Father Brown (2013) s07e05 Episode Script

Anyone at home? Bloomin' Nora! Where'd you come from? The Presbytery.
Before that, a rather delicious afternoon tea with Mr and Mrs Granforth, although I confess to eating more than one custard tart.
I don't know what you think you're doing here, but this is private property.
I know.
I saw the sign.
However, I was invited.
By telephone, to hear confession.
I thought, perhaps, someone had taken up residence.
Hardly likely, considering what happened here.
Mm.
They give you a name, this mysterious penitent of yours? Not something I would usually divulge.
Well, that's a pity, because I also received a phone call.
Anonymous.
Asked me to come here.
Claimed he had new information about the Haggard murders.
How intriguing! A load of horse manure, more like.
I suspected it was a hoax at the time.
Now I see you here, I'm certain of it.
I'm off home before my chops get cold! Should we not wait? Perhaps our mutual friend has merely been delayed.
Take a look around you, Padre.
No-one's set foot in here for years.
But stay if you wish.
You can entertain the spiders with your latest sermon.
If no-one's been here for years, Inspector, who wound the clock? Mornin'! Guess I'm not the only sinner to 'ave caught a few winks in the shadow of angels! All right there, lad? Right, set up a cordon.
I don't want members of the public traipsing all over the churchyard.
Yes, sir.
Constable Hart? Pop over to Inspector Mallory's.
I think he might have overslept.
Tell him we need him here straight away.
Yes, sir.
You don't expect it, do you? Right on God's doorstep.
Have you any idea who he was? Not yet.
His face rings a bell, mind, but I just can't put my finger on where I might've seen him.
Do you know what upsets me the most? It was so preventable.
Any vagrant in such dire need of help had only to knock at the Presbytery door and they'd have been offered a nice, hot bowl of soup at the very least.
Talking of vagrants, guess who found him.
May I say you're lookin' as comely as the cornflowers on the common, Mrs McCarthy.
Mr Slow.
I suspect the deceased gentleman's problems went beyond where his next meal was coming from.
We found an empty bottle of barbiturates by the body.
He poisoned himself? And on consecrated ground! We mustn't jump to conclusions, Mrs McCarthy.
Could've been an accidental overdose.
Judging by the cut of him, I'll wager it was the final, foolish act of a desperate man.
Mrs M!I thought you you'd gone to find Father Brown? Well, that's just it.
He wasn't in his study, I couldn't find him anywhere else either.
That's odd.
We've had a few problems locating Inspector Mallory too.
No-one's seen him all morning.
No doubt he's visiting one of his flock.
Or perhaps he's gone fishing.
Gone fishing?! Father Brown wouldn't know one end of the fishing rod from the other.
Still, it's very unlike him to disappear like that without saying something to me first.
According to this, he has no appointments this morning, and last entry was yesterday.
"Noon.
Confession.
Spencer H.
" That is Father Brown's private diary! Who's Spencer H? I have absolutely no idea.
I can't recall anyone in Kembleford with the Christian name of Spencer.
Well, perhaps he went to find this Spencer fellow, it got late, so they offered Father Brown a bed for the night and he's still there tucking into breakfast.
Mystery solved.
Except, clever clogs, that appointment was for noon.
Now, unless Father Brown was giving swift to Jack the Ripper, it wouldn't have taken until nightfall, would it? Well, I still think we should find this Spencer chap and ask him if Father Brown mentioned where he was headed.
And how exactly do you propose we do that? Well, you have access to the church register, haven't you? What a waste of time! Who knew Kembleford had such a disconcerting deficit of Spencers? Mrs McCarthy! I'm sorry, Mr Slow.
I 'eard you was on the hunt for the good Father? Do you know where he is? Well, not as such.
Then, we must bid you good day.
Unless you know anyone called Spencer who has a surname beginning with H? I knew a Spencer in the Army.
Corporal in the Royal Engineers.
But he was a Pratt.
I mean, his surname was Pratt, which doesn't begin Goodbye, Mr Slow.
But I did see 'im, the Father.
Where? Here.
Yesterday, late afternoon.
Six-ish.
No clue where 'e was trundlin' off to, mind.
Evenin', Father! I remember cos he usually stops for a chat, only he looked like he was in a hurry.
Anyway, I'm off to the Red Lion, but if I sees 'im, I'll come find you.
Most kind.
Only man of the cloth worth the leather of my shoe! So, perhaps this confession was postponed until later in the evening.
Don't suppose Father Brown has turned up yet? Sadly not.
Only, according to his wife, Inspector Mallory didn't make it home last night.
Desk Sergeant said the Inspector got a call around six.
Sir? Inspector Mallory speaking.
Actually, I was just on my way home, so if this could wait Is that so? Why don't you come to the station and All right, calm down.
Where do you want to meet? Give me 20 minutes.
I need the file on the Haggard murders, quick as you can.
Left soon afterwards.
That was the last time anyone saw him.
Sounds like he was looking into that old Haggard case.
That poor couple murdered in their bed? Exactly.
George and Jasmin Haggard? That's them.
I thought that was before your time here? It was.
Isn't that where Blind 'Arry found the body this morning? I suppose I should've spotted that.
You won't tell the Inspector, will you? Oh, your secret is safe with us, Sergeant.
Horrible business, it was, horrible.
My kids still won't go down the lane past Spencer Hall.
Spencer Hall? The Haggards' house, just outside of town.
Here.
And the murderer's name was Edmund Noon? That's right.
He was never caught.
It was like he vanished into thin air.
So Father Brown wasn't going to meet Spencer H for confession at noon.
He was going to Spencer Hall to hear the confession of Edmund Noon, a known murderer! And no-one has seen him since! Police surgeon reckons the body fits the age and physical description of Edmund Noon.
All right, so Wracked with guilt, Edmund Noon returns to Kembleford, confesses, seeks forgiveness at the Haggards' grave, and then kills himself.
But that still doesn't explain what has happened to Father Brown! Or Inspector Mallory.
Or Inspector Mallory.
I reckon I should go to Spencer Hall, have a peek around, see what I can find.
Great! We'll come with you.
I don't think that's a very good We'll take my car.
It'll be quicker.
Well, it makes sense, I suppose.
Between you and me, I've always dreamed of taking her for a spin.
I beg your pardon! I meant the car! This is strange.
Why? I thought you said nobody was living here.
Well, not since the murders, but this padlock looks brand-new.
Not to worry, we can climb over the wall.
Penelope, couldn't you just pick the lock? Firstly, that lock is a little beyond my level of expertise and, secondly, there are certain things a lady shouldn't do in front of an officer of the law.
But I'm sure the Sergeant will give you a leg-up! Anyone here? It don't think anyone's been here in a long time.
I'm not so sure.
Look at this grass.
This footprint can't be more than a day old.
I reckon we should have a proper look around.
So what do we know about this Edmund Noon character, anyway? Besides him being a double-murderer.
As far as I can recall, he was a schoolteacher from Hambleston, I think.
That's right.
He got a job improving the young Mrs Haggard's education.
Only thing is, he fell for her.
"We saw itin each other'seye, "and wishedin every ".
.
every half-breathed sigh to speak, but did not.
"She felt" Go on.
You're doing very well.
"She felt "my lips'impassioned touch.
"Twas the first time I dared so much.
"And yet she chid not.
" Unfortunately, George Haggard discovered that Edmund had feelings for his young wife.
So what did he do? Mr Haggard told Jasmin she was never to see Edmund again.
Nothing has happened! Yet! I know men like him.
It's only a matter of time! I would never betray you.
I wish I could believe that.
What can I do to convince you that? You can tell him he is no longer welcome here! But my lessons! Forget your lessons! When I found you, your village was burning, your parents were dead.
You were half-starved.
Remember? And whose fault was that? What did you say? It was your country! Your politicians! Your soldiers! I saved your life! Is that not enough to earn some obedience?! When Edmund Noon got the telephone call informing him he was no longer welcome at the house, by all accounts, he flew into a jealous rage, and came straight here and then he, well, you both know the end of that sad story.
Were there any witnesses? The housekeeper.
Patricia Wintham.
Mr Haggard! It's Mrs Wintham! I was just going to give your mirrors a wipe.
You in there? SHE GASPS AND SCREAMS By the time we got here to arrest Mr Noon, he'd already gone on the run.
But we found the gun dumped in a ditch near his house.
Look! Look at this.
Housekeeping services.
"Mrs Wintham, Priory Lane, Kembleford.
" So the Haggards got their housekeeper from the local rag.
That is last week's paper.
Whoever circled that advertisement, it certainly wasn't the Haggards.
Somebody was looking for her.
Exactly.
Maybe this Edmund Noon blamed the housekeeper for what happened? After all, it sounds like she was the one that spilled the beans to the husband.
Not that I'm saying it was her fault.
That would be mere speculation, gossip, if you like.
Let's get her side of the story before we jump to conclusions, shall we? Stay here.
Oh, dear.
It's not exactly a good advertisement for her housekeeping skills! Looks like we've now got three missing persons.
Sergeant, we have just spoken to Mrs Wintham's neighbours.
She hasn't been seen for a couple of days.
Perhaps Father Brown discovered she was missing and went to look for her.
There's something else you should know.
One of my constables just told me that, last week, Patricia Wintham telephoned the police station.
She'd received a threatening letter.
The Desk Sergeant on duty convinced her it was probably a prank but then .
.
we found this in her bedroom.
If it is from Edmund Noon, you're probably right, Mrs McCarthy.
He came back to Kembleford with a score to settle.
"Death's icy touch lies in store.
" Inspector Mallory speaking.
Death's icy what? You heard.
Who is this? Haven't you figured it out yet? Noon? You killed the love of my life.
Now it's your turn to suffer.
Wait a minute, lad.
You're the murderer here, not me! I haven't killed anyone.
Yet.
So those bullet-holes spontaneously erupted in Mr and Mrs Haggard, did they? They were already dead when I got there.
Jasmin called me.
She was terrified.
It's me.
He knows.
That evil-minded housekeeper told him.
Please, you've got to come.
We'll go away somewhere.
I love you! I went to the house to protect Jasmin, not to kill her.
I got there as fast as I could, but I was too late.
Jasmin? Jasmin? It's me, Edmund.
Hey.
Jasmin? Open your eyes! Open your eyes, Jasmin! Mr Haggard? It's Mrs Wintham.
I was going to give your mirrors a wipe down.
You in there? I knew what it looked like, I knew that nobody would ever believe me, so I ran.
I've spent the last two years on the run, moving from place to place, always looking over my shoulder.
I'm not doing it any more.
It's time for Resolution.
Don't you mean revenge? Oh, Father, you made it.
Yes, I suppose I do mean revenge.
Against whom? George Haggard may have robbed me of the chance to kill him, but at least I can punish those who contributed to Jasmin's death.
Including both of you.
It's got nothing to do with me! You're the Inspector, aren't you? According to the newspapers, you ignored reports of a woman's cries coming from Spencer Hall on the night of the murder.
Said it wasn't your job to interfere in domestic disputes! I wasn't even in Kembleford back then! Must have been one of my predecessors so That makes no difference.
The police left her to die.
The police will pay.
As for you, Father, I read all about the diary they found.
What diary? Mr Haggard's.
He wrote of visiting his priest for confession that very morning, sharing his doubts about his wife's fidelity.
Even if that were true, I don't see how I You could have warned her of her husband's anger, but instead you did nothing while he went home and killed her! Mr Noon, I understand you have suffered a terrible loss, but You understand nothing! But to prove I am no monster, I'll give you a chance to redeem yourselves.
We're going to play a game.
Now, I've captured Patricia Wintham and I've hidden her somewhere within the boundaries of Spencer Hall.
Find her before sundown and I'll let you live.
But if you fail, or call for help, or try to leave the grounds .
.
I'll kill you all.
We'd better start looking for Mrs Wintham.
No luck.
I've searched everywhere, the basement, the attic, and you're sat on your backside.
"Death's icy touch lies in store.
" That's what the toe-rag said on the phone.
It must mean something.
It means somebody's in for it.
And I'm starting to worry it might be us! I think he's given us a clue.
And why would he do that? As he said, it's a game.
Of sorts.
I'm more of a gin rummy man myself.
"Lies in store.
" Perhaps he's referring to an outbuilding within the boundaries of Spencer Hall.
Like a shed, you mean?Yes.
Well, let's split up.
It'll be quicker.
Righty-ho, Inspector.
And that way, I can get some peace and quiet.
CLATTER Mrs Wintham? Pigeons! This is pointless.
I should call the station, round up two dozen men and we'll tear this place apart until we find her.
What about Noon's threat to kill Mrs Wintham if we do? Not to mention us.
If he thinks this is a game, what's to say she isn't dead already and he's just playing with us?! Humbug? It will help.
How will a boiled sweet possibly help? A sense of comfort combined with a sugary stimulation to the brain.
No, thank you.
We're running out of time, it's nearly sundown.
I've had enough of this.
I'm calling for back-up! Inspector.
What's down there? Some sort of secret tunnel, maybe.
Actually, I think it's a disused ice house.
Death's icy touch! Indeed.
After you.
Let his light shine in the darkness.
Thank you, Inspector.
Well? Mrs Wintham?! Thank goodness for that.
Let's get her out of here.
Oi! We had a deal! I said that if you found her, I wouldn't kill you.
I didn't say I'd let you go.
We're all mortal, of course.
Who knows how long any of us have left? Mr Noon, please, we cannot imagine what you've been through, but Then, try harder.
No-one will find you here.
You can spend your last few hours scrabbling around in the dark, thinking about what you did.
Noon! Come back here! Noon! I'm sorry.
I'm sorry, my love.
That I didn't get there sooner, that I couldn't stop him.
But it's all over now.
All of it.
We brought in Edmund Noon's mother.
She's made a positive identification on the body.
And you still think it was a suicide? There were no signs of a struggle.
And his prints were the only ones on the bottle.
Shouldn't our priority be finding Father Brown and Mrs Wintham? Yes, yes, and Inspector Mallory.
Yes.
Edmund Noon was clearly a very dangerous man and we have good reason to believe that he was in contact with all three before their disappearance.
So I think we should go back to Spencer Hall and look for clues.
Yes, but the thing is, it's a police matter so Oh, don't be obtuse.
You know perfectly well that you're stuck with us, so you may as well embrace it.
I don't suppose it matters if we have two more pairs of eyes on the case.
That's the spirit! Mr Slow! Might I have a word? My ears and heart are yours in eternum, Mrs McCarthy.
Yes, well, be that as it may.
Would you be able to keep an eye out for Father Brown in case he turns up? He's still missing? Yes, yes, I'm afraid he is.
He's got himself stuck somewhere, I reckon.
Some nippers locked me in my outhouse once.
I was in there for three days.
That's terrible! You poor thing! Weren't so bad.
Like being in my dugout in Flanders, only without the whizz-bangs.
So you just want me to sit here and wait for him in case he comes cycling by?Exactly.
For you, Mrs McCarthy, I'd undertake the labours of Hercules and ask only for a smile on yer face.
I insist.
Oh.
Well, in that case.
Been meaning to sew up that 'ole! So what happens if I see the good Father? You tell him that we've gone to Spencer Hall to look for him.
Tough job .
.
but .
.
some blighter's gotta do it.
You all right, Miss? It's my fault.
Don't talk soft.
You didn't lock us in here.
No, but I told Mr Haggard about Edmund and Jasmin.
And if I hadn't, they'd still be alive.
So why did you tell him? I was protecting Edmund.
Protecting him? He was going to throw his life away for that foolish girl.
And you didn't want him running away with her, because you had feelings for him? I know! I'm an idiot, I know, and now we will all pay for my petty jealousy.
You never know.
Maybe he'll come back, let us go.
It's a game, like you said, Padre.
Edmund told me that, when this was done, he was going to be with Jasmin.
He's not coming back.
Then I will pray for his poor, tormented soul.
It's our souls I'm worried about.
I'm sure there are people looking for us.
And how exactly will they track us down to this hole in the ground? We could scream blue murder till Judgment Day and nobody would hear! "And I will lead the blind in the ways which they know not, "and in the paths which they were ignorant of, I will make them walk.
"I will make darkness light before them, "and crooked things straight.
" Anything? Not a trace.
Me neither.
Well, what do we do now? That muddy footprint you found.
That wouldn't have come from someone walking down a gravel driveway, would it?The gardens! I don't feel well.
So tired.
Miss? Do you think he drugged her? Possibly.
But that door would have been designed to keep out warm air during the summer months.
Are you saying we're running out of oxygen? How long? Hard to say, but if Mrs Wintham is already showing symptoms Typical! I've only just renewed my membership at the golf club.
Any ideas? Maybe we could dig our way out? These walls are too thick.
We would waste what little air we have left.
No, our only choice is to wait and have faith that God will deliver us.
That would be the same God that landed us here in the first place? Perhaps he thought it would be an opportunity for us to reconcile our differences.
Tell him from me he's going to be sorely disappointed! Where's Penelope? Still checking the greenhouse, I think.
Look! I found this dumped behind the compost heap.
But no sign of its owner, I'm guessing? Noon must have taken them somewhere else? He would have needed a vehicle, and I didn't spot any tyre tracks on that driveway.
Look.
I'd recognise these humbugs anywhere.
They're from the sweet shop on Hope Street.
Mrs Penny makes them herself.
So? I gave Father Brown a packet only two days ago.
It was a little thank-you for his help with my WI talk.
Oh, look! Well, I don't think he liked them very much.
They are his favourites, I can assure you! Well, in that case Ah! Another one! It's a trail of breadcrumbs.
Father Brown must've suspected something might happen to him.
We'd better find out where they lead before it's too late! The Communion wine? You sure? Very decent of you! I'd have only nabbed a bottle or two, honest.
Wait a minute.
Isn't this the bit where you come up with some ingenious plan to get us out of here? Sorry to disappoint.
In that case, Padre .
.
about what you said earlier - reconciling differences, and all that.
I know that you and I haven't always sung from the same hymn sheet, as it were.
And I've said things .
.
behind your back and to your face, for that matter.
Things that weren't always entirely complimentary.
I just want you to know that .
.
I meant every bloomin' word! We've looked everywhere, the trail's gone cold.
Well, we can't just give up.
There's one! Well done, Mrs McCarthy.
What do you have in your mouth? Nothing.
Have you been eating the humbugs? Just the one.
Words fail me, Sergeant.
What's that down there? Oh, I think it's an ice-house, we've got one at Montague.
Aunt Fliss keeps her champagne in it.
That is, until I found the key.
You don't think that they've Anyone in there? Inspector? Father? Can you hear us? There's no-one there.
You were right, Penelope - Noon must have moved them somewhere else.
Then I suggest we return to the police station, put out an official alert.
What's HE doing here? Mrs McCarthy? So much for keeping an eye out for Father Brown! I have a good mind to ask for my money back.
Don't you be getting yerself in a tizzle, Mrs McCarthy.
I only left my post because you three traipsed off to this fine abode, but left the key on the blessed soil of St Mary's.
The key? What? I have no idea what you are talking about.
Wait, you found a key? Right next to where the lad's body was found.
Got it right here.
Oh.
At least I did.
Must've slipped through that 'ole.
I despair of you, Harold Slow, I truly do! Father! Come on, answer me! Bunty? Is that you? Tell us how we can get you out of there?The key.
We might have a problem there, Father.
I am so sorry, Father.
I've let you down.
Harold! My old friend.
Harold! Look in the workshop! Be quick.
Workshop? What workshop? Father!Father, stay awake! Maybe there's a spare key in the workshop.
I'll go with Harold to check.
No.
No.
You stay with Father Brown.
Fancy a bit of my company, Mrs M? Somebody needs to keep an eye on you! SHE SIGHS It must be here somewhere.
Harold Slow, would you at least make an effort?! They call me Blind 'Arry cos of what the gas did to my eyes.
Oh, there was me thinking it's because you're always blind drunk.
That too.
So the Father wouldn't have sent me here to hunt for a key.
He'd have sent one of you lot, wouldn't he? Well, you're here now, so could you please help me look? No, I'm thinking something different, see.
I'm thinking he sent me here cos he knows I was a sapper in the war.
What are you gibbering on about now? Means I know how to blow stuff up.
I just want to say, for the record, I think this is a terrible idea, It'll be a miracle if that man doesn't blow us all to smithereens - Father Brown and Inspector Mallory included.
Come now, Mrs McCarthy.
If Father Brown has taught me one thing, it's that we should believe in miracles.
You might wanna cover yer Mother, is that you? It's only me, Inspector.
Only me.
Father, please.
Wake up.
Slap him.
I beg your pardon?Slap him! I will NOT slap a priest! Fine, then - I'll do it.
I can't do it! You don't think that he's? Oh, for heaven's sake, Father! Enough of this silliness.
We need you to wake up! Oh! Are you sure you won't stay? There's plenty to go around.
I should be getting back to the family.
Same here.
And, to be honest, I think Father Brown and I have spent more than enough time in each other's company for one day.
The Sergeant and I just wanted to stop by andyou know.
You are most welcome, Inspector.
Thank goodness we got you out of there in the nick of time.
Oh, now, that reminds me.
I must go to the sweet shop in Kembleford tomorrow and replace those humbugs.
How is Mrs Wintham? They're keeping her at Cottage Hospital for tonight.
Doctors seem confident she'll make a full recovery.
Well, come along, Sergeant.
Let's leave these good people to their food.
Right you are, sir.
Harold! What a pleasant surprise.
I was invited to join you for a spot of hotpot.
Don't look at me.
Well, I thought it'd be a nice way of saying thank you.
He did, after all, save the day.
For you, Mrs McCarthy.
Don't worry, I didn't pinch them from the churchyard.
They're from the meadow behind my barn.
They are delightful, Mr Slow.
Now, please, make yourself at home.
Wonders never cease.
I thought it was the Christian thing to do.
Quite right.
Now, tell me, will it be a summer wedding? Bless us, O Lord, and these Thy gifts which of Thy bounty we are about to receive through Christ our Lord.
Amen.
Amen.
Hah!