Whodunnit? No, not the murders, the hideous 1970s stuffed animals: CHRISTOPHER STEVENS

Dalgliesh ****

Debt ****

Save the moth! The voracious little blighters are doing Britain a great service.

Earlier this week in Ch5, we saw Natural History Museum pest controllers set traps to eradicate the greedy Tineola bisselliella, or common clothes moth. Insects have devoured parts of their collection, such as pinned butterflies and mounted displays.

Good for the moths, I say. Nibble away! There is nothing more hideous than stuffed animals or birds. Museums were full of them when I was a boy – Bristol had a well-worn okapi and a famous gorilla named Alfred.

Filled exhibits were all over Dalgliesh (Ch5) as the detective, played by Bertie Carvel, investigated a murder in a gloomy museum. At the front desk stood a cougar, growling and crouching, scanning the globe as if someone threw a bucket of water over it before firing the fatal shot.

On the walls were parts of a black ostrich and an albatross with its wings half folded like an angel with a beak. But the worst monstrosity was in an exhibit devoted to true crime. Towering over memories of Jack the Ripper and friends was a grizzly bear, rearing up on its hind legs, with a tobacco pipe in its mouth.

Stuffed exhibits were all over Dalgliesh (Ch5) as the detective, played by Bertie Carvel, investigates a murder in a gloomy museum

Was the bear supposed to be Sherlock Holmes? Inspector Maigret?

While these grotesques must have wounded his poet’s soul, Adam Dalgliesh ignored the dead animals and focused on the dead humans. One was cremated in a car, the other was stashed in a traveler’s trunk – both murders reflected cases commemorated in the murder museum.

The prime suspects were a cocky brother and sister, determined to keep the museum open, and also run a boarding school for young ladies. Their housekeeper was played by Sorcha Cusack, who is also Father Brown’s housekeeper – it can’t be her, can it?

More suspicious is the barking mad major, who has Zulu shields and assegais hanging on the wall of his sitting room. At least he didn’t have a stuffed zebra.

And of course there was a gardener. There’s always a gardener who looks guilty, but never the murderer.

One of the joys of this 1970s whodunnit is the sheer level of detail in the props and furnishings. The first victim possessed a very jaunty stereo radiogram, which I confess I coveted. There was also a print of Tretchikoff’s Green Lady on the wall. Half the houses in England had a copy 50 years ago, and now they’re all gone. Maybe the moths got them.

Private detective Kenny (Emun Elliott) nods to classic 1970s crime dramas in Guilt (BBC2). Strolling through his office, Leith Legals, he sucked on a red lollipop just like Kojak. Who loves you, baby?

Private detective Kenny (Emun Elliott) nods to classic 1970s crime dramas in Guilt (BBC2)

The joy of guilt is largely in the subtlety of the clues and connections

If half the fun in Dalgliesh is the scenery, Guilt’s joy is largely in the subtlety of the clues and connections. You’ll need a sharp eye to spot all the links, not to mention a brain that can do sudoku and 3D chess at the same time.

Kenny is convinced that his girlfriend, the disillusioned detective Yvonne (Isaura Barbe-Brown), has discovered his link to a gangland investigation. But he doesn’t express his fear out loud – we have to see it from the way his gaze falls on an incriminating photo of him in his niece’s flat.

And you’d have to have a good memory to know that when brothers Max and Jake (Mark Bonnar and Jamie Sives) seek refuge with a scheming old trickster named Sheila (Ellie Haddington), she’s the neighbor who rescues them in the first series. blackmailed. , in 2019.

If you can’t keep up without crib notes and a spreadsheet, it’s nothing to feel guilty about. Better to be confused than stuffed.