Suicide, no doubt.
We haven't found a note, sir.
Not all suicide victims leave behind a note, Sergeant.
Who found the body?
Uh, caretaker.
George Oakley. He found it when he came to open up.
One of the visitors waiting to get in spotted it.
George?
Suicide, sir.
Oh, my word.
And you are?
Alistair Helmsley. My family owns the tower.
Alistair Helmsley, the MP?
Yes, that's right. Do you know who it is?
We found his driving licence. Name of Reginald Brody.
Name mean anything to you?
Well, we had a gardener once with the surname Brody,
but that was years ago.
I'm sorry, sir. I've been meaning to replace that padlock for months.
It's not your fault.
Well, if there's anything I can do, I'm up at the house.
Emily has some jobs for you.
- She's frantic about this fundraiser. - Yes, sir.
One thing I did find a bit odd, sir.
Why was the victim wearing a scarf?
- It's the middle of summer. - Well, it was chilly last night, Sergeant.
- I had to wear my long johns. - Inspector Mallory? - Yes?
Chief Inspector Valentine. Scotland Yard.
I'm taking over your investigation.
Jumped off the top. Or pushed, maybe?
What makes you think it could be foul play?
Well, it's always a possibility, isn't it, Father?
I don't think we should make assumptions.
How do you know all this, Mrs M?
You've been here all morning.
Betty McDougal telephoned.
She was taking her niece to visit the tower this morning,
when they found the body. That poor man.
And his poor family.
- Did Betty say who it was? - She tried to look at the face.
Of course she did.
But the body was too...disfigured.
I'll call in at the police station after Mass.
See what I can find out.
You said the door was locked from this side?
Not locked, sir.
That chair - wedged up against the handle.
Took some welly to push it open, mind.
And no other way on or off the roof...
..except this one.
May I ask, sir, what's your interest in this case?
Reginald Brody was involved in a previous investigation of mine.
Even so, there's nothing to suggest foul play.
It's suicide, plain and simple.
If there's one thing I learned in Kembleford,
nothing is ever plain and simple.
Something I found a bit odd, sir.
Yes, Sergeant?
The victim was wearing a scarf. And, as I said...
- What colour was it? - Red.
Are you going to tell me what's going on, sir...?
You don't think we should cancel?
It might look heartless if we don't.
Raising money for war veterans
is hardly going to make you look heartless.
Thought you were still in bed.
Got up early. Went for a walk.
Make yourself scarce over the next couple of days, will you?
- We've got a lot on. - Why don't I just disappear altogether? - Perfect.
Chief Inspector Valentine to see you, sir.
Valentine?
- I take it you remember me. - What brings you back?
The dead body at the foot of your tower.
Reginald Brody, father of Philip Brody, your former gardener.
- Good Lord. - Did any of you have any contact with him recently?
Mr Oakley?
First I saw of him was this morning.
Dead.
You found Natasha Lipinski's body, too.
- What are you insinuating? - Just stating facts, Mr Helmsley.
You're stating coincidences, Chief Inspector.
You don't think it was suicide?
William, isn't it? Were you here last night?
Yes, still living with us, if you can believe that.
See anything?
- No. - What evidence do you have to suspect foul play?
I'm not at liberty to say.
But you think there's a connection between Natasha's murder
and Reginald's death?
- I'm exploring that possibility. - You arrested Philip yourself.
Are you saying you made a mistake, sir?
The Helmsleys' maid, Natasha Lipinski,
found strangled in the gardener's shed eight years ago.
The gardener, Philip Brody, was arrested and charged,
and later sentenced to be hanged.
Commuted to life imprisonment.
Miss Lipinski had recently ended a relationship with him -
not amicably, by all accounts...
..and it was his scarf that was used to strangle her.
Now, an identical red scarf turns up on his father's body.
With all due respect, sir, that's hardly a smoking gun.
Father Brown.
I was wondering when you'd show up.
Chief Inspector Valentine.
Are you here about the suicide?
I'd forgotten how fast news travels in Kembleford.
It was on Mrs McCarthy's afternoon bulletin.
Apologies, Chief Inspector.
- As you can see, Padre, we're rather busy. - Nah, let him stay.
Old time's sake.
I think it's possible that Reginald Brody was investigating
Natasha's murder.
Yeah, but why now? After all this time?
His son hanged himself in prison three weeks ago.
I suspect that was the catalyst.
So he came here to clear his son's name?
And he found something that got himself killed?
- That's my working theory. - And what about the rooftop?
Admittedly, that is a puzzle.
Sealed rooftop, sheer drops on every side.
No apparent way for the killer to have gotten on or off.
That's up your alley, isn't it, Father?
Tell me more.
Inspector, Sergeant -
ask around the clothing shops and markets in the surrounding area,
see if anyone bought a red scarf recently.
Father Brown, you're with me.
Don't forget, the local paper are coming to do a profile
this afternoon. You can wear the tie I bought you.
That one makes you look too severe.
What's the matter?
If Valentine thinks he made a mistake arresting Philip,
then who's he going to start suspecting next?
One of us.
Don't worry about Valentine. We can handle him.
You can do it, Father.
Even looking at it from this distance gives me vertigo.
Big breaths. Don't look down. You'll be fine.
Inspector Valentine!
CHIEF Inspector.
Mrs McCarthy.
Are you back in charge at the station?
No, just visiting, I'm afraid.
Not that there is anything especially wrong with
Inspector Mallory, it's just that... he doesn't have your charm.
Mrs McCarthy, if I didn't know better,
I'd say you were flirting with me.
Now, you must come to dinner at the presbytery.
I will make my special shepherd's pie.
And you can meet Penelope.
- Penelope? - Lady Felicia's niece.
A word in private, please, Chief Inspector,
unless, of course, Mrs McCarthy's now a member of your crack squad.
Just got back from Hambleston Market, sir.
One of the traders there says he sold a red scarf
early this morning as he was opening up.
To William Helmsley.
Looks like you've got a reprieve, Father.
Let's bring him in.
Market trader confirms he sold you this scarf first thing this morning.
Perhaps you can explain how it found its way here around Reginald's neck.
It fell...
..out of my bag on the way home. Someone must've picked it up.
You expect me to believe that?
Why the burning desire to buy a scarf first thing in the morning,
- in the middle of summer? - It gets cold at night.
A scarf virtually identical to the one used
to strangle Natasha Lipinski.
Circumstantial.
You know something.
Amen.
My very own recipe.
I take it there'll be award-winning strawberry scones
- for dessert, Mrs M? - In your honour, of course!
So tell me about the old days with Father Brown. I'm dying to know.
Well, he could be a pain in the proverbial,
- if you don't mind me saying, Father. - I've been called worse.
But I'll admit there was the odd time
he solved something before I did.
"The odd time"?
And so now he's your partner in this case from the past?
I wouldn't say "partner."
Deputy?
I wouldn't say "deputy."
Assistant?
Yeah, I can live with that.
I met the Helmsleys once. They were friends with my parents.
What did you think of them?
The brother was a bit odd.
Shell shock. He's been like that since the war.
So, you think he killed that man?
I'm afraid I can't discuss the case, Mrs M.
Oh, come, come, Inspector. A few titbits.
You'd be surprised what we can come up
with when we put our heads together.
I've no doubt.
It's a shame Father Brown was in Rome
at the time of the original murder.
Otherwise, I'm sure he would have solved the whole thing years ago.
I'm sure Chief Inspector Valentine did everything he could.
I've missed this.
Country air.
Open spaces.
Perhaps you should visit more often.
Reginald Brody came to see me after I'd arrested his son.
Pleaded with me to take another look at the case.
I wrote him off as a desperate parent -
in denial that his own flesh and blood
could've done something so terrible. I've seen hundreds of them.
And besides, the prosecuting solicitor had already
gone ahead with the charges.
So the case was out of your hands?
It's my worst nightmare, putting away the wrong man.
It's what keeps me up at night.
It's what makes you a good policeman.
What did William Helmsley say?
Not much. But he knows something.
I think he put that scarf around Reginald's neck
to send me a message, make sure I understood he was murdered.
Perhaps I could talk to him.
Let me try and get him alone first. See what I can get out of him.
You're the boss.
If you'd said that a bit more often, we might have got on better.
Mr Helmsley.
They told me not to talk to you without a solicitor.
You don't need a solicitor. You're not a suspect, you're a witness.
They said you'd try to trick me into admitting something I didn't do.
I'm not going to trick you. I just want to know what happened.
He came to the house, asking questions, making accusations.
Reginald Brody?
Alistair and Emily were out.
I told him to come back later - that they'd have the answers
he was looking for. The next morning...
..I found him...
..dead. I knew it wasn't suicide.
He was a man on a mission, on a quest for the truth.
The last thing he'd do was kill himself.
And Natasha Lipinski?
She saw behind the curtain.
What?
She found the room.
What room?
My family - they're evil.
Evil?
I don't know what else to call it.
Did your brother kill Natasha Lipinski?
Your sister-in-law?
Both of them?
Open up! This is the police!
Police! Open up! Open this door!
What the...?
Chief Inspector?
What are you doing here?
We got an anonymous telephone call, sir.
It said there was an altercation on the roof.
- I didn't do this. - You're the only one up here, sir.
I... I've been set up.
I was hit on the back of the head.
I'm sorry, Chief Inspector, I have no choice
but to arrest you on suspicion of murder. Goodfellow.
You are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so,
but whatever you say may be taken in writing and given in evidence.
Inspector.
Sergeant.
Chief Inspector.
Another one. Great.
What can I do for you, sir?
Special Branch are obligated to investigate the arrest
of a police officer, Inspector,
particularly when the charge is murder.
Evil?
Said Natasha "saw behind the curtain."
Found some sort of room.
He was going to tell me more, but...
The killer silenced him and framed you.
In exactly the same way they staged Reginald Brody's suicide.
What's he doing here?
Spiritual counsel, sir.
Chief Inspector Sullivan.
Well, this is quite a reunion.
Valentine.
Sullivan.
I wish it were under better circumstances.
Likewise.
I assume you have some thoughts, Father?
Chief Inspector Valentine believes, as I do,
that there was somebody else on the roof with him.
The door was barricaded.
There was no other way on or off the roof.
Not to mention, the bloody knife had his fingerprints all over it.
And that?
Sustained from the struggle, I expect.
The killer hit me from behind.
No other way on or off the roof?
Well, not unless the killer could fly.
I'll be taking over this investigation.
Father Brown, you're with me.
Still have trouble with heights, Father?
Yes.
I do.
I...I'm afraid this is as far as I'm going to make it.
You've done well, Father.
OK, three turrets, each with doors.
Store cupboard.
There's a broken flagpole.
Looks like blood to me.
From hitting the Chief Inspector over the head, perhaps?
Perhaps.
Empty.
Solid masonry walls.
No secret passages, as far as I can tell.
No holds or ledges to climb down.
Can I help you?
Chief Inspector Sullivan. And you are?
George Oakley. Caretaker.
Are you all right, Father?
Just catching my breath.
This tower's a crime scene, Mr Oakley.
It's strictly off-limits until I say otherwise.
But seeing as you're here,
where were you between 11.30am and midday today?
Up at the house.
You can ask the Helmsleys.
Are you accusing me of something, sir?
Just asking questions.
I wouldn't hurt anyone in that family, sir.
I've been with them for over 20 years.
Is there any other way off this roof besides that door?
Not without a parachute.
And the turrets? What's up there?
Bird droppings, mostly.
I'd like to take a look. Can I borrow your ladder?
I'll hold the bottom in case there's a wind.
Anything else I can help you with, sir,
my lodgings are next to the main house.
That'll be all for now.
Father.
Not even one hour in Kembleford,
and already my suit has been blemished with bird muck.
The perils of the countryside.
And still no clue as to how the killer managed to escape.
I think you should check the balcony.
Balcony?
For what?
Loose mortar, damage of any kind.
Scuff marks!
You're saying...?
Whoever did this wasn't afraid of heights.
- But how? - I believe we are looking for a rope ladder.
Don't mourn him.
He was weak.
Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later.
He wasn't weak.
He was...
..traumatised.
He didn't deserve that.
Valentine will pay for your brother's death.
But for now, you need to put aside your personal grief
and look to the future.
Our future.
What are you doing with that?
I was going to phone the guests.
- Cancel the... - What did I just say?
How's that going to look?
Two deaths in two days - one of them my own brother -
and we're throwing a party?
A fundraiser for war veterans, just like your brother.
It'll make me look callous.
It will make you look strong.
Like you're putting the needs of the many ahead of your personal grief.
It'll make you look like a leader.
You all right, sir?
Who do they think they are?
Coming in here with their suits and their chiselled jaws,
trampling all over my investigation.
This is my patch now, not theirs.
And to top it off, they treat Father Brown
like he's God's bleeding gift to detective work!
Well, I think your jaw is very chiselled, sir.
Don't patronise me, Sergeant.
Sergeant, release Chief Inspector Valentine immediately.
Yes, sir. The postmortem report for... Reginald Brody.
Thank you.
Care to let me in on it, sir?
According to the coroner's report,
Reginald Brody was already dead when he was thrown from the tower,
likely from an injury to the back of the head,
which I think we can safely say
confirms Chief Inspector Valentine's initial suspicions.
The killer climbed...
I'm not talking to you, Padre.
The killer climbed down the outside of the building, Inspector.
"Climbed"?
Music to my ears.
Who do I have to thank?
I'll brief you inside Inspector Mallory's office.
If you don't mind, Inspector?
Oh, be my guest!
Oh, and Father, since you've proved yourself useful thus far,
care to join us?
Why not just deputise him and give him a badge?
A badge would be nice.
Don't push your luck.
I'll see what I can do.
We're not sending civilians to carry out an illegal search.
They wouldn't be doing an illegal search,
they'd be going to a fundraising party,
- and if they happen to stumble on something... - "Happen to stumble"?
-...they report it to us. - It would be inadmissible!
They'll be guests at a party.
Father, your friend Bunty - she said her parents knew the Helmsleys.
- She could wangle some invites, couldn't she? - I have no doubt.
See? It has nothing to do with us.
It has everything to do with us if we've sent them there.
No-one has to know that!
Are you suggesting we falsify our report?
Look, we need to find the room William was trying to tell me about.
We don't have enough evidence for a warrant. This is the only way.
I'm with Chief Inspector Sullivan.
There've been quite enough amateurs involved in this case as it is.
- Inspector Mallory has a point. - Sirs...
We're not sending civilians into a potentially dangerous situation.
Father Brown can handle himself.
- Sirs! - And I'm not going to be held responsible.
Then hold me responsible!
- Sirs! - What?!
Definitely. The three of us.
Yes. Yes.
Thank you, Bunty.
Splendid.
What have you done?
I'd like to thank you all for being here today.
As many of you know, it's in the shadow of a great personal loss.
But it's for men like my brother that we're here.
We must never turn our backs on the brave patriots
who fought for this country.
Patriots like William, who showed me that the wounds of war
aren't always easy to see.
They're wounds of the soul.
Wounds of the heart.
But it's through our work and your generous donations
that we can make sure that each one of these lost souls
receives the help they need.
We thank you from the bottom of our hearts
for helping to make a difference.
Hear, hear.
Let's split up. We'll cover more ground.
No. Whatever it is they're trying to hide,
they are prepared to kill for it. We'll work together.
What exactly are we supposed to be looking for?
Skeletons in closets.
- And what are they supposed to look like? - Bony?
"She saw behind the curtain."
What's that flag?
The Union Movement.
Don't you ever read a newspaper, Penelope?
It's a political party -
the successor to the British Union Of Fascists.
They share the same flag.
And the same vile beliefs.
- Maybe we should go. - Agreed.
They're late.
Let's give them five more minutes.
They left the key in the lock.
Forget the lock.
No! You will break your neck.
You are underestimating my gymnastic prowess, Mrs M.
Oh!
Thank you, Father.
Why on Earth did you lock them in?
- What else was I supposed to do? - Do you know who they are?
I think one of them was the Windermeres' daughter.
She telephoned for some invitations earlier today.
- Windermere?! - What are we going to do?
I'm terribly sorry. This event is invitation only.
We've had a report of false imprisonment.
What?! That's ridiculous.
I had to climb through a window.
Bunty, how lovely to see you.
I'm sure whatever's happened is an innocent mistake.
- It's probably one of the staff. - Where's the room? - I'll show you.
Inspector, make sure no-one leaves.
You all right?
- Inspector Sullivan. - Mrs McCarthy.
Well done, Bunty.
All in a day's work.
It's my late father's private library.
Reading material appears to have a common theme.
He was a Blackshirt.
We spent six years fighting a war against people like him.
You should be ashamed of yourselves!
I am ashamed.
But those were his beliefs, not mine.
So you keep all this because of what? Love and affection?
My father requested in his will that the library remain untouched.
Even so, it wouldn't help your political career, would it,
if this got out? Your family having fascist leanings?
My husband's just told you. We're not fascists.
People would say you were.
Sounds like motive to me.
You haven't got a shred of evidence against either one of us.
- These yours? - My school trophies.
For all his flaws, he was still a father, proud of his son.
- So you're a climber? - So?
Our killer has a head for heights.
Alistair Helmsley, I'm arresting you on suspicion of murder.
What?!
You're not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so, but
what you say will be put in writing and may be given in evidence.
This is ridiculous!
I... I'm going to telephone Julian.
Don't say anything until he gets there.
Father, what is it?
- Where are you going? - Won't be long!
We didn't have the sign on the door back then.
But Natasha took it upon herself to find the master key and go in.
Came out sobbing.
Accusing us of being Nazis.
Ran out of the house, and that's it. It was the last I saw of her.
Alive.
Why didn't you tell me this back when I first investigated?
For obvious reasons.
You didn't want anyone to know of your fascist affiliations?
We've told you, we are not fascists.
Then why did your brother think you had something to do with the deaths?
William's always thought that I killed Natasha...
..even after Philip was convicted.
Thought I silenced her to keep the family secret.
It's paranoid delusion. He's been like that since the war.
If you're not fascists, then why was there a half-finished cigar
and a glass of brandy on the reading table
of your father's private library?
They were my father's. I left them exactly as...
The residue on the glass was fresh.
What were you doing? Soaking up the ambience?
A little light reading?
Your brother told me that Reginald Brody
came asking questions on the night before his death.
- Did he come to you? - No.
What about your wife?
She didn't say anything.
I don't know.
I can assure you, this is all a terrible misunderstanding,
and, quite frankly, disgraceful conduct by the police.
Inspector Mallory, have you seen Father Brown?
I thought he was with you.
He was, but then he found a clue.
- What clue? - We don't know.
But he certainly had that look on his face.
Which means those bone-headed imbeciles might have arrested
the wrong man. Where did you see him last?
Father Brown? I saw him heading towards the tower.
Can I help you?
What are you doing with that?
Alistair Helmsley's father was your commanding officer
in the Parachute Regiment, wasn't he?
I saw a picture of you with your section in his private library.
So?
You must have been through a lot together.
He saved my life.
More than once.
He taught me the value of honour...
..and loyalty.
You've been protecting the family from the start,
haven't you, Mr Oakley?
And I presume you used the boat hook to unhook the rope ladder?
Up.
Run back to the house. Telephone for reinforcements.
I'm not going anywhere!
- I can't... - Go!
Goodfellow!
After you, Father.
To the edge.
Ladder.
Now jump.
It'll be easier if you jump...
..but I'll throw you over myself if I have to.
You killed to protect a secret.
But that secret's been exposed.
What are you talking about?
The police have seen the room.
Alistair's been arrested.
I've failed him.
George, those three lives you took...
..do they mean anything?
I made a promise.
To kill?
To protect the family name.
To see them rise to power.
To make this country pure.
William told Chief Inspector Valentine...
..that the Helmsleys were evil.
But in my experience, meeting people who feel like you do,
it isn't evil I see.
It's fear.
I'm not afraid.
Fear of anyone who isn't like them.
Fear that the world's changing too fast.
Fear that their lives don't have any meaning,
desperate for a scapegoat.
But what always breaks my heart is that their capacity
to see the humanity in other people, to see their souls...
..is so limited.
Police! Open up!
Nice shot.
I'm all right, Father.
George, no!
Why should you care?
I care for your soul as much as any other.
- You're under arrest. - Good job, Inspector.
You're not getting off that easy.
George Oakley, I'm arresting you for the murders
of Natasha Lipinski, Reginald Brody, and William Helmsley.
You're not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so,
but what you say may be put in writing and given in evidence.
You all right?
I'm fine, thank you, sir.
Well, you've overcome your fear of heights, Father.
- Congratulations. - Thank you.
I'll get back to terra firma now.
We can put out a press statement.
Denounce my father's beliefs...
- "Denounce his beliefs"? - In the strongest terms.
It's been leaked to the press.
I've had three phone calls already.
I'll write something up straight away.
It's over.
Our futures are no longer aligned, Alistair.
What?
It's one thing to hide what you believe.
But to denounce it? To turn your back on your own father?
To betray who you really are?
You can't possibly imagine I'd stay married to someone so feeble.
I'd say our work here is done.
Thank you, Father, for your help.
And Inspector Mallory, Sergeant Goodfellow,
we'll be putting you both forward for commendations for bravery.
- Thank you, sir. - Much appreciated, sir.
- Much deserved. - And may I say,
it's been an absolute pleasure working with the two of you.
Nothing like ending the day on a victory.
- I'll see you at the Yard. - Thank you, Chief Inspector.
Till next time, Father.
Everything all right?
Just glad to finally get the right man.
Why don't you stay on for a few days?
Enjoy the countryside.
I've discovered some splendid new rambles.
It's beautiful, isn't it?
Stunning!
Do you mind if we, er...?
I'm not as young as I was.
That makes two of us.
It wasn't much of a victory, was it?
Three deaths, and my mistake that led to all of it.
It was George Oakley's fanaticism that led to all of it.
I put away the wrong man, Father.
- I'll have to live with that. - Yes, you will.
But you are a good man. A man of conscience.
Otherwise, you wouldn't feel the way you do.
Thank you, Father.
Which reminds me...
Little gift.
Even had it engraved.
Don't tell Inspector Mallory.
Wouldn't dream of it.