"(BIRD CALLS)" "There we go." "You're a beauty, aren't you?" "(CHUCKLES)" "(TOILET FLUSHES)" "(BEEPING)" "(STATIC)" "Nothing exciting today." "Just the green fitch." "Patrick, I'm pregnant." "What?" "Well, that's impossible." "You can't be!" "Oh, yes, yes!" "The test was positive!" "Whose?" "What do you mean?" "Whose is it?" "Patrick!" "?" "You're hurting me!" "I'll kill you!" "You hear me?" "!" "I'll kill you!" "What's the matter?" "Oh!" "(SINGS TO HIMSELF)" "See you again tomorrow then." "There's another load of logs to come up." "Tomorrow?" "I'm not sure..." "Well, just give me a bell." "I mean, I can come up anytime you're available." "Better be off." "Call me, yeah?" "Yes." "(ENGINE STARTS)" "What's Foxely doing here?" "I ordered wood from Napier's farm." "Didn't I tell you...?" "I'm late for my class." "Is he the one?" "Was it Foxely?" "(SPEAKS RUSSIAN)" "All right." "So..." "I thought we'd go round Swansdown Lake..." "Er... over to Midsomer Parva." "Pub there?" "Er, through the woods, and then back" "How far is that?" "Oh, it's about er... eight miles." "You said a gentle stroll, not a route march." "You'll enjoy it." "Remember that walk we did above Down Way, in Brighton?" "Remember it?" "I've still got the blisters." "One of the reasons we came to Midsomer was to enjoy the peace and tranquillity of the countryside." "True." "Ta-dah!" "What are those?" "They're gaiters." "Causton Camping shop." "Stops the rain getting in your boots." "Are we expecting rain?" "(SCOFFS)" "We are going to go for a good walk, aren't we, Sykes?" "Come on." "And I will be in charge of the map-reading." "(SIGHS) We know what's guaranteed to spoil a good walk, don't we, Sykes?" "Come on, come on." "(LOW WHINING)" "Those logs you delivered..." "I phoned Napier and told him to take them off my land" "What's this?" "My wife ordered that wood in error." "I'm not paying." "Is that clear?" "I want it off my land." "Well, I might be wrong but in my world a contract is a contract." "Well, the order is cancelled." "Right." "I'll fetch them back up again then." "But in the meantime we've gotta get these drainage pipes laid." "You're not going ahead with that?" "Oh, yeah." "Drain the Mead and you'll drain my wetlands." "They are habitat to several birds with protected status." "It's my living that needs protecting, not them birds." "I'll sue you if I have to!" "Do what you like." "You ain't the only cock can crow." "Damn birds!" "Chicken plucking so and so!" "He's not a happy bunny." "Got problems indoors with the wife." "Ain't getting his rations." "Whatever... he better turn the volume down." "It's the duck who quacks the loudest gets shot." "# Piano ..." "And one, and two, and three, and four." "Good." "Look to the right, Fion." "(MUSIC CONTINUES)" "Good." "Neat feet, neat feet." "Hands up, Gloria." "Up, up, up." "Good." "Good." "And... finish." "Very well done." "OK." "Ton leve's from the corner." "Good, good." "Back, back, back, back." "(BIRD CALL RINGTONE)" "Eyes up, eyes up." "Ton leve, ton leve, ton leve and ton leve!" "Good, girls." "And ton leve." "Up, up." "Good, Aimee." "Good, good, good." "Bravo!" "OK, all of you, reverence, all of you." "Everyone together." "Thank you, maestro." "Right, pile, and to the left, pile." "Finish." "Proud finish." "Good, girls." "Thank you very much." "Remember, it's Finale Concert and Awards." "Remind mums and dads to book tickets if they have not done so." "Tim." "You must encourage her." "She is mad for the dance." "She's not made for it though, is she?" "Her feet aren't exactly feathers." "She has her dreams." "We all have our dreams." "Ha." "Yes." "Ha." "Look, is there any chance you could have Aimee at yours this morning, or drop her off at my mother's?" "Yes, of course." "She will be fine with me." "Thank you." "That's great, that's great." "I'll call." "OK." "OK." "Can I give you a lift?" "No, thank you." "I have car." "Ralph Ford's spotted a blue crested hoopoe, up by Swansdown Lake." "A hoopoe?" "In Midsomer?" "Yeah, that's what he says." "Probably flopped in on its way to Africa." "Be a British first... if Ralph's spotted it right." "The others have headed up in case the place is overrun with townie twitchers." "Right." "I'm with you." "Let's go." "Bye, sweetie." "Bye, Dad!" "Er, Wednesday then." "OK." "Come on." "That's it." "Oh, sorry." "Come on, Bob." "I'm going as fast as I can." "(EXCITED CHATTER) That's it." "Blimey." "Come on." "Well, the track is heading this way." "So if I just turn the map..." "John, are we lost?" "No no, no." "I'm just checking." "(WHISPERS) Excuse me, excuse me." "Not spotted the hoopoe, have you?" "Hm?" "The blue-crested hoopoe!" "Extremely rare visitor to Britain." "Been tweets about it on Twitter all morning." "I'm sorry, I..." "Ssh." "Quiet!" "Listen." "(BIRD CALLS)" "Yeah, that sounded like its call." "A sort of oooh-poo-poo-pooh!" "Ooh-poo-poo-pooh!" "Whatever it was, it came from that way!" "Come on." "Before this lot spook the damn thing. (DOG BARKS)" "Sssh!" "Keep that dog quiet!" "I beg your pardon?" "Ooh." "Quickly." "Come on." "(BARKS)" "Follow them, follow them." "Right." "(WHEEZING)" "Excuse I." "Well... so much for the peace and tranquility of the countryside." "Where to next?" "On to Swansdown Lake." "Which is North of here... wherever "here" is." "Darling, give me the map." "No, no." "Look it's fine." "Give me the map and..." "It's, it's..." "It's this way, it is." "It's this way." "No." "Sorry, no." "This way." "It's definitely this way." "This way." "Sykes." "(GROANS)" "(GROWLS)" "(CHATTER)" "Chif chaf." "Where was this?" "I did." "I smashed him in the chin." "Oh, can I get you one in?" "Your usual?" "No, thanks, Olivia." "We'd better start." "Still besotted, are we?" "Buttocks to you, Ralph!" "Bloody bird watchers, eh?" "That lot love it." "They think bird-watching is better than sex." "Probably is, the way they do it!" "(LAUGHTER)" "(CUCKOOS)" "Please, please be quiet." "Sit down." "No, I will not." "Get a grip, Patrick." "Not until he withdraws the accusation." "Order!" "Order!" "Order." "Thank you." "Now..." "Ralph has claimed that he saw a blue-crested..." "It's not a claim!" "I saw the bloody thing!" "A mega." "Oh, Ralph." "Ralph says he saw a blue-crested hoopoe by Swansdown Lake." "Hoopoopoe pops." "Yes, thank you." "Were you alone at the time?" "Yes." "Then it's unverifiable, as Patrick says." "Whatever happened to birder's honour." "My word is my bond." "Nobody's questioning your word, Ralph." "Yes, he is!" "And why?" "Because this sighting gives me ten-point lead in this year's list competition." "Ten points ahead of you, Patrick." "That's what this is all about." "The committee is meerly trying to establish how it is you saw the hoopoe and no one else has." "Because I'm up at a sparrow's fart every morning and sat in the sticks every night, year round ... that's how!" "It's not just a seldom-seen, Ralph, it's an endangered species." "Native to Uganda." "So?" "It made a pit stop on its way home." "Oh, that's..." "We never saw it." "I propose we refer it to the National Committee, and it will not count towards the Year List competition." "Seconded." "God, I saw it!" "What more do you want?" "Proof would be good." "You're as likely to see a blue-crested hoopoe land in Midsomer as Concorde, truth be told." "You wouldn't know the truth if it plopped on you from a great height." "Do you accept the proposal?" "I know your game, Patrick." "This is war." "From now on, consider yourself an endangered species." "To hell with all of you!" "Ralph!" "You can't speak to the president like that." "You can't..." "We're at a meeting, Ralph." "You can all get stuffed." "We'll take that as a "no", then, shall we?" "(SIGHING AND LAUGHTER)" "(BIRDSONG)" "(BIRD CALLS)" "(MAKES BIRD CALL)" "(MAKES BIRD CALL)" "(SEARCHES FOR FREQUENCY)" "(MAKES BIRD CALL)" "(BIRD CALL)" "(BELL TOLLS)" "Ha!" "Hey!" "What the...?" "Aaargh!" "(BLOWS THUD)" "(Low conversation)" "Spotted this morning at 10am by a dog-walker." "The body was entangled in that net." "Contusion to the rear of the skull." "Asphyxiation by drowning, most likely cause of death." "We can eliminate accident, then?" "I wouldn't be too hasty." "He could have stumbled into the net, fallen, hit his head, rolled into the lake." "Looks like blood on the end of this." "It's a bramble-beater, isn't it?" "Could be blackberry juice?" "You think of everything." "I trust nothing and no-one, till tested and proven." "How about time of death?" "All night in the lake... hard to say yet." "Sir, his name's Patrick Morgan." "Aged 51, married, lives in the big house over there." "He was a bird-watcher." "Binoculars." "Notebook, lots of sketches of birds." "Oh..." "I thought I recognised him." "There's also an interesting text message on his mobile." "It says: "Hoopoe now showing." "Lakeside." "250 metres east of Swansdown House, 23:59."" "Now, one of the lads is a bit of a birder." "Says they get hotline alerts when rare birds are spotted." "Twitchers come running at all hours from every direction." "Let's find out who sent it." "But first we'd better talk to his wife." "I'm very sorry, Mrs Morgan." "Is there somewhere we could sit down?" "(TEARFULLY) Yes, yes, yes." "When did you last see your husband, Mrs Morgan?" "Nina, please." "Yesterday evening." "He came back from his meeting." "He's president of Ornithological Society." "There'd been... argument." "He was angry, he got himself drink to wind down." "I went to bed." "You didn't think to raise the alarm when he wasn't there in the morning?" "He's a bird-watcher." "He disappear's all the time, at any hour." "I'm sorry, this is difficult." "Of course." "No." "Er... especially..." "Patrick and I are expecting our first child." "I see." "Been trying for years, ever since we were married." "We moved here, to start a family." "How long ago was that?" "Ten years." "Is this you?" "Yes." "At Kirov ballet." "I was prima ballerina." "Well, I think that's enough for now, Nina." "Erm..." "If you think of anything else give me a call, please." "(DOOR OPENS)" "Just pregnant and your husband dead." "That's tough." "At least she confirmed the bird-watching angle." "Mm." "Oh, here's trouble." "Dave Foxely, sir." "Known to us?" "He's had community service and a few minor punishments." "Still thinks stealing's easier than working." "And a bit of a ladies' man, too." "What's happened?" "They been burgled?" "Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby." "Work for Mr Morgan, do you?" "No." "George Napier." "That's his truck." "I'm collecting some logs Morgan doesn't want." "Where were you late last night?" "I was spark out." "Five pints and I'm nobody's." "Mr Morgan was killed last night." "What?" "Never!" "Mrs Morgan ... do you know her well?" "Well, not as well as I'd like to." "She fit or what, Jonesy, eh?" "Forget it." "I'll pick up those logs tomorrow." "You don't think Nina Morgan would go for somebody as rough as Dave Foxely, sir?" "Ever read Lady Chatterley's Lover, Jones?" "Only bits." "(ENGINE STARTS)" "OK." "Patrick Morgan ran a city finance firm." "Retired to Midsomer ten years ago." "Just a sec." "Bought a 200-acre estate on Swansdown Lake." "I want us to check for previous on Patrick and on his wife, Nina." "Are you with me, Jones?" "Yes." "I got a trace on that text message." "The bird alert." "It was sent from a mobile belonging to a Ralph Ford." "Here's a list of the Midsomer-in-the-Marsh" "Ornithological Society Committee." "Ralph Ford is a member." "Nina mentioned an argument at their meeting last night." "And, sending the text message is a smart way to lure Patrick up there." "But Ford sent it from his own phone." "Which is not smart at all." "(MAN SNEEZES) Bless you." "Sorry." "Got drenched this morning, out birding." "It was "persisting" it down." "Got a stinking cold." "(SNEEZES)" "Bless you." "Sorry." "As long as it's not bird flu!" "This your hobby, Mr Ford?" "No." "My profession." "I'm a taxidermist." "You'd be surprised what people want to preserve." "And how much they're prepared to pay for it." "You name it, I've stuffed it." "Hunting trophies, are they?" "Well, the fish were all hooked, the bear got shot, but the birds... they all died a natural death." "This is their resurrection." "I give them life after death." "Pity we can't do that for Patrick Morgan." "You had a row with him, yesterday evening." "That right?" "Hm." "I spotted a blue-crested hoopoe." "A mega, a rare bird." "Patrick said I was lying, because it gave me a ten-point lead in the annual Lis Cup, for spotting the most different species in a year." "He couldn't bear to be beaten." "This is Patrick's mobile." "There's a message on it, purporting to be a bird alert, a message which drew him to his death." "It was sent from your phone, Mr Ford." "That's ridiculous." "I'll show it to you." "(CLOCK CHIMES)" "Oh, God, it's not here." "Where is it?" "Well, I don't know." "Erm..." "I had it last night, at The Feathers." "I hung my coat up in the snug." "Er... somebody must have taken it." "Who would do that?" "Well, I don't know." "All the committee were there." "Dave Foxely's crowd were all in the snug, by the coats." "Erm..." "Napier, the farmer ... he's always at war with Patrick over the wetlands" "(SNEEZES)" "Look, it wasn't me." "Sitting in the bushes all morning, waiting to spot a bird." "What's that about!" "?" "Well, psychologically speaking, birding is classic obsessive behaviour." "I mean bonkers, if you ask me." "It's like hunting, without the kill." "We're all instinctively hunter-gatherers." "Didn't you ever go train-spotting?" "Or collect stamps, or football stickers?" "No, sir." "I had an uncle who collected beer mats." "Died of drink." "So getting soaked to the skin, just to tick a bird off your list isn't crazy?" "It's not very different from what we do." "We tick all our suspects, off our little list, until we find our killer." "Does that make us any saner than the twitchers?" "That's Nina Morgan, sir." "She's not exactly devastated by Patrick's death, is she?" "(WHIRRING)" "Tim Whitley?" "Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby and Detective Sergeant Jones, Causton CID." "Ah." "With you in a minute." "Oh, it's a... it's a mist-net." "For catching birds." "It doesn't harm them." "We ring them and release them immediately." "Patrick Morgan was found tangled up in one of these." "Yes, well, you know, they look quite fragile but they're really very strong." "Was that Mrs Morgan we just saw?" "Yes, yes, she's er... quite some lady." "She'd arranged to give Aimee ... that's my daughter ..." "extra ballet lessons today." "She insisted, despite what's happened." "I'm a single parent, you see." "I lost the wife f-four years ago." "I'm sorry." "No." "No, no." "She got sick of the birds." "You or the tufted ducks, was it?" "Afraid so." "Er... actually, I was about to ring the police." "Erm..." "Really?" "Yes, come in." "Come in." "(DOOR SHUTS) Yes, it's erm..." "it's a bit of a mess." "I work from home." "Computer and audio-visual repairs." "You're a keen member of the Midsomer in the Marsh Birder's club?" "Yes, yes." "Actually birdsong's my thing." "Mating calls." "The chat-up lines of our feathered friends." "Could you tell us where you were last night?" "Yes, I was at the club meeting at The Feathers." "And after that?" "Well, I went up to the Lake." "I was hoping to get a recording of the blue-crested hoopoe which Ralph Ford says he saw, but no-one else did." "I understand Mr Ford had a row with Patrick Morgan at this meeting?" "Yes, yes." "Well, at first Ralph just dropped his bottom lip and sulked." "Well, then he lost it." "He was flapping, fit to take off, which he finally did." "He was cursing everyone." "Were you up at the lake all night?" "Yes." "Now that's what I wanted to talk to you about." "I er..." "I had my mikes open and sound running." "I played everything back this mornin when I heard about Patrick." "I think I've found something interesting." "Now... watch the up-slurs and down-slurs on the sonogram." "(PERSON CRIES OUT) There ... a cry!" "Wait, wait." "(SPLASH) There!" "A splash." "Is the recording time-coded?" "Er, no." "Run it again, can you?" "There was something in the background" "I'll whack up the ambience." "(TAPES WHIR)" "(OWL HOOTS)" "(CHURCH CLOCK BELL)" "Well, that's just the church clock." "Quiet." "(CHURCH BELL STRIKING)" "11. 12." "(PERSON CRIES OUT)" "Then the cry." "And you didn't see or hear anything?" "Well, I heard a sage sparrow, which is nothing sensational, but it turned out to be a male dunnock, mimicking..." "Fascinating (!" ") Yes, I thought so too." "Look, I'm sorry I can't be more helpful, I..." "Oh, you've been a great help, Mr Whitley." "We now know Patrick Morgan was killed on the stroke of midnight." "Just need some er... thinking space." "Right." "Well, just follow the footpath, and you can't miss Hipsman cottage." "OK." "You tackle the farmer, Napier." "Ask him about Dave Foxely and about this dispute with Patrick Morgan." "Yes, sir." "# Swan Lake" "(MUSIC CONTINUES)" "And here, neat feet, pull up." "Up, up, up, up." "(MUSIC FROM SWAN LAKE)" "(APPLAUSE AND WHISTLING)" "(MUSIC CONTINUES)" "(MUSIC SWELLS)" "Bravo!" "Bravo!" "Bravo!" "Bravo!" "Bravo!" "Bravo, bravo!" "(SOBS) Nina!" "It's OK." "(KNOCKS) Hello?" "Police." "Hello?" "Mr Hipsman?" "Ah, ah." "Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby, Causton CID." "Michael Hipsman?" "Yes." "I'm terribly sorry, but I'm in a tearing hurry." "Got a class to play for." "Is this about Patrick?" "Yes." "How well did you know him?" "Well enough to know the man was an arse." "Frankly, I had nothing but contempt for him." "Far too impressed with himself." "(SOBBING)" "(SIGHS)" "Are you all right, dear?" "Oh, yes, yes." "I was just dancing and... thinking of Patrick." "Yes." "It's terrible." "Awful." "You have my condolences." "Thank you." "We fell so much in love at first." "So much." "You understand?" "Yes, I understand." "Better than you think." "I'm sorry." "I must be going." "Things to deliver." "Sorry." "Bye." "(DOOR SLAMS)" "I get the impression that Patrick didn't have many admirers?" "No." "Erm... not that it bothered him." "He was his own fan club." "Patrick had to be top of the pecking order." "Everyone else could kiss the ground." "This month's newsletter." "Oh, just put it through the door, would you, Olivia?" "Here's my card." "I have a small bookshop on the High Street." "If there's anything else you want to know, you can find me there." "Bye, Inspector." "Are you the police?" "Yes." "Olivia Carter, Secretary of the" "Midsomer-in-the-Marsh Ornithological Society." "You here about the murder?" "I'm investigating Patrick Morgan's death, yes." "You know it was Ralph Ford who did it?" "Do I?" "The man's crazy as a coot." "He'd kill to get his hands on that cup." "Rip your throat out to win the prize." "And there was me thinking that bird-watching was such an innocent pastime." "It's not a pastime, Inspector." "It's religion." "Birders are a bunch of jealous, self-centred maniacs." "They'd cancel their own wedding for the glimpse of a rare bird." "Oh, yes." "And erm... what's in it for you, Ms Carter?" "I er..." "I just enjoy the exercise." "None of that committee appreciated Patrick." "Ten years he served as President." "He loved birds." "Their freedom to fly, to steer by the stars." "Yes, he could be over-bearing." "But he was a man, Inspector, not an intumescent wimp, like the rest of them." "Too good to live!" "(SOBS)" "Sorry." "(BELL DINGS)" "Excuse me." "(SOBS)" "Pull!" "(GUNSHOTS)" "Patrick Morgan?" "He gave me the right Humperdink." "Always complaining." "Me draining my pasture, or shooting them rooks what was eat my seedlings." "Your land adjoins his, does it?" "Yeah." "He's put in to get the wetlands designated as a site of special scientific interest or some such cock." "And he calls the locals all peasants" "You were in The Feathers last night." "Did you see anyone take Ralph Ford's mobile from his coat?" "No." "One of Dave Foxely's lot?" "What's Dave got to do with it?" "Is he banging Morgan's wife?" "Oh, he might be." "Who knows?" "She's fit, and Dave's got a feather in his pants, that's for sure." "You'd better ask him." "I will." "I feel sorry for her." "Oh, yeah?" "Well, she's a trophy wife, like." "You know?" "Young woman he'd got his hooks into." "Well, she's well rid of him." "We all are." "Pull!" "It was blood, Patrick's blood, on the bramble-beater." "So I was right." "Murder for certain." "It would seem so." "Glean anything from Napier?" "He hated Patrick Morgan, sir." "And he implied things were a bit cold between him and his wife." "Must have warmed up sometime, recently." "She's expecting his child." "No." "Oh, no, she isn't." "I read his notes." "He had a vasectomy 15 years ago, and not reversed." "Oh, she definitely said it was his." "She lied to us." "And very convincingly." "I've under-estimated Nina Kustanova." "Can't always get things right, can we?" "I'm no detective, but it strikes me whoever fathered her child, may well be the killer of her husband." "(EXCITED CHATTER) - Sssh." "And drop the foot... and finish." "Good we try together." "OK?" "And... music, Maestro." "(PIANO PLAYS) And pile... and sachet and up." "Aimee, Aimee, tummies in, head up and lift." "And attare, and finish." "Good, good, good." "OK, let's finish with reverance, yes." "OK." "Tummies in, head up." "Thank you, Maestro." "And right and pile." "And left and pile." "Finish, finish, proud, proud." "Heads up!" "Good, well done." "OK." "Remember it's Finale Concert." "Go home, practise, yes!" "Well done, sweetie." "You were terrific." "We'd like a quiet word with Mrs Morgan." "Yes." "Yes, of course." "Bye, Nina." "You misled us, didn't you, Nina?" "Sorry?" "You said you were expecting your husband's child." "But your husband had a vasectomy 15 years ago." "It's true." "Yes." "Er... during his first marriage." "So could you explain how you managed to become pregnant?" "Things between Patrick and I were no good." "I went to London to a party." "Got drunk, met a man." "Hardly knew his name." "I wanted child." "And Patrick believed your story, about this one-night stand?" "Yeah..." "No." "He suspected every man who ever came near me." "How did you know about vasectomy?" "Our pathologist, Kate Wilding." "She's erm... usually right about things." "I'm sorry I misled you, Inspector." "This is a murder enquiry, Nina." "When people lie to us, it makes us suspicious." "Thank you." "There you are." "I'm sure she's lying about how she got pregnant, sir." "Is that your male intuition, Jones, or can you prove it?" "Patrick's nearly 20 years older than her." "She married a meal ticket." "Probably got bored after ten years and went adrift on him." "Two 99's, please." "Or could be... biological clock ticking, foetal attraction, all that?" "Or she could've got pregnant accidentally with someone local." "There's Dr Markham, he's also a member of the committee." "Let's check out his bedside manner." "Ah, Michael Hipsman, the pianist." "I didn't have a chance to check his alibi for the time of the murder." "Will you go and check it out with him?" "Yes, sir." "Thank you." "Mm. (CHILDREN SHOUTING) Thank you, Jones?" "What?" "(CHILDREN SCREAMING) Four pounds, please." "Four?" "(CRUNCHING)" "receptionist, Ms Carter?" "Since he moved here five years ago." "We met at the Ornithological Society." "Ah." "And Nina Morgan is his patient?" "Yes." "They any closer than that?" "How do you mean?" "Oh, socially, erm... personally?" "I don't know." "You think they were carrying-on, behind Patrick's back?" "Oh, I'm not sure what I think at the moment." "Oh, poor Patrick..." "Mrs Phillips." "Thank you." "Thank you very much." "Goodbye." "Bye-bye." "(DOOR CLOSES)" "Detective Chief Inspector Barnaby, Causton CID." "Dr Markham." "Er..." "let's take a stroll in the garden." "You're a member of the Midsomer-in-the-Marsh" "Bird Club committee, Doctor?" "Yes." "Forgive me, I wouldn't have put you down as the kind of "dotty spotter"" "that I've recently encountered running around here." "There are bird-spotters, there are twitchers, and there are ornithologists." "I'm of the last." "I'm interested in avian memory paradigms." "The scientific study of the development of neural pathways in avian brains." "Especially for me in rare birds." "Can I ask you about Patrick Morgan?" "He was your patient?" "He was on my list, but I rarely saw him." "Patrick thought illness was a character defect." "And erm..." "Nina Morgan." "You're aware she's pregnant, I take it?" "If she's told you that, I'd be happy to confirm it." "Bit of a miracle, really, since her husband's matrimonial software no longer functioned." "He'd erm... had the snip." "Where exactly are you going with this, Inspector?" "I'm interested in what you know about your patients, Patrick and Nina Morgan." "I was treating Mrs Morgan for depression." "Are you and Nina particularly close?" "My relationship with her has been, and is, entirely professional." "Can't be everybody's Doctor Zhivago, I suppose?" "I didn't father her child, if that's what you're implying." "Look, I do have patients waiting." "Er... of course." "Of course." "Oh, one more thing." "You were you at the er..." "the birders club, the night Patrick and Ralph Ford had a blazing row." "Yes." "And it might be more fruitful if you turned your attentions in that direction." "Perhaps Patrick's death has nothing to do with his wife's pregnancy?" "Oh, indeed." "We could be completely on the wrong track." "You know our business is a little bit like bird-watching." "Wherever you look, you're almost bound to find something interesting." "I'm sorry." "I can't tell you anything more." "You'll appreciate my duty is to protect my patients' confidentiality, as well as to care for them." "(PRINTER WHIRRS)" "(WHIRRING CONTINUES)" "Mr Hipsman?" "Ah, Mr Hipsman." "I'm Detective Sergeant Jones." "Causton CID." "Patrick Morgan was killed on the night of the Birders' Club meeting." "I discussed all that with Inspector Barnaby." "He was murdered around midnight, to be precise." "Where you were at that time?" "I came home after the meeting, which had been a bit bloody, as you know." "I had a glass of wine and I played the oboe, to wind down a bit." "Ah." "Were you alone?" "Yes." "But I assure you I was there, at home, at midnight." "You're certain about that?" "Yes." "Because erm... shortly after I finished playing," "I turned on the radio and the midnight news had just started." "Uh-huh." "Well, that's all I need to ask you for the moment." "Fine." "Oh, you're you're welcome to browse." "I have a very good crime fiction section." "I get enough of the real thing, thank you." "So... tell me more about Nina the ballerina." "She's Russian, you said?" "Yes erm... very chic." "Dancers' thighs, bottom like an apple." "Oh, you noticed?" "It's my job to take down her particulars." "(CHUCKLES)" "Cheers." "(SIGHS CONTENTEDLY)" "So, her husband had a vasectomy, you said?" "Hm." "And when he married her, had he told her about it?" "Erm..." "I don't know whether he'd told her or not." "Why wouldn't he?" "Oh, come on." "Do you tell a woman that you're dating, who's 20 years younger, you can't have children?" "I bet he didn't." "Hm, you could be right." "Imagine trying for a child for ten years and not knowing it couldn't happen." "No wonder she nipped off for a one-night stand." "I'm surprised she didn't kill him!" "Maybe she did?" "The female of the species can be more deadly than the male." "(GROWLS) It's OK, Sykes." "We're all right." ""The female blue-crested hoopoe has multiple partners, and attacks the male viciously in the nether regions, after mating."" "Well, that should stop them feeling frisky." "Ouch." "Are you feeling frisky?" "Will you attack me viciously in the nether regions afterwards?" "Quite possibly." "You're on!" "(WHINES)" "The police have questioned me twice." "They suspect me." "Calm down, Nina." "I told them I had no idea who the child's father is." "Then that's the end of the matter." "You must stop stressing." "Your pulse is way up." "Can you give me something to help me sleep?" "I can't handle this." "(SOBS) I'm sorry." "He had me and Sykes wandering round and round that lake, in circles" "Well, it's easy enough to get lost up there." "It's easier for some than others." "Thanks, Ben." "See you later, John." "Bye!" "(BARKS) Away, dog." "It's Sykes." "Away, Sykes!" "(WHINES AND GROWLS) Away!" "Basket!" "Got him well-trained, sir." "Anybody can train a dog, Jones." "As the dog whisperers say:" "There's only one rule." "You have to be cleverer than he is." "The Council's planning department has confirmed there's been a long-running dispute over the wetlands shared by Napier and Morgan." "And Napier said something interesting to me about Nina." "Right." "About her being a trophy wife, and feeling sorry for her." "So...?" "Well, he's unmarried, he lives alone." "And he's glad to see the back of Morgan." "Look at this." "A CD was delivered during the night." "No return address, no sender's name." "Dr Markham." "On a home visit." "The question is, who's feeding us these photographs?" "And why?" "Those bird-watchers have got fancy cameras and telephoto lenses." "Olivia Carter's interesting." "She was obviously carrying a torch for Patrick Morgan." "Oh!" "Oh, oh!" "Have you seen these photographs before?" "No." "Oh..." "I never dreamt that something was going on between them." "Not til you asked me the other day." "Look at the hussy!" "Patrick gave her everything a woman could want... and she appreciated none of it." "You worked closely with him as secretary of the Ornithological Society, didn't you?" "Patrick and I were... simpatico." "Birds of a feather?" "He didn't tolerate fools gladly." "Neither do I. (PHONE RINGS)" "Regardless of my feelings, there was never anything between me and Patrick, if that's what you think." "Nothing but... respect." "Excuse me." "Olivia Carter." "There's something showing." "Where?" "Third tree on the left." "Fagus sylvatica Purpurea." "Where?" "Copper beech, ignoramous." "Sssh." "Ooooh..." "Ssh." "The way it's spreading its tail, I'd say it's a yellow-rumped warbler." "No, it's twitching its tail." "It's a black-throated green warbler." "Ooh, ooh." "Could be a Lucy's warbler." "It's got a rusty rump, it's not yellow." "It's a redstart!" "No, it's not." "(SNEEZES)" "(BIRD CALLS, WINGS FLUTTER) It's gone!" "Sorry." "You erm... you seen anything else?" "No." "Certainly not a blue-crested hoopoe." "Well, maybe it's headed back to Uganda for a summer of love." "You're sure it was a hoopoe you saw, Ralph?" "Wasn't a trick of the light?" "Best to be honest about uncertainty, Ralph." "What are you, my conscience?" "I saw it." "I've got the tick in my book." "You want to argue about that?" " No." "Well, you can just stuff it!" "Ssh." "Oh, Ralph." "Ralph." "Bugger off." "Ssssh!" "Ralph, don't slam the... door." "(BIRDS FLY OFF)" "(SIGHS) He's unsquashable." "He's game as a badger." "Oh!" "(LIVELY CHATTER)" "There you are, George." "Cheers." "(LAUGHTER AND SHOUTING)" "Bloody twitchers." "Ruining my drink here." "All the gear and no idea." "Yeah." "She's showing now." "(EXCITED CHATTER)" "(HORN BEEPS)" "What's all that about?" "Some sort of birders' hotline." "They get one of them and they're out of the place before you know it." "Like somebody shouted "fire" in the cinema. (LAUGHS)" "This what they're after?" "That's it." "Blue-crested hoopoe." "I could find me one of these, quicker than plucking a chicken." "Oh, yeah?" "Where?" "Ah." "That's for me to know." "Could be a nice drop of money in this. (LAUGHS)" "Ralph!" "Ralph?" "Are you in there?" "It's Dave Foxely." "Ralph?" "I haven't been to a ballet, sir." "Tights and tutus ... not my thing." "(CHUCKLES) Ballerinas are consummate athletes, Jones." "They've pushed themselves through th pain barrier, with ruthless self-discipline." "You think Nina's that ruthless?" "Oh, there's a steel in her." "She's more than just beauty." "Be a cherry on anybody's cake." "Hm, yeah, I was thinking of something rather more... spiritual." "Something of the unattainable object of desire." "Out of my depth there, sir." "Jones, you'd be out of your depth in a puddle." "Come on." "Ah, your surgery told us that you were on a call." "Nothing serious I hope?" "Mr Horrocks is 97." "Alive beyond his natural span." "Too many are these days." "Not Patrick Morgan." "Where did you get these?" "Who took them?" "Have you been following me?" "Somebody sent them to us, anonymously." "Any comment?" "Mrs Morgan was stressed." "She called." "She wanted a sedative." "She's been through real trauma." "She needed to talk." "Tea and cuddles, was it?" "She was upset." "Would you like to have a second think about what you told me, regarding how close you and she are?" "No." "All right..." "I hated Patrick Morgan." "It wasn't personal ... everybody did." "But I'm not the father of Mrs Morgan's child, or her lover, or Patrick's killer." "If you think I'm any of those things, you prove it." "Oh, don't worry, Doctor." "If you are" "Patrick's killer, I will nail you for it." "He could've acted alone, or Nina could have been a willing accomplice." "Talk to her now?" "No." "I'm sure we'll get the same story from her as he's given us." "I wouldn't be surprised if he's talking to her right now." "(CRIES OUT) Argh!" "Oh, you damn fool." "What's the matter Ralph?" "Dodgy ticker, have ya?" "I'm not surprised, that nasty secret you been sitting on." "What do you mean?" "Well, you had a row with Morgan over that bird." "If I tell the world what went on there... you're in the sticky stuff." "You wouldn't do that, would you, Dave?" "Rattle a few teacups round here, that, wouldn't it?" "Please, Dave." "Please." "Don't worry, Ralph." "I don't rat on people, not even to the coppers." "I wouldn't do that to you." "Not if you made me an offer." "How's 50 squid for starters?" "50?" "Yeah." "It's enough for a few good swallows, and I'm talking beers, not birds." "I'll meet you in The Feathers tonight." "Bring the money." "I promise." "Erm... but listen, you won't...?" "It's all right, Ralph." "I'll stay quiet... that way we'll both make a killing." "Won't we?" "Oh, God!" "Oh, thanks very much." "Have you heard the latest?" "About Nina?" "Nina." "Oh, Nina." "Nina." "Nina!" "I'm sorry it keeps happening." "You don't have to do this, Nina." "You could cancel the concert." "No, no." "Patrick would have wanted it to go on." "Thank you, Michael." "Thank you." "(LOW CHATTER) It's outrageous." "Have you heard the latest?" "The police have got photographs." "Of her and Dr Markham." "What sort of photographs?" "They've been at it." "Still, what do you expect?" "Russians: free love and all that malarky." "Oh, give it a rest, Olivia." "She's got all you middle-aged buffer gasping for it, hasn't she?" "Oh, leave it, Olivia." "She'll get what's coming to her." "You mark my words." "You know, I thought at first Ralph had done it, but er... no, the police are onto her." "Oh." "So congenial and fun-loving, Olivia." "I mean, what's she so cranked up about?" "Well, she worshipped Patrick." "Oh, well, that was never going to happen, was it?" "He always cold-shouldered her" "I wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't her that did for him." "What?" "He spurned her, didn't he?" ""Hell hath no fury," Michael." "Olivia certainly does, Tim." "Dad!" "Oh, there you are." "Come on." "(GUNSHOT)" "(BIRDS SQUAWKING)" "(CAR IMMOBILISER BEEPS) Yes." "Yes, don't worry." "I'm on my way now." "Well, no." "Try to stay calm, all right?" "Be right there." "(ENGINE STARTS)" "What the...?" "Aargh!" "(RIFLE COCKS)" "No." "No!" "(POLICE RADIO)" "Shotgun." "Double-clicked, close range Murder." "So we're agreed on this occasion?" "Entry-level common sense, John." "And we have a precisely-determined time of death." "Do we?" "His watch was hit by gunshot." "It stopped at exactly two minutes after midnight." "Well, it saves me a job." "Same time of death as Patrick." "Same kind of net." "It's the same killer, sir." "Hm, could be." "He received a call on his mobile at 23:45." "Number traces to a phone box outside The Feathers." "Someone lured him here with a false emergency call-out." "Sir?" "He had his medical bag with him." "Michael Hipsman found the body." "Out for his morning walk." "What was he doing last night?" "Said he heard nothing." "Went to bed at 10:30." "Slept right through." "Well, I suppose we can cross Dr Markham off the list." "Oh, it may still be the good doctor who killed Patrick Morgan, and now somebody else has disposed of him." "Dr Markham is father of my child." "I'm sorry I lied to you." "Not for the first time." "He begged me to tell no one." "He was afraid he'd be struck off." "You also lied to me about Patrick's vasectomy." "Did you know when you married him?" "No." "He kept it from me." "Ten years trying for child and all the time..." "So how did you find out he was..." ""firing blanks"," "I believe is the expression?" "After I found out" "I was pregnant, I told Patrick child was his." "He said it couldn't be." "Then he told me about vasectomy." "And how did that make you feel?" "Sick to my stomach." "We had flaming row." "I hated him at that moment." "Enough to kill him?" "No." "I love Patrick." "But, he fell in love with me when I was still prima ballerina." "He became obsessed with me." "From a distance." "Like an "unattainable object of desire"?" "Yes." "After my injury, he promised me new life, with him." "A family." "I loved Patrick, but now I realise he just wanted to cage me here." "Trap me." "For himself." "Not for me." "And Dr Markham?" "Was he committed to you, once you became pregnant?" "Or did he back away?" "Did he disappoint you, as well?" "Dr Markham gave me child I wanted." "Who kill him, Inspector?" "Who is doing this to me?" "She could have killed both of them, once she'd got what she wanted, sir." "Oi!" "I thought Mr Morgan cancelled this wood?" "Yeah, well, since he's turned up dead, Nina changed her mind." "Where were you last night, around midnight?" "I was in me caravan, on me tod." "I'd had a couple of six packs." "Completely Schindler's." "Oh, yeah?" "Yours I take it?" "Yeah." "What?" "Know which end of a gun goes bang, do you?" "(CHUCKLES)" "Ah, double-barrelled, 12-bore, side-lock ejecter, isn't it?" "Valuable gun." "Yeah, yeah." "Belongs to George Napier" "Left to his father, used to be gamekeeper to Lord Midsomer." "Ah." "(GUNSHOTS)" "Oi!" "Whoops." "Well, at least it's safe now." "Cheeky sod!" "Done a spot of shooting in your time have you, sir?" "No." "School Cadet corps." "Learnt all sorts of skills there." "Erm.." "Shooting, map-reading." "Oh, yeah." "Your wife mentioned how handy you are with a map." "Did she?" "(CUCKOOS)" "(APPROACHING FOOTSTEPS)" "Sorry I'm late." "I've just seen a peewit." "Oh, sit down, Tim." "Now, let's get on." "(SHUTTER WHIRRS) Sorry." "Sorry." "Tim, really." "Come on, please." "Olivia, has erm... committee secretary will chair this meeting in the absence of Patrick." "And erm..." "Dr Markham." "Given the present tragic circumstances, the annual year List Cup Competition has to be closed." "Oh, fine with me." "I win." "Oh, Ralph." "I've got 173 ticks, including the blue-crested hoopoe." "No, she means completely cancelled, Ralph." "Null and void." "No way!" "Oh, come on, Ralph." "It's the only decent thing to do." "Oh, don't be so pathetic." "You're such a loser, Tim." "You're all losers." "Sat here like tits in a trance." "We've got to agree on this." "I'm reaching the end of my tether." "Tie a knot in it and give us a rest." "Witter, witter, witter." "Apologise, Ralph." "If anyone's mouthing off, it's you." "No, I will not apologise." "You moron!" "I will not apologise." "The competition has two days to go." "It's a sprint to the finish and you all know who the winner will be." "The prize is mine!" "OTHERS:" "Ralph!" "Leave it!" "just leave it." "(ARGUING CONTINUES)" "(SOBS)" "TIM:" "No way, Ralph, no way." "We've run checks on all our suspects" "All clean, but Michael Hipsman's name came up, connected with an assault, 14 years ago." "I'm waiting to hear back from the Met on that." "Could be something or nothing." "But..." "We do have an interesting tie-in, just turned up from ballistics." "The cartridge cases you snaffled from Foxely's gun match the cases found near Markham's body." "The firing pin and compression marks are identical." "Yes, sir." "Now we know Foxely was sweet on Nina." "So maybe he put Patrick out of his way?" "And he could have found out about Nina and the doctor." "And he's the one who sent us the photos." "Cartridges!" "You what?" "Cartridges!" "What are you on about?" "I'm asking you, how come cartridge cases from your gun were found next to Dr Markham's body in Swansdown Woods?" "Cartridges..." "The woods?" "I go rook shooting all over them woods." "My spent cases will be as common as bird crap round there." "Did you kill Dr Markham, Dave?" "Did you find out he was involved with Nina as well as you?" "Did you find" " No way!" "Yeah, she might have had a heartthrob but" "I wasn't the lucky one pleasuring her." "Perhaps you'd like to spend some tim pleasuring Her Majesty, down Causton nick?" "Look." "You have got this all wrong." "I can help you." "I know who did for Patrick Morgan." "Really?" "Who?" "Ralph Ford." "He hated Morgan." "Ralph ... he's as nutty as a fruit cake." "He's a liar and a cheat." "Is he?" "Ralph and Morgan had this upset about this rare bird, yeah?" "This er... hoopee?" "Well, Ralph did see it." "And I know cos I saw it too." "Oh, you a closet bird-watcher now, Dave?" "Yeah, whatever." "Look, I shot a couple of rooks last week." "But this other bird fell to earth, as well." "It was strange." "It was sort of like a bluey-brown colour." "A hoopee." "So, I takes it to Ralph." "I mean, cos he buys any dead rare animals." "Stuffs 'em, sells 'em on." "So Ralph was telling the truth about spotting it?" "Yeah." "Only after I'd shot it stone dead." "That's cheating, see." "Cos they can't claim a tick in their book if it's dead when they spot it." "Listen, you wanna get down to Ralph Ford's workshop and shake his tree, not mine." "That thing's eyes keep following me." "Don't turn your back on it, Jones." "Look at the teeth on that pike." ""Caught in Swansdown lake"." "(YOWLS) Oh!" "(EXHALES HEAVILY)" "This place gives me the creeps." "(CLOCK CHIMES)" "What's through there?" "(RATTLES)" "It's locked." "Maybe it's just a bit stiff?" "I'd say definitely a blue-crested hoopoe." "And definitely dead, sir." "Like Patrick Morgan and Dr Markham." "Dead as..." "I don't know what." "(DISTANT CONVERSATION)" "I suppose it's one thing if it's some sort of prize and you shot it but quite another if..." "Hm!" "What are you doing here?" "We've found a rare bird, Mr Ford." "A blue-crested hoopoe, I believe." "Yes." "Yes, it is." "Dave Foxely told us everything." "You cheated by lying about seeing it alive." "That's my affair." "What's it got to do with you?" "We know you've told us one lie, Ralph." "How many more have you told us?" "What do you mean?" "Your phone was used to lure Patrick Morgan to his death." "Look, I told you, it was stolen." "Can anyone confirm where you were around midnight last night?" "No, I was here, working alone." "Do you own a shotgun, Mr Ford?" "What?" "Did you kill Doctor Markham?" "What?" "No!" "I could never harm another living thing." "I mean, I couldn't!" "I'm a vegetarian!" "I don't quite see the relevance of that." "Well, I'm just saying, as a vegetarian, I could never put a living corpse into my mouth... chew its hacked flesh, swallow the juices of its death wounds." "We're not accusing you of eating him, Mr Ford." "I'm just saying that I could never harm, eat, let alone kill, a fellow creature." "You're surrounded by dead animals." "I told you, I don't kill them." "I stuff them and give them resurrection." "Life after death, in all their glory." "Bag up the bird, Jones." "Yes, sir." "Yes, all right, all right, you take it." "But look, you don't have to tell everyone that I lied." "My tick?" "I imagine it'll be all over Midsomer before long." "Hm." "You'll have to take the shame, Mr Ford." "(SIGHS)" "Well, Foxely was right about him." "He's out of his tree." "All that stuff about vegetarianism." "Maybe he's got a point." "Not everyone's capable of killing." "Could you wring a chicken's neck?" "If I had to, yeah." "But you couldn't call me a killer for that." "A chicken could." "(OWL HOOTS)" "Here, here." "We're coming to it." "(GUNSHOTS) There." "Two bangs in the distance." "Shotgun." "We've established the shots that killed Dr Markham were fired at midnight." "Did you hear anything else last night?" "Well, yes." "About half an hour later, I thought I'd picked up... the hoopoe." "(BIRD CALLS) "Whoo-poo-phoo!"" "But it turned out to be... (IMITATES BIRD CALL)" "The meadow lark." "Ha!" "(HIGH-PITCHED HUM)" "What's that other sound after the bird call?" "Oh." "I'll whack up the ambience." "(DISCORDANT TUUNE)" "Oh." "That's just Michael playing his oboe." "Yeah, his cottage is right by the lake." "It echoes all round the woods whenever he plays." "Did you see anyone else out by the lake last night?" "No, no." "No." "Do you own a shotgun, Tim?" "Me?" "Yes." "Yes." "I do a bit of clay-pigeon shooting, occasionally." "I keep it locked away." "Good." "Mind if we take a look at it?" "Well, actually, I'm-I'm running a bit late." "It's Aimee's ballet graduation class tonight." "It'll only take a minute." "It will be useful to us if we could eliminate it from our inquiries." "Yes, yes." "Of course." "Just hold on." "(MUSIC FROM SWAN LAKE)" "Oh." "You said Michael Hipsman told you he was in bed by 10:30." "He did." "Then how come he's playing the oboe at half-past 12?" "Really?" "All right." "Yeah, thanks." "That was the Met." "Remember Michael Hipsman's name came up with a spot of previous?" "Came to nothing." "Apparently he and three other musicians, were slightly worse for wear in Coven Garden." "A bit Brahms and Liszt." "He was questioned, but not charged." "Right." "Tim Whitley's gun has been recently fired." "Get it checked." "And first thing tomorrow, go and ask Michael Hipsman if he remembers playing the oboe in his sleep." "# Bluebird Pas De Deux" "(CHEERING)" "# Dance Of The Sugar Plum Fairy" "Please!" "(HUMS MUSIC FROM SWAN LAKE)" "(CONTINUES HUMMING)" "Do I have to work to the sound of music?" "It's not, is it?" "It's Swan Lake, Tchaikovsky." "I've been listening to it all evening." "Sorry, I can't get the damn tune out of my head." "What are we having?" "Erm..." "How about a salad, with some roasted Moroccan veg?" "(BARKS) What brought that on?" "One of our suspects is a vegetarian taxidermist, if that isn't a contradiction in terms." "So, I suppose I'm trying some erm..." "method detecting." "(HUMS MUSIC FROM SWAN LAKE)" "It's not his greatest ballet, is it?" "(SIGHS) You don't think so?" "Well, it's very Russian." "Love, betrayal, death." "It's a bit dark." "Really?" "Well, there's dark and there's light in it." "The black and white swans, the evil Odile corrupting Odette the innocent." "And both drowning at midnight, with their lover prince, in a lake of tears." "You remember it very well." "Look at this." "We were checking this out this afternoon in the office." "Background for this case that we're working on." "Some video of Nina Kustanova at a gala performance." "Here." "Here." "(CHEERING AND APPLAUSE)" "Hang on, hang on." "I need to go back a few seconds." "When I looked at it before, I was focused on Nina, but..." "Of course!" "What is it?" "Oh, come on, Jones!" "Jones, where are you?" "What do you mean you're in bed?" "It's only quarter-past..." "Ah." "Oh." "I see." "Well, look, make your excuses, get your kit on, and meet me at the station in ten minutes." "Sorry." "What about your roasted Moroccan veg?" "Er..." "I don't need it anymore." "Take Sykesy out for a burger." "(BARKS)" "# Dance Of The Little Swans" "(CHEERING)" "(CHURCH BELL STRIKING MIDNIGHT)" "This is the recording that Tim Whitley made on the night of Patrick's death." "Now..." "There's the church bells striking midnight... (PERSON CRIES OUT) ..then Patrick's cry." "(Splash) And a little later the splash." "Yes?" "Yeah, I remember all that." "What else can you hear?" "Nothing." "Exactly." "I think we've got our killer." "Come on!" "Remember when Tim Whitley told us about picking up the sound of the oboe, whenever Michael Hipsman played it?" "Yeah." "And Michael Hipsman told you that at the time of Patrick's death, he was at home, playing the oboe." "But if he had been playing his oboe, Tim" "Whitley's microphones would have picked it up." "But it didn't." "There was nothing on the recording." "So he wasn't playing it at the time of Patrick's death." "No." "He was lying." "I think Nina's his next victim." "Where to, sir?" "Village hall." "(SIREN WAILS)" "Just keep turning it, turn it." "What?" "Is Nina Morgan still here?" "Oh, no, she's just gone." "Michael Hipsman's giving her a lift home." "Her car's packed in." "Or someone tampered with it." "Hipsman's place now." "He might have taken her there." "Oh, listen, I-I-I'm waiting for the repair man." "It could just be the differential or perhaps the manifold's cracked." "Something like that." "Michael?" "Police!" "Check upstairs." "Yes, sir." "This was in there." "He came here with her." "All clear upstairs, sir." "Come on." "You two men get over to Swansdown House." "Check it out." "I'll go with them, sir." "Jones!" "Sir?" "Wow!" "What's that?" "It's a circlet." "Nina's circlet." "From the ballet Swan Lake." "She threw it into the audience at the end of her final gala performance." "And Michael caught it." "And my guess is that now Michael will want to destroy her." "When Odette... his innocent white swan ..." "was made pregnant by Doctor Markham, she became Odile, the corrupted, the black swan." "And both drowning at midnight with their lover prince in a lake of tears." "The lake!" "It's OK." "It's all right, my darling." "(GROANS)" "Get some back-up down here now." "We're nearly there." "(GROANS)" "You take the left, I'll go right." "If he get's her in this water, we'll never find her." "Just you and me." "Michael!" "?" "It's alright, my darling." "Let her go, Michael!" "Leave her!" "Stay back!" "She's mine!" "We found your... your shrine." "The feathered circlet she... that she threw into the audience on..." "She gave it to me!" "You were playing the oboe on her final gala performance." "When she threw the circlet and you caught it, didn't you?" "Caught it and kept it." "Your little secret in your own... private little twilight zone." "And then when she left the ballet, you followed her here, to Midsomer-in-the-Marsh." "To save her." "T-t-t-to protect and rescue her... (GROANS) From Patrick Morgan?" "He didn't deserve her!" "I worshipped her!" "I'll kill you!" "Oh, Patrick, I promise you it's yours." "No." "That's impossible." "What do you mean?" "I had a vasectomy 15 years ago." "I cannot father a child!" "What?" "All the time you knew, you bastard!" "Oh!" "Oh!" "Argh!" "Was it then you decided to kill Patrick?" "You did kill him, didn't you?" "What?" "Stay still, Nina!" "Keep away from me!" "No Michael wait, wait." "Why did you send us those photographs?" "You were trying to throw suspicion onto Markham." "But once you heard that Markham was the father of Nina's child, he had to go too, didn't he?" "No!" "(GUNSHOT) So you shot him." "You dropped those spent cases that you'd picked up in the woods." "Cases from Dave Foxely's shot gun, trying to implicate him as well." "You seem to know everything, Inspector." "It's my job, Michael." "Then you'll know why Nina has to die in the lake." "We will both go down together." "I and Odile." "No, Michael." "She's innocent." "She's still Odette, she's still the white swan." "No!" "No!" "Look at her!" "The black swan." "We must drown together." "In the lake of tears." "Jones!" "Argh!" "It's OK, Nina." "You're OK." "You're safe now, you're safe now." "Need a hand?" "No, sir." "No need for you to get yourself wet." "Watch out for the pike in there, Jones." "Give you a nasty nip." "Cheers, sir." "Cheers Jones, well done." "To a very rare bird." "Hm." "To the beautiful Nina, who for a moment there was almost a dying swan." "No." "I didn't mean Nina." "I meant our feathered friend." "Ah, of course." "To her." "To the blue-crested hoopoe." "A very rare bird indeed."