Seven minutes. That's the earliest it's ever been late.
I'm not sure I'll even recognise her.
Last time she came to stay, she was quite an infant.
Well, let's see. 17-year-old art student who likes birdwatching.
Sometimes you just have to go with a hunch
This is interesting. A very strong sense of contour.
You have a feel for what I've called the "organic imperative".
It's just some scribbles. I thought you and Grandad could give me some pointers.
I got him this CD in Paris that just had his name on it -
"Marco Bergman pour vous" - so I had to get it, because soon he's how many?
Seventy-nine.
Right. But got a few more spring collections in him yet.
You know our father, Carrie. Just goes on forever.
Shit!
Did anyone see that? Something just flew right out in front of me there.
A muntjac or something. I think I just clipped it.
Oh, you're kidding?
No, it must have been lucky and just got clear.
It could have been a fox. It was fast whatever it was.
We're not far off now. Couple of miles?
Yes. No lights on, I see.
But of course, it's well past your grandfather's bedti...
Oh, my God!
What is it?
What's he doing? What in hell's name is he doing?!
- Father! - He'll never hear us. Come on!
Oh, my God!
No!
Why?
I mean... why?
And now, using the wizardry of teleportation,
I will project the molecules of my body from this pod here
invisibly through the ether to that pod there,
where they will reassemble themselves into human form right before your eyes.
Thank you very much.
Ladies and gentlemen, the transmigration is complete.
Whoa! Hey!
Be assured I am not a hologram.
I AM absolutely real. I think you'll confirm that, madam.
- It's a different man! - Pardon me?
It's a completely different man, with a beard and glasses, wearing the same clothes.
I think not, sonny!
And if we look beneath the pod, there are no trapdoors of any kind.
This is the crappest trick ever! What are we? Morons?
Yes. Well...
If I just get back into the pod and teleport myself back again.
Whoa! Whoa!
Whoa! Heh... Yeah...
I'll be more than happy to allow our young friend
to inspect the device inside for any signs of trickery.
So, there you go. While he's checking that out, we move on...
to a little thing I call the "human egg slicer".
Interesting question. I'll let Carla answer.
- Sweetheart? - Hmm?
Donna asked if ours is a marriage of equals.
Or would you say, professionally, one of you overshadows the other?
No, no. Not at all. I'd say our careers utterly complement each other, wouldn't you?
Carla has her own voice, her own very special skills,
which, as yet, we've barely started to exploit.
Take a look at this.
This is currently the number one show on Japanese television, called "Infidelity".
A week today, we're making a pilot with Carla presenting.
Renamed "Guilty Secrets", but same pitch -
contestants try to beat a lie detector for big cash prizes.
The question she's asking is, "Do you yearn to have sex with your wife's sister?"
You've got the wife there, watching in the audience.
Is that a slam-dunk or what?
And what's clever is it actually reveals feelings to people they never knew they had,
which I think is worth stressing in your feature...
Well, standards are certainly dropping in this place.
There's a law about vermin in restaurants.
- I'm sorry. Have we met? - How do you sleep at nights?
Everything for you is black and white, isn't it?
- You're so full of certainties. - Claude, come on.
You should learn the difference between comment and crucifixion.
How does it feel to be having lunch with a murderer?
You sent him to his death, as surely as if you pushed him.
Mr Bergman, if your father was too weak to accept honest criticism,
that's hardly a failing of mine.
If you'd like to repeat that slander here in front of witnesses, go ahead,
and I'll be happy to sue you and your family's fashion empire
for every last cent you possess.
Come on. This is probably just the kind of confrontation she thrives on.
I'll make you eat these words, so help me.
People get a chip on their shoulders. Now, getting back to "Eyes and Ears",
what would you call that - a docudrama, I suppose?
- Well, more of a dramamentary. - Right.
Mr Starkiss, may I say how much we enjoyed your act?
So clever how you fooled the audience into thinking you are a complete idiot...
by, how you say, acting like a dumb-ass prick.
Oh, well... Great stuff.
So, you have much experience in the British magic industry, yes?
He tensed the wrong muscles or something. It wouldn't come out.
The surgeons had a rare old time. They think they could get in the other end and push.
He'll be off for a week. No bad thing,
because we've lost three of our four showgirls for no apparent reason.
I don't know. In 48 hours, one after another. They handed in their notice and legged it.
It's a complete mystery. So I'm afraid popping along to do publicity pics
for your true crimes peepshow is not high on my list of current priorities.
Just because I made one appearance...
Look, um... I'll get back to you, OK?
No, that sounds... Absolutely.
How exciting.
Unit G, Kingsley Industrial Estate, eight o'clock, Thursday.
I'll be there, and thank you. Bye.
OK, guys. That's great. Yeah. Big smiles. Keep smiling at the camera.
Excellent. OK. Just one more. Right. I'm just gonna change film.
What's still not working is this grunge thing I'm trying to build into the character.
Maybe if we break it down some more with something.
Just... make it look a bit more lived in, basically.
Or how about...
if I take off the duffel coat you got from Harrods' menswear department...
...and put on my own duffel coat?
Works for me if Carla's happy.
Yes, all right, then. I suppose we can buy that.
- Now, I thought, since you're a detective... - I don't think so.
- Sorry? - Whatever it is, I know I'll get colitis.
Just a couple of props, OK?
Back-to-back, Carla's like this, and you're... like this.
Yeah... There you go. Goodbye.
Will you just make the effort for once and stop being a joyless grump?
Sorry, but there's a level of moronic behaviour I won't sink to.
Really? Perhaps you'd like to define moronic?
Guys? What's going on here?
Come on.
How's this good for business, hmm?
No problem's so big it can't be solved, OK? So let's just kiss and make up.
Mrs Baxter.
Now, funnily enough, I didn't believe that.
And now shake hands.
Sorted.
Thank you.
Miss Henry, I hope you have a wonderful evening.
Since your last stay, we've made many changes I trust will meet with your approval.
I think you'll find the new room service menu...
Donna Henry. You know how much hatred that name inspires?
How did you get in here?
You and all those like you trade in abuse, self-abuse,
getting off on your own smug, unfeeling rhetoric,
abuse that destroys.
Tear it up.
I said tear it up!
Start chewing.
And that's how he made me eat my words. God, you're pathetic!
I said all of it.
Miss Henry, are you OK?
One word... I warn you.
Miss Henry, we've had a report
of someone acting suspiciously on this floor.
No, that's OK. I'm, um...
You can come in. Everything's fine.
Oh, sorry about that. You haven't had any problems?
No. There's been no one.
Well, I'd keep the security chain on, just to be safe.
- Sorry to have troubled you. Goodnight. - 'Night.
Very good. Unless you want to see me again, you keep your mouth shut. Clear?
Right, sunshine. OK, I've got him.
You can drop that gun. Drop it!
Well, how disappointing, Mr Bergman.
It hasn't worked out quite the way you planned.
What is it? Oh!
Oh!
God help us! We can hardly accuse him of subtlety.
The whole thing was clearly a set-up, designed to question my certainties,
to upend my black and white view of the world.
You're sure it wasn't a very good disguise, if it was just for a few seconds?
Claude Bergman walked into that shower is all I can tell you.
I mean, is anyone buying all this?
Because I said his father made lousy clothes, that made him jump out of a window?!
What happened in that bathroom wasn't physically possible.
And, God damn him, he knows it!
Oh, brilliant. I don't suppose she gave a reason, any more than the other three did?
Talk about rats leaving a sinking ship.
- Watch your fingers there. They're lethal. - Yes. I'll try and bleed into this cup.
So, is that of any interest, what I've just told you, or am I wasting my time?
Yeah... Look, sorry. We've just had another girl hand in her notice.
Something strange is going on, but I can't do anything until eight o'clock tonight.
Look...
About yesterday...
- I'm sorry about the tongue. - Yes, it was like choking on a kipper.
- I could hardly breathe. - But you didn't exactly resist.
I had a thumb in each ear. My options were somewhat limited.
And may I say, you're not exactly helping matters today,
if we're trying to keep our hormones in check.
I'm sorry. Next time, I'll wear a roll of lino.
Décolletage happens to be in at the moment.
Shall we go?
So, she'd given this place a bad notice a few years ago?
So they invite her back for one night to show they've cleaned up their act,
during which, Mr Claude Bergman - heir to the Marco Bergman fashion empire -
appears to have pulled off a minor miracle that you are about to explain.
Possibly.
You know, there's an art to looking inconspicuous
I don't think you've quite mastered, have you?
This is all very well, but what if the real occupant comes back?
He left for a meeting at ten, I checked. Now, get ready.
- Morning. - Morning.
Are you well?
Um... I think I might grab a quick shower if you're all finished in there.
Sorry, I think I left my polish.
Um... just a sec, then.
OK.
So... are we getting any closer?
Hmm?
Oh. There's nowhere they could have switched places in this room, clearly.
Trapdoor in the tray? Or... maybe they got in and out through the walls somehow.
Impractical, and with this curtain, you'd see the movement.
Yet she swears blind she didn't imagine it.
He was here one minute and then...
Hang on. This is getting scary.
Well, whatever happened, we can assume the hotel were in on it.
That's why they invited her here in the first place.
Because they had a score to settle, too?
Along with everyone else she's ever rubbished in print.
I see what you're saying.
I don't think she's likely to come back now.
Probably not.
- You want to dry me down? - OK.
I might have known - the troglodyte intelligence that would be behind all this.
- What have you done with that girl? - Jonathan Creek. What's happening?
I absolutely shudder to think!
- Those two men just... - Oh, Sharif and Anwar?
Guess what?
Turns out they're over here scouting talent for a new magic revue in Dubai.
They said with my contacts, maybe I could suggest a few names.
No pressure. We give them a little try-out, see how they...
No pressure?! She was nailed up in a crate!
Hey. It's not what it looks like.
- What does it look like? - I don't believe this.
Do the words "white slave trade" mean nothing to you?
Yeah, right. Do you take me for a complete imbecile?
Yes!
For which reason, I'll give you 24 hours' grace.
To get those women out of trouble, Kenny! By whatever means.
Then I'm going to the police.
Listen, I think I've got it, how we can untangle the whole thing.
I'll tell you all about it on the way there.
Let's see if I've got this. We find out how he pulled off that trick
by going to his house and asking him how he did it?
I find it's best to be straight with people.
We say the country's top magic expert is completely...
stretching it there, obviously... is completely baffled.
Human nature. He'll be bursting to spill the beans just to see your reaction.
It's like knowing a really good secret. You have to tell someone.
Trust me. You've a lot to learn about psychology.
I haven't a clue what you're talking about. As I told Miss Henry,
I was nowhere near the hotel that night.
I defy you to prove otherwise.
I'm sorry, I have a large business to run. Good morning.
I don't know which is worse - you saying it or thinking it.
I'll just think it for now.
Anyway, we're not out of options yet.
There's also his sister, the lovely Louise,
who, you never know, might have something to tell us.
Not to beat about the bush, Donna Henry is scum,
whose only talent is to sneer at the talents of others.
As an ex-model, she's had plenty to say about me over the years.
"If you're looking for a cheap plastic bag, try Louise Bergman. "
And similar attempts at wit.
Frankly, I'm afraid she needed teaching a lesson.
And teaching her a lesson is what it was all about?
Look, it's 48 hours to my father's funeral.
- I was in the middle of a manicure, so... - That's OK.
We can go on chatting while you carry on.
He was quite an inspiration to you, your father?
Well, his intellect was formidable.
One could barely keep up. As he always used to tease me,
there wasn't room for a brain that size in my lovely little head.
In his words, "Claude has the complexity, and you have the complexion. "
That's how the genes fell.
Of course, in recent years, he'd become more or less housebound.
Although some of the designs he produced from home I thought were electrifying.
But he really couldn't travel any more, so...
And, of course, he was famously afraid of flying, wasn't he?
- I'm sorry? - Didn't I read that once?
My father flew all over the world until recently.
We have outlets in 37 countries.
Now...
Nostrils. Would you mind?
Superfluous people who vomit their bile and call it a newspaper.
Exactly. Who are we to disagree with Friedrich Nietzsche?
Blimey, "Horse Feathers", "The Cocoanuts"...
There must be every film the Marx Brothers made here.
They're my grandfather's. He won't be watching them again, will he?
So what's the deal? She's roped you in to nail my uncle for something he didn't do?
Well, says he didn't do.
Go on, then. Amaze me.
- Sorry? - With something impossible.
Um... When I flick the pack, just memorise any card at random.
- King of hearts. - Three of spades.
Not everyone can take it, you know?
Just because he was rich and famous.
He was an old man.
To mess his head up that much, he throws his parrot out the window.
- It's unreal. - I know, but...
- What's that again? - An African grey named Harvey
that we all knew for a fact he thought the world of.
By amazing good luck, it had survived.
That shows you the state of mind he was in.
How could you have known that? The king of hearts?
How could you possibly know?
I couldn't for certain. It only works about 60% of the time.
I flick the cards, let that one linger slightly longer...
Usually, the brain's too lazy to argue, so...
This room he jumped out of... was whereabouts exactly?
When you saw him on the ledge, was the light on in here, can you remember?
Was the light on?
No, because Aunt Louise switched it on when she came in
and found the newspaper here on the table.
So they're saying he goes to bed...
churning it all over...
and now feels so worthless, he decides to kill himself and his parrot.
Well... he was obviously in a state of great depression.
Who knows? At that age, his brain had probably turned to chutney.
Last summer? Trying to mix tweeds and velvets?
I don't think so!
"Meet me at the theatre at eight"? What's that all about?
So, we're no nearer, then, are we, basically?
I'll just have to go back to her and say the maestro has failed.
Unless she did just make it all up out of spite.
Maybe with that stupid face pack around her eyes she couldn't see straight.
I'm freezing now, standing here.
I'm not surprised. If I'd thought, I could've brought a couple of tea cosies.
What did you say just then?
What?
Are you saying that Donna Henry had one of those mud packs on her face?
So?
You didn't mention this before, did you?
- Why? What does that tell us? - How Claude could turn into another person
right under her nose...
...with an idea almost certainly borrowed from Groucho Marx.
And as a matter of fact, I'd say you have an unnatural preoccupation with female breasts.
Based on what?!
You see, this is exactly the kind of thi...
Uh... I had a word with the boys about what you suggested and, um...
as it happened, they had a better idea.
Oh, no!
Oh, no, please! Please!
Don't leave us here! Come back!
Jonathan, we're going to fall! Oh, my God!
The whole thing's going to fall on the spikes!
Oh, my God! What are we going to do?
Would you not do that? It's not helping matters.
- How does he get out in the act? - A concealed flap,
to which only he has the key, then swings off in a hidden rig backstage.
Jonathan!
How long do you think we've got before...?
Before that rope burns off around the steel safety cable?
About 20 seconds.
Then before the stage manager turns up and lets us down... probably 11 hours.
Of course, normally, we turn this off during the show.
You were saying? Something about the Marx Brothers.
Oh. Yeah, well, you ever see "Duck Soup"?
One of the classic comedies of pre-war cinema.
Well, I could certainly do with a laugh now.
Well, I said the hotel had to be in on it.
Some prearranged scheme he took to them.
Hacking out secret doorways in the shower would hardly escape notice,
but what if they went for something a bit more oblique,
using the very fact that it was a hotel to their advantage.
So the first guy, his accomplice, breaks into the bathroom,
puts on a bit of a husky voice, could be Claude, could be anyone.
Without that face pack, this all goes out the window,
but with it, what happens?
You've got two people there wearing masks
in a room that is right next to another bathroom,
completely identical, only built the other way around.
So then the key moment comes when he shoves her head down.
If at that moment, the mirror's briefly flipped back, leaving just a sheet of glass
with a couple of people on the other side playing reflections,
the whole trick becomes pretty undemanding.
It's the classic routine where Harpo's dressed as Groucho,
matching all his moves behind the shattered mirror.
Except Louise, or whoever it is, only has to keep it up for a few seconds.
A moment later, the mirror is back, and there's no doubt in Donna's mind
who's stepping into that shower and pulling the curtain.
That business with the manager grabbing him would all have been carefully rehearsed.
So... the only question now is whether we can get him to admit it.
Actually, I think that's fairly immaterial
next to the much more worrying question
of why Marco Bergman really threw himself out of that window.
That's his last recorded appearance in public nearly 18 months ago.
Last couple of years, she said he'd been working totally from home.
I actually read this at the time.
I'm sure it said he had a fear of flying somewhere. I can't have imagined it.
I can't shake the feeling we've been sidetracked here to the wrong problem.
No one chucks a parrot out the window before they jump, no matter how depressed they are.
There's something about this guy that's not right. What is it?
Chums. How are we doing?
12 hours together in a cage. It's a good thing I don't get jealous.
"It'll All Be Shite on the Night. "
Jamie, how you doing? Sorry you couldn't make the party last week.
Here we are. In the RAF, 1941,
when his plane caught fire over France...
"Flying in a burning aircraft was emotionally damaging as well as physically,
"and left me with something of a lifelong phobia. "
Hmm... "something" of a phobia.
No, it went well, considering we were head-to-head against Geoffrey's leaving bash.
We'll leave you in peace, darling.
I think we've peaked at a 60, 65. Roughly, a 30% share.
I know I'm completely out of line saying this...
What are you doing with him? I mean, really!
You're right. You are completely out of line. I happen to love him.
You obviously find that hard to believe.
Well, this wasn't in the script. I really didn't think you'd come.
A chance to gloat? I wouldn't miss that for the world.
Look, because I do what I do doesn't mean I believe in it.
Readers and editors got bored with balance a long time ago.
Today, they want it plain and simple.
Christians and lions.
I'm sorry about what happened.
He was your father, and...
I'm sorry.
Well, I'm not sure that was in the script either.
Where are you going?
Sorry, Donna. Where I have the power to change into another person, you don't.
You'll always be a cold, transparent manipulator.
Pillow talk can be risky.
I might give away trade secrets.
That's the last thing you'd want.
You really think this is going to prove anything?
How's this thing supposed to work, anyway?
It reveals your true feelings. Stop jabbering and press the button.
Well?
- What shall I say? - I don't know!
You wanted to try it out to make some point.
Yes, to convince you that my marriage is totally solid
and based on a deep love between me and...
Oh, God! Turn it off! Turn it off, for God's sake, Jonathan!
Get me out of this thing!
I can't believe you're putting your name to this garbage
from the people who brought you "Pearl Harbor".
At least it'll not come to anything unless we get a new deal with the network next year...
What?
I just got a connection there suddenly. "New deal" and "Pearl Harbor".
What did she say that set it off before? "He was in a state of great depression. "
"Great depression", "new deal", "Pearl Harbor" all point towards...
Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Let's see that quote again.
There. It doesn't say he was afraid of flying at all.
Put this together with those scratches around the lock and those socks pinned together,
you've got the makings of a murder so cynical it...
Jonathan Creek. Yes, what...?
I suppose. Why? What's happened?
It might be better if I take that.
Slow down. It must have been somewhere around here they saw it.
The old man committing suicide?
Except there's no way it was suicide.
Something in that room made him leap to his death that night.
It certainly wasn't an article by Donna Henry.
Oh, my God! Jonathan!
Carrie, for God's sake, get back inside!
She's locked me in! She took away my medication...
my insulin!
I'm telling you, she's demented!
Carrie, what's going on in there? What are you doing?
For goodness' sake! What the hell are you playing at?!
- I can't believe you did that! - Did what? You locked yourself in.
- When I heard her shout... - She's insane! She's completely...
- Carrie? - This is such nonsense. Really!
- She would have let me die. - Why? For Heaven's sake, child!
Because I know...
...how she murdered my grandfather.
We might just have swallowed that line about an old man giving up after a bad review...
possibly...
if it hadn't been for the utterly pointless act of hurling a live bird out of the window.
A couple of things in his room and the way he behaved when he was last seen in public
conjured up some obscure parallel with Franklin D Roosevelt.
FDR, the most respected president of the 20th century,
who for 12 years managed to con the vast majority of America...
...into thinking he could walk.
People saw him drag himself along supported on someone's arm
and had no idea he was paralysed from the waist down.
Somewhere here... I don't know... there was a very creepy echo of that deception.
A man who had trouble locating the keyhole in his wardrobe,
whose socks had been very carefully pinned together in pairs,
and whose eye lines in that bookshop were just a little bit uncomfortable.
It all pointed to a sad truth you were desperate to keep from the public...
...that for the last two years, Marco Bergman was blind.
Between us, somehow, we kept things afloat.
My designs, his name, naturally. How much would a painting by Monet's son be worth?
Oh, no. Marco Bergman had to survive... intact.
He was quite determined about that.
But, um... I'm sorry, I don't follow this.
Press reports, critical comments... The rule was we kept him fully informed,
so if you're saying that he wasn't aware of what was in that article...
But would it account for his peculiar actions?
For the sake of argument, let's flip the logic.
He wasn't trying to kill the parrot,
but protect it from something that threatened both their lives,
something that terrified him so much, he'd do anything to escape.
Go back to his experiences in the war.
A rather ambiguous remark.
"Flying in a burning aircraft left me with something of a lifelong phobia. "
We realised it wasn't flying he was afraid of at all...
was it, Louise?
But fire.
And for a man who couldn't see,
a life-threatening inferno could all too easily be created.
Syncing it all up wasn't a problem.
An imaginary muntjac placed you on the hill at the right moment,
with your niece on hand as the perfect impartial witness.
So, the newspaper's been placed there to point the finger.
And then after dark, when he's fast asleep, it happens.
To a man of 80, still barely conscious, the sound alone would convince him.
His own imagination will do the rest.
Father? Don't open the doorl
Then he heard you shouting to him, apparently from outside.
It was designed to convince him he had just one slim chance of survival...
We're bringing out masses of cushionsl
- ... jump from that window. - This is your only chancel
Somehow, you'd try and break his fall.
Between the two of you, you'd catch him as he came down.
Wait a moment! Harvey!
Dropping him... Dropping him now.
Catch him.
He's saved the parrot, so he thinks. Now it's his turn.
What else was he gonna do?
It was a last desperate act of trust by a man who feared for his life.
Father, pleasel You have to trust usl
So, the next day, you dispose of the tape,
not quite as carefully as you should have done.
Father, jumpl You have tol
Father, pleasel You have to trust usl
Suddenly, you're backed into a corner with only one lifeline.
Get rid of the evidence and the only witness and you might see it through.
And if your niece happens to fall into a fatal diabetic coma,
who's going to lay the blame at your door?
- You made me believe that... - Can't you see? I did it for us.
Frail, infirm, blind...
You think that weakened him? Nothing weakened him.
Did he ever value a single contribution we made to this business,
treat us as anything other than incompetent children?
Day after day, year after year,
the cold, unfeeling arrogance of it all.
I'm afraid I'd had enough.
As long as he drew breath, we were going nowhere,
just meekly marking time, waiting in the wings,
genuflecting to his genius,
and we would have gone to our graves - you know that - waiting in the wings.
Well, maybe there was more going on in my lovely little head than he'd imagined.
"Louise, bless her, may not be one of mankind's greatest thinkers,
"but her eternal elegance and quiet youthful grace
"have made her the perfect repository for my creations. "
My daughter, the talentless clothes horse.
Well, no more, Daddy.
No more being the tailor's dummy.
For the first time in my life, I think I've earned a little respect, don't you?
For the sheer ingenuity of what I di...
Why are you all looking at me?
As if I'm mad.
That's it for now. Join us soon for another penetrating examination
of love, life and lies in "Guilty Secrets". Goodnight.
And break. Thanks very much. Thanks, guys.
Come on, then, Jonathan. Tell me that's not a hit.
Sorry?
Well, when it came out he mentally undresses his uncle, there were certainly fireworks.
I've never seen anyone break a boom over their knee.
What a comeback from the lady - "The truth hurts, Mr Huxtable. "
Even when it's not, of course.
Why do you think the show's such a hit in Japan?
Because they leave nothing to chance.
Entre nous, the polygraph's been programmed to produce a result six times out of ten...
on a random basis to preserve spontaneity, but...
we don't share that with the network, who take a more pious view.
Get too deep into how it's made, it'll never get commissioned.
- Which would be the nation's loss. - Precisely.
Angel, that was a triumph. I'm coming right down.
Oh. Brendan not around?
Just this second gone back to the studio.
You're doing a big profile piece on his production company?
Well, I'm gathering material which, thus far, isn't going to set the world alight.
- Why? Did you have anything...? - No, no. No.
Well, it depends.
Can you keep a secret?