And a bag of scraps for the cat, please, Mr Fredericks.
Certainly, Miss Nellins.
If she takes much longer, that lamb will've turned into mutton.
See you tomorrow.
Mrs McCarthy.
Haven't seen you around Ruby's Cafe Americano yet?
You must come and try one of my "hot dogs".
You won't catch me eating a dog, hot or otherwise.
Even during the war, we never had to sink that low.
Mrs McCarthy. And what'll it be today?
Pork chops. Fresh, if you wouldn't mind.
I'm afraid last week's were almost on the turn.
Good day, Mr Penmark.
And you know what day it is?
Yes. About the rent. I just need to go to the bank.
I'll have that for you by closing time.
Make sure you do.
Mrs McCarthy. See you at Mass tomorrow.
Thank you.
Help...help!
The Presbytery's on fire.
Could everybody stay back, please?
For your own safety's sake, please. Father Brown is in there!
Mrs McCarthy, Don't. Father! Mrs McCarthy, please.
Father.
Father?! Father Brown.
Hello?
Surprise.
Happy birthday, Mrs McCarthy.
SHE COUGHS
So I put the cake in the oven,
nipped down to the Red Lion for a swift half,
completely lost track of time.
Well, at least one of us hasn't changed, Sid.
Yeah. When did you become a fireman? Last time I saw you,
you were lugging a wheelbarrow around.
Finished my training a couple of months back, yeah.
Uniform helps with the ladies?
I wish.
The Landlady's got a strict "no guests" rule.
Especially female ones.
This is delicious, sir.
You should try some.
No thank you, Sergeant.
Since my last medical, Mrs Mallory's got me on
a strict diet. She has spies everywhere.
Happy birthday, Mrs McCarthy.
Oh, Miss Nellins. What a pleasant surprise.
Miss Nellins offered to help with the catering.
No dogs were harmed.
Now your move from America is permanent,
will we be seeing you at Mass again?
I always remember you and your sister belting out the hymns.
Not really my cup of tea nowadays, Father. Sorry.
Told you. It's the uniform.
No shame. Just like her sister.
Mrs Langdon.
Frances Penmark was a sweet, God-fearing young woman.
On the surface.
Before her accident,
she was carrying on behind Walter Penmark's back.
Oh, that's poppycock.
Frances barely left the house except to go to church or the shops.
You're not suggesting it was that dreadful butcher?
FATHER BROWN CLEARS HIS THROAT
Either way, I'm not one to gossip.
Especially as poor Frances is not there to defend herself.
In the current climate, I think you'll find...
My properties are not for sale, Mr Belcroft.
You cannot stop progress, Mr Penmark.
No. But I can stop you.
I'll show myself out.
Good morning.
Good morning, Father.
Morning. Father. Hello.
Good morning. Morning.
Sorry I'm late.
Mr Belcroft?
I understood that you worshipped at St John's in Hambleston?
I was raised an Anglican, Father, but I keep an open mind.
I wish to get to know Kembleford better.
One must understand a place in order to improve it, don't you think?
I hear he's been buying up property all over Kembleford.
Heaven only knows what for.
Father.
I have a case for you.
A case?
Seen you doing your investigating.
Someone has written the word "Grando" on my lawn.
In paint.
And there's a dagger with wings on it.
Grando? Sounds like some comic book character.
Probably just mischievous children.
Well, I want the little guttersnipe caught.
Well, I'm afraid, Mrs Langdon, just now it is time for Mass.
We'll talk later.
ORGAN PLAYS
# All ye who seek a comfort sure
# In trouble and distress
# Whatever sorrow vex the mind
# Or guilt the soul compress. #
I'll see you at choir practice. I'll see you later.
Pub? And where have you been, Sidney Carter?
Overslept. Sorry.
Anyone seen Walter Penmark?
No. Not since yesterday.
I can't remember the last time he missed Mass.
Perhaps I should visit?
I don't like to think of him alone in that big house.
Walter Penmark likes to be alone.
Apparently he barely spoke a single word
to his poor wife, may-she-rest-in-peace.
Even so... In any case,
there's a far more urgent matter to attend to.
Someone has been vandalising church property.
Probably the same little miscreants who painted
Peggy Langdon's back garden.
"Fames"?
I know that look.
Yeah, so, do I? It means no pub.
The door and window were locked from the inside.
There's no open fireplace. No sign of electrical fault.
No smoking paraphernalia. There's not even a box of matches.
So he just sat at his desk and burst into flames?
The fire investigator's on his way down now.
Might be able to tell us more.
KNOCK AT DOOR
Padre. Let me guess, you saw the smoke
and thought they were announcing the next Pope?
Walter Penmark was a member of my flock.
Can't you give us five minutes?
He's not going anywhere.
Can anyone else smell Scotch?
Well, Mr Penmark was fond of a drink, even at this early hour.
Have you considered "spontaneous combustion"?
I read about it in Modern Wonder magazine.
It's a rare and natural phenomenon.
Some people have been known to suddenly burst into flames.
Feel free to demonstrate.
If you don't mind.
What the flaming Nora does "Ignis" mean?
It means it's murder.
Are you saying the drawing in the hymnal is some kind of threat to me?
Ecclesiasticus 39:35.
Ignis, grando, fames, et mors,
omnia haec ad vindictam creata sunt.
My Latin's a little rusty.
"Ignis" - fire.
"Grando" - hail.
"Fames" - famine.
"Mors" - death.
All of these were created for vengeance.
We think the winged dagger symbolises an "avenging angel".
And they've already claimed their first victim.
An avenging angel? Well, that would explain how they set fire
to someone inside a locked room.
We need a list of anyone in Kembleford
that you may have upset or offended.
I've never offended anyone in my life.
Nonetheless, Mrs McCarthy,
if there's anybody at all that you can think of.
Yeah. Just in case.
Well, I suppose Mrs French from the haberdashery.
But that was just a misunderstanding with the Sewing Circle.
It's a start.
And Mr Begley,
the music teacher from the primary school.
Mr Begley. Right.
Well, it was hardly my fault that he was tone-deaf.
Oh, and there was that new veterinarian,
Mrs Barrington.
I had to ask her to leave the choir.
And Miss Cleary from the Salvation Army.
Well, she's just a difficult woman.
Should've asked her to list the people she hasn't offended.
Where do we start, Inspector?
Peggy Langdon. We'll warn her about the threat
and see if any of her nemeses overlap with Mrs McCarthy's.
Mrs McCarthy?
What?
We think you should stay at the Presbytery for
the moment, so we can keep an eye on you.
Yeah, until this thing is sorted,
you consider me your own personal bodyguard.
Oh, Sidney. Thank you. You're both very kind.
Father? Argh.
Something the matter? You tell me, son.
Sid. How can we help, Mr Belcroft?
I heard the terrible news about Mr Penmark.
Please do pass on my condolences to any surviving family members.
I don't think there are any,
apart from his sister-in-law, Miss Nellins.
Mr Penmark's wife died before they were blessed with children.
Such a pity. I must be getting on.
What's his game?
He's surely not after Mr Penmark's properties?
The man's body's barely cold.
Perhaps we should see who else stood
to gain from Walter Penmark's death?
And go to the shops.
Well, you said "Fames" means famine.
And if someone's trying to starve me to death,
well, they'll have another thing coming.
Because I am going to bake like I have never baked before.
Things are looking up.
Did you hear what we said,
Mrs Langdon? Someone's threatening to.
What could anyone possibly have against me?
Mrs Langdon. Just because somebody barbecued that joyless
snake of a man doesn't mean I'm in danger.
The message was probably meant for one of my guests.
Anyone in mind?
We had someone stay last week.
Foreign, he was.
Definite shiftiness about the eyes. Probably meant for him.
Do you have a name?
I'd have to look it up. It was something foreign.
I think we're done.
What about my garden?
We will do our best to apprehend the culprit, Mrs Langdon.
Too right. Hail, indeed. You can kill a person with fire,
yes, but hail in the middle of summer?
She does have a point, sir.
You've let your imagination get the better of you, Inspector.
Someone's imagination has got the better of me.
I should never have listened to Father Brown.
Thank you, Miss Nellins.
Ruby, please.
After being in the States for so long,
I can't get used to all of this formality.
Ruby, then. How's business?
Picking up. Got a few regulars now.
I like the place. It's new, different.
If you ever decide to sell.
Talking of which, I was wondering who will inherit
your late brother-in-law's properties?
I wouldn't know, I'm afraid.
If you'll excuse me.
You sure you won't have anything to eat, Mrs McCarthy?
Well, if I could decipher this menu.
"Over Easy"? What's that supposed to mean?
No, no, I'll be quite content with
a bowl of soup when I get home, thank you.
Enjoy. Oh, I am.
My condolences, by the way.
Thanks, but I hardly knew Walter.
He and my sister married after I moved away.
What made you decide to come back to Kembleford?
I came back for Frances' funeral.
Seeing the place again, I guess Kembleford still felt like home.
Do they know how the fire started?
Not yet.
But someone sent Walter Penmark a note.
It was a threat.
Would you know anyone who?
No.
I mean, I know Walter raised the rents
of some of his tenants recently.
Mr Fredericks wasn't so happy about it.
But I can't imagine that anything would...
Where is she? Where is she?
Can you spare any change?
The old dears have wiped me out.
Of course. How much do you need?
I'm so sorry. I just... I am going home.
COIN CLINKS
Subvenite, Sancti Dei, occurrite, Angeli Domini...
Thank you, Mrs Cottrell.
We'll give you a knock if we have any further questions.
What's happened? Is that...?
Your landlady. Blow to the head.
Probably killed instantly.
Mind telling me your whereabouts this evening?
I was at the station, on duty.
Then Ruby's Cafe for a bite to eat.
Inspector. Found something, sir.
Please say it's a signed confession.
Not exactly, sir. It was on the kitchen table.
Richard Belcroft?
He came to see Mrs Langdon yesterday.
He wanted to buy the guesthouse.
She told him where to go.
Check Mr Belcroft's whereabouts for this evening.
As for you, this is a crime scene, so scram.
Only footprints in the flower-bed belong to the victim.
No sign of a weapon.
And yet somehow she has had her skull caved in.
Like she was struck by a deadly blow from on high, sir.
Ice.
Ice?
Well, look. The lawn is dry except for a wet patch
by the victim's head.
She was struck on the head by a large block of ice from above.
Like a giant hailstone.
Here we go again.
It's probably thrown from the roof, or a window.
And the coin in her hand was
a lure to get her into the right position.
Why bother when you could simply walk up
and smack her over the head?
To make it appear like an unsolvable crime.
That could only be committed by an avenging angel.
Like a man burnt to death in a locked room.
We don't even know that was murder.
Until we get the fire report and postmortem.
Ignis is fire. Grando is hail.
Murders, trust me.
The only problem is,
where did someone get a large block of ice in Kembleford
on a hot summer's day?
Wakey-wakey, sleepyhead.
Cabbages.
You must've dozed off.
I've brought you a cup of tea.
You should've woken me. I'm supposed to be on guard.
Well, I'm still alive, no thanks to you.
Poor Peggy Langdon.
An acquired taste, no doubt,
but she didn't deserve what happened to her.
Argh! Argh!
What are you sneaking around for?
I thought you might still be asleep.
Ah, not me. Wide awake, reporting for duty.
Good. I've been doing some research.
There are three deep freeze making machines
in Kembleford capable of making a large block of ice.
One in Mr Fredericks' shop, one in Ruby's Cafe,
and one in the private residence of Mr Richard Belcroft.
Which of those three have you cheesed off?
None of them.
If you have,
now would be a very good time to make amends.
The chops fresh enough for you, Mrs McCarthy?
Very satisfactory, thank you.
I can vouch for that. Delicious.
What's on the menu today?
An apology.
Is that so? And for what exactly?
That letter to the council?
Suggesting you had an infestation of rodents?
That was me. And I'm very sorry.
I knew it. You see,
I've never had a single rat in this shop.
In Mrs M's defence, she did have several people talk about rats...
But did you ever see one for yourself?
Well, not exactly.
I was already struggling with my rent.
And now half my best customers are staying away from my shop.
And for that Mrs McCarthy is truly sorry.
Very much so.
I know why you're apologising.
You think it was me, don't you?
Excuse me? I was in church with you when Mr Penmark got roasted.
As for Mrs Langdon, I was here mopping my floor
with half of Kembleford walking past my window.
Well, perhaps if you sliced your bacon to a reasonable width
and refrained from bulking out your sausages with breadcrumbs...
How dare you?
Why don't we all calm down?
You're barred.
I beg your pardon? You get out my shop. You're barred.
Perhaps... OUT.
I think we should do as he says.
You organised a petition?
Well, I was concerned that your cafe
might damage Kembleford's traditional character.
But now, of course, I realise that it's an invaluable asset
and I'm very sorry.
Apology accepted.
After all, my sister often wrote to me saying
how kind you were to her.
She said that you were always there to help out
or give a word of advice.
I was very fond of Frances.
So, now that we've made up,
you must try one of my hot dogs.
Oh, I'm not sure that I...
I insist.
I've got to get me one of those.
If it helps, the Queen Mother has tried one.
At a picnic with Eleanor Roosevelt.
Well, can I at least have a knife and fork?
When in Rome, Mrs McCarthy.
Was the cafe open yesterday night?
Until eight, yes.
Many customers?
Not really. Some kids in for ice cream.
And a couple from the campsite up the road. Why do you ask?
I was wondering if anyone else had access to your deep freeze?
Just me. It's in the storeroom. I have the only key.
With hindsight,
being starved to death might have been preferable.
Speak for yourself. I could have gone again.
Ah, Mrs McCarthy. The lab tests are back.
Mr Penmark was drugged.
Barbiturates, probably.
No sign of smoke inhalation, though, so likely he died before the fire.
I just wanted you to know, cos it means he wasn't...
Well, you know...
Burned alive?
Exactly.
Some consolation.
Oh, great.
So there's a chance the murderer might drug me first.
And we still have no idea who's behind all this.
Not true.
Gideon Fredericks and Ruby Nellins might have had the means to make ice
but both of them had an alibi for Peggy Langdon's murder.
So that just leaves Mr Belcroft.
Who, it seems,
was trying to purchase properties from both of the victims.
Properties they were not keen to sell.
That still doesn't explain why he'd want to kill me.
I barely know the man.
Except...
Peggy Langdon said that Frances
was having an affair before she died.
What if the man she was seeing was Richard Belcroft?
Well, I don't see how that connects to you.
A few weeks before her death, Frances came to see me.
She wanted to know if it was always a sin to end a marriage.
What was your response?
Well, I explained that marriage is very often difficult
and that she'd made a commitment before God.
And that she should try to make it work.
What if she ended her relationship with Mr Belcroft
because of my advice? And now...
Now he's hellbent on wreaking his revenge.
Sid, go back to the Presbytery with Mrs McCarthy
and look after her.
I'm going to should speak with Richard Belcroft alone.
Are you sure that's a good idea?
I know a safe place.
Mr Belcroft. Thank you for your punctuality.
Your message said it was important.
A matter of death or life.
Isn't that a matter for the police?
Humour me.
The properties you are buying in Kembleford,
what do you want them for?
Holiday cottages, guest-houses.
Local industry is dying
and tourism is the future.
Walter Penmark and Peggy Langdon
stood in the way of your business plans.
And Mrs McCarthy, as it turns out,
inadvertently got in the way of your amorous intentions.
I can assure you I have no amorous intentions towards Mrs McCarthy.
Frances Penmark?
What led you to the misguided opinion that I might be involved?
Your deep freeze.
It's an extravagance, I know,
but part of my quest to drag Kembleford
into the modern world.
Or it would be if the blasted thing wasn't on the blink.
It's not working?
Keeps cutting out.
Sent it away to be repaired last week. Weighs a tonne,
I had to pay my old gardener to pick it up in his van.
You see, Father,
I don't have to murder people to solve my problems.
I have money for that.
Why are they doing this to me?
We'll get to the bottom of this. This was left on the doorstep.
Looks like a pig's tongue. With artistic embellishment.
I've had enough of this.
Father, you'd better go after him. No, I'll be fine.
Lock the door after me.
I will.
Sid...
Sid. Where are you going?
To end this. But we don't know who sent it.
Who else has pig tongues lying around?
And he's stopped her buying food in his shop.
Famine, remember?
We need to talk about this.
I've done talking.
Look, me and Mrs M, we haven't always seen eye-to-eye.
But whenever I've needed a hot meal, a nice cup of tea,
a place to stay, whenever I have needed someone
to tell me I am being an idiot,
she was there.
So if someone wants to mess with Mrs M,
they're gonna have to deal with me.
What're you playing at?
Excuse me? This tongue.
You sent that to Mrs McCarthy, didn't you?
Why would I send her free meat when she's barred from my shop?
Don't get clever with me, or I'll shove that tongue down your throat.
That came out wrong.
Sid. Don't pick a fight with a man holding a meat cleaver.
You should listen to the good Father.
You killed them, didn't you? Not guilty.
Why should I believe you?
Peggy Langdon has been a customer of mine for years.
As for Mr Penmark,
I won't pretend I'll shed a tear over him.
He was a cruel man.
And I was not surprised when I heard about his wife's "accident".
How do you mean, Mr Fredericks?
I know the mechanic who pulled that poor woman's car
out the river at Fernley Bridge.
It was a dry day, no skid marks,
and the brakes were working fine.
If she went over the side,
it's because she meant to.
Here to quote more Latin at me, Padre?
As a matter of fact, I came to give you this.
Very generous but next time
a bottle of single malt would suffice.
It was left at the Presbytery, addressed to Mrs McCarthy.
I see. Log that, will you?
And make sure you wrap it in something or it'll stink out
the evidence room. Yes, sir.
We'll be in touch if there's any more news.
Hope you weren't divulging details of an ongoing investigation?
Course not, sir.
Here you go.
Don't worry. It'll be our secret.
Been thinking...
Seeing as how the culprit can pass through locked doors,
leave no footprints and what-have-you,
you don't think that Frances Penmark has come back from beyond the grave
to avenge herself on those that wronged her?
BOTH: No.
Anything?
On the day Frances Penmark died
Walter Penmark was away on business.
With her sister already in the United States,
the body was identified by their gardener.
Only there's no name.
Well, maybe have a word with the neighbours,
see if they knew who it was?
No need.
KNOCK ON DOOR
Father.
Mrs Langdon's sister's coming up from Devon
to sort the place. I said I'd make a start.
You worked for Mr and Mrs Penmark, didn't you?
Did a bit of gardening for them, if that's what you mean?
That's how you knew about Walter Penmark's drinking.
He was a proud man.
He worked hard to keep that a secret.
You handed in your notice when Frances Penmark died.
It must have been difficult for you to go back there.
I left to train to be a fireman, Father. Serve my community.
How long were you and Mrs Penmark in love?
She was trapped in an unhappy marriage.
Her husband locked himself in his study,
working long hours.
And there were you, just outside her window.
Your landlady cottoned on, didn't she?
And when Frances discovered Mrs Langdon was spreading rumours
of her infidelity,
she went to an old friend for advice.
Mrs McCarthy told her to stay with her husband,
which she did.
But she couldn't crush the guilt or the loneliness.
The police report was inconclusive
but you must have known it was suicide.
You don't know what you're saying. I was their gardener, that's all.
You wanted revenge on the husband who made her miserable,
on the gossip who forced her into a corner,
and on the friend who convinced her to turn her back on you.
She was like the sunlight on a Spring morning.
And she loved me, I know she did.
We could've been happy, Father.
So you delivered the note to Walter Penmark.
And you went back later, drugged him and set him on fire.
The first on the scene,
it was easy for you to slip the key back in the lock on
the inside of the door.
Then you killed Peggy Langdon.
The block of ice from Richard Belcroft's deep freeze.
That freezer went straight to the workshop.
And as for Mr Penmark, well, check the fire report.
Alcohol was an accelerant.
He would've gone up in a flash.
But I was in church for a whole hour
before anyone even saw a wisp of smoke.
You had an accomplice.
Someone who had a deep freeze of their own.
Someone who could give you an alibi
for the time of Peggy Langdon's death.
Who loved Frances Penmark as much as you.
Someone who travelled halfway around the world to get revenge.
May I?
Oh, please. Now help yourself to my scones.
As many as you like.
I'm afraid I got a bit carried away this morning.
You do seem to have rather a lot.
I actually came to offering my catering services
at the next church fete. Oh, really?
I didn't think you were exactly fond of the church.
I'm fond of Kembleford.
And I spent a lot of time in the church as a girl.
Sunday school. Learning right from wrong.
Oh? I mustn't have rinsed
the pot out properly, it tastes funny...
It was all nonsense, of course,
but Frances swallowed every word of it.
Miss Nellins...
So when a stupid old woman told her that she would rot in hell
unless she stayed with her cold-hearted, abusive husband,
Frances believed her.
I had no idea what she was going through.
Well, let me inform you.
Because she told me in her letters.
She feared for her life.
Every. Single. Day.
Stupid woman.
You're making it worse. Leave it.
Get out!
Please,
I was only trying to help.
I really don't want to die.
I don't want you to die.
Not yet. Not here, anyway.
But come on, chop chop. You've only got a few more moments
of consciousness left and I'd hate to have to carry you.
All right.
I'll do whatever you say.
Smile and walk, that's all.
Call out or try to run and I'll just change my plans
and kill you on the spot.
Now move.
You were in pain. You lost the woman you loved.
But this ends now.
What are you planning to do to Mrs McCarthy?
Don't make me run, Mick. Don't make me...
Nice try.
What are you planning? You'll see.
Father. That smoke's coming from the Presbytery.
What about him?!
What have you given me?
Just a little something I brought over from the States.
It's all the rage over there.
In small doses, it helps you to lose weight, allegedly.
Too much, though, and your blood sugar drops through the floor,
you lose consciousness,
fall into a coma,
and die.
Very much like starving to death. But quicker.
Please, Father.
Mrs M? Mrs M? Are you in here?
Hello? Mrs M?
No sign of her.
Nor Miss Nellins. The cafe's locked.
Do you think the smoke was a distress call?Probably.
Then where is she?! I'll check her house.
Wait, Walter Penmark and Peggy Langdon both died
where they received their messages.
Him in his study, her in her garden.
Mrs M got hers in...
Sweet dreams. Must dash.
Mr Belcroft has offered to buy my cafe.
I'm returning to America.
I was going to get the doctor. Mrs McCarthy is unwell.
Mrs McCarthy? Can you hear me?
What've you done? Me? Nothing.
Don't lie, Ruby. You're in a house of God.
It always comes back to God.
Fetch an ambulance.
Hold on. Please.
She can't hear you. It's appropriate that it ends here.
Where it all began. The hypocrisy. The petty malice.
Do you blame God for your sister's death?
I blame people.
For making Frances feel ashamed and afraid.
That's why the winged dagger is so appropriate.
A symbol of violence
and fear masquerading as righteousness.
Do not sully your sister's memory
by speaking of this as an act of love.
What do you think your sister would feel
seeing you destroying the lives of others in her name?
Destroying your own life?
I don't care what happens to me.
You will.
When the dust settles and the grief is still there.
When you realise your vengeance has achieved nothing,
solved nothing.
And this will haunt you for the rest of your life.
Ambulance is coming, but it'll be a while.
What have you given her.
It's too late.
Not if I wring your neck, it's not.
Sid.
Bridgit, God is with you.
He will help you to fight this.
Why? Ruby?
If it hadn't been for Mrs McCarthy,
Frances would have left Walter.
She could have been happy.
Listen to your heart.
Frances would not have wanted this.
And what about what I want?
I want my sister back.
I want this pain to stop.
This pain?
It's guilt.
Guilt, that you weren't there.
Guilt, that you couldn't save her.
But you can save her friend.
Because whatever advice Mrs McCarthy gave,
she was her friend.
And she's my friend, too.
And I am begging you,
don't let my friend die.
Chemist. Activated charcoal.
I just want my sister back.
Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum.
Benedicta tu in mulieribus,
et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus. Christos.
Mick Bidley didn't get far.
We nabbed him trying to get on a bus in Hambleston.
Put up a bit of a fight but nothing my men couldn't handle.
And Ruby Nellins has made a full confession.
I shall pray for them both.
Poor Frances.
I only wish she'd told me everything.
Maybe I could have done more to help her.
Your words came with the best intentions.
Still, I'll be more careful about what advice
I offer in the future.
And after what happened to Peggy Langdon,
I certainly won't be listening to any more idle gossip.
Glad to hear it, Mrs M.
By the way, I had a word with Mr Fredericks
and he's agreed to let you back in the shop.
Reckons, under the circumstances, you've been punished enough.
Oh, that's very civil of him.
We'll leave you to rest.
That's the third gentleman caller she's had today.
What? Nothing.
I wasn't casting aspersions.
We're just really glad that you're on the mend, Mrs M.