Father Brown

Enjoying the match, Inspector?

Inspector Mallory!

Padre. What do YOU want?

We were just pondering your sudden interest in bowls.

Are you undercover?

My secondment's up, and red tape dictates

I have to apply for my own job.

It's at this point you say, "Surely a formality?"

But for the part when asked to describe my involvement

in the local community,

preferably something that didn't involve bell ringing, rambling,

children or any other form of undue exertion...

And the thing about bowls is...

.. nothing... ever... happens.

My husband, Eric, our chairman.

- Hello there. - Men's skip Roger Frobisher

and his doubles partner, Shirley Kreiger.

Excuse me, Christina.

And I think you know our treasurer, Mrs McCarthy.

Inspector, I didn't know you liked bowls!

I thought it time I got more involved in the local community.

Hear, hear. Welcome on board.

Do you have any experience?

None whatsoever.

We welcome all new members from novice to advanced.

Advanced being preferable, however.

I'm afraid Roger is always this literal.

For the time being, I'm happy just to watch and learn.

- Mainly watch. - That's the spirit.

So, let's get you shown around pronto before the opposition arrive.

I say! Who is THAT?!

My brother Alec. Visiting for the weekend.

You never told me you had a brother.

Doubtless because we're more like Cain and Abel

than Romulus and Remus.

MISS Shirley Krieger.

Do you like bowls, Mr Frobisher?

Alec. It just got more interesting.

You're not at all like Roger.

I can't believe the two of you are brothers!

Eric Worcester. And you must be Roger's brother.

That's a very English name for a Pole.

Anglicised the minute I set foot on Blighty.

Didn't want to sound like Johnny Foreigner.

That was in '48 in the Polish resettlement.

Now my husband is more English than John Bull.

Auschwitz?

Przepraszam.

Oh! You speak Polish?

I was with the 11th Armoured when we liberated Bergen-Belsen.

"I'm sorry" were the first words I learned in Polish.

No others needed, except for...

- Pomszcze cie. - I shall avenge you.

Gandhi said, "An eye for an eye will make the whole world blind."

Blessed are the merciful for they shall obtain mercy.

I choose to live in the warmth of the present rather than

dwell in the cold of the past.

The English have a saying. Revenge is a dish best served cold.

Revenge is the Lord's. He will repay.

And if there is no God? No Day of Judgment?

Then human justice is all that's left.

Excuse me.

Don't be taken in by him.

You are strange, Roger. Whatever do you mean?

What I said.

- I trust you're glad you came. - I am indeed.

Sausage roll?

Oh.

Please don't near me -- you know what it does to my chest.

I could do with stretching my legs.

There's a fine view from the back of the clubhouse.

- I could show you. - What could be more delightful?

You haven't told me what line of work you're in.

Pen pushing, in the main. I'd much rather talk about you.

Enjoying the game, Inspector?

Inspector Mallory!

Padre, what do YOU want?

< We were just pondering your sudden interest in bowls.

- Are you undercover? - My secondment's up, and red tape dictates

< I have to apply for my own job.

This is a crime scene! Please move away.

I didn't know you were into bowls, sir.

Don't you start. Deceased's name is Alec Frobisher.

Garrotted with a thin ligature sometime between 4 and 4.30pm,

when the place was like Piccadilly Circus.

Anyone could have slipped away and done it.

Plenty of suspects, then.

A veritable cornucopia. Kembleford versus Little Haydock.

More than a dozen players plus a dozen spectators.

Everything all right, sir?

Deputy Commander. Scotland Yard?

- A dead big cheese. - That's all we need.

Alec Frobisher's file, sir. CID,

until the war, when he served as Captain in the 11th Armoured Division.

After Armistice, he transferred to the Military Police

attached to the War Crimes Commission in Nuremberg till

discharge in 1948, when he joined Scotland Yard as Deputy Commander.

Don't I know it. Top brass are all over us like a rash

and thus far we've got sweet Fanny Arkwright to go on.

Anything in the postmortem, sir?

"Posteriorly the ligature marks appear complex, consistent

"with the effective application of a garrotte or Spanish Windlass,"

ie the killer knew what they were doing.

Trained or with a lucky knowledge of anatomy.

As for the murder weapon...

Fibres in the wound match the type found in one of these,

which hardly narrows our options.

Someone ex-military, perhaps? Or a professional kill?

I mean, he was ex-CID.

He must have collected a few enemies.

Statistics, however, tell us the perpetrator is usually someone

found closer to home.

He seemed to take his brother's death remarkably calmly.

Maybe he and I should...

You need to sort out your front desk. Mickey Mouse out there

didn't know me from Adam.

And you are?

DI Ironside from HQ.

You didn't get the memo?

Clearly not.

You've managed to get yourselves a very important corpse.

I've been sent to relieve you of the case.

On what grounds?

On the grounds that the investigating officer is,

A, a witness, B, technically a suspect and, C, we can't afford

any conflict of interest which may jeopardise a conviction.

Not a moment too soon.

Well, as this appears to be the investigation office,

you won't mind if I commandeer it.

This is MY office.

I should explain, I'm no longer on the case.

I'm here in a private capacity to offer my condolences

to a fellow club member.

As you can see, I am awash with condolences.

You may as well join the throng.

Were you and your brother close?

I hadn't seen hide nor hair of him in years.

Until this weekend.

So his visit was... unusual?

He had come here to sign some papers regarding our late father's will.

Although affairs that will be much simpler now.

Now?

Well, now I am the sole beneficiary.

Honestly, Roger, why don't you come right out and say you murdered him?

He's a policeman, remember?

Off duty.

We weren't close, but being his only surviving relative,

his recent demise has left me feeling...

.. unexpectedly alone.

I was the only member of my family to survive the camp.

I know that emptiness.

And then I met Eric.

Swept a fair damsel off her feet.

Brought me here for a new life.

I discovered it only takes two people to make a family.

Ah, my communicants await.

Do excuse me.

What are you up to, Padre?

I thought you were off the case.

I won't let some pompous air bag from HQ steal MY thunder.

So if you have any information, I trust you'll share it.

IF I have any information, I will do just that.

Talk of the devil!

I was just saying to Goodfellow,

word at HQ is you've got yourself a pet priest.

We'd describe him more as a thorn in the side.

Isn't that right, Sergeant?

Father Brown rather goes with the furniture round here, sir.

Not when I'm in charge.

And what makes you think there's a vacancy?

I hear you're headed back north and the inspector's job is up for grabs.

You've heard wrong. I've decided to reapply.

Like I said. Up for grabs.

- What can I do for you, Father? - Ah, good morning, Sergeant Goodfellow.

May I speak with Inspector Ironside?

I think I have some information on the Frobisher case.

Father Brown would like a word about the Frobisher case, sir.

I believe I have pertinent information...

Let's start as we mean to go on.

Unlike OTHERS,

I'm capable of doing my job without the help of the local Miss Marple.

And you should know better.

- Now, get him out, and leave the detecting to me. - Sir.

I'll have you know, flower arranging was one of the few things

I excelled at in finishing school. Along with skiing.

And getting expelled.

Where is he?

- HE has a name. - I believe the Padre has information.

But as you're here, Miss Windermere, perhaps YOU can enlighten me.

I assume it has something to do with yesterday's antics?

I thought you were off the case.

Off the case and out of here, if my replacement solves it first.

Oh, surely not.

Wile E Coyote has his eye on my job.

The thing is... we seem to have taken seed here.

The missus has joined the WI,

John's out climbing trees with the Cubs

and the air's done wonders for Janet's chest after her TB.

Bless the child.

And my golf handicap is down to 19.