Abelard found anomalies in the stock take.
She assumed it was a mistake but I thought - how peculiar? Sister Abelard never makes mistakes.
Double first in maths.
Brain like an adding machine.
We call her Sister Abacus.
Who's responsible for this? Me.
On my orders.
You tampered with a crime scene.
I put the sensibilities of our Sisters first.
Clear the scene.
Organise a search of the body and surrounding area, and take statements from everyone.
Yes, sir.
And Sergeant, get the police surgeon back.
Yes, sir.
And Sergeantstop these bells! What are you doing? Oh! Sister Paul's relatives need to be informed.
So I'm looking for some personal information.
That's down to me, I think.
Yes.
Yes, of course, Reverend Mother.
What happens now, Inspector? A search of the convent.
All of it? Starting with the deceased nun's cells and Sister Paul's office.
Is that really necessary? I've two suspicious deaths.
Anything less would be grounds for my dismissal.
No-one here has anything to hide.
Oh, we all have something to hide.
Several things, in my case.
I'm sure we'll manage to conduct ourselves appropriately.
Father, Sister Mary Magdalene, would you say she was a looker? Holy Mary Mother of God, pray for us sinners.
She was a Bride of Christ.
Without wrinkle or blemish of any kind.
I'll take that as a "yes.
" I don't think I like what you're implying.
I told you to stay put.
You're making a show of yourself.
They seem an ill matched couple.
And while the cat's away.
Cooeee! Well you excuse me Inspector? Of course.
I'm sure I can manage.
We just heard the news.
Holy Mother.
What a thing.
And in a convent of all places.
Dreadful, Mrs McCarthy.
And who do we have here? My godchild.
I'm in loco parentis while mother's in hospital for .
.
for ailments you needn't worry about.
A proper little bruiser.
And what's your name my fine young fellow? Abigail.
Hebrew for beautiful.
Well, well, well.
What have we here? Look's like we've got secret lush.
Sir! Get that to the lab please, Sergeant.
And you better find me Father Brown.
Yes, sir.
What are you doing? Hello, Father.
I know what you're thinking.
The murderer returns to the scene of the crime.
Is that a confession, Sister Boniface? Ha! Very good, Father.
Fact.
Sister Paul was in full sight for ten minutes before she died giving Sister Ignatius a record tongue lashing by all accounts.
But like Sister Mary Magdalene, the police found nothing to explain how she ingested the poison.
A conundrum.
In Death In The Clouds, Madame Giselle was murdered with a poisoned thorn.
Dipped, as I recall, in the venom of a South African boomslang snake.
A poisonous species rarely found in the Cotswolds.
You are well read, Father.
I do love a mystery.
On the subject of which, Inspector Valentine would like you to make an identification.
You confirm these as the items missing from the winery? Yes.
I expect you need to take a statement from me.
And fingerprints? In due course.
We may have found our motive.
Sister Mary Magdalene discovered Sister Paul's alcoholism and theft and was poisoned to keep her quiet.
And then she poisoned herself? And then .
.
unable to live with the guilt, took her own life.
After finding time to berate Sister Ignatius for ten minutes before she committed suicide.
And how was the poison ingested? The only items found on the body were - reading glasses, handkerchief, keys, notebook, pencil, ball of string and a Swiss army penknife.
I took notes.
Very thorough.
No doubt the post mortem will shed light on the matter.
Alcoholism and petty theft - a motive for murder? To compound venal sin with so heinous a mortal sin? Followed by suicide.
The ultimate mortal sin.
If you'll allow the police to get on with their investigation, I'm sure things will become clear in due course.
Shush.
Now look what you've done.
Takes a man to wake a baby.
Abigail! I wondered if you'd like me to include your mother in prayers for the sick at mass on Sunday? Thank you.
In we go.
I'm in awe of your industry.
Mrs Evans is the star of my African knitting circle.
Now nothing awry there, and fed an hour ago.
So it must be teeth.
I have a teething bar somewhere in my handbag.
He wants his mother.
It's a girl.
Any news from the police, Father? I'm afraid they left none the wiser.
Shush.
I'm here.
Who's that? She is my godchild.
I'll be wanting my tea.
And were you acquainted with the dead nuns, Mr Evans? She's a weak heart.
I'll thank you not to upset her with all this talk.
Anyway.
It's their own fault.
All them chemicals left lying around in the winery.
Didn't I say it was an accident in waiting? Poor woman.
All that knitting.
When anyone can see she's desperate for one of her own.
God willing.
She'd be better off with a willing husband.
I'm not one to gossip, Father.
Lady Felicia's cousin, Lord Compton, had to let him go on account of "trouble" with the housemaids.
And the scullery maids.
Oh, and the dairy maids, I shouldn't wonder.
If Mother Augustine hadn't taken Christian pity on them, they'd be in the workhouse.
No wonder he's lapsed.
Wouldn't dare show his face in church again.
These thy gifts, which we are about to receive from thy bounty.
Through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.
My compliments to the Chef.
This can't go on much longer.
Let us pray that the police find a solution.
That this was nothing more than a tragic accident.
Of course it was.
Who would want to kill that poor sweet girl.
Or Sister Paul.
Most of the novices, they couldn't stand her.
She found our postulants lacking in the humility of their sub-continent counterparts.
I never had her down as a lush, but it explains those wretched pear drops she was for ever sucking on.
Now we know.
It was to mask the alcohol on her breath.
There's enough unseemly tittle-tattle flying around without us adding to it.
And before Calcutta.
Where was Sister Paul? Haven't a clue.
Who's there? Sister Boniface? Father Brown? What are you doing here? Same as you, I shouldn't wonder.
Have you found anything? Sister Paul liked things spit spot.
Military precision.
Rather.
Except here.
Something's out of kilter.
This is the shrine at Lourdes.
I'd know it anywhere.
But look.
St Bridget's, Gloucester.
Christmas, 1940.
What can this mean? The killer is trying to cover their tracks.
Sadly more and more parishioners are requiring your discrete services.
I blame the war.
Not least for the Americans.
Their so called youth culture and Devil's music.
None of that here, I assure you.
A programme of hard physical labour, combined with reflection and repentance.
I expect Mrs McCarthy gave you the news from St Agnes? Sister Paul was Warden here for nine years.
A fine woman.
Warden.
Of course.
The Mothers nurse them for six weeks.
Then the infants are removed to good Catholic families, and the girls released back into society.
Purged.
Free from the stain of sin.
Our Lady was a single mother once.
Which is why God sent Saint Joseph to make an honest woman of her.
These girls have no hope of divine intervention.
I hope you're impressed with what you've seen? I can't lie to you, Warden.
I have yet to see a ship more tightly run than this.
Thank you, Father.
If you would like to wait in there.
What are you doing? I told you not to get involved! Stay out of it.
I said to stay in the cottage.
Now go! Skates on Sister.
Late for vespers! Forgive me Lord.
I'm only borrowing it.
Oh, I'm sorry to have kept you, Father.
Here's a familiar face.
Call on me at his earliest opportunity.
Why aren't you at vespers? I lost my rosary, Reverend Mother.
I think I might have it dropped yesterday when I was here .
.
with the police.
Bingo.
Be sure to give thanks to St Anthony.
I thought that might be you.
I heard what Susie had planned for your dinner, and well, I took the precaution.
Angel and saint rolled into one Mrs M.
And how did you find St Bridget's, Father? Truth be told, unsettling.
Word is, Sister Thomas Aquinas provides a fine service.
The separation of mothers and their children defies nature.
Surely better if society found ways of keeping them together.
Nonsense, Father.
Those girls are moral degenerates.
Unsuitable to bring up good Catholic children.
I think it's going to be a long night, Father.
Perhaps Joyce was right, she misses her mother.
And Sister Boniface telephoned with a message.
Sometimes I feel like the telephone exchange than the Parish Secretary.
Now Father, have you room there for another dumpling? What man could resist your dumplings, Mrs M? The message.
Was it important? Oh, too mysterious to relay over the telephone.
She wants you to call in on her.
Tonight? At your earliest convenience.
Ah.
Nothing urgent then.
Hello? Who's there? Hello? A cart of black darning wool for Sister Cyril, oh, and her usual denture cream.
Morning all.
Father.
Morning, Father.
Sister Luke wants two bars of Lifebuoy soap.
But only if they're on special offer.
Joyce Evans is indisposed, so I volunteered to collect the Sisters' shopping.
And, erm, that's the lot, Mr Boot.
Right you are, Mrs M.
Sister Paul won't be needing her usual pear drops.
God rest her soul.
And all on the St Agnes account.
I'll see you anon.
I'll see you at choir practice I hope? Yes, at.
.
? Four? Four.
Splendid.
You can count on my presence.
Father.
Turf please .
.
and a quarter of pear drops.
Off you go! Any luck? No, sir.
Well, get back in, and look again.
Yes, sir.
I can't find him anywhere, sir.
Inspector! Will no-one rid me of this turbulent priest? And don't take me literally.
Sir? Never mind.
Something happened? Sister Boniface was attacked last night.
Tell me she's not dead.
Voluble as ever.
She see her attacker? No, but I'm keen to speak to the gardener when he turns up.
Tom? Turns out our man has a criminal record.
Three counts of soliciting.
It doesn't make him a murderer.
It makes him quite the ladies man.
Surrounded by temptation in a place like this.
That's quite a leap, Inspector.
You have a pure heart Father.
Unlike me.
If Sister Mary Magdalene confessed the affair to Sister Paul Tom would lose his job and his livelihood.
More than a motive for double murder, don't you think? Unless of course you know something I don't? One in particular, who has hidden her heinous character, and concealed transgressions of so serious a nature that I can only assume the diocese has no knowledge of them.
It ends there.
And the photograph's gone.
I asked Sister Abelard to check and it's vanished.
Someone from Sister Paul's past clearly didn't want to be recognised.
Sister Paul.
All paths lead to Sister Paul.
But what of Sister Mary Magdalene? Pure and unworldly.
On the cusp of holy union.
In a state of spiritual grace.
In Sister Paul's office, five minutes before she died.
Are you sure? According to Sister Luke, Sister Mary Magdalene took a funny turn before the service.
Low blood sugar.
Known fainter at mass.
Anyway, Sister Luke didn't want her keeling over at the altar, so sent her off for a sit down.
And guess whose office is right next to the chapel? Surely it must be connected? Of course.
That poor innocent girl.
You know something, don't you? Of course you do.
I must go.
Good luck.
Ah, Father Brown.
It's good to have your reassuring presence back with us.
Apologies for yesterday's absence.
Business in Gloucester.
At St Bridget's.
I hear it has an excellent reputation.
Surely you'd know so.
As you yourself were there, when Sister Paul was Warden.
I didn't deny it.
You lied by omission.
The question is - why a woman of your integrity would do such a thing? You don't have to explain yourself.
With all due respect, Father, you are not the police.
No, but I believe the key to these murders lies within the walls of St Bridget's.
If you're concealing anything, I urge you to reveal it now.
I lied to hide my sin.
The worst sin of all.
No! I'm an adulteress.
I betrayed our Lord with a mortal man.
Years ago.
A moment of madness.
He was a doctor at St Bridget's.
He brought me no happiness.
Only grief and immeasurable loss.
You confessed your sin and made atonement.
Yes, in their mercy both God and my superiors in the order welcomed me back to the fold.
Then Sister Paul arrived.
All holier than thou and righteous spirituality.
Threatening to destroy you.
Someone had to stop her.
You killed her? No! Although I was tempted.
Horrible woman.
God rest her soul.
You stole the letter she wrote to the Bishop? I'm not ashamed.
You're five times the woman she would ever be.
You shouldn't have done that.
My sin is not yours.
I'm sorry.
No, actually, I'm not.
I couldn't stand by and watch her ruin you and St Agnes with it.
I'm not worthy of your loyalty.
Fiddlesticks.
You're the best Reverend Mother we've ever had.
Don't you agree, Father? The police are looking for you, Tom.
Why? Sister Boniface was attacked last night.
I wasn't here.
Where were you? None of your business.
I'm not answerable to you or your God.
He was with a woman.
Be quiet.
She gives him what I don't.
So you couldn't have attacked Sister Boniface.
I haven't attacked anyone, and before you ask, I didn't kill anyone neither.
I believe you.
I see a man trying to protect his wife.
I never go to the convent.
No, but you do the Sisters' shopping in the village.
Rather dusty, I'm afraid.
I liberated them from Sister Paul's horde.
I'm sure she wouldn't have wanted them to go to waste.
And I am rather partial to a pear drop.
What game is this! Red or yellow? See I don't think it really matters.
I think they both taste the same.
No! Yes.
Are you trying to give her a heart attack? Coming here with your fancy theories and silly tricks.
What I couldn't comprehend, was why Sister Mary Magdalene? She wasn't the intended victim.
Don't listen to him.
It was a recent arrival.
Someone from your past.
Someone from St Bridget's.
Never heard of it.
You're lying.
"Male baby in good health.
"Mother, J Purvis.
19 years old.
"Five foot six.
Brown hair.
Blue eyes.
"Birth complications.
"Postpartum cardiomyopathy.
" He had a name.
Our son had a name.
Must have made you very angry.
Is that why you killed Sister Paul? No! Yes.
All those chemicals lying round the winery.
An accident in waiting.
All it needed was a helping hand.
A life for a life.
You must miss him very much.
He's here.
I've seen him.
Oh, dear.
I had every intention of returning that.
Now where's your proof? I don't wish to prove anything.
I want you to confess your sin and receive God's forgiveness.
My sin.
He didn't know.
You told him what you'd done? And you tried to protect her by removing the poisoned sweets from Sister Paul's body, and planting the cyanide in her office.
I suppose that's where you saw the photograph.
I'd like to see you prove it.
There's no escaping God's justice.
I abandoned your God when he abandoned me and mine.
But your wife hasn't abandoned him.
Don't say another word! Thomas Evans, I'd like you to accompany me to the station for questioning.
Starting with a full account of your whereabouts last night.
I was gone all night, and I've got an alibi to prove it.
Save it for the station.
Please, Father.
My wife.
Blessed peace, at last.
Sweet Jesus! Abigail! Abigail! Father, she's gone.
I left her for five minutes, just to take the shopping in and when I've come out, she's disappeared.
Oh, holy God, who would want to take a baby? Don't panic, Mrs McCarthy.
Listen.
Bless the Lord, Mrs McCarthy.
He gave her those lungs for a reason! Shush.
You're all right.
I'm here nowget away from me! You give that baby back right now! I won't let you take him! I'll die first.
I swear I'll kill us both! That's not your baby, Joyce.
Your baby was born at St Bridget's.
Sinners and harlots, pray for us.
You were frightened.
And very alone.
What happened to your child, Joyce? Now sign it.
My child has a Father.
Thomas Evans.
He's a Private in the Glosters.
He's a prisoner of war, who didn't see fit to make an honest woman of you before having his way.
I have a right to You have no rights.
Forfeited when you succumbed to evil lust and contravened the laws of God and society.
Now sign it.
Evil bitch.
I'll die before I sign away my child! You gave birth to a boy.
His name is Daniel.
Joyce, what happened to your child? She stole him.
Please, No! Please, No! Please, No! Get her.
No! Calm down.
Where are you taking me? No! She locked me up with lunatics.
For my own good.
A moral degenerate.
I'm so very, very, very sorry.
I wanted to wait till we were married, but he went on and on the night before he went to war.
Said he needed something to remember in case he didn't come back.
He did come back for you.
He made me an honest woman, but I couldn't be a wife .
.
stand his touch.
He looks just like him.
I'm not sorry I killed her.
Sweet baby Jesus.
Now she's the murderer! She stole my baby.
A life for a life.
A life for two lives.
Sister Mary Magdalene was someone's child too.
She was faint from low blood sugar.
Sister Paul was the intended victim all along.
For that I deserve to burn.
Will I go to hell, Father? I wouldn't be worrying about just that now! Certainly not.
God is forgiving and loving.
He won't stop crying! She's crying because she wants her mother, Joyce.
Give her back.
There've been too many lost children.
This isn't my baby.
Forgive me.
Poor soul.
She paid a terrible price for one act of love.
As did I.
I ask only that you'll allow me to inform the Bishop myself.
I ask only that you'll do no such thing.
St Agnes' convent has been through enough without losing the rock that is its foundation.
Excuse me.
What will happen? We're charging him as an accessory.
As for his wife, that's out of my jurisdiction.
You cannot blame yourself.
I thought murder was exciting.
In reality, a tragic and sordid business.
Nothing at all like one of Miss Christie's novels.
Father.
At least he isn't any worse the wear for his experience.
Quite the lungs on him.
It's anever mind.
Abigail Mary, I baptise thee in the name of the Father, the Son .
.
and the Holy Spirit.
Amen.
Amen.