The Truth in the Wine Father Brown

Shot!

Something to eat, your ladyship?

No, thank you. I'm saving my palate for the wine-tasting.

And why doesn't that surprise me?

Careful, Anthony! We're not running the Derby!

Is that the reclusive colonel?

He looks like a hero from an H Rider Haggard novel.

In that case, does that make Lady Edna She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed?

Ladies and gentlemen,

welcome to the launch of our first official vintage.

If you'd like to follow me to the winery, we shall begin the tour.

Oh, heads!

Well stopped.

Here it comes!

Not joining us for the tour?

The colonel don't want the likes of me there.

Enjoy.

Let me introduce Gregoire Bisset,

the rising star of French viniculture.

Gregoire has helped me transform our little patch of England

into a vineyard to rival the finest in Europe,

one of only three wine estates in the whole country.

And he speaks excellent English,

so we don't have to rely on my schoolboy French.

Erm...

So here's the press room,

where we extract the juice from the new harvest.

Et, er...

we grow Seyval blanc which creates a beautiful white juice.

I show you...

I thought he said white.

This is wrong...

Was it your dog?

It was my son's.

Bacchus was a present to Tom from the colonel.

Find Tom and keep him away. He shouldn't see this.

Yes, Mrs Grayson.

Shall I take you back to the house, Lady Edna?

I think that would be best.

I think we could all do with some fresh air.

An excellent idea. We shall continue with the tour.

Tom!

Where's Tom?

Went inside.

Stay away from him.

You'll fill his head with mischief.

He's a young lad. His head's already full of mischief.

Anyway, he's the only one round here who don't think I'm scum.

Want some?

Pinched that?

Colonel don't mind. There's plenty more where that came from.

You'll get in trouble.

I don't think so.

Why don't you come and join me? We could erm...have a little party.

-No, thanks.

-Why not? Huh?

Prefer your men a bit more continental?

You're drunk.

I just want a cuddle.

Here, see?

-You're desperate to get your hands on me.

-No! Let go of me!

What's the matter, eh?

No!

Urgh!

You vicious...

Unfortunately, we must battle the English weather.

-I've heard of hair of the dog, but...

-Shh!

The key is irrigation.

With good irrigation, we can transform water into wine.

Who would do such a thing to a poor dog?

It was Henry Gibbs, I'm telling you.

Er, could you excuse me for a moment? Just carry on.

One second.

Over here we have a...a small area of Pinot blanc.

Bit of an experiment...

What happened?

Gibbs.

What did he do?

He tried to...

I'm sorry. You're busy.

Tea?

Tea is for gossip. Brandy for shock.

Oh, careful with that decanter.

Wedding present from my late husband.

Oh.

Along with this...

That is beautiful.

Contains the key to his heart.

I must confess to an ulterior motive in getting you alone.

Oh, forgive me, Father, my defrocking days are long gone.

More raisin than grape, nowadays.

I wanted to have a chat.

You have not been to Mass for months.

Well, I...lose track of the days.

I er...

And my Anthony's too busy to drive me.

Hardly surprising, dealing with a saboteur.

Criminals everywhere.

The country's going to the dogs.

If you'll excuse the pun.

Hmm.

Well, your son is a colonel. He'll look after you.

SHE CHUCKLES

Don't you let that eye patch fool you.

He got that walking behind his father's horse as a boy.

Anthony was in the...

What's it? The...

The diplomatic corps.

The real army couldn't get rid of him quick enough.

Would you?

After you...

So kind. I can't wait to taste it.

Let me know if you'd like to place an order.

Has Mother offended you? Because erm...

She was a little agitated, that's all.

She's not been quite herself of late.

Exhaustion probably. She's having trouble sleeping.

Have you consulted a doctor?

All "avaricious quacks", apparently.

Mmm.

I've tried talking to her but erm...she doesn't make it easy.

My punishment for spending two decades abroad.

I'm the prodigal son trying to make amends.

I have a book that might help.

Priests must be familiar with the idiosyncrasies of older people.

Shall I drop it round tomorrow?

I'd appreciate it.

Erm...is there anything else you'd like help with?

The dog...

Ah, I've heard you're a bit of a sleuth.

No. Erm...

That is a problem I can deal with myself.

-Until tomorrow, then.

-Tomorrow.

What on earth were you trying to achieve?

I told you. I want a share of the vineyard.

Half my harvest was in that vat.

There won't be a vineyard if you carry on like this!

Then give me what I want.

I spilt blood for this country.

I deserve my piece of it as much as you.

And how would I explain that to Lady Edna?

That I've given part of our estate away to a stranger, a labourer.

Not my problem.

Look, I'm trying to help you here.

You're the one who said that you can't afford to pay me off.

But if you'd prefer to give me the money...

You've crossed a line.

I want you gone. Today.

You sure about that?

I've tolerated you for long enough.

Don't presume to know what sort of man you're dealing with.

Leave.

I'll be back for what I'm owed!

Thank you, Father.

So, Father, you got any leads?

Woof! Woof!

That's not funny, Sid! Poor Tom.

First of all, he lost his father in the war

and then somebody goes and murderers his dog.

Father...

Don't you want it?

I prefer my wine with a little less...body.

-Hmm.

-Good night.

HONKS HORN

WINDOW SHATTERS

PISTOL SHOT

PISTOL SHOT

BIRDS CAW

Henry Gibbs?

Before you say anything, I'm just here to see the colonel.

Just don't get involved and don't get in my way.

Have you seen...?

-Yes.

-Yes, of course you have.

CLEARS HIS THROAT

What do you think, sir?

Two gunshots, only one entry wound.

Bruising to his neck.

So...

Struggle for the weapon.

Gun goes off, hitting the side table.

Gibbs is overpowered by the killer,

shoots him at close range.

And the bullet passes through the body...

..before hitting the mirror.

Curious corbelling.

Gibbs was well-built.

So, I'd say our suspect is probably male,

fit,

possibly with combat training.

Anything else I can do?

Could you offer my mother some words of comfort when she wakes up?

She was disturbed by the commotion, found the whole thing very upsetting.

I gave her something to help her get back to sleep.

Father, if you wouldn't mind leaving us?

I'd like to check some basic facts.

We told your colleague.

We heard two gunshots in the night.

We all went to my study and found the body.

-What more do you need to know?

-Who arrived first?

I did.

Lord have mercy!

He's dead.

Shall I call the police?

Erm, yes, of course.

-The police.

-The labourers' wages are gone!

Oh...!

Your bedroom's nearest the study and yet you were the last one to arrive.

I checked on her ladyship first. She was still asleep.

Only, I must have disturbed her

because next thing, she's downstairs

and all screaming the place down.

Lady Edna was understandably distressed.

Gibbs was killed by a handgun. Is there one on the premises?

No.

I've ordered a search of the house and grounds, just in case.

Surely it was just a burglary gone wrong?

Are you suggesting that Gibbs disturbed a burglar?

I'm suggesting he WAS one.

In that case, it's hardly likely that he shot himself.

-Maybe he had an accomplice?

-Exactly!

The other fellow shot Gibbs and then ran off with the money.

Possible. The missing money wasn't with Gibbs' belongings.

But that doesn't mean the accomplice isn't someone in this room.

How well did you all know the victim?

Miss Fletcher probably knew him better than the rest of us.

That ain't true!

He was...after me.

I told him I weren't interested.

None of us knew him.

He came here looking for work and has been nothing but trouble since.

In fact, I went to see him yesterday and told him to move on.

Did you indeed?

Well, that'll be all.

The sergeant will take your fingerprints.

Until we find our killer, no-one is to leave the estate.

Don't you remember anything?

I think I...had a bad dream.

We had a break-in, Mother, remember?

I er...

..think I would like to be left in peace.

Perhaps a breath of fresh air?

Very well.

I'll be back to check on you later.

So, did you meet Gregoire on your travels?

No, after I came back.

I er...

..needed help here, so I placed an advertisement.

Gregoire turned up like a gift from Dionysus

with a reference from a top vineyard in Bordeaux.

Do you still have the reference?

Only, the Kembleford Wine Appreciation Society

would be very keen to know more about our Gallic friend.

Done.

I'll dig it out for you.

He's a good chap, take my word for it.

Er, Mrs McCarthy...

..noticed a hint of romance between Gregoire and Emily.

Did she now?

He's certainly keen.

As for her, I wouldn't know.

What about Gibbs?

An itinerant labourer.

Arrived a few weeks ago.

First time I'd laid eyes on him.

Inspector! I've found something!

Ah...

Well done, Sergeant.

Good work.

An Enfield No.2.

Standard issue British Army service revolver.

Mark one double star.

Not in production until 1942.

I was in Africa by then.

Anyway, I've always preferred the Webley.

Those later Enfields don't have a safety on the hammer.

Tend to go off if you have to hit the deck in a hurry.

You seem to know a lot about guns,

considering you're a member of the diplomatic corps.

One picks things up.

If you'll excuse me?

Still here, Father?

Er...

-Er, yes. God's work, never done.

-Mm-hm...

Thank you.

Mrs Grayson, is it true you have access to the safe?

Colonel and I both have keys.

I've done the accounts since the old master's day.

For the vineyard as well?

Right now that's just a very long list of expenses.

The vineyard's not making any money?

Well, it's early days.

I'd like to see the books, if I may?

I'll get them for you when I've finished preparing lunch.

The Met are on the telephone, sir. They've got something for you.

Very good, Sergeant.

-Oh...

-Hands off!

Must have been distressing...

..seeing his dead body.

I know what you're getting at, Father,

but there weren't nothing between us.

Now, please, I'm already behind.

Ah, Miss Fletcher...

-Would you excuse us, please, Father?

-Oh, stay.

I know what you coppers are like.

I imagine you do. I've just had an interesting chat

with a colleague down at the Metropolitan Police.

You've quite a colourful history.

Trespass.

Theft.

Soliciting.

You try living on the streets, bombs falling all around,

parents six feet under.

I did what I had to.

Common assault.

Gibbs had a bite mark on his hand.

Oh, he had it coming!

Well...I never shot nobody.

Yeah, I bit him, so what?

I was defending myself. He was...trying it on.

Trying what on?

Oh, Inspector...

I think we both know what she means by that.

Did you report this?

I told the colonel. Said he'd ask Gibbs to leave.

I don't know what took him so long.

Well, Gibbs used to joke that the colonel would never fire him

because they were old army buddies, but...

They served together?

I doubt it. Gibbs was a born liar.

Look, the colonel is a good man,

a hero.

He saved my life the first time I met him.

One night, in Farringdon, not long after the war,

three lads dragged me down an alley.

The colonel's walking past, hears me scream and comes running,

scares them off.

He gave me this job to get me off the streets.

A hero, indeed.

Three against one.

How did he scare them off?

Well, he had his gun, so...

Colonel, I have a few more questions regarding the murder of Henry Gibbs.

If you'd like to accompany me to the station...

KNOCKING

Anthony...

I'm afraid your son's not here.

Of course not.

I'll never see my boy again.

I'm sure that's not true.

It is!

Would you pray for him, Father?

I will.

And I will do everything I can to help him, I promise you.

Is there anything else I can do to help?

Oh, thank you, we'll be fine.

Monsieur Bisset is driving me into Kembleford shortly. Would you like a lift?

I'm sure your bicycle would fit in the back.

That would be very kind.

-Is the colonel to be expected back for dinner?

-How should I know?

-Sorry, I...

-What have I told you about wearing your hair down?

-I lost my ribbon.

-Well, then, cut a new one.

Shall we see you outside, Father?

Five minutes.

47 seconds.

SNIFFS

Always had a thing about fires.

My grandfather told me that, if you stare at the flames for long enough,

you might catch a glimpse of the Devil.

Did you?

No. Not today.

We're leaving, so...

SNIFFS

Gibbs' military records.

He spent six months guarding the same temporary base in Tunis

in which you were stationed.

Along with hundreds of other men, no doubt.

It's mere coincidence that he turned up in Kembleford? Admit it.

-You knew Gibbs all along.

-No.

You asked him to leave. Did he agree?

Reluctantly.

Did you have to threaten him with your gun?

Like I said, that gun was...

Easy enough to get into the hands of an officer.

The safe wasn't forced.

Only you and Mrs Grayson have a key.

But she has an alibi.

Gregoire saw her leaving the room after the gunshots were fired.

How could I have dumped the gun in the pond

and still been first on the scene?

You could have hidden it, then taken it to the pond later.

And my motive?

Money.

Get your old army buddy to help stage a burglary,

claim on the insurance.

The estate accounts.

You're broke.

I'm guessing that Gibbs got greedy in the last minute,

demanded a larger cut.

There was an argument and you killed him.

Weak speculation.

I've sent the gun off to forensics for fingerprints.

Let's see what turns up, shall we?

Could you telephone Lady Felicia for me, please?

Ask her to speak to her friend at the Foreign Office

and see what she can find out about the colonel?

So, do you think the colonel murdered Henry Gibbs?

My ideas are still fermenting.

Either way, I made a promise to Lady Edna to discover the truth

and I intend to honour it.

Oh, but where are you off to now?

To the police station.

I'm sure the colonel will need some spiritual guidance.

Oh, and I nearly forgot, while you're on the telephone,

please tell Sid I have a job for him.

Thank you.

Why are you here?

Because I promised your mother I'd do what I could.

A waste of time.

The inspector's determined to see me hang.

If you're telling the truth, you'll need to have faith and be patient.

-Are you?

-I swear to you, I didn't kill Gibbs.

That's not what I asked.

Do you believe it's always wrong to lie?

Even if it's for a greater good?

Interesting question.

St Augustine argues that a lie is never justified

and yet, in the Bible, Rahab lies to save the lives of two Jewish spies

and is herself spared from death.

What do you think?

I think that if you have something to confess,

you had better do it now while you have the chance.

It would be in strictest confidence.

There's nothing to tell.

You have no idea who killed Gibbs?

-None at all.

-Because...

You should go.

Very well. But in my experience, the truth will always out.

I suppose it's a question of intention.

Are you lying to protect yourself?

Or someone else?

Psst! Father!

What are you doing here?

Well, you told me to follow them.

I wanted you to follow them in Kembleford,

not loiter around their house.

You've got to see this...

So, when I was in town, Gregoire or whatever his name is,

goes to get a broken headlight fixed.

I'm thinking, hang about, why's he got a broken headlight?

Look under the front.

Father?

Father...!

What exactly are you doing?

Well, I've always been fascinated by cars.

You know, transmissions,

differentials, that sort of thing.

Really?

I got your message.

I understand you found Gregoire's letter of recommendation.

-The colonel mentioned that you wanted to see it.

-Thank you.

-Would you like a cup of tea?

-No, no, no.

I won't trouble you any longer.

I would never have thought that.

-What?

-She looks every inch the respectable war widow.

Sid, what?

Right, the Frog's gone in the garage, she's popped in the bank.

Oh, and you are acquainted with a certain young bank clerk.

We may have exchanged pleasantries in the past.

There you go. Have a bash on that.

Check out her name.

What's that?

Gregoire's letter of recommendation.

Oh, so it's the Frenchman now?

Mrs Grayson gave him an alibi.

Oh...

PHONE RINGS

Father Brown.

Sullivan here. I need you to come to the police station, Father.

The colonel has just tried to hang himself.

Right away.

I have to return to the police station.

You're not going anywhere until you've heard my news.

I'd been in to see him a few minutes before.

May I ask why?

We found two sets of prints on the revolver.

One of them belonged to him.

I told him he was going to be charged with murder.

Who did the other set belong to?

We don't know yet.

Why have you sent for me?

Yes, well, the colonel wants to save us the bother

of sending him to the scaffold.

So, for once, our professional interests coincide.

It's your duty to stop him committing a mortal sin

and mine to see him stand trial.

I'd like you to talk to him.

Stop him from trying again.

You think he will?

We've taken his sheets

but, as you know, there are many ways for a man to kill himself.

I'll do what I can.

At least this should put your mind at rest.

How so?

Always a sign of a guilty conscience.

Forgive me, Father.

I was in a dark place.

Then let in God's light.

Open up your heart.

How did you lose your eye?

A riding accident.

I...I fell and my horse kicked out.

Your horse?

Lady Edna said it was your father's.

I...

You know what her memory's like.

Take off your eye patch.

What?

You told your guests that you only had schoolboy friendships,

which is puzzling

for a diplomat stationed in Tunisia.

And you were telling the truth about not knowing Gibbs

until he arrived at the estate, weren't you?

Whereas Colonel Forbes-Leith would have seen him a hundred times.

Take it off.

Why?

Because, according to the Foreign Office,

the real Colonel Forbes-Leith died in Tunis...

..in 1945.

Who are you?

Joseph Hawkins,

Sergeant,

25762751.

Pleased to meet you.

I met him in hospital.

The real colonel.

For a month, he kept talking about this crazy plan

to build a vineyard on his estate back home.

We didn't even realise how similar we looked until one of the nurses got us mixed up.

You stole his identity?

Stole?

It was his idea.

He knew he was dying.

He got me to practise his voice, taught me about his family,

his childhood.

He gave you his life.

Why?

He wanted someone to build his vineyard,

carry on his name.

He wanted his mother to have a son.

I'm an orphan.

No family to miss me.

It was my chance to become something better.

Water into wine.

When the fever finally took him,

I got a friend to intercept the telegram to the estate.

All I needed was his eye patch and a...spare uniform.

But surely Lady Edna realised that you weren't her son?

He wrote me a letter to give her,

just in case, explaining his reasons, but...I never needed it.

And she'd not seen him for decades, remember?

He was just a lad when he signed up.

Hello, Mother.

She's always been a few grapes short of a bunch.

It was such chaos after the war,

it was easy enough to fudge the paperwork.

So no-one in Kembleford knew that Colonel Forbes-Leith was dead?

It was all going well until Gibbs turned up.

Knew the colonel, he said.

He was going to spill the beans, so I offered him a job to keep him sweet.

But it wasn't enough.

I've killed a lot of men, Father.

I can tell you about every one.

But I didn't kill Gibbs.

I heard the gunshots and er...

..I found him in the study,

already dead.

With Emily.

She was in a such a state. I told her to hide the gun.

I thought, without it, the police would have no proof,

not if we kept our mouths shut.

She admitted killing him?

No, she didn't have to. Her hands were covered in his blood.

And you will hang to protect her?

Gibbs was only there because of me.

She was attacked because of my lies.

No wonder she took matters into her own hands.

But if she was defending herself...

With her past, nobody'd believe her.

I won't risk it.

Tell the truth. You can still save yourself.

Are you talking about my soul or my neck?

Both, perhaps.

Let me tell the inspector.

No.

No, this is what I deserve.

Why are you determined to die?

You said it yourself.

The truth will come out.

The only people who've ever cared for me

will discover what a fraud I am.

How could I look Lady Edna in the eye again?

The shame is unbearable.

The shame is because you're wearing a mask.

Take it off.

Let them know who you are.

But everything I am is a lie.

YOU built the vineyard.

YOU looked after them all for all those years.

Let them remember Joseph Hawkins.

Can't promise they'll believe you.

That depends.

Where is the letter that Colonel Forbes-Leith gave you

to give to Lady Edna?

It's in a hidden compartment at the bottom of the safe.

Same place I kept the gun.

No letter.

PISTOL SHOT

DOOR OPENS

-Father?

-Requiescat in pace.

-What are you doing in here?

-Amen.

Special prayer for the dead.

I wonder if I might have a word with everyone in the drawing room?

He ain't no colonel?

This is not possible.

He's a charlatan?

Oh, don't be too quick to judge.

You've all sought to transform yourselves.

Didn't you,

Miss Maitland?

Miss?

You said your old man died in the war.

My George did die in the war!

But...we were never actually married.

I met him just before he left for France.

One night together and then...

Father, is there a reason you wish to humiliate me?

Yes.

Because the truth, in its entirety, could save that man.

I don't see how. So I took George's name.

I didn't want everyone judging Tom for my foolishness.

But I have been entirely loyal to Lady Edna and the colonel.

Of course you have.

They took you and your son in when others wouldn't.

And when you saw the chance

of saving their estate from financial ruin,

you had no hesitation.

The labourers' wages have gone!

Knowing that the insurance would pay the money back,

"Mrs Grayson"

deposited the money in the estate's account...

...under "income from wine sales".

But, of course, we know that not a single bottle was sold yesterday.

I warned the colonel, or whoever he is,

a hundred times that we were on a knife-edge, but he wouldn't listen.

-But this is beside the point. I certainly didn't kill anyone.

-No.

But there is a killer in this room.

Isn't there?

Yes, all right.

I confess.

Monsieur Bisset!

But, please, it was an accident.

He just ran in front of the car.

The car?

He just lay there...

What are you on about?

Bacchus.

Tom's dog.

Oh, dear.

I tell you what. Cos I like you, I'll get rid of the body.

Get that headlight fixed and the colonel will be none the wiser.

They'll think he ran away.

What will you do with him?

I know just the place. Pop him on the back.

Then you burned your shirt in case anybody saw the blood.

The colonel would have fired me.

Please, I love my job.

Nobody would pay me to make wine.

Mmm.

Gregoire's qualifications were somewhat exaggerated.

I don't think Sergeant Hawkins speaks French

because this letter appears to commend your talents

as a reliable delivery driver.

It was a misunderstanding. I just needed a job.

And I showed the letter to the colonel and...

He seemed to think that I...

Well...the next thing I knew,

I was his vigneron.

So you know nothing about making wine?

I found a book in a second-hand shop. It's been most helpful.

But yours is, perhaps, the greatest lie of all.

You were first to the study, weren't you?

I found Gibbs. He weren't breathing.

I told the colonel that I wanted Gibbs dealt with.

I didn't think he'd kill him.

Get rid of it,

then wash your hands.

Say nothing.

Yes, sir.

So, you agreed to hide the revolver to help the colonel.

He changed my life.

The colonel, sergeant, I don't care what he is, I'd still be on the streets if it weren't for him.

But he thinks you killed Gibbs.

What?!

How would you have known how to get into the safe?

Still less that the revolver was in there?

No. It wasn't you.

Two shots.

I think the first shot was an accident.

Somebody dropped the Enfield No.2

and it misfired.

Somebody frail.

Somebody frightened.

They then managed to pick the revolver back up

and shoot Gibbs dead.

What's in the locket?

The key to your husband's heart?

Oh!

My little joke.

My husband had the safe installed.

All he really cared about was money.

What happened last night?

I heard a noise. Somebody breaking in.

So...

..I went to get the gun.

Anthony...

Oh, Sergeant Hawkins, is it?

..told me that he kept one in the safe, to reassure me, I suppose.

But...

..the gun wasn't the only thing I found.

I recognised the handwriting straight away.

Anthony always did funny Hs.

DOOR CREAKS OPEN

-Don't worry, I'm just here for what I'm owed.

-Get out!

Get out or I'll call my son!

Your son is dead, old woman.

And you will be next unless you keep your mouth shut!

But, then, you know...

..I think I always knew

Sergeant Hawkins wasn't

my Anthony.

Perhaps it was easier to go along with it than to accept the truth?

My son is dead, isn't he?

Yes.

But why didn't you tell the truth straightaway?

Nobody would have blamed you. It was self-defence.

I wanted that impostor to take the blame.

He lied to me!

And he should hang for that?

Shouldn't he?

When you think about it,

Sergeant Hawkins has dedicated his life to fulfilling your son's dying wish.

He built up his vineyard, he looking after you.

I do not agree with the deception,

but neither do I think him an evil man.

Do you?

Rise and shine.

Am I going to court?

Somebody's confessed.

Emily?

No. Lady Edna.

You're not serious?

The second set of prints on the gun belonged to her.

She's not being charged, either.

Apparently it was reasonable self-defence.

I'll explain everything later.

But, meanwhile, there are some people who want to meet Joe Hawkins.

Welcome home, sir.

Thanks, Tom.

Welcome home, Colonel.

Call me Joe.

And er...

..I was only ever a sergeant.

Congratulations.

I wondered how long it would take.

Thank you, sir.

Nothing to say for yourself?

Forgive me, Lady Edna.

My intention was never to dishonour your son's name,

only to honour his love for you.

Sentimental claptrap!

Listen, whoever you are,

you've carried me up and down these stairs,

listened to me wittering on for hours

and kept this old pile of stones going.

Whatever charade brought you here...

..this is your home.

But let's have no more of this sergeant nonsense.

Colonel's much better.

Whoever's going to buy wine from Sergeant Hawkins?

Huh?