Dalgliesh

[ Waves crashing softly ] [ Faint arguing ] -You pathetic boy!

[ Arguing continues ] Get on with it!

Come on!

You're so slow.

Put your back into it!

I want fresh air, but your stench...!

-It's hard work.

-What would you know about hard work?

-Ugh.

[ Breathing heavily ] Do you want me to stay with you?

-What, for your scintillating conversation?

-Shout when you're done.

-If I start shouting, I might never stop.

I might shout out the truth about Toynton Grange!

Then what would happen?!

Where would you and Wilfred and his stupid pilgrimages be then?!

[ Seagulls squawk ] [ Water splashes ] [ Birds squawking ] -Father Michael.

It's Adam.

[ Watch ticks ] [ Inhales, exhales ] -For God's sake, a human being, and a male at that.

The flashy car must be yours, then.

You looking for Father Michael?

-I'm a friend.

I...

I had arranged to come and visit him this weekend, but...

It seems I'm -- -Two weeks too late.

-Yes.

How did he -- -Heart attack.

He'd been in hospital with chest pains.

He only just got out, died the same night.

-Here?

-In the armchair.

He was still in his cassock and stole.

It was like he just nodded off.

Maggie Hewson.

-Adam Dalgliesh.

-My husband, Eric, is medical officer at Toynton Grange.

Father Michael was chaplain.

-Do you work there, too?

-[ Chuckles ] Not if I can help it.

Wilfred tries, but I'm impervious to his charms.

Wilfred Anstey, he owns the place.

I mean, he thinks he's Francis of Assisi.

I guess that makes me the heretic.

-Did Michael mention if anything was troubling him recently?

-Not to me.

-Who saw him last?

-Grace, I think, one of the residents.

Yeah, for confession.

She probably bored him to death.

Sorry, that was... it's bad taste.

-Michael didn't tell me much about the Grange, just that it was a small care home.

-It's ridiculously small now.

I mean, we're down to four residents.

Local authorities haven't placed anyone here since Victor Holroyd died.

He was a resident... ...who could be wicked, but he made me laugh.

Until he wheeled himself off Toynton Head cliffs two months ago.

-I'm sorry.

-Everyone's busy pretending it was an accident.

Either way, it doesn't look good if you have a duty of care.

-No.

-Now, we're just off the drive, big ugly house.

You can't miss it, if you need anything.

-Thank you.

-And sorry about Michael.

[ Door closes ] -"My dear Adam, I was so saddened to hear of your loss.

It would, of course, be wonderful to see you again, but only if you felt able."

"I'm hoping you might be able to help me with a disturbing situation here at the Grange."

"You are, as ever, in my prayers."

[ Birds chirping ] [ Doorbell rings ] [ Wood being chopped in distance ] -Wilfred Anstey.

-Adam Dalgliesh.

-How can I help you, Adam?

-I'm a friend of Father Michael's.

I've arranged to stay with him this weekend at Hope Cottage.

-I'm afraid I have some sad news.

-I heard.

Maggie Hewson came to the cottage.

-I hope she offered our condolences.

Michael was a valued member of our community here.

Must be a shock.

It was to us.

-I-I didn't know he'd been in hospital.

-I tried to get him to stay in the house while he recuperated, but he insisted on returning to the cottage.

Dr. Hewson checked on him down there that afternoon.

-Did anyone else see him after that?

-Grace Willison, one of our residents, visited him in the evening.

Helen, our nurse, was due to pop in later, but unfortunately, it seems there was some kind of mix-up.

-So, he died alone?

-As at the last, are we all.

-Like Victor Holroyd?

-So, Maggie was as discreet as ever.

-Michael wrote to me.

He said there was something worrying him.

Do you have any idea what that might have been?

-Michael was a very private person.

He kept his own counsel.

He never mentioned you, for instance... ...not once, in all the time he was here.

That's a shame you traveled all this way.

I hope you have a safe journey.

-I don't think I'm ready to head home just yet.

I'd planned to spend the weekend in the cottage.

I'd like to do that.

Get a sense of Father Michael's time here.

Would that be all right?

-Of course.

We'd be glad.

And I hope you can find some solace here.

[ Knock at door ] -Mr. Dalgliesh?

I'm Helen.

Wilfred asked me to bring these.

-That's thoughtful.

Thank you.

What was the mix-up... the night Father Michael died?

Were you supposed to check on him after Grace left?

-Well, Eric asked me to.

I suggested he ask Maggie or Dennis.

I was busy with the residents.

-It's a lot of work.

-What happened?

-Maggie refused, and Eric couldn't find Dennis.

He assumed I'd go as asked.

I assumed he got one of the others to do it.

-On Father Michael's insistence on being in the cottage, did you get a sense he was expecting a visitor other than Grace?

-I don't remember him ever having a visitor, apart from us...until you.

Good night, then.

[ Door opens, closes ] [ Chickens cluck ] -Wilfred thinks it's important we feel useful.

Gives a sense of purpose.

I sometimes wonder if the chickens understand their purpose.

First, we take their eggs, and when they're past laying, we wring their necks and consign them to the pot.

-I hope you don't have to do the ringing.

-Hm.

-Have you been here long?

-Four years.

It's not so bad, really.

It's nice to be near the sea... although it seems always just out of sight.

-Victor managed to get close enough to see it.

-Mr. Holroyd had a need to get away by himself.

He was quite forceful.

He used to bully poor Dennis into wheeling him up there.

I thought you wanted to talk about Father Michael.

-If you don't mind.

You were the last to see him.

-For confession.

-Did he seem out of sorts, troubled?

-A little frail, maybe.

-I think he must have died just after you left.

-Why would you say that?

-Mrs. Hewson says he was still wearing his stole when she found him.

Wouldn't he normally have taken it off soon after hearing a confession?

-He did take it off.

When we finished, he took it off, folded it, and put it on the table, like he always did.

-Is it possible someone else visited Michael after you left?

-Not for confession, not from the Grange.

I'm on breakfast duty tomorrow.

I can use these.

It's so nice to... -I'm sorry, but y-you just can't go -- -Mr. Dalgliesh, you found Grace.

-Um, I've got to take these to the kitchen.

They'll be starting on lunch.

-You should join us.

Julius, why don't you show Adam around?

[ Door opens, closes ] -Do you work here?

-Oh, no, no.

Wilfred's an old friend from school.

I have a cottage here, and I help with the accounts sometimes.

Watch your step.

It's like a worm down here.

-You live on the estate?

-Come down when I can, but I have a place in London.

-What do you do in London?

-I have a few investments.

I get by managing those.

Workshop and craft room.

Henry is one of the residents.

This is Adam Dalgliesh, a friend of Father Michael's.

-Oh, I'm sorry for your loss.

-This is the Grange family cottage industry -- mail-order hand cream and bath salts.

-It's just lanolin, almond oil, and glycerine, but put in a little jar with a fancy label.

-Wilfred, it's a good likeness.

-Henry did that.

-A long time ago.

-And this is Dennis.

-Pleased to meet you.

-Dennis looks after the residents, the building, and all of the equipment.

-That's a lot of responsibility.

-Well, it's better to be busy.

-The devil finds work for idle hands.

-No, I-I mean, it's just... -Dennis is not great with strangers.

-Wasn't he with Victor Holroyd when he died?

-Oh, you heard about that.

Not with him exactly.

Victor asked to be left alone, apparently, so Dennis came back down the path.

Terrible business.

I was in London, but Wilfred tells me that Dennis was absolutely distraught.

And this is the center of the whole operation.

Adam Dalgliesh, this is Helen Rainer, our nurse.

-Hello again.

-Hello.

And you already know Grace.

Grace does a newsletter for Friends of the Grange.

-It goes out every month, mainly around England, but we've two subscribers in America and one in the south of France.

It's just bits of news and a nudge to buy our mail-order products.

-Are there many friends?

-68.

-I've typed the label so often I know them all by heart.

-Seriously?

-I can do it from memory.

I imagine what the people are like just from their names and the names they give their houses.

-Lourdes.

-Yes, our pilgrimage.

We leave on Wednesday.

-It's therapeutic.

We go twice a year, biennial.

-Biannual.

We used to hire a van, but last year, there was an accident on the way home.

Two of the wheelchairs were broken, so Julius decided it would be safer if he bought us our own adapted bus.

-Well, I couldn't let you all climb into another rented deathtrap after that, could I?

-Hmm.

-Lourdes... is that Wilfred's idea?

-A few years ago, he became ill. Could barely walk, ended up in hospital.

St. Xavier's, they couldn't help him, so he went to Lourdes, bathed at the grotto, and he came back fit and healthy.

That's why he created this place, why he goes back there.

-That's a remarkable story.

-He was sick.

Now he's well.

That's all that matters to me.

[ Gong sounds ] -The luncheon gong -- it's my cue to leave you.

-Eric Hewson.

-Maggie's husband.

-Dr. Hewson, medical officer.

-Adam Dalgliesh.

-Ursula Hollis.

-So, have you met everyone?

-Uh, everyone except, uh... -Jennie.

Mr. Dalgliesh, a friend of Father Michael's from London.

-Pleasure.

-So, how did you know Michael?

-My father was a rector at a small parish in Norfolk.

Michael was his curate when I was a boy.

-Did you follow into the family business?

-No.

I'm a detective chief inspector with the Metropolitan Police.

-That sounds exciting.

-It's just a job, Maggie.

-A fun job, is it, catching murderers and getting them hanged?

-They don't hang them these days.

-What about the ones you caught when you were younger?

-Any of them hang?

-Jennie, please.

Must we?

-I was just curious.

-Five of them.

-Whoa!

Five deaths down to you.

Doesn't that keep you -- -Jennie.

-Shall we remember the rule?

-No talking at meal times.

-My body is my prison.

And I would be so obedient to the law as not to break prison.

-Benedictus Deus.

-I will not hasten my death by starving or macerating this body.

-Benedictus Deus.

[ Birds squawking ] [ Door clangs, creaks ] -I'm sorry.

I didn't realize.

-I came out for a walk and saw this place.

It's an unusual building.

A black tower.

It was originally built in the 1600s, restored by my great-grandfather.

He invented his own religion based on the Book of Revelation.

-Apocalypse and judgment.

-He read it more as a road map to the final victory.

-Over what?

-Death.

In 1887, he walled himself up in here to await the second coming.

It was three months before they found him.

He'd torn his fingers to the bone, trying to claw his way out.

It's what we all do, I think -- wrestle with mortality.

-Is that why you set up the Grange?

-I'd faced something and been saved.

I wanted that to have some meaning, and not just for me.

-I wanted... -Witnesses.

-Yes, if you like.

-And you still use the tower?

-For meditation, private prayer.

Father Michael used it, too.

-Must have been an interesting contrast, the two of you.

-We crossed swords sometimes.

I found our differences stimulating.

-Two deaths in as many months.

It must be a difficult time for you.

-I've had my share of challenges.

I'm still here.

But I keep the door here unlocked, so I won't ever have to claw my way out.

Enjoy the rest of your walk.

[ Knocks ] -What a nice surprise.

-I wanted to ask you about something.

It's a little delicate.

[ Door closes ] I found something in Father Michael's writing bureau... something curious.

A poison-pen letter.

Did he mention it to you?

Do you know if anyone else in the Grange received anything similar?

-A week or so before Victor died.

It was obscene.

I tore it into pieces and flushed it down the lavatory.

-Do you know if anyone else had one?

-No, I thought it was just me.

-Did you tell the police?

-I'm sorry.

I couldn't have shown that thing to anyone.

-I understand.

-The worst thing was I could tell it had been typed on this typewriter.

-Detective Chief Inspector, you come to arrest me?

-I'm off duty.

-I haven't been busted since my West End days.

-We're a long way from the West End.

-I don't know.

You've seen Wilfred -- what a performance that is.

You don't look like you're ever off duty.

You married?

-Yes.

-Me too.

Still am, I think.

-Where's your husband?

-At home, on the fourth floor.

-I see.

What made you choose here?

-People think when you're going soft in the legs, you're going soft in the head, too... start making decisions for you.

-And you feel comfortable, safe here?

-I've been in worse, and it's only temporary until he comes gets me.

I'm sorry about Michael.

-Did he seem happy here?

-Yeah, I think it kind of suited him.

-What about Victor?

-Who have you been talking to?

-Maggie told me about him.

-Don't believe her.

Nobody else liked him.

He enjoyed being cruel.

He was good at it.

-With the staff, too?

-Hated them.

Hated the idea they had any power over him.

He bullied Dennis something rotten.

-Do you think he killed himself?

-Yeah, I do.

I think he did it to cause as much hurt and upset as possible.

He was probably laughing all the way down.

[ Engine starts ] -I was just going into town.

-Perfect.

[ Panting ] -You have nothing to worry about.

I promise you, nothing at all.

[ "Sing Along" by Tom Bowler plays ] - Oh, sing along Sing along, sing a song Sing along Oh, sing along Sing along, sing along -Why did you ask me if anything was troubling Father Michael?

-Something he said when he wrote to me.

Why?

Have you remembered something?

-A week or two after Victor died, I was on the cliff.

I saw him down on the beach with Dennis, arguing.

-Could you hear what it was about?

-Too far away.

But I saw Michael grab Dennis' arm.

Dennis pushed him away, and Michael fell back on the rocks.

-Then what?

-Dennis walked off.

I remember thinking it was funny, the two most unlikely people in the world arguing.

Mwah!

You're a star.

I'll get the bus back.

See you tomorrow at Julius'.

He's doing one of his dinners.

He'll want you to be there.

I'll tell him.

Eight o'clock.

Don't be late.

-[ Sighs ] Not often we get a DCI from the Met down here.

It's quite an honor.

-It was meant to be a social visit.

-They didn't tell you about he had died?

-Only Father Michael knew I was coming.

He said he wanted my help with something that was disturbing him.

I wondered if it might be connected to Victor Holroyd's death -I don't see why.

It's pretty straightforward.

Tucked himself, if you ask me.

We passed it on to the coroner.

-Is there any evidence that Holroyd was suicidal, a note?

-No note.

Not much else I can tell you.

But Miskin spoke to his doctor.

-He had a hospital appointment in London the week before he died.

-They confirmed that there was nothing more they could do for him.

-Were you able to examine the wheelchair?

-No sign of fault or tampering.

-What about Dennis Lerner?

Did you look at him as a suspect?

-We, uh, we may not be the Sweeney, sir, but we know how to do our job.

Witnesses confirmed that it was Holroyd who insisted that Lerner take him up the cliff that day.

Lerner says that he asked to be left alone, so he went back down the path.

When he looked back to check, Holroyd was gone.

-Any possible motive?

-Apart from Holroyd being mean to him?

Well, if that were a motive, it seems they'd all be suspects.

There was a full investigation.

-Thank you for your time.

-No problem.

Show the chief inspector out, will you, Miskin?

-All right, Sergeant, what was he not telling me?

-Sorry, sir?

-You were biting your tongue in there.

What did you want to say?

[ Lighter flicks ] -Holroyd's hospital visit was routine.

What they told him was that there was no change in his prognosis.

It wasn't great.

It wasn't news, either.

He already knew he was dying.

-Anything else?

-The other residents said he was in good spirits when he came back, excited.

Now, it's possible that was about his own suicide, but... -Did you raise all this?

-I did, but there was no evidence of criminality, so, I was told to close the case.

-Do you think there's more here?

-I just don't think he killed himself.

He was full of anger and rage, but it was all directed outwards, at other people.

-How do you feel about doing some more background digging on the Grange family?

Quietly, no need to involve your DI.

-I could do that.

[ Birds squawking ] -Anything interesting?

-Ammonite.

200 million years old.

-Gives a bit of perspective, doesn't it?

Our lives, the blink of an eye.

Is that where Victor fell?

Did you see him go over?

-I was walking away.

When I looked back, he was gone.

I don't like to think about it.

I still feel guilty.

-Why?

-I was responsible for him.

-Either you pushed him over the cliff or you didn't.

If you didn't, guilt is just an indulgence.

If you did, it's dangerous.

It's how murderers give themselves away.

You talk to anyone about it?

Father Michael?

Is that you were arguing about... when you pushed him?

-It was about something else.

-What?

-I don't remember.

-You can lose your temper with a priest.

I can understand how Holroyd could make you snap.

-It wasn't like that.

-Was Victor tormenting you?

Did he know something about you?

-Why would you think... -The temptation must have been strong.

-No!

-Cliff edge right there.

-One sharp push and... -Stop!

Look!

It must be the tower!

-[ Grunting ] -Wilfred might be in there!

-[ Coughing ] [ Coughing ] [ All coughing ] -You could have died!

You should you call the police.

-No!

-[ Panting ] -Let's see.

Julius Marsh, public school, Cambridge, Civil Service, minor diplomat, left when he inherited some family money.

-I'll give you the number of a contact in the Foreign Office.

-Might give you more detail.

-Mm.

-There's no phone at Hope Cottage, so... -Thanks, sir.

I checked out his alibi.

It was watertight.

He was at his club in London when Victor died.

-Residents?

-There's nothing.

They all have alibis, even before you consider the practicalities.

-So if we rule out Marsh and the residents, that leaves us with staff.

-They're a proper mixed bag.

Helen Rainer worked for the Ridgewell Trust.

Private-care business.

They're hoping to take over Toynton Grange.

Her uncle's on the board.

And Dr. Hewson had his license suspended for a while after an affair with a young patient.

He ended up marrying her.

-Maggie.

-Mm-hmm.

-And what's Dennis Lerner's story?

-Ooh, no police record, good worker, mild-mannered, but his mom lives in a fancy private nursing home, Meadowlands.

It's expensive, and Dennis pays for it.

-Does Anstey pay him that well?

-No, sir.

Also, Meadowlands offered him a job, more money, near his mum.

Dennis turned it down.

-So, what's keeping him at Toynton Grange?

Loyalty to Anstey, or is he skimming money on the side somehow?

-If he is, maybe Victor found out.

-Which would give him a motive.

Snapdragon?

-Yes.

Father Michael gave it to me.

It's my reminder of him.

-I found this in the cottage.

Bookplate says it's yours.

-I lent it to him.

I'd forgotten.

Thank you so much.

-Hardy's a favorite of mine, from school.

-"An aged thrush, frail, gaunt and small in blast-beruffled plume."

-"The Darkling Thrush."

-How is your own writing going?

Father Michael told me about his friend, the famous poet.

He was so proud.

-Haven't been able to write anything lately.

-Of course.

He told me about your wife and baby, too.

-I'm so sorry.

-I wish you'd been able to see him again.

It would've meant so much.

-I actually went to the chateau of this place.

Of course, it's the region it's from.

-It's quite a collection, isn't it?

-I'm just a magpie, really -- anything that catches my eye.

-That is why I hate you, Julius.

-Why is that, darling?

-You've traveled, you have beautiful things, taste... money.

-Maggie!

-It's fine.

I think there was a compliment in there somewhere.

-Hm.

-I suppose those are all the benefits of the diplomatic service.

-You were a diplomat?

-Junior attach, very briefly.

I had dreams of an exotic posting.

You know, I was excited.

I thought it would be the embassy in Paris.

Turned out to be the consulate in Marseilles.

-Hmm.

-That doesn't sound that bad.

-Well, Paris has writers, artists, musicians.

Marseilles has sailors, gangsters, and drug smugglers.

-[ Laughs ] -I realized it wasn't for me.

I wasn't, um, selfless enough to make a career of it.

Now, shall we eat?

-Nice to eat without John Donne in the background.

[ Maggie laughs ] -You know Wilfred means well.

-Does he?

I mean, there's a difference between believing in God and believing you are God.

-We should be grateful for the chance he's given us.

-The chance to be marooned in the middle of nowhere with a bunch -- -That's enough.

-It's even worse now that Victor's gone.

-Not for some of us.

Horrible man.

-How can you say that?

-What about that letter I got?

-[ Sighs ] -What letter?

-Poison-pen drivel.

Cruel, anonymous, disgusting.

-It was his sense of humor.

He liked to play games.

-Like trying to frame Dennis for murder?

-Oh, come on.

Everyone knows Dennis doesn't have the guts to kill a chicken, let alone a human being.

-Human being?

Victor?

-Henry!

-You don't mean that.

-This party needs some music.

-[ Sighs ] [ "Without You" by Christophe Deschamps plays ] -I don't understand how the Grange survives.

It can't be profitable.

-It isn't.

It's deep in debt.

I've been speaking to the Ridgewell Trust about a deal that would give them control but preserve Wilfred's ideas.

The trouble is, I don't know if he's ready to let go.

-So, who's going to dance with me?

[ Maggie laughs ] -Maggie.

-[ Maggie giggles ] -Maggie.

I'm not sure that's... -Oh, for God's sake!

-My fault -- no harm done.

It's late, anyway.

We should go.

No scenes.

-If I decide to make a scene, the whole world is going to know about it.

-Not tonight.

Please.

- To slowly spin in the rosy dream light... -Come on.

I'll show you out.

- To talk for hours and never be thirsty and tired Braiding daisy chains for our heads -Bravo to base, in hot pursuit of a few hours' sleep.

Over and out.

-Nice radio technique.

-I've watched a lot of "Z-Cars."

I'm going to need a little help.

-Three, two... -Over there in the dresser.

It's a box.

"You are a sick and depraved monster.

You should be castrated.

You will burn in hell."

There's a photograph, too.

That's Peter.

He arrived last year.

Peter was smart and... funny... and kind.

We became close.

Very close.

We tried to be discreet, but, uh, Victor spotted it.

He took great delight in informing Wilfred.

They sent him to a different home hundreds of miles away.

I finally found out that he died of pneumonia.

-I'm sorry.

That's awful.

-Yes, but... normal for people like us, because... ...we just don't matter.

-You know, you should think about making an effort with the chief inspector.

He's very sweet.

Don't want to end up a spinster.

[ Pulls sheets vigorously ] Hey!

-Night.

-Did you forget something?

[ Door closes ] Aah!

[ Gasping ] [ Gasping continues ] [ Gasping stops ]