Father Brown

GATES SQUEAK

MAGPIES CHATTER

HIS FOOTSTEPS ECHO OUT

Anyone at home?

CLOCK TICKS

Bloomin' Nora!

Where d'you come from?

The presbytery.

Before that, a rather delicious afternoon tea

with Mr and Mrs Granforth...

although I confess to eating more than one custard tart.

I don't know what you think you're doing here

but this is private property.

I know.

I saw the sign.

However, I was invited.

By telephone...

to hear confession.

I thought, perhaps, someone had taken up residence.

Hardly likely, considering what happened here.

They give you a name, this mysterious penitent of yours?

Not something I would usually divulge.

Well that's a pity

because I also received a phone call.

Anonymous. Asked me to come here.

Claimed he had new information about the Haggard murders.

How intriguing!

A load of horse manure, more like.

I suspected it was a hoax at the time.

Now I see you here, I'm certain of it.

I'm off home before my chops get cold!

Should we not wait?

Perhaps our mutual friend has merely been delayed.

Take a look around you, Padre.

No one's set foot in here for years.

But stay if you wish.

You can entertain the spiders with your latest sermon.

If no one's been here for years Inspector...

who wound the clock?

CLOCK TICKS

PHONE RINGS

PHONE CONTINUES RINGING

BIRDS CHIRP - COCKEREL CROWS

Mornin!

Guess I'm not the only sinner to 'ave caught a few winks

in the shadow of angels!

Alright there, lad?

Right. Set up a cordon.

I don't want members of the public traipsing all over the churchyard.

Yes, sir. - Constable Hart!

Pop over to Inspector Mallory's.

I think he might have overslept.

Tell him we need him here straight away. - Yes, sir.

HE SIGHS

You don't expect it, do you?

Right on God's doorstep.

Have you any idea who he was?

Not yet.

His face rings a bell, mind

but I just can't put my finger on where I might have seen him.

Do you know what upsets me the most?

It was so preventable.

Any vagrant in such dire need of help had only to knock at the presbytery door

and they'd have been offered a nice, hot bowl of soup at the very least.

Talking of vagrants, guess who found him.

May I say you're lookin' as comely as the cornflowers on the common, Mrs McCarthy.

Mr Slow.

I suspect the deceased gentleman's problems

went beyond where his next meal was coming from.

We found an empty bottle of barbiturates

by the body.

He poisoned himself!

And on consecrated ground!

We mustn't jump to conclusions, Mrs McCarthy.

Could've been an accidental overdose.

By the cut of him

I'll wager it was the final, foolish act of a desperate man.

Mrs M!

I thought you you'd gone to find Father Brown?

Well that's just it.

He wasn't in his study and I couldn't find him anywhere else either.

That's odd.

We've had a few problems locating Inspector Mallory, too.

No one's seen him all morning.

No doubt he's visiting one of his flock.

Or perhaps he's gone fishing.

Gone fishing?

Father Brown wouldn't know one end of the fishing rod from the other.

Still... it's very unlike him to disappear like that

without saying something to me first.

According to this...

he has no appointments this morning.

And last entry was yesterday.

"Noon. Confession. Spencer H."

That is Father Brown's private diary!

Who's Spencer H?

I have absolutely no idea.

I can't recall anyone in Kembleford with the Christian name of Spencer.

Well...

perhaps he went to find this Spencer fellow.

It got late...

so they offered Father Brown

a bed for the night...

and he's still there

tucking into breakfast. Mystery solved.

Except, clever clogs

that appointment was for noon.

Now, unless Father Brown was giving shrift to Jack The Ripper

it wouldn't have taken until nightfall! Would it?

Well, I still think we should find this Spencer chap

and ask him if Father Brown mentioned where he was headed.

And how exactly do you propose we do that?

Well, you have access to the church register, haven't you?

What a waste of time!

Kembleford had such a disconcerting deficit of Spencers.

Mrs McCarthy!

I'm sorry, Mr Slow...

I 'eard you was on the hunt for the good Father?

Do you know where he is?

Well... not as such.

Then we must bid you good day.

Unless you know anyone called Spencer who has a surname beginning with H?

I knew a Spencer in the army.

Corporal in the Royal Engineers. But he was a Pratt.

I mean, his surname was Pratt

which doesn't begin-- - Goodbye, Mr Slow.

But I did see 'im! The Father.

Where?

Here!

Yesterday, late afternoon.

Six-ish.

No clue where 'e was trundlin' off to, mind.

Evenin', Father!

I remember it cos he usually stops for a chat

only 'e looked like he was in a hurry.

Anyway, I'm off to the Red Lion

but if I sees 'im, I'll come find you.

Most kind.

Only man of the cloth worth the leather in my shoe!

So, perhaps this confession was postponed until later in the evening?

Don't suppose Father Brown has turned up yet?

Sadly not.

Only, according to his wife

Inspector Mallory didn't make it home last night.

Desk Sergeant said the Inspector got a call around six.

Sir?

Inspector Mallory speaking.

Actually, I was just on my way home so if this could wait...

Is that so?

Why don't you come to the station and--

Alright, calm down.

Where do you want to meet?

Give me 20 minutes.

I need the file on the Haggard murders, quick as you can.

GOODFELLOW (VO): Left soon afterwards. That was the last time anyone saw him.

Sounds like he was looking into that old Haggard case.

That poor couple murdered in their bed?

Exactly. - George and Jasmin Haggard?

Yeah. That's them!

I thought that was before your time here.

It was.

Isn't that where Blind Harry found the body this morning?

I suppose I should've spotted that.

You won't tell the Inspector, will you?

Oh, your secret is safe with us

Sergeant.

Horrible business, it was.

Horrible. My kids still won't go down the lane past Spencer Hall.

Spencer Hall?

Yeah, the Haggards' house

just outside of town.

Here...

And the murderer's name was Edmund Noon?

That's right.

He was never caught. It was like he vanished into thin air.

So Father Brown wasn't going to meet Spencer H for confession at noon.

He was going to Spencer Hall to hear the confession of Edmund Noon

a known murderer!

And no one has seen him since!

CHURCH BELL CHIMES

Police surgeon reckons the body fits the age

and physical description of Edmund Noon.

Alright.

So... wracked with guilt, Edmund Noon returns to Kembleford

confesses, seeks forgiveness at the Haggards' grave...

and then kills himself.

That still doesn't explain what has happened to Father Brown!

Or Inspector Mallory.

Or Inspector Mallory.

I reckon I should go to Spencer Hall

have a peek around, see what I can find.

Great! We'll come with you.

I don't think that's a very good--

We'll take my car. It'll be quicker.

Well, it makes sense, I suppose.

Between you and me...

I've always dreamed about taking her for a spin.

I beg your pardon!

No, I meant the car!

This is strange.