The Sleeping Beauty Murder | The Chief Inspector Dover Mysteries | Joyce Porter | BBC Radio Drama

Good morning, Miss Slatcher. It's just me, Nes Pearson. And how are we this lovely morning? Miss Slatcher. Miss Oh my god. Metron. Metron. Metron. Active Sergeant Charles McGregor, Scotland Yard, November 2nd, 1966. Application for transfer number 142. I know Chief Inspector Dover has never let evidence stand in the way of a good arrest, but in the case of the sleeping beauty, he took this to a whole new dimension. It all began to go wrong when the chief constable of Kurdsley wasn't there to pick us up at the station. Come on, lady. Don't d with those

cases. >> It's a long way from the train to the police station. >> Not my fault. They don't do taxis in Kurtsley >> shop. Anybody here? >> Can I help you? >> Don't know. Who are you? >> Chief Constable Mog. I'm not usually on the front desk. You were supposed to meet me off the train named Dover Ringerbell. >> Oh, Chief Inspector, terribly sorry. No, no, I assumed you'd be driving up. >> He prefers the train because motorcars don't have restaurants. >> That will do. Well, I suppose mistakes happen, especially up north. >> I Well,

it's it's good to meet you right now. I expect you'd be want to know about the Sleeping Beauty. >> The what? The case we've come up to solve, sir. How that all in good time? First off, where's my billet? >> Ah, you'll be staying with me. Uh, Mrs. Mortal insisted. >> She a good cook. >> The best. >> Say no more. Come on, lady. Pick up the cases. >> Where am I staying, sir? >> Oh, well, I haven't really >> You can drop my sergeant off at some cheap and cheerful B&B. No need to break

the bank. >> Oh. Oh, good. I'm sorry. >> Oh, stop moaning. Winds, wins, wins. Noon tonight. Do your men give you this much chip? >> So the victim, Miss Isabelle Slatcher, was shot eight months ago. >> I But she only died Tuesday morning. That's why we called you lads in. It's murder now. >> What took her so long? >> She was in an irreversible coma. Hence the sleeping beauty. >> Poor thing. >> Mingering. I'd say she got a boyfriend. >> A fiance. Yes. Gerald But >> he did it. >> Chief Inspector. Don't contradict me. You're

not even married. >> So, where was this woman shot? And don't say in the head. >> She was shot at 8:15 p.m. the first Friday in March outside the local Protestant church. She was often there helping the minister, Reverend Bonington. Nice man. Are you religious, Chief Inspector? >> Ah, hey. >> Sorry, sir. >> I believe in law, truth, and justice, and that rights will always prevail. Hope your wife's got supper ready. So, who found the body, sir? >> The reverend heard some shots and rushed out with his housekeeper to find Gerald Butt cradling his fianceé

in his arms. >> Told you got him banged to rights. Just fit him in before the milks ban hanging. >> What about the gun, sir? >> It was apparently a German Luga, but it was never found. >> How far is this ratty house? >> Not far. We can drop the sergeant off here. Percy arms. Hope it's all right for you, lad. >> He'll be fine. The rougher the better. Thank you, Chief Constible. Well, see you tomorrow then, sir. Is there anyone else we should be talking to? >> Yes, the real fly in the ointment, Violet

Slatcher, the victim's older sister. She's a devout Protestant, and she thinks we're not doing our job because the police around here are nearly all Catholic. It all dates back to the 16th century. And old Henry the >> I'm sure it does, but like old Henry, I need food now. back. Will you investigate all cases with the same thoroughess? >> That would be why I've been brought in then. >> Enjoy your supper, sir. >> I shall. >> I can almost smell it. >> Here we are, chief inspector. My famous spinach and cream cheese bake. >> Wonderful.

>> A pass the serving spoon, would you? >> Can't beat a nice big start. Uh, this is the main course, Chief Inspector. >> Northern Humor. Love it. >> No, Mrs. Mle and I Well, we're strict vegetarians. >> Vegetarian? >> We don't believe in slaughtering God's creatures for food, do we, Humphrey? >> But God wanted us to have chops. It's in the Bible. >> I'm not sure about that, Chief Inspector. But our Lilian, wouldn't you, pet? >> I don't like the Bible much. Oh, but I like poetry. >> [laughter] >> How doth the little crocodile improve

his shining tail and pour the waters of N on every golden scale. >> How cheerfully he seems vegetarian. How neat spreads his cup and welcomes little fishes in with gentle smiling jaws. >> I'll get the phone. >> I got her the best eleution teacher in Kurtsley. Doesn't she speak lovely? >> Lovely. >> Hello. Yes. Oh, I'll pass you on, dearest. >> Excuse me. >> Would you like to hear another poem? >> Oh, you better can it, Lillian, so daddy can take his call. >> Now, a nice big portion for you. Sheep inspect bit more. There

you are. >> What? It's your favorite. There you are. >> Okay. Be right there. That's >> I'm afraid the chief inspector and I have to go, love. >> Oh, what a pity. Something up like a barbecue. Maybe that was a hospital. They've just done the postmortem. >> So, >> they've discovered Isabelle Slatcher didn't die of her gunshot wounds. >> Hey, then what the hell did she die of >> suffocation? [music] Suffocated? She looks so peaceful, doesn't she? How, doctor? >> With a pillow, Sergeant. >> Well, Dr. Austin, that's a turn up for the books. Head

over. Not compared to the shop I've just had. I was a pup. >> Oh, wonderful. Thank you, sir. Best lamb chops I've ever tasted. >> Could we possibly get back to this poor dead girl? >> Sorry. >> We were just about to start the postmortem when the nurse who was stripping Isabelle Slatcher's bed reported that one of the pillowcases was stained with lipstick. >> Lipstick? >> We thought this was a bit odd, but we found the answer when we opened her up. >> See, >> esphyxiation. It was presumably the pillow that suffocated her. >> Well,

this makes a big difference, doesn't it, sir? >> Suppose so. Means whoever shot her came back to finish the job. The fiance, obviously. How many lamb chops? Three. >> Lovely and juicy they were. [cough] [clears throat] Um, but why would they need to do that if she was in a coma and was going to die anyway? She was going to die, wasn't she, doctor? >> Oh, inevitably. Poor woman. >> I want all this kept secret. You understand? >> You want more to think she just died from the shooting? >> Exactly. I suppose we better see

that nurse who found her. >> You'll have to go through the matron. I warn you, she's formidable. >> She ain't met do of the yard. >> Sit down and listen. >> Yes, m. >> This is probationer nurse Pearson. >> Hello. >> Tell them what you found, dear. >> Well, I found >> the lipstick stain was in the center of the bottom pillow, facing down towards the sheets. Whoever killed Miss Slatcher must have taken a pillow from under her head, suffocated the poor woman, then slipped the stain pillow back underneath. Anything else, Chief Inspector? >> Yes,

actually, nurse Pearson. >> Well, I >> You want to know why on earth a comes woman was wearing lipstick? >> Well, it was a specific request from her sister. >> Her sister, >> it was for the newspaper pictures, sir. >> What newspaper pictures? >> That'll do, Ness. I have to go on the evening rounds now. You gentlemen can accompany me. >> Okay. >> What happened was this, Chief Inspector. Good evening, Dr. Hurst. Good evening. >> On Thursday, our local newspaper, the Kurdsley Custodian, published a completely speurious and irresponsible article that Miss Slatcher, the sleeping beauty,

they called her. Sleeping baby. Beauty hardly was on the verge of recovery and would regain consciousness within the next few days. >> Good lord. And if she awoke, she'd tell the police who shot her. >> I'll do the conclusions, lady. What the hell did they print that? What's the dead girl's sister got to do with all this? Violet Slatcher, who incidentally is a good deal older than Isabelle, but just as plain, is a rather unbalanced woman, chief inspector, and was totally devoted to her sister. She said that now this story had suddenly appeared, for whatever

reason, reporters from London had surely want to take pictures of a comes girl. >> A very famous comes girl. >> What about the fiance, >> Gerald But? Yeah, >> he's in the RAF. He was coming in to see her on the Tuesday morning. >> Hang on. So, her fianceé was here exactly the time she died, >> I suppose. So, but >> I told you, McGregor, he read the newspaper article and realized he had to finish the job he started 8 months ago. >> Good morning, Mr. Jackson. How are you? >> Not too bad. >> Smothered

with a pillar in her own hospital bed. >> Smothered. >> Sorry, Mr. Jackson. Not you. Enjoy your supper. >> Does she need all that gamma? >> Who was supposed to be looking after Isabelle Slatcher on the Tuesday she died? >> Stuff nurse Horncastle. She'll be back on duty in the morning. >> Job for you, McGregor. I got to find a pie shop still open or kill a cow or something. If I don't find one, I'm coming back to eat Mrs. Jackson. >> What did he say? >> So, there he was again, going at it like

a bull in a china shop. But this time, I had a few special cards in my hand when I went to pick up the chief inspector. Oh, you must be Sergeant McGregor. The chief inspector is just coming in. >> McGregor, get me a car, did you? >> Yes, sir. >> Uh, see you for supper, chief inspector. >> Not if I see you for >> Bye, then. They gave me this morning to say this. Oats, what am I? Bloody Grand National. >> I had sausages. I've never seen so many sausages. Must have been at least. >>

Yeah. All right. So, what did Nurse Hardwick say? >> Horn Castle. Well, she did show the fiance, uh, Gerald Butt, into Miss Slatcher's hospital room on Tuesday morning and left him alone there. >> Open a shutcase, get the black cat ready, and book our tickets home. Make sure there's a buffet card. >> Do you think we should go to the RAF base and question Mr. Butt there? >> You want to look at the planes, don't you? >> No. Well, if we've got time. You'd have loved these sausages, sir, McGregor. Sorry. There's our man. Now, don't

tell him we know about the smothering. Let him dig his own grave. >> Okay, sir, but I think we should go gently. You know, >> I do know the rules, Sergeant. >> Oh, look at that lovely plane. Isn't that a beauty, sir? >> Excuse me, pilot officer. Is that a genuine hunter? >> Yes, it is, actually. >> I've never seen one quite so close up. Can I get in the cockpit and have a look? Of course not. >> Right. Well, would you mind telling me about the night of March the 16th? >> No. What's that

got to do about planes? >> Come on, lady. >> On my throat. What are you doing? >> Just answer, big, where were you on the night of March 16th? >> Uh, sir, actually, we know where he was. Reverend Bonington found him outside the church cradling his fiance's body. >> Well, I'm asking him, laddy, where did you get the gun? E, sunshine. Speak, man, or it'll go all the worse for you. >> I don't think he can speak, sir. Not with your thumbs on his windpipe. >> Softy. Okay, there you go. >> See, HE'S OFF. LOOK

AT THAT. GET YOURSELF. CATCH HIM, MCGREGOR. >> I'LL GET HIM, SIR. >> Do gets his man again. Don't know how I DO IT. >> GOT HIM, SIR. >> WELL, DRAG HIM over here. I'm not Superman. >> Why were you running, son? cuz you were trying to kill me and I have no idea WHO YOU ARE. >> THE OLD CHESTNUT. >> OH, WELL, he does have a point, sir. We didn't actually say who we were. >> Oh, no, we didn't. Sorry about that, son. >> We're from Scotland Yard, pilot officer. But >> Scotland Yard? So, you're

policemen? >> Yes, we're investigating the murder of Isabelle Slutcher. Oh, >> poor Isabelle. She didn't deserve that. Still, she's out of her misery now. >> Don't give me that malarkey sunshine. You shot her in cold blood. Then >> what? >> Sir, may I? >> Mr. Butt, I understand that you and the late Miss Slatcher were engaged to be married. >> Well, no, actually, there wasn't any engagement. We were just good friends. >> If I've heard that once, >> sir. Can you tell us what happened, pilot officer, that night, 8 months ago? >> Well, could I

maybe get up my legs? They >> Oh, yes. Sorry. >> Would you like to walk? >> Yes, please. >> Walk. >> Get the circulation going again in his legs. Look at that one. Sore. What a machine. I've never been inside one before. Mr. But do you think we could at least have >> uh Still no. You wanted to talk about that awful night. >> Suppose so. >> Well, it was a Saturday evening. I'd agreed to meet Isabelle at the church when she was finished doing what she was doing for Reverend Bonington. >> Why were you

meeting? >> I never found out, did I? Anyway, somebody must have been waiting for her. Yes, you with the gun. >> No, I wasn't even the first to find her. I'll never forget that night. The church organ was playing. Reverend Bonington came out with his housekeeper, Mrs. Horsley. They'd heard the shots. Then they ran back inside to phone the police. I'd heard the shots, too, from the high street. So, I came running. They found me kneeling beside the body. >> Where's the gun? >> I have no idea. >> Okay, no more kid gloves. >> Kid

gloves? You nearly st >> I'm talking. You saw that article in the local paper. Got the willies and decided to pay your recovering fiance a little visit. >> So, I visited her on Tuesday. What's that got to do with anything? >> Not tell it. >> Oh, well, I did see the article. I was rather pleased, obviously. >> But then, of course, she died, but it was Violet, Isabelle's sister, who asked me to go around there in my uniform. She said there'd be photographers. >> Her sister asked you to visit? >> Yes, of course. Why else

would I? >> I'm tired of this, POPPYCOP. LISTEN, PILOT OFFICER, whatever your name is, don't want you going anywhere. >> But I'm in the RA. >> Don't answer back. It'll only make things worse. >> Okay. >> Uh, can you take your hands off the plane, please, Sergeant? >> So, sir, what do you think? >> Well, he was on the scene both times and he had a motive. >> What motive? >> Don't know yet. >> Do you think we should see that newspaper article? Why? We know what it says. >> The Kursley custodian building is right

next to the pub I'm staying in. We could speak to the editor and then grab some lunch. >> You're getting the hang of this, McGregor. >> Except maybe we'll do it the other way round. >> You've called ME AT A BUSY TIME, GENTLEMEN. Hope you're not asking me to hold the front page. >> Listen, matey. I've just had the first decent meal in ages, and I'm wasting valuable snoozing time. Mr. Gossich, who wrote the article on Isabelle Slatcher? >> As a matter of fact, I did. Oh, she's big news in this town. The sleeping beauty.

Best thing that's happened since. Oh, it's terrible. Really terrible. >> Where did you get your information from? About her imminent recovery. >> Ah, sorry, old chap. A newspaper man would rather die THAN REVEAL HIS SOULS. >> THAT CAN BE a rank. >> Oh, no. Not again. Chief Inspector, he's going blue. >> All right. You [ __ ] If you don't tell me where you got your facts from, I'll stick your private parts in that printing press right between the horoscope and a sports page. >> It was the girl's elder sister, Violet Slutcher. >> What does

this button switch everything off? >> What are you doing? >> I'm holding the front page. Violet Slatcher. >> The woman's been coming to see me every month or so trying to get me to feature the case in the paper. Right after the shooting, it was a damn good story. But well, victim still unconscious. No recovery expected. Did get a bit boring. >> But you printed this story. >> Kursley's own sleeping beauty on the verge of waking up and naming her attacker. That was news. >> Did it ever strike you that it wasn't true? Yeah, it

did cross my mind after what the doctors kept saying, but the girl's own sister ought to know, wouldn't she? >> Can I have my newspaper back, please? >> Don't like churches and can't imagine they like you much either. >> Violet Slatcher's cleaning lady said she'd be at the vicorage. We don't actually need to go into the church, sir. >> Thank God for that. So, this must be where the Slatcher girl was shot. Sort of creepy, isn't it? >> Nah, I'm surprised anyone could hear any shots that night. What with that ruddy organ playing? Go and

tell it to stop, McGregor. [music] It's not like there's a proper service going on. >> Ah, you must be the gentleman from the yard. >> How do you know that? >> Oh, it's a small town. News travels fast. I'm Reverend Bonington. >> Poor poor Isabelle. >> Well, you and Miss Slutzer must have been very close, Reverend. >> Isabelle was a pillar. An an absolute pillar. It's been uh it's been very hard to to manage without them. And of course these days her sister Violet isn't quite well. You'll meet her, won't you? >> I hear vicorages

do very good cheese. >> Eh. Oh well, we'll try our best. Mrs. Hosley's a pretty decent pastry cooker. She rather spoils me. >> Who the hell's Mrs. Hosley? >> The housekeeper, sir. She found the body with the reverend here. >> She'd been picking some mint from the garden. I'm rather partial to mint tea since my visit to the holy land. >> You'd like the chief gun constable. He's in the rubbish like that. >> Ah, ladies, these are the gentlemen from Scotland Yard. >> About ruddy tape. >> Ah, you must be Miss Slatcher. >> Muster. >>

This is Mrs. Horley. >> You the housekeeper then? >> I am. >> Tea strong, lots of sugar and scones and cream would be nice. >> This isn't a cafeteria. >> Just as well cuz I'm not paying. Lame [clears throat] cheek. Come up here from London and think they can just order me around without me. >> I am Violet Slater, chief inspector. >> Violet, dear, you must put your feet up and rest. >> Rest? Rest? How can I rest when my poor sister's murderer is walking around laughing at us all? Even my darling Isabelle won't be

able to rest right now. >> Slatcher, >> what's the difference in age between the two of you? >> 16 years. Isabelle was what you might call an afterthought, but a blessed one. If it had been one of their own lot, they would have bought the killer to justice fast enough. >> I'm sorry, >> Violet. >> The police are all Catholics, the lot of them. And as for the chief constable, >> Violet, I've told you before, just because there's been some trouble between the two communities. >> We've been nursing a murderer in our bosom, Reverend. And

what have they done? Nothing. Nothing. Are you telling me you know who the murderer is? >> Oh, I know. All right. >> My dear Violet, I've warned you before these wild accusations. >> Yes. Yes. Miss Sleder, who is it you think murdered your sister? >> As the reverend said, I have no proof. I can only put my trust in the Lord and you. >> H What exactly was your sister's relationship to Gerald Butt? >> They were engaged to be married. >> Mr. But says they were just good friends. >> Mr. but is a liar. He

is also a debolished libertine, a shameless womanizer, and a man who gives his word only to break it. [snorts] But I'm not saying anymore. >> I think that might be best, Violet. >> Here's your tea. >> I should have told you about the breach I promise. >> The breacher promise. >> Thank you, Mrs. Hosley. >> You're welcome. >> Isabelle loved Gerald Bud, Sergeant, so you can imagine what a shock it was when this swine had told her he'd fallen for somebody else. >> Somebody else? I gave him a straight choice. Either he stood by his

sacred obligations or we would seek the redress of the law and see how that would affect his career as an officer and a gentleman. >> And what did he decide to do? >> Well, there wasn't time for him to decide anything. I assume he was going to meet my poor sister that night and get her to change her attitude. >> So, Gerald But would have got out of a very difficult situation if your sister was out of the way. >> Well, you were the detective, Chief Inspector. >> Sorry, little tickle. Are you going to eat

all of school, >> Mrs. H? >> I'm going to have a good try. No, you're right. I think I'll take the rest for later. Come on, McGregor. >> Oh, yes, sir. Oh, >> just one thing, madam. >> Yes, chief inspector. >> Why did you tell the local newspaper your sister was on the point of recovery? >> What? Oh, Violet. >> Who told you that? >> Never you mind. >> How could you have been so heartless? >> Heartless? You are the ones who are heartless? I just couldn't bear it any longer. My poor Isabelle lying there

and everybody just forgetting about her. If my dear mother were alive to see all this >> slatcher, >> I wanted to make them remember again. Remember the man who shot her was walking around unpunished. I wanted revenge. >> Yes. Yes. Don't get so up. Have some more tea. Mrs. What's your name? Horseface. >> Horsesley. As the Bible says, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. >> It also says, "Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord." >> Oh, yes. But it also says, >> "Pity, psych, this isn't the epilogue, >> Miss Slatcher, you gave

out this completely fictitious story about your sister's recovery just to stir the whole thing up again. Is that it?" >> Yes. And it worked, didn't it? You were here. And he'll hang, won't he? The man who did it. I mean, when you catch him. >> If I have anything to do with it, madam. And I always get my man or someone. By this time, the chief inspector felt he had solved the case singlehanded. The only good part was at least I wasn't having to watch him eat his supper night after night. >> Ratty sprouts. >>

Have some more of my cheese and leak tartlets. Chief Inspector, they're Humphrey's favorites. >> Who's Humphrey, your cat? >> I'm Humphrey. >> So, how's the investigation coming along? >> Good as done, Chief Constable. It's the fiance. You see, the young woman, the dead one, was going to sue him for breach of promise. Two bullets in the head at close range. Sorted that out. >> And he was in the hospital on Tuesday in her room at the very time of the murder. >> Got it in one. I'll finish him off tomorrow. And just one thing that

niggles me, you know. >> What's that? >> Don't know. It's lurking in the back of my enormous brain. Probably lodged between a corette and a Swede. >> Do you know, Chief Inspector? I write poetry and I find my best ideas come when I'm not thinking about them. Maybe if our Lillian recited a poem, it helped to relax. Lillian >> Sea Fever by John Macefield. I must go down to the sea again. The lonely sea in the sky. And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by. >> I can feel

my homicidal brain working already >> and the white cell shaking. and a gray mist. >> Why aren't we going to the air base again? >> Mr. But says he'll only see you if it's here on his dad's farm where he can have easy access to the hedge and beyond. >> Reckon he was lying about being just good friends with Isabelle? >> I don't know, sir. He's quite a dashing young man. And apparently the late Miss Slatterer um wasn't. >> Beauty is more than skin deep. You know how is Mrs. Dora? >> The same. >> You

can talk to my Gerald here, but you to leave your hands off his throat. >> Yes. Yes. Keep your air on. What's left of it? Hello, Gerald. Decided to change your story. >> Why should I change the truth, Chief Inspector? >> Why should I change the truth, Chief Inspector? Because I know you were at the hospital on Tuesday morning. >> Of course you know. It's no secret. But what is a secret, Mr. Butt, is that Isabelle Slatcher didn't die of a gunshot wounds. >> She was smothered with her own pillow. What? >> What? But no

butts. Ah, see what I did there, S? >> Yes, sir. >> And I know why you smothered her, Lady. You thought she was going to wake up and point a finger at you. >> But why on earth would our Gerald want to shoot poet Isabelle in the first place? >> Apparently, the slatchers were about to sue him for breach of promise of marriage. [laughter] Is that what the mad sister's been telling you? >> I can't reveal my sources, but yes, it was the mad sister. >> Chief Inspector Isabelle and I were good friends, but there

wasn't ever really anything between us. >> Have you got someone else? >> Well, yes, actually. But I always thought Isabelle had someone, too. Someone she would never talk about. >> What made you think that? >> I don't know. Just a slight glint in her eye. I think maybe she was going to tell me that awful night. Listen, laddy. Are you going to tell me that this breach of promise stuff was just a figment of the older sister's imagination? >> That's exactly what he's telling. >> THEN WHY THE HELL DID YOU BOTHER VISITING her the very

day she snuffed it? >> Got him there. McGregor, >> I didn't. >> You were in the hospital. Everybody saw you. >> I went to the hospital because Violet asked me to, but I never went into Isabelle's room. >> Then what the hell did you do? >> I had a cup of coffee with Nurse Horn Castle. She's an old school friend. I thought I'd rather sit and talk to her than a girl in a coma. >> I Well, anyone would, son, unless you're a pervert. >> But then nurse Pearson popped in to check on Miss Slatcher

and found her dead. >> I didn't want to mention the coffee because I didn't want to get Jill uh nurse Horncastle into any trouble. Ring her up, she'll vouch for me. >> McGregor, see to it? This is very inconvenient. >> What? That you can't just string up me son for murder? >> Got it in one. So without his usual prejudices to fall back on, Chief Inspector Dover found himself in the rare position of having to do some detective work. But first, we had an invitation to Sunday lunch. >> Don't you like your coette and turnip

pie, Sergeant? >> I'm afraid I'm not a great vegetable man, Mrs. Michael. >> Un like your boss. Look what I'm talking. >> Hey, am I? Oh, dear God. So I am. You must have worn me down, Mrs. them. >> Oh, that's the spirit. >> So, have you arrested our man yet? >> He didn't do it. >> What? >> Oh, dear. That's a pity, eh? >> A blood ruddy tragedy. So, now we got to find the cold blooded man yet who did shoot this wretched woman 8 months ago and then came back to finish the job.

And we don't even have a murder weapon thanks to your lot's incompetence. >> Yeah. Steady on. >> Do you know anyone who might have had a German Luger, sir? >> Well, the Germans all had them. [laughter] >> Yes. Well, actually the Kursley Pie gang had one. Always boasting about it. They were >> Who the hell's the Kursley Pie gang? >> Bunch of Catholic lads. Nice boys, but a bit wild. Very wild. Well, uh, hooligans, actually. >> Juvenile delinquents. It's all that meat. >> Why don't you tell us about the Kursley pie gang? >> You didn't

ask. And they couldn't have done it anyway. >> Why not, sir? >> Because they were in jail, silly, the night of the shooting. >> In jail? What for? Digging up a Protestant grave. Ah, you know what lads are like. They said one of the Protestant boys came on a bit strong with some of their lasses. It's like a running feud. >> Like a running sore. >> Not unlike this pie. >> Hey, but enough of this grizzly murder talk. Lillian. >> Oh, here it comes. Give us one of your poems, Pet. Ah, you'll enjoy this, Sergeant.

>> I'm sure I shall. I love poetry. >> In winter, I get up at night and dress by yellow candle light. In summer, quite the other way. Come on, McGregor. We got work to do. >> I was enjoying that. What exactly are we doing? >> You're going to Isabelle Slatcher's house. Search it for clues top to bottom. >> And where are you going, sir? >> Have a word or two with this Kurszley pie gang. Where do they hang out? >> Las Torres coffee bar. It's run by Pedro Kursley's only Spaniard. Can't miss it. It's right

opposite the Protestant church. >> But you haven't finished your Sunday lunch. >> Lucky escape. >> I was almost getting converted. Oh, [music] >> you won't find what you're looking for in there, Sergeant. Those are Isabelle's private things. >> Oh, I'm really sorry, Miss Slatcher, but I have to do this. Anyway, how do you know what I'm looking for? >> I don't, but Isabelle's life was like an open book. >> I'm sure it was, but everyone has some secrets. Little things they'd rather nobody else knew about. Not even their big sister. >> In this house, we

opened our hearts and our lives to God. He sits in every corner. He abides in every >> Where did you get that underwear? >> Uh, I just found it at the back here. Rather nice, isn't it? Really? >> It's disgusting. You put it there, didn't you? >> No, I did not. I've never planted anything in my life. Now, Chief Inspector Dover, no, you're entirely wrong. >> Then poor Isabelle must have bought them by mistake. Uh, well, I'll have to keep on looking. I'm afraid >> that butt man could have bought them for her. Perhaps he

had an argument. I don't know. She She wouldn't wear them. So, >> Slatcher Gerald Butt didn't touch your sister. He didn't shoot anyone. He's completely in the clear. >> What? >> He had an alibi and it checked out. >> I don't believe it. >> I'm afraid it's true. >> Then who on earth? >> Who else was at the hospital on Tuesday? I mean, who knew Isabelle >> at the hospital? Well, why is that relevant? >> Yeah, please bear with me. [sighs and gasps] >> Well, it's the only hospital in town. Lots of people come to

visit, but I think we're getting away from >> I suppose any of them could have been at the church that night in March, then run off. >> I really don't see the connection, Sergeant. What are you doing now? >> I'm looking at Isabelle's Bibles. She had a lot, didn't she? >> Put those down, >> Miss Slatcher. >> Those are the Lord's words, his holy books. What makes you possibly? >> Well, if you were going to hide something, >> I'm afraid I shall have to complain to your superiors. >> That's your prerogative, of course. Hang on.

>> What's that? >> What? >> There peeking out from behind that big book. >> Hey, we'll have no idea. I'll get it, Sergeant. That looks like a letter. But if Isabelle hid it in the Bible, it must be a secret. We'll have to respect her secrets. >> I'm afraid the dead have no secrets. is Miss Slatcher. Miss Latcher, the letter, please. Thank you. It looks like a rough draft of some sort. Can't quite read her writing with all this crossing out. >> Give it here. >> Dear Vic, dearest Vic, darling Vic, I can't keep this

a secret any longer. >> What's she talking about? >> I've absolutely no idea. I know you feel the same way I do. If only she didn't stand in our way. Well, that's it. There's no more. >> But it's definitely her writing. >> Well, yes, of course it is. It makes no sense. Well, who's Vic? >> I was hoping you'd tell me. Well, you were right in one sense. [music] Your late sister's life is now an open book. >> Good evening, sir. Lovely weather for a fish. What can I get for you? >> It's a nice

strong tea, an Eckles cake, and a bun on the ass. >> Well, I don't know about that. >> Yes, you do. Now, I'm looking for some lads call themselves the cursley pie gang. >> Ah, anyone here been frying bacon? I think I smell pig. >> Please [laughter] not. >> OW, THAT'S MY HAIR YOU'RE PULLING. >> DECENT of you to stand up, young man, BUT PLEASE DO [ __ ] AT ME. >> OH, SORRY. Did my clumsy knee get in the way of your downward trajectory? >> That was uncalled for. >> What's your name? >> Freddy

Gash. And I'm the leader of the pie gang. >> Oh, I'm so impressed. I here tell you got a German Luga, Freddy. >> Well, you're here wrong. >> Oh, DEAR. MY KNEE'S TWITCHING AGAIN. MUST BE MY FIGHTER STANCE. >> NO. OKAY. I I had a Luga. I got it from a guy in Soho on a church trip to Westminster Cathedral. Cost us 20 quid, but I don't have it now. >> Who'd you give it to? >> I didn't give it to no one. I lost it. >> Now, why don't I believe you? >> Oh, put

your knee down, please. Can we talk outside? >> Can't hear you. Speak up. >> It's a bit embarrassing. >> Can we talk outside? >> It's raining, >> please. >> I'll be back for my tea and cake. >> It will come in minutes. >> Stru. I hate the North. All right, Marlon Brando. What's so embarrassing? Well, this must have been around February. Me and the lads were a bit angry like cuz of what the pros had done to our lasses. >> Sweet maidens one and all. >> Well, exactly. So, we wanted to get our own back.

>> We were Luga. >> I was just going to fire it into the air just to give them the willies. Like, >> who exactly were you intending to frighten? >> I keep telling you the Protestant lads. Only they weren't where we thought they were. We got the day wrong, but by that time, we were too fired up. >> So, who did you scare? >> THE MOTHER'S MEETING. >> THE MOTHER'S MEETING? >> YEAH. Dear lord. So what happened, Mr. Big? >> Well, I came in with the lads waving the gun, but before I could even fire

a warning shot, they came at me. It was horrible. >> Who came at you? >> The mothers. They were like a bunch of, I don't know, witches. They were smacking us and hitting us with the handbags. You should investigate, chief inspector. They're a danger to the public. I'll >> put out an alert. Maybe call Interpole. >> What happened to the gun? It >> fell out me. I haven't seen it since. Here. You don't think one of them mothers shot that Sleeping Beauty woman? I wouldn't put it past them. >> Why the hell would you think

that? >> Well, I mean, it was at that church. >> What was at the church? >> The meeting where I lost the gun. It was over there at the Protestant church hall. >> Is that a nut roast you're eating, sir? In a pub. >> What of it? >> Nothing. I just >> I simply discovered this one type of food doesn't put me to sleep. Okay. The sooner I can solve the runny case, the sooner I can get out of this northern hell hole and back to the smoke. >> And Mrs. Dover, >> I had to

spoil it, didn't you? Didn't you? >> I'm sorry. So, how you getting on? >> Let's just say I'm pretty sure I found out a lot more than you. >> Why does it have to be a competition? >> Well, otherwise we wouldn't know who's best, would we? >> Never quite grasped the concept of teamwork, have you, sir? Anyway, this time I reckon I'm the one who's come up trump. >> So, yeah. Oh, come on then, Mr. Smug. >> Isabelle Slatcher had a secret lover. >> What? While she was >> not while she was in a coma

before here. >> That was not a letter >> or the first draft of one. It's definitely her handwriting. >> Dearest Vic. Who's Vic? >> No idea. But whoever he is, there's a wife, isn't there? See, the letter talks about her. I bet you didn't find anything to match that. In fact, I bet you £100. >> I found the gun. >> Oh, have you? But where is it? >> Not a clue. When I say found it, I know where it was last in the church hall at a mother's meeting. Some young thug was waving it around

and he lost it when the mothers duffed him up. >> So it could be any one of the mothers who picked it up. >> Exactly. We finding one with an husband called Vic and Bob's your uncle. >> Or Vic's your husband. >> Hang on, sir. Just a thought. >> Spare me, >> sir. Before we talk to the mothers, there is just one other person we haven't spoken to. >> Who? >> The organist. The organist. Have you forgotten, laddy? He was playing all the time the shots were fired. He must either be one hell of a

marksman or else he played a very long sustaining note. >> It's all right. I just have this feeling I'm missing something. >> That's for sure. Okay. So, what's his name? >> No idea. I'll ring the chief constable. >> No need. I heard the organ playing just before when I was outside the coffee bar. It's right opposite the church. If you hurry, you can be there in five minutes. >> And what about you? >> Haven't finished my nut roast. >> Sir, >> what am I saying? Those words must never get back to the yard. >> Lovely

[music] sand. Thank you. Must be all those nuts out of the organ. You can't beat a bit of bark. >> Oh, you gave me a turn. And it's sass. >> I don't care. is Rally Van Go. What's your name? >> Edward Davenport. >> Oh, what a shame. >> Sorry, Pet. >> What's your full name? >> My full name? Well, it's a bit of a mouthful. >> Spit it out. >> Edward Elgar, Vaughn Williams, Johan, Sebastian, Victor Davenport. >> Victor? >> That's the one that surprised you. Actually, it was my dear mother's maiden name. The Victors

are a big family around here. Apparently, her dad insisted. Uh-huh. So, where were you the night Isabelle Slatcher was shot, Victor? >> Oh, are you the gents from the yard? Well, I already told the police back in March. I was here practicing the whole evening. Toot laser. [laughter] Everyone heard me. >> He's right. Come on, McGregor. >> Yeah, it's okay, sir. >> Oh, [groaning] God. What are you doing now, lady? I'm >> sorry. I tripped on a loose wire. Hang on, Mr. Davenport. What exactly is this? >> What's it look like? It's a little microphone.

>> Microphone. So, the wire goes behind this curtain. Oh, I see. It's attached to a tape recorder. What do you need a microphone for, Mr. Davenport? And a tape recorder. >> So, I can record myself in action. Make sure I'm playing as well as I'd like to. I have very high standards. >> What do you mean? Uh-uh. I'll tell you what, sir. Oh, goody. Are you married, Mr. Davenport? >> The right person hasn't come along, Sergeant, if you get my drift. But give me the right key and I'll play it any flat. >> Hey, >>

no, it's just me and my organ for the moment. [music] >> Come on, McGregor. >> Uh, if you need to talk to me again, gents, especially you, Sergeant. I'm usually around. >> Yes. Okay. Thank you, Mr. Davenport. >> You can get my schedule from the vicar. >> Yes. Okay. What? Vic Vicer? >> You idiot. McGregor. >> Me? >> She was having a fling with Bonington. Come on. >> I still think it could be the organist. We could have just let the tape play while he popped out and did the deed. >> Him? Oh, you'd have

more chance of a fling with him than Isabel, would you? >> Now, what did that letter say? I can't keep it a secret any longer. Give it to me. Yeah, >> we must do something about her. Who the hell is her? >> No idea. I suppose it could be Mr. Bonington's wife. >> What wife? >> Mrs. Bonington. Truly sad. She's a very poorly woman. She's institutionalized. >> How the hell do you know that? >> Nurse Hearncastle told me when I went to check out General B's alibi. >> And you didn't think to tell me. >>

You didn't ask. Anyway, you keep things from me. >> You great Caledonian twit. All this time, don't you see? Isabelle must have been wanting to push things too far. Divorce or something. Word of that gets out and the Reverend Bonington can kiss his living goodbye. >> Oh, yes. So, he'd found the gun in the church hall after the mother's meeting, and when he had the opportunity, he shot her. >> He must have known Bigles was coming to meet her that night. So, he decided to do it when he could pin it on a poor old

boyfriend. >> What about the hospital? Last Tuesday, the smothering. Pound to a penny. Old Vic was there that morning visiting some patient or other. If he was, that's our man. There's a phone box outside a cafe. You phone the hospital. I'll go back and sit in the church. I'm catching my death in this. Right. >> Always has to be meeting, doesn't it? >> Always. >> Chief Inspector. Chief Inspector hey, power of good music, eh? [snorts] >> Well, >> I managed to catch that nice nurse Horn Castle again. She was only too pleased to help. >>

After a naughty coffee with our Mr. Butt. >> Indeed. She said she did see the vicer at the hospital that morning. He was visiting an old lady who'd been bitten by a rabbit >> by Doesn't matter. Right. Well, that's it. We got a man. Do they hang vicers, do you think? >> We still don't have any actual proof, sir. It's all supposition. you and your fancy university notions. Well, come on. [clears throat] No time like the present. That's what I always say. >> Unless it's lunch time. >> Unless it's lunchtime. >> What if he still

has the gun, sir? >> Then he'd get off with insanity. Who holds on to a murder weapon? Oh, it's you. There's no more sconce. >> Sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Horsesley. Is the vicer in? Of >> course he's in at his house. >> Not for much longer. Move out of the way, woman. Sergeant. >> Hey, wipe your feet. I've just scrubbed. >> Chief Inspector, do come in. Uh, that'll be all, Mrs. Horsey. Thank you. >> I was just going to call you. >> Where are you indeed? About a confession. >> Oh, that's the other lot.

No, I've managed to expedite poor Isabelle's funeral at our sister's request. We're having it tomorrow morning at the cemetery on the hill. >> Well, I'm afraid, Vicer, that it might turn out to be your funeral, if you get my drift. >> I'm afraid I don't, actually, >> Sergeant. >> Reverend Bonington, I'm arresting you for the coldblooded murder of Isabelle Slatcher. >> What? >> Don't try to deny it. You were on the scene last March. You're at the hospital on Tuesday. >> The hospital? What's that got to do with >> She was in love with you,

wasn't she? You're an ambitious man, Reverend, with a wife in an institution. This affair wouldn't exactly look good in your resumeumate. >> Now, listen here, chief inspector. >> We found a letter, sir. A letter she either sent or was about to send you. >> There's a letter. What do you Well, I I suppose there's no point in denying it, then. I'm not a man who lies, Chief Inspector. >> Yes. Isabelle and I did have a a friendship. >> I knew it. I ruddy knew it. >> Yes, sir. In your own time, Reverend Bonington. >> I

admitted, gentlemen, I did harbor thoughts and yes, feelings for poor Isabel. Feelings about which I felt extremely guilty. I'm with my poor poor wife. >> And And call that a ruddy confession. We're talking murder here, Vic. >> Murder. Why on earth should I murder anyone? >> THAT'S ENOUGH. >> MRS. OSLEY, >> what are you doing? >> Madam, would you please put that gun down? >> It's for Luga. >> I don't think that's the most pertinent point right this minute, Sergeant. >> I heard you just now, Reverend. What you said about that slatcher woman? >> What?

That I had feelings for her. Yes. Yes, I admit it. What's it to you, Mrs. Horsesley? Maybe this will help you understand. >> AFTER A MCGREGOR, >> BUT WHAT ABOUT THE VICER? >> GET THE MAD woman before she shoots someone else. >> Sir, >> you're lucky it's not your head. She's obviously more accurate from closer up. >> She'll be at the church. She knows there when she's upset. >> Call an ambulance. >> I'm off to arrest my murderer. >> McGregor. >> Yes, sir. What you doing on your knees, McGregor? praying. >> I think she's near

the front of the church and she might still have some bullets. >> Women. >> Oh, why do they make churches so dark? [clears throat] Mrs. Horley, come out, please, madam. Or it'll only go worse for you. >> Help me go worse for us. I had hopes of being the next Mrs. Reverend Bonitan. THEN THAT INTERLOPER CAME ALONG. >> She means Miss Latresser. >> I know who she means. So, you were in love with REVEREND BONINGEN? >> WHAT DO YOU MEAN? WELL, I still am. But if I can't have him, and truth be told, IT LOOKS

PRETTY UNLIKELY RIGHT NOW, THEN NOBODY ELSE CAN EITHER. Is he dead? >> No, madam. You're clearly better at close range. Or maybe you just stick to smothering. You're very good at that. >> What do you mean smothering? >> What do you think I mean? >> I've no idea. >> Don't give me that. >> I really don't know what you're blathering about. You thought Isabelle Slatcher was going to wake up and spill the beans. So you went to the hospital on Tuesday and finished the job. >> Tuesday? I was at my sisters in Darlington on Tuesday.

It's me. >> What? Oh, for pity sake. So if you didn't smother her, who did? >> How the hell should I know? I'm not a detective. I'm a demented killer. Well, not a killer, as it turns out. >> You're still demented? Got any bullets left? >> That's for me to know and you to find out. MRS. HORSESLEY, PLEASE. >> REVEREND, GET DOWN. >> THIS TIME I'M NOT GOING TO MISS YOU, LY MCGREGOR, WHILE SHE'S DISTRACTED. OH, >> ALWAYS ME, ISN'T IT? >> Got her, sir. >> Get off this. >> Right. Well, I suppose I better

go and tell the chief constable. Oh, that'll be the ambulance. This ruddy case is getting more baffling by the minute. Wonderful Spanish omelette there now. Oh, you've done it again. >> Thank you, Humphrey. >> So, let me get this straight over. Mrs. Hosley shot Isabelle Slatcher, but it wasn't her who smothered the girl. >> Apparently not, sir. We've been looking for one person when in fact there were two totally separate attackers. >> Why on earth would someone else want the poor woman dead? It doesn't make sense. >> No, it beats me. Perhaps our Lillian can

help. >> Ow. >> The owl and the pussycat. The owl and the pussycat went to sea in a beautiful pea green boat. They took some honey and plenty of money wrapped up in a£5 nest. >> Oh lord, can't we? Just once. >> Oh, let us be married. Too long we have carried, but what shall we do for a ring? >> Got any children, chief inspector? >> No. And I'm thanking God for it every minute. They sailed away for a year and a day to the land where the bong tree grows. And there in a woods.

>> Oh, that's that's lovely. Really cheery. But maybe you'd better stop. >> Now, hang on, you annoying girl. Say that again. >> And there in a woods. >> Not that you fool. The earlier bit. >> Uh, they sailed away for a year and a day to the land where >> enough. That's it. >> That's what, Chief Inspector. >> Never you mind, but I'll be needing my oats in the morning, Mrs. Muckle. I'm going to a funeral. >> Oh, Londoners. Almighty [music] God, we commend the soul of our sister departed and we commit her body to

the ground. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. >> Bit bleak here, isn't it, sir? >> The old rabbi town's bleak. >> I wish you'd tell me what your new theory is. If I told you then it wouldn't be a surprise. Wouldn't >> be a surprise if I held water. >> Now, now lady. Okay. Coffins's in the ground. No time like the present. >> Multiple bodies of those who sleep in. >> Violet Sleder. >> You know it is. Can't you leave me to my grief? >> Sorry, madam, but we may have to add

to it. Can we move away from the grave just a bit? >> All right, Chief Inspector. What do you want? >> Have you caught my sister's killer yet? I believe so, madam. Violet Slatcher, I've come to arrest you for the murder of Isabel Slatcher. >> What? >> You must be murdered, Prince. >> Laddyy, Miss Slatcher, I'm not underestimating your love for your late sister. In fact, you loved her so much you couldn't bear it looking like the person who shot her wouldn't hang for it. >> Didn't look as though they were even going to catch

him. >> Well, that's as may be. But you knew that if your sister survived for just a year and a day, as the poem goes, whoever shot her couldn't be convicted of murder. So you made sure she died well before the midnight hour by smothering her with her own pillar. >> No. >> That's why you lured Gerald butt into the hospital. So if the smothering was discovered, as it obviously would be, there'd only be one person to blame. the person who was at the scene both times and who in your eyes had motive galore. >>

Only it wasn't him. >> No, >> I couldn't bear it that the person who shot my beloved sister wouldn't pay the ultimate penalty. The Lord would have wanted it to happen. You know that, don't you? >> And the Lord helps those who help themselves. >> Exactly. >> I think you'd better come with us, madam. I'm sorry. >> Just wait a second, lady. Sir, >> that isn't the whole story. Is it Miss Sleder? >> What do you mean? >> I think you know what I mean. >> Sir, I don't know what you mean. >> Isabelle wasn't

your sister. Was she Miss Sleder? >> What? >> No. No. Don't say that. No. No. Keep away from me. >> Where's she going? The way out's in the other direction. There's nowhere to Oh my god. >> She just wants to be with her daughter. Her daughter. Miss Slatcher, please let me help you out. I think the men need to fill in the grave. >> I want to be with my >> I understand. >> But here, >> please take my hand. That's it. There. Are you all right? >> I'll never be all right, Sergeant, but you

might as well ask the questions. >> How did you keep it a secret, Miss Sledger? >> [crying] >> When I got pregnant, I was just 15. I know, not exactly the spinsterish, religious nutcase you thought, eh, Sergeant? My mother simply pretended she was having another child. And when I began to show, we both went to my aunts in Bombra. And when we came back with Isabelle, my mother told everyone she was hers. I've kept up the pretense ever since. Even Isabelle didn't know. The Lord understands. >> Oh, we all understand, Miss Sletcher. Now, hey, perhaps

it's time [laughter] we let your daughter rest in peace. M Scotch eggs. Wonderful. Pork pies. Just a job. Now this is poetry, McGregor. Positively epic. >> Looks like the collected works. >> One thing I don't understand, sir. How did you know Violet Slatcher wasn't Isabelle's sister? >> Been niggling me for days. Something she said when we first met her at the vicorage. If my dear mother was alive to say this, my dear mother. Surely at that time she'd say our dear mother or even Isabelle's dear mother. But it didn't really click until the funeral. She

just sounded like a mother talking about a child. >> Do you think we might have got here quicker if you kept me in the picture and didn't persist in strangling innocent people? >> Maybe. But a man's got to have some perks in his job, Denny. Do >> you know I fancy a lettuce leaf now? And that is why I want this transfer to go through. Chief Inspector Dover may occasionally be right when it comes to finding the felon, but he's just so awful with it.