All language subtitles for Lewis S07E02 The Ramblin Boy x264 RB58.en

(Laughter and chatter from inside)

I wouldn't worry.
We've got a whole wine cellar full of the stuff.

(Murmur of conversation)

It's a true story.

Don't get me started on that.
Tales from med school.

It'd be better if there wasn't red tape
everywhere you turned.

Well, there is a lot of history to protect
in Oxford.

I'm just saying these planning regs,
they cripple a small business like mine.

Maybe it's time
to stop being a small business then, Brian.

That way I might even get some return
on my investment, eh?

That's the one good thing about Croatia.

You can do what you like
with your own property.

♪ He was a man and a friend always

♪ He stuck with me in the hard old days

♪ He never cared if I had no dough

♪ We rambled round...
♪ ..in the rain and snow

♪ So here's to you, my ramblin' boy

♪ May all your ramblin' bring you joy

♪ So here's to you, my ramblin' boy

- (Chatter)
- Well, it's gonna be my project...

Are you all right?

I need a drink.

All right?

Fine. Thanks.

- Would you like some more wine, Jack?
- Oh, thank you, just a drop.

Thank you.

We're still on the wine.

I'm going onto the grain.

How wonderful.

So we can expect embarrassing jokes
any time now, then?

Jack.

Would you come over here
and help me open the dessert wine?

Come along. Good doggy.

- I know he's a bit of a flirt.
- Doesn't mean anything.

Thanks, Robbie.
I didn't know who else to talk to.

He said he'll pay the mortgage
and send money for the boys.

As if that's all that matters.

Well, I'll try to talk to him. This flat he's taken?

- Yeah.
- Right.

- I'll call him first.
- Yeah.

He's blocking my calls, but he'll listen to you.

Well, I'll do my best. I'm sure it's just a...

People don't change that much.

Jack's a good bloke.

And thinks the world of you and the boys.
I know he does.

- Top up?
- Driving.

JACK: Do you want a drop more?
- That'll be great.

Watch your liver.

Beverley.

(Melancholy tune)

Jack, it's Robbie Lewis.

Just touching base.

See how you are.

Erm...give us a ring some time.

A-Any time if...

you think there's anything
I can do to help in any way.

You must miss the boys a lot and...

...well...

There you go, wild youth.

- And wild lass.
- Thanks, Dad.

More jobs like this,
I can stop doing Mr Miller's funerals.

Don't turn your nose up at funerals?
We all die. Good steady income.

Morbid.

And you...

do some studying.

I will.

Are you OK, Dad? You're not...?

No.

I'm not.

You're sure you won't...

One day at a time, yeah.

Don't worry. Sober as a judge.

Jack, can I get you a liqueur?

Thanks, no, driving.

I thought you just had to flash your warrant card
if you got stopped.

Those were the days.

(Door opens, footsteps approach)

It was really lovely.
We've had a really lovely time.

And tell me about that wallpaper.

WOMAN: Oh, God, stop!

Get away from me!

Are you getting in, then?

It's all kicking off in there.

"Stop being a small businessman?"
Who the hell does he think he is?

My boss?

(Rustling)

(Organ plays)

♪ Having my baby

♪ You're the woman I love
and I love what it's doing to you

WOMAN: You're supposed to be studying.

(High-pitched) ♪ I'm a woman in love
and I love what it's doing to me

♪ I didn't have to keep it

♪ Wouldn't put you through it

Gross.

That's never gonna happen to me, babe.

Good.

That's me. Just got to hope it sticks.

Ah, I was supposed to get my hat from work.

Oh, Li, I knew you'd forget.

It's all right. I can go and get it.

You stand no chance.
Everyone goes as Dracula.

Yeah, but not everyone
has a beautiful corpse.

(As Dracula) Zere is more to Dracula
zan a set of fangs, you know?

All packed and ready to go?

Time for a last pint.

So, Pristina? Holiday resort, is it?

- Not quite a resort, no.
- Right.

- But it's seaside?
- Not exactly, sir.

I've cleared my desk.
I don't think there's anything outstanding.

You're the poster boy of police efficiency.
Try and stay that way.

- Sir?
- Oh, people change.

Try and keep hold of who you are.

I'm going on holiday for a week.
I'm not joining the Foreign Legion.

They wouldn't have you. Too posh.

(Laughter and chatter)

- Ooh, hello.
- Oh, leave him alone.

What?

What are you like?

I'll see you in ten minutes, tops.

(Laughter and chatter)

You took forever. Where is it, the hat?

There was someone there, viewing a body.

Never mind.
Come on, the others went in ages ago.

And put your fangs in.

(Birdsong and distant bells chiming)

Have a look round the immediate area.
See what you can find.

- Morning, Robbie.
- Laura. What have we got?

Gentleman of mature years.
Been dead some time but bit of a puzzle.

No maggots, no visible pooling.
Tongue is not distended. The nails...

Spare us.

Best suit. Polished shoes.
Clean white hanky in top pocket.

No underpants.

No keks?

Ah, you can take the lad out of Newcastle...

Not your usual focused self, Robbie.

Where's Hathaway?

On his holidays.
Did you ever meet Jack Cornish?

Fast-track detective, destined for great things.

- Yeah, I've met him. Why?
- Well, it's just...

We were always great mates,
you know, cut from the same cloth and...

No, ignore me.

- Is that it?
- 'Fraid not.

Saving the best till last. If I were to say
all the usual offices have been performed...

Robbie, this gentleman has already been put
through the tender hands of an undertaker.

Interesting?

Best before the 15th?

That was when? Last week.

You're a single bloke.
Zap it in the microwave. Be fine.

- You know Jack Cornish well?
- I worked with him for three years.

Well, the big gossip - that even I can't avoid -

is he's having an affair with Tara Faulkner.

Peter Faulkner's wife?

Pretty solid. Everyone knows.

Jack's wife doesn't.

Please, Robbie.

No wonder he's not answering the phone.
Peter Faulkner's wife?

Have you met her?

I spent a few fruitless hours
interviewing her husband.

We didn't like each other much.

So I hear.
Not a good partner for an ambitious copper.

Your pal needs
to extricate himself double quick.

Haven't you got a body to investigate?

There's no obvious cause of death.

No broken bones. Skull is complete.

Hyoid's intact.

So not battered or strangled then?

The soft tissues
are too decomposed to tell us anything.

And the organs have been mucked about with.

Can't do a blood test
due to the embalming fluid in his veins.

And still no identification?

Nope. Been through all his pockets.

You're enjoying this.

I'm just wondering
how you're gonna start untangling it.

With great skill.

And without Hathaway.

Be like having one hand tied behind your back.

There's not a lot you can do
until you find out who this gentleman is...or was.

No. We're waiting for the search results, ma'am.
And in the meantime...

- Yes, come in, Grey.
- Sorry, ma'am.

- I'm DC Grey, sir.
- Right.

I was told...

DC Grey is your right-hand man
in Hathaway's absence.

- He's just out of uniform.
- Is he?

Good.

- Maybe you could...
- Course.

Right. Yes.

A detective constable? Thank you, ma'am.

When I asked for volunteers to work with you,

he was the only one who put up his hand.
Be nice, Robbie.

If Inspector Morse had been nice,
I'd still be a sergeant.

Yeah, that man has got a lot to answer for.

None of these essays lightened my heart.

But Liam Jay, words failed me.

Where is he?

Any idea?

I thought he'd be here. Sorry.

Why should you be sorry? It's hardly your fault.

Usually when work
is cribbed wholesale from the Net,

some small effort is made to disguise the fact.

Do tell him.

At last.

How do you fancy an hour or two busking?

You're in so much trouble.

- (Sighs)
- See you later.

The Bodleian is heaving with Americans.

We'll clean up.

- You promised your dad you'd start studying.
- And I will.

Come on, Luce, I need the money.

We don't all live in a cosy,
little, rent-free boat, do we?

LAURA: Oh, don't be grumpy.

Hathaway's having a holiday.

- Says he is.
- Oh?

Like that, is it?

Come on.

He thinks I don't know about it.

Some old churchy pals of his
have roped him in for some do-gooder y.

- Oh, no!
- Fixing up an orphanage.

- More or less press-ganged him into it.
- Poor James.

Eh...

He'll fit straight back in with all of them.

He wouldn't know fun
if it jumped up and smacked him in the gob.

Like you would?

I've had my share.

In the distant past.

Oh, you did give yourself up to wild abandon
the other night.

Friday.

Drinking in the beauty of the river,
standing in the dusk and just gazing at the sight.

Ah, yeah, yeah. Body...

Well, I thought I saw...a body.

But, well, it wasn't.

It was a log.

- What?
- (Phone rings)

Yeah. Lewis.

Neil Strickley.

Thanks.

Name band.

Cut off his wrist or his ankle.

Found about 1 OO yards from the body.

Still, it's something to work on.

Sorry. Your treat.

We're not asking you to break any confidences.

I'm already late for my calls.

(Sighs)

He'd been our patient for three years.
Nothing unusual about his death. Cancer.

Do you know the family?

I don't know any families.
I just sit in there like a priest in the confessional

and they bring me their scabs and their limps
and imagined ailments one after another.

You like your job?

Probably as much as you like yours.

Sorry I can't be more help!

You're the undertaker?

Mr Miller, Detective Inspector Lewis.

There's no way this is Mr Strickley.
We cremated him on Tuesday.

- You'd recognise him?
- Of course. I laid him out. I prepared him.

Mr Strickley was in that coffin. I put him in it.

I drove the hearse to the crematorium.

So why didn't you stop him clambering out?

So you always check the name?

Yeah.
Don't want to send the wrong one off, do we?

Is that it?

Pretty much.

How do you know there's anything inside it?

Well, it comes from the undertaker, must be.

And it gets carried in,
so we'd know if the coffin was empty.

But it needn't be a body.
It could be...books, bricks, anything.

I always check the furnace. A spy hole.

Coffins burn away in minutes.
Made out of rubbish mostly.

What, you can see the body in there?

Yeah.

I was on duty for Mr Strickley.

And I always, always check.

It's just a habit.

Last person to see him, you could say.

OK, on you go.

And this is the sum total of your knowledge?

I can remember
a few lines of The Ancient Mariner, ma'am.

The search team is still on the scene.

And it's a favourite spot for fly-tippers
so it could take some time. What?

Peter Faulkner should be on that list, sir.
According to Companies House,

he owns 80% of Miller's business.

He's an investor.
That doesn't mean he's directly involved.

It doesn't mean he isn't.

OK, you can renew your old friendship.
Just...be nice.

PETER: I have several business interests.

Garages, construction, all sorts.

But you already know that, don't you?

I do, but I'm concentrating
on this latest investigation, sir.

When did you last have any involvement
with the funeral company?

I look at the accounts from time to time.

And when did you last go there?

Couple of years ago. When it opened.

So there'd be no need to take your fingerprints
for the purposes of elimination?

Absolutely not.

And your wife?

Does she look as if she hangs around
funeral parlours?

Would it be possible to speak to her, sir?

Tara's on holiday. And she isn't taking calls.

Where is she staying?

No idea. Some mysterious destination.

She's run off with one of your lot.

- When was this, sir?
- One lovely summer's night.

- The 17th.
- And where do you think she might have gone?

The world's her oyster. Now I've got work to do.

You're not worried about her, sir?

Tara is a grown woman.

Predator on predator.

Worthy opponents.

- Heart-warming.
- It is.

No-one I know can put up a half decent fight.

Present company included.

I come in when Mr Miller needs a pall bearer.

And sometimes they need me for repatriation.

Bringing a body back from Spain or somewhere.
It pays really well.

Funny job for a student.

My dad got me it.

You were at Neil Strickley's funeral.

- Anything unusual?
- No.

- You seem very sure?
- I am.

Hmm.

"Corby Manse - 6pm, the 17th."

- The police have been.
- Liam, surgery is over.

They say we've lost a body. Mr Strickley.

It was that night. It has to be.
I knew there was something weird.

You don't "know" anything. Calm down.

Why would anyone steal a body?

Why indeed? It's nothing to do with us.

You're sweating.

Do you need something?

You were at Corby Manse
four days before the Strickley cremation?

You were at Corby Manse
four days before the Strickley cremation?

About that.

They had one of their famous suppers.

Dr Whitby, his girlfriend, all the usual suspects.

- Sorry. Unfortunate turn of phrase.
- Good evening?

Very. Everyone on good form.

How long since Peter Faulkner
had a look around his investment?

Came here? He doesn't.

I run the place.

I'm the boss.

Nine o'clock, my appointment.
How much longer?

- He may have been called to an emergency.
- Has he not got a mobile phone?

You just can't get enough of me, can you?

I'll take out a restraining order
if you don't pack it in.

Looks like another GP suicide.

No note?

Not so far.

OK, well, I won't be here long.
Reeks of whisky and the pills tell their own tale.

Postmortem should be pretty straightforward.

That's what you said about Mr Strickley.

Another fine mess you got me into.

- The next of kin.
- Did you find him?

No, sir, that's it. His next of kin is Tara Faulkner.

OK.

The facts so far.

Body is removed from its coffin.

Somebody else is cremated in its place.

Peter Faulkner
who owns the lion's share of the funeral parlour

says his wife has gone off
on some mystery holiday.

And her brother is found dead.

Tara Faulkner was last seen on the 17th.

If she was killed that evening
and then cremated four days later,

this suicide could be Matt Whitby's confession.

Sorry, I can't take it in. He killed himself?

And you still haven't heard from your wife, sir?

Only, as Dr Whitby's next of kin,
we really do need to speak to her.

I've already told you.

When did you last see Dr Whitby?

Not yesterday. The day before.

And this is everybody
that was at your dinner party?

WOMAN: Let me in, please! Peter!

Peter!

Peter?

Mr Faulkner?

Excuse me. Peter!
I've just come past the surgery.

Someone said...

Is it true?

But it can't be.

Not Matt. Why would he...

Probably topped himself to get away from her.

The limpet.

What time did you leave the party?

First to go.

I'd had enough of the humiliation.

I'm sorry?

I bored him.

He made me feel like a...
sad, old, academic spinster.

You and Dr Whitby were...?

We were together.

Sometimes.

Never quite sure if we were on or off.

Not a match made in heaven.

Purgatory...

maybe.

LEWIS: Were you the last guests to leave?

WOMAN: Yes, I think so.

Maybe Matt Whitby...

and I'm not sure about the policeman.

He was still there?

Might have been.
Unable to tear himself away from Tara Faulkner.

She will be in pieces about her brother.

She didn't have any other family.

Or none that wanted anything to do with her.

You don't like her much?

Tara Faulkner's only hobby is upsetting people.

Banging on about her architect
or her interior designer.

The latest thing being some precious farmhouse
in Transylvania or somewhere.

No. Croatia, that's it.

(Phone beeps)

- I'm not gonna make you a happy man.
- I'm always happy.

My face is misleading.

- The assumed suicide.
- Might just be murder?

He was poisoned.
A mixture of PCP, methanol and formaldehyde.

- Formaldehyde?
- Embalming fluid.

Combined with the alcohol and Diazepam.
And there was some of it in his lungs.

Any sign of bruising
to indicate he'd been held down?

Possibly, but he's been face down
on his desk all night

and it's very difficult
to find bruising through lividity.

All right, I'll have another look.

I'll try not to pester you, but if you could...

Hurry it up? Don't push it.

You saw Dr Whitby several times
over the last few months.

Liam isn't it? Second time we met this week.

What were you doing at the doctor's?

It was nothing. A routine visit.

He didn't have an appointment
but Dr Whitby said he'd see him.

And he was at the Faulkner's dinner party.
A waiter.

And you work at Miller's?

What's that got to do with Dr Whitby's death?

Probably nothing.

Can you tell us why you went to the surgery?

It's private. Sorry.

Any objection if we take a look at your room?

GREY: I ran a check on Dr Whitby's mobile, sir.
He didn't seem to use it much.

- No calls on the day he died.
LEWIS: OK. And no texts?

Didn't text and only ever received one
that was way back on the 20th,

1 Opm, just says "World Cup".

- World Cup?
- From a pay-as-you-go phone.

Bought that same day. Hasn't been used since.

INNOCENT:
How's it going? This is Liam's room?

Worth a look, ma'am.
Yeah, he was at Mr Strickley's fake funeral

- and he was the last patient to see Dr Whitby.
- Found anything interesting?

A couple of old Diazepam bottles
both prescribed to him.

So, not at all interesting, then?

We're getting nowhere fast.

Well, not entirely.
The Faulkners have a farmhouse

that he neglected to tell us about. In Croatia.

- And?
- Well...

I'd just like a chat with Mr Faulkner, ma'am.

Horse's mouth, and all that.

But if the species
has a primary biological urge to reproduce,

wouldn't we all want to be parents?

And don't we?

Do we?

Hi. Sorry.

Sorry, everyone. Have I missed much?

Just most of the term.

Oops.

You'd better go.

Sorry?

I'll inform your senior tutor
that you've left my course.

- But that's...
- You need to find out what options you have.

Whatever they are,
you will not be rejoining this course.

Must I lose two students?

RUTH: You have to see your senior tutor.

You've not been sent down.

Stop it! Liam!

Most fun I've had in weeks.

- You idiot.
- Yeah, I am!

It's not my fault. It's in the genes.

I'm like my dad - a loser.

Your dad, call him. Tell him.
He'll know what to do.

Yeah, right. He's off on a binge, like always.

It's what he does, Ruth, lets you down.

Just like me.

And it didn't occur to you to mention
your Croatian property

when we asked where she might have gone?

If you knew my wife and you'd seen
that farmhouse... It's a wreck.

It's damp, half derelict, no electricity.

My wife wouldn't be seen dead there.

On the night of your supper party...

Oh, not again.

We believe you had an argument with your wife.

Probably. It's how we like to round off the day.

Can you tell me what it was about?

My client chooses not to say anything.

Chief Superintendent Jack Cornish.

I couldn't stomach it any longer.

We had a slanging match
and the two of them left.

Together.

Do you know where Mr Miller
stores his embalming fluid?

In the embalming fluid cupboard, I suppose.
How long do I have to take this?

Do you and your wife
often take separate holidays?

- Sometimes.
- How would you describe your marriage?

Heterosexual.

What the hell are you on about?

When you fought that night
after your guests left...

- Argued.
- I think you hit her.

Or she hit you.

We have forensics officers at your home.

- There will be forensics.
- I strongly advise you to remain silent.

In the fight, I think your wife died.

So you swapped her body
for one at the undertaker's.

Then somehow her brother found out, so...

- (Knocking)
- What?

- Sorry, sir, you're wanted downstairs urgently.
- Two minutes.

Two minutes.

Chief Superintendent Innocent
said to stress it's urgent, sir.

This had better be good.

She's through there, sir.

One more minute we'd have had him
charged and locked...

I don't think you've met Mrs Faulkner.

Sorry, guys, we're all stood down. Search over.

All right.

And now we've got to tell her
her brother's been murdered.

Her husband's on the way down,
so she's not completely alone.

Oh, the man you reckoned had murdered her
and killed her brother to shut him up?

- That one. Do you think it'll make it easier?
- Ma'am.

We're both gonna get dragged over
the coals for this. Thank you so much.

I just need a bit of help.

Get me some pills.

- Say you're depressed.
- No.

Right, fine, go your own way and I'll go mine.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

- You're not making any sense.
- Get me some pills. Anything.

You're messing up your life
and now you want to mess up mine.

No, I don't. I won't. I'll sort myself out.

We're over.

That's right, walk out on me. Everyone does.

Liam...

You're not gonna do anything stupid?

Something I should have done days ago.

- Where are you going?
- The police.

A shooting star.

That's what he is.

Lighting up the night sky,

exciting and amazing.

But what is he really?

They burn out, you know.

They turn into useless lumps.

Trust me.

LEWIS: Maybe if you take
Mrs Faulkner home, sir.

We will need to talk later, but it can wait.

Oh, bloody hell,
not that stupid missing body thing again?

- How many times do...
- Can I see him?

Of course. I'll take you over there.

- I can take her.
- No.

Why isn't it you lying dead and cold
instead of Matt?

I want to say goodbye to him in private.

Sir.

There's a young man wants to talk to you.

Liam Jay.

- I can't talk to him at the moment.
- He says it's urgent. Bit agitated, sir.

Get him to wait. Mrs Faulkner.

Who did this?

Was it a patient?

LEWIS: We don't know. I'm sorry.

It was. I know it was.

Some druggy.

He was too good to them.

I told him.

- Liam Jay?
- Got tired of waiting.

Call me if he turns up again.

(Ringtone)

Maybe his sister's right.

If this...student...

- Liam Jay.
- ..was the last patient to see him,

and we know he's on prescription drugs.

People kill for crack cocaine, ma'am,
not Diazepam and this kid is no killer.

Famous last words.

I know you think I'm fixated on the Faulkners

but if Jack Cornish was looking into their affairs
and they thought he was getting a bit too close.

Maybe they killed him? It's a bit of a leap.

Well, he was at their party and he has gone
missing. Someone was cremated, ma'am.

You said that was Tara Faulkner.
And now you reckon it's Jack Cornish.

It's just...a bit random, Robbie.

Well, there was a fight, and if Jack
was getting close to making an arrest...

If, if, if. He wasn't investigating the Faulkners.

I've spoken to his number two.

We still don't know whether Tara Faulkner
left with him. Maybe she went off on her own.

- Is anyone trying to track her movements?
- We're onto the Border Agency.

Hobson, ma'am.

Hi.

Excuse me, ma'am.

Yeah.

Right. Why don't we try and meet half way?

I've found your ante-mortem bruising
on Dr Whitby.

Two areas of pressure either side of the neck
whilst he was sitting,

probably too drunk to fight them off,
because the bruising was pretty light.

Final toxicology report,
nothing new, same as before.

Drunk, stomach awash with whisky
and undigested pills.

- Faulkner is into whisky.
- As are a lot of people.

Faulkner said,
when his wife suddenly turned up,

he said, "Not this stupid lost body thing again."

But if she went off on the night of the party,

she hadn't been in touch with anybody since,

why didn't she say,
"What are you talking about?"

- He'd just told her that her brother was dead.
- Nah, nah, she knew.

Her and her husband pretend to be
at each other's throats,

but actually they're thick as thieves.

Not if she ran off with Jack Cornish.

LEWIS: I bet my pension she didn't.

He wouldn't have anything to do
with a woman like her.

You think it was him in that coffin, don't you?

I hope not, but...

I think he might have been about to uncover
something...something big.

So the Faulkners killed him.

And Dr Whitby?
Do you think he was in on the murder?

I don't know yet.

But I'm sure his murder
links back to the Faulkners, too.

Never mind.
There's a lad who wants to tell me something.

Maybe he's gonna wrap up
all the answers for us nice and neat.

- Looking for Liam Jay.
- Didn't need him today.

OK, I'll try his girlfriend.

That number?

1966?

Used to be 1066, but we changed it.

Why would that be on Dr Whitby's phone?

I don't follow.

The text "World Cup",
did you send it to Dr Whitby?

You've lost me, Inspector.
I never sent anything to Dr Whitby.

Who else knows the entry code?

- Everyone who needs to.
- How often is it changed?

Why is that open?
That leads through to the refrigeration room.

No-one?

We get some stupid kids daring each other.

- Ghouls.
- Check the fridges.

What?

We haven't got anyone.

Mr Miller?

- 999. Ambulance!
- He's dead.

Yeah, not far off.

Go on, phone now!

Come on, son. Stay with me.

Stay with me.

- You've not been here all night?
- Just got here.

- I thought maybe he'd be up to talking, but...
- They've sedated him.

He won't be saying anything for now.

When I asked, they wouldn't tell me anything.

You've not got the knack yet. It'll come.

Liam always picks up straightaway,
but I've texted him and left messages.

- He'll be back.
- He said he would do something.

The police or something. He's so messed up.

- Are you all right, ladies?
- Yes, thanks.

Ruth?

Fine, thanks. Just feeling a bit fragile.

What the hell?

It's not real, sir. Electronic.

Right.

Trying to kick the habit, sir.

Sorry.

So you think it was someone
trying to shut Liam up, sir?

Tried to kill him.

It usually has that effect.

So he might know who stole the body
from the undertaker's?

Yeah, or who they cremated in its place.

Or he might know
something about Dr Whitby's murder.

I'll try and trace his next of kin, sir.

- And his girlfriend.
- But she's not a relative.

Don't want him waking up on his own.
He's only a lad.

Have you got plans for today?

I thought I'd go to lunch with my brother.

Oh, for God's sake.

We haven't been able to speak to Jack.
We don't know where he is.

I think he might have stumbled across
some kind of criminal activity.

Wouldn't he have reported it?

It's just a theory.

But he always said that whatever you did,
you had to be part of a team.

And you had to have your mates there
backing you up.

No.

I can see it in your eyes.
You think something terrible has happened.

Listen, pet, we don't know what's happened yet.
But we will find out.

This is our first clear link between

the stolen body at the undertaker
and the murder of Dr Whitby.

This is the night before Neil Strickley's funeral

and three nights after the dinner party.

Yeah. This is the main street and this...

...is Dr Whitby.

IT managed to clean it up a bit.

But it took him 38 minutes to travel
between the two cameras. About 30O yards.

So he was at Miller's for a good half an hour.

Enough time to take one body out of a coffin

and put another one in in its place.

I've ordered a deep search of Whitby's house.

See if we can work out what he was up to.

How well do you know Liam Jay?

Not at all.

This is nothing to do with me, Inspector.
Whatever's going on...

You lose a body. Someone in your employ
is the last person to see a murder victim alive.

The murder weapon is embalming fluid.

Now somebody tries to kill Liam
on your premises.

(Phone rings)

Yes, Grey?

Ruth Wilson, yeah?

Well, she's probably at the university.

Well, when you do find her,
take her straight to the hospital.

On the way, try and find out if she knows
what it was that Liam was trying to tell us.

Yeah.

I'm driving this.

I apologise for not returning your essays.

A close friend of mine has died.

And it's rather thrown my routine.

Unexpectedly.

- One lectures about life-changing events, but...
- (Knocking)

Come in.

Ah. The police have arrived.

- Is this a bust, officer?
- Ruth Wilson?

Not with this group, I'm afraid.

Does anyone know where she is?

And you have a right
to that information because?

Just tell her that her boyfriend is in
a critical condition. She's to call us.

- Thank you.
- Where is he?

Which hospital?

What's happened to him?

He's one of my students.

Or was. If something's...

I'm sorry. I can't give any information.

You were at Corby Manse
the night of the dinner party.

What's happened to Liam?

- How well do you know him?
- He's my student.

But he was there that night, wasn't he?

Yes. Him and his father.

If it wasn't for DC Grey here, we still wouldn't
know anything about Johnny Jay.

It was an oversight, good God.

Yeah, of course it was.

The more I investigate who was in the coffin
at Mr Strickley's funeral,

the more involved you seem to be.

I remembered the waiters.
I forgot about Johnny Jay.

He was always there, like the wallpaper.
It was an oversight.

- So how do I get in touch with him?
- No idea.

He was a drinker. He falls off the wagon
from time to time and vanishes.

He was stinking of booze all through the party.
He won't remember anything.

So you have no idea where he might be?

Rat-arsed in a bar somewhere.

That's very helpful, sir.

Thank you.

Oh, look, your ferret's not doing very well.

Losing his teeth.

The young lad who waited on you that night
is fighting for his life in intensive care.

The young lad who waited on you that night
is fighting for his life in intensive care.

I'm getting very tired of secrets.

I need to know
where you and Jack Cornish went that evening.

After your party. The evening of the 17th.

Jack's flat.

The next morning we drove to the Lake District.

Why there?

My aunt has a cottage.

It's empty. I know where she keeps the key.

Anybody see you arrive?

No. We stayed for one night and that was it.

He wasn't my handsome prince after all.

Just another frog.

I went to Barcelona.

Not Croatia?

God, no. It's not my idea of relaxation.

I've no idea where he went.

Really.

I've no idea.

Sir.

Found in Dr Whitby's bedroom, sir.

Who are they fr...? Unsigned.

No clues on the envelopes, sir.
And just two sets of fingerprints.

One is Whitby and the other is not known.

"There's no doubt. Three tests and all positive.
You need to deal with this.

I don't want to cause you embarrassment
but I will if I have to.

You have to acknowledge this child. ”

LEWIS: Another one dated three months ago.

”Beautiful little girl, perfect, never breathed. ”

Stillborn baby.

Whitby was obviously worse than useless.

Tell them to keep searching his house,

his car, everything.

No stone unturned.

When your child is born dead,

do you really head off and kill the father?

Maybe not, but he was killed.

Maybe her grief and anger was motive enough?

He was a cold fish, Whitby.

We know from the CCTV
that he was involved with the body swap.

You say that like it's an achievement.

We still don't know why
or who he swapped the body with.

First thing he said, "Get rid of it.

I'll book you in."

And your baby was stillborn?

At the beginning of last year?

Three days after my 44th birthday.

My perfect, little...

last-chance baby.

Ellen Mary.

But you were still friendly with the father,
with Dr Whitby?

When he couldn't get a date with anyone else,
he'd settle for me.

He'd turn up usually unannounced,
usually late, usually a bit pissed.

How humiliating is that?

When was the last time you saw him?

That awful supper party. I told him I was...

He'd gone down to the cellar to get more wine.

I told him I was pregnant again. He laughed.

Said he wasn't even sure Ellen ever existed.

I slapped him.

And are you? Pregnant?

I'm going to have a baby, though.

I'm going to adopt.

LAURA: She'll be lucky.
Single woman, mid 40's.

With a history of recent child bereavement.

LEWIS: Yeah, wishful thinking.

She has an alibi for Matt Whitby's time of death?

Yeah, and no way really
of getting hold of any embalming fluid.

So back to square one. Who was in the coffin?

- Who killed Matt Whitby?
- Who tried to kill Liam Jay?

What has Jack Cornish got to do
with any of this?

I'll tell you one thing, I could murder a curry.

(Liquid sloshing)

Oh, hang on.
Have we got a minute to make a little detour?

Is it the scenic route?

Ruth Wilson, she lives on a boat down here.

Not been able to contact her all day, so...

She doesn't know about Liam yet.

Whoa.

We're out of step.

That's a good sign, that is.

Oh, God.

Careful, Robbie! There will be gas bottles!

Fire brigade. There's a fire on a boat near...
Luke Lane.

Oh, thank God.

LEWIS: Someone attacked Liam

to try and stop him talking to us.

Then they tried to do the same thing to you.

But I don't know anything.

Liam didn't tell you anything?

Maybe something about
Neil Strickley's body going missing?

That day of the funeral,

when Liam got to Miller's,
the body was already in the coffin.

He said he went to check the name tags,
but Miller stopped him.

Said he'd done all of that.
Said he'd come in early to get a head start.

And that was unusual?

- Was that all?
- No.

There was something else,
but I don't know what it was.

He was upset about something.
Kept saying it was too horrible.

You know Liam's dad?

Johnny, yeah.

- Any idea where he might have gone?
- No.

- Off on a binge?
- No.

No, he was doing really well.
He'd been sober for months.

When I was here yesterday, I took a phone call.
You overheard it.

Well, yes, but...

You knew I wanted to speak to Ruth Wilson.
Who did you tell?

No-one. Why would I?
What interest is she to me?

The morning of the funeral that never was,
who identified Neil Strickley?

- I've told you a dozen times.
- Well, tell me again.

And this time, tell me
why you didn't want Liam Jay to see the body.

Was it because you knew fine well
that the body had been switched?

No. No.

Where were you
between nine and ten last night?

- What? Why?
- Where were you?

- There was a civic do. You can ask anyone.
- And what time did you leave?

Midnight.

I was on the top table. Why?

Someone tried to kill Ruth Wilson.

Why would I want to kill a student I barely know?

The Faulkners own 80% of your business.

If Peter Faulkner asked you to do something,
would you do it?

He doesn't give me orders.
We're an equal partnership.

- And friends?
- Yes.

- Dr Barnes.
- I came as soon as I heard.

That was... Thank you.

You didn't have to.

What have they said? No long-term damage?

No. No.

Good. Well, home.

- I've got a lift coming.
- Oh, no need.

- I'm going back anyway, so...
- Yo, Rudie.

Home time. That voddy won't neck itself.

The last thing she should be doing
in her condition is necking vodka.

I'm ready. They said I can see Liam later.

I found a room for you.
At the college. It's a post-grad's.

It's lovely.

No...it's all arranged.

Sorry.

But thank you for coming.

SOCO's turned up some more interesting
finds at Dr Whitby's house, ma'am.

- Better late than never.
- He was a vegetarian. Lifelong.

Wouldn't have meat in his fridge.
But blood-stained plastic bags.

- They are analysing them now.
- Sneaky pork chop?

Maybe, but we're starting
to see a few chinks of light now.

Peter Faulkner reckons that Johnny Jay
was drunk the night of the party.

But according to Ruth Wilson,
he's been sober for months.

- If Johnny killed somebody that night...
- Possibly Cornish.

I think we can say "probably" now, ma'am.

...and then went on to kill Dr Whitby,

I reckon it's possible he's hiding out
at that Croatian farmhouse.

- I'm gonna put through a call to Pristina.
- Where's that?

Where we just happen to have a man
twiddling his thumbs.

Polizia? Polizia, bang, bang?

Me polizia yes. Bang, bang, no. Yawn, yawn.

Bang bang!

- Aargh...
- If you insist.

(Ringtone)

- Bang bang.
- Bang bang.

Bang!

You called, sir?

Ah, you're up. Great.
What's the time difference?

About a century.

- And you're in Pristina, yeah?
- Yeah.

I need you to get down to the central nick.

Which is on... Oh, hang on.

Yeah, it's on the Luan Haradinaj.

- However you say it.
- Sir, I've got a very busy schedule.

It won't take long.
I'm gonna fax you a photo of Johnny Jay.

- Who is?
- A possible witness.

- Possibly even a person of interest.
- In what?

In an investigation. Keep up.

- Do you want me to interview him?
- Just ask him a couple of questions.

I'll also send you a few notes.
A sort of summary of where we are so far.

- Sir, I'm on holiday.
- lt won't take long.

I need you to get to a farmhouse
just outside Split.

- Split?
- I think that's what it's called?

Yeah, that's right, Split.

- You know Split is in another country?
- Only recently.

- 20 years ago, it was one big happy family.
- Sir.

I'll clear it with Innocent.
Get you an extra couple of days.

- I don't want an extra couple of days.
- Oh, no problem, then.

Thanks for this. Appreciate it.

- Bang bang.
- Bang!

(Pounding music and laughter)

He didn't tell you to get stuffed?

Oh, it was there. In the subtext.

Are you OK?

Mmm.

They gave me a once-over at the hospital.

No, not that, Robbie.

- You?
- Yeah.

You know me, I'm always all right.

Would you tell me if you weren't?

If all this funeral stuff was getting to you.

It's not.

Reminding you of Val?

- Doesn't seem to get any easier, does it?
- Well, that's it. It does.

I was stood outside the crem the other day
watching that poor family in pieces

and waiting for the pain.

Val's...slipping away.

Time's passing. There's nothing you can do
about that. Doesn't mean you can't...

Yeah, I know.

First it felt like a betrayal, but...

No.

I'm just...turning over the page
on a new chapter.

Right.

Oh, I hate you, Robert Lewis.

Well, well.

Sergeant... Don't tell me. I never forget a face.

...Hathaway?

(Steady beeping)

Hey.

I thought you dumped me?

Last Chance Saloon, mate.

That just about decides it, ma'am.

Tara is alive. Jack is alive. The only person
still missing from the 17th is Johnny Jay.

So he's the body in the coffin?

Don't tell his son until we've got all the facts.

What are we doing about Jack Cornish?

Refusing to come home.

Can't Hathaway interview him in situ?
Find out what he's doing there.

Cornish told Hathaway to put all his questions
in writing, shut the door in his face.

- And did he put the questions in writing?
- He's on holiday, ma'am.

Oh, for God's sake.

So can we now stop pretending
that Cornish is Dixon of Dock Green?

Yes, ma'am.

So you were told to meet your father
at the undertaker's in the evening?

You didn't think that was odd?

When your dad is Johnny Jay,
you sorta get used to weird stuff.

- And you're sure the message was from him?
- Yeah.

The text alert's Whiskey In The Jar.

- I'll show you.
- You didn't have a phone when we found you.

So, when you got there, what happened?

I remember all the breath going out of me.
Then nothing.

Have you heard from my dad?
Why isn't he here?

We don't know where he is, son.

- I'm sorry.
- But the texts?

Could we talk about Dr Whitby again?

He was great, Dr Whitby.

He was the only one who listened.

That's why you went to see him
the night he died?

To talk to him?

Tell me why you went, Liam.

Why was it so urgent?

He...

He gives me Diazepam.

Ever since my mum died.

My dad went to pieces.

So I was all alone.

Dr Whitby, he helped me.

By getting you hooked on prescription drugs?

And the night he died?

I'd run out of pills. He got me some more.

There's something you're not telling me,
isn't there?

No.

Thanks.

Heartless, attacking two kids, eh?

Well, I can't see who'd want to.

Nice kids, too.

Hardworking lad. Would do anything to earn...

- Should I be getting on with something?
- Repatriation.

Miller brings bodies back from abroad.

Ex-pats, people who've died on their holidays.

(Phone rings)

Just in time.

Hathaway. Morning, Sergeant.

Do you know how hard it is
reading road signs in Serbo-Croat?

I had a weekend in Wales once.

It's amusing, sir.
I popped into the police station.

- Any of them speak English?
- Better than I speak Serbo-Croat, fortunately.

They've been watching the place for months
just looking for an excuse.

Here, I'm gonna put you on loudspeaker.

Laura Hobson is here, so mind your language.

- Morning.
- Hello, James, are you having a good time?

Can we do all that when he gets back?

The farmhouse is a crystal meth factory.

Well, well.

No wonder the Faulkners
have such big fat bank balances.

- They ship the stuff all over Europe.
- So, where's Cornish now?

Rotting in some Serbo-Croat cell?

Vanished.
Ten minutes after he saw me probably.

I'll make sure we put a watch
on all the airports and ferries.

You ever tried
one of these electronic cigarettes?

Sorry?

Help you give up the habit?
You ever tried one?

No.

Well, you should.

How much crystal meth
do you reckon you could hide in a coffin?

Let's start off with funerals for ex-pats, shall we?

You won't find anything wrong there.

A private ambulance, a coffin,
all the way from the Costa del Sol

and the cremation itself for £3,000?

Seems very reasonable.

How did you manage to do it that cheap?

By bringing them overland.
That's what makes it cheap.

Isn't it, Brian?

Cheaper than a flight
and couriers and insurance.

Do you want to fetch your jacket?

Sir. Crystals, sir.
Only traces but they've gone for analysis.

Crystals as in crystal meth?

You bastard. You lying bastard.

I knew there was something wrong! I knew it!

(She shouts)

Take him in.

Might do him good to stare at four walls
for a while. Think about life.

I'll get round to him later.

That's the hard stuff, isn't it?

He was all so against drugs.

Well, he was against a lot of things.
Methamphetamine.

More addictive than heroin.

Cheap to make. It's cruel stuff.

And you're sure that he's involved?

God.

Well, at least I know he's alive.

He's not fleeing
or some sort of mid-life madness.

He's not sick or dead.
He just doesn't want me.

He's a stupid man, Lou.
He'll look back and regret this.

What am I gonna tell the boys?

I'm not a single parent, Robbie.

How am I gonna stop being...half a couple?

You'll get there.

Well, I'm never gonna love anyone again,
I know that much.

Jack Cornish didn't just fall in with drugs,

did he, through poverty or a chaotic life?

He walked in with his eyes wide open,

knowing people are gonna die,

lives are gonna be ruined.

And he just didn't care.

Well, you'll put a stop to that.

We closed the factory.
Still got to nail Faulkner and his mates.

You will.

And when I do,
do you fancy a ride one night after work?

A ride?

What?

I mean a bike ride.

There's a bike hire shop...

Robbie.

You on a bike?

- Dr Barnes.
- Welcome to your new home.

You can't sleep on someone's sofa for ever.

You got me this room?

I spoke to the accommodation office, yes.

Now, tea?

Coffee?

They didn't just transport and smuggle the stuff.
They made it, too.

Cutting out the middle man,
making them all extremely rich.

- Just crystal meth?
- Yeah. We've traced three bank accounts.

All in various names,
but all leading back to Dr Matt Whitby,

with large sums deposited every month or so.

Then the next day the money is transferred
out abroad. We lose sight of it.

And the Faulkners?

Two separate accounts,
both emptied regularly, just like Whitby's.

- (Phone beeps)
- Excuse me.

Can you spare a minute, ma'am?

I should probably get some sleep.

The doctor said I should rest.

Yes, of course.

It's all right.

I know.

I know everything.

And I'll help you.

I mean, I can do more than help.

I can take the whole problem out of your hands
if that's what you want.

My baby died.

Our baby, Matt and me.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Are you all right?

And you can see her...whenever you like.

Or never. If you like.

Did you set fire to my boat?

No.

Now, don't upset yourself.

You mustn't upset yourself. Think of the baby.

Well, there is no baby.

You lost it?

No, I... I'm on the pill.

I've... I've never been pregnant.

Turns out it's human blood, ma'am,

from two different people,
found in Matt Whitby's dustbin.

- I don't...
- The blood was on the outside of the bags.

Right.

And on the inside, crystal meth, ma'am.

Yeah, if that's what they were smuggling.
Where does the blood come into it.

Not just blood, ma'am.
Liver cells found on the outside of one bag.

Bringing ex-pats home to their loved ones.

There's a little cursory check in customs,

but nobody wants dogs
scrambling all over a coffin, do they?

Go outside for five minutes
and have a pretend fag.

They embalm the bodies, ma'am.

So if a customs officer was a bit too officious,
the chemicals would put the dog off.

The bags were smuggled in body cavities.

They packed the corpses with drugs.

You were so happy.

You were so happy.

And so excited.

And that morning not feeling well...

And they say it, don't they?
They say "blooming".

And you were blooming.

And then the row
when he was "ruining your life".

And then I thought... Stupid, stupid me.

I thought...

I hoped...

Six repatriations this year.

And every time you're asked to fetch
some ex-pat home for cremation,

you give the Faulkners the details.

- I want my solicitor.
- He's on his way.

You travelled out to the body.

They got the drugs to you in Spain or wherever,

so you could do the surgery.

Pretty gruesome branch of a pretty filthy trade.

Sir, the phone we found in Mr Miller's desk.

We charged it up.

How do you explain it?

"World Cup."

- I've never seen it before.
- Your prints are all over it.

You sent Matt Whitby that text.

You made it possible for the body swap.

You're the lynchpin of this smuggling ring.

- How many years do you reckon so far?
- (Phone beeps)

Peter Faulkner made pretty damn sure

that it'd be you ending up
sitting in that seat talking to me, didn't he?

Time to stop doing his bidding.

Look after yourself.

It was Johnny Jay.

In the coffin.

He got drunk, took a load of drugs...
that's what he did.

He was out of control. He had a heart attack.

Heart attack? They lied to you.

You must realise that by now.

Results from SOCO, sir.

All right. I'm gonna leave you
to think about things for a few minutes.

Consider your future.

INNOCENT: There comes a time
when you have to accept the game is up.

I went to Split on holiday.
I stayed in a friend's house. And that's it.

Following the party at Corby Manse,
why did you scurry off to Croatia?

Sex with Tara Faulkner mostly.

She says she went to Barcelona.

She must have called in on the way back.

No idea.

What were you running from?

There was a fight after the dinner party,
wasn't there?

Not as far as I know.

Why choose Croatia?

Why not? Sun. Cheap wine.

And a crystal meth factory.

It's news to me.

I was just trying to get my head together
after my marriage broke down.

I blame the job, you know.

Inspector Lewis couldn't believe
anything bad about you.

Robbie Lewis
and the Ladybird Book of Policing.

We're making enquiries with the Border Agency,

so we'll soon know
where you went and when you went.

Border Agency? You'll be lucky.

You know what happens
to a police officer in prison?

That's why I'm not going there.

(Whispers)

We've just had the findings from
an examination of your house, Mrs Faulkner.

Blood. Hair. Scuff marks.

- I don't know anything about that.
- And we have a missing man.

Luckily, we also have his son.

So it should be easy to check the DNA.

Who killed him, Tara?

You or Peter?

No comment.

Brian Miller told your brother
how to get into the funeral parlour.

A clumsy code for 1966.

You and I both know that forensics
are gonna tell us

that Johnny Jay was killed in your house.

A week later, your brother's dead.

These things must be linked.

We don't know why Johnny was killed yet,

but we will find out.

Good. That's what you get paid for after all.

Peter and Matt never really got on, did they?

I think Peter killed Johnny.

And you and your brother were appalled,
but you never signed up for murder.

And Cornish, for all he was a corrupt copper,
well...

he didn't want to know about murder either.

So you had a row with your husband
and you went off with Cornish.

But your brother...

He was so angry about Johnny's death
that he couldn't leave it alone.

Maybe he even threatened to tell us
what had happened?

Well, whatever he said,

your husband went to Matt's surgery
and killed him.

I don't believe you.

Got your brother very drunk.

He forced Matt to swallow a cocktail of drugs.
Not a pleasant way to go.

Whisky dribbled down his shirt front.

Half-dissolved tablets in his mouth,
down his throat.

Choking on them. Struggling.

Your husband put his hands
either side of his neck

to force him back into a sitting position.

And when your brother
was too drunk to fight any more,

Peter poured formaldehyde down his throat.

Embalming fluid.

The brother you loved.

My husband killed Johnny Jay.

- Mrs Faulkner...
- Johnny knew nothing about the crystal meth.

But he found a notebook
my idiot husband had kept.

Consignments, the dates, everything.

Johnny didn't know what the stuff was
but he knew it had to be drugs.

And the dates would tally
with Liam's trips out of the country.

Johnny was threatening to go to the police.

He turned to go

and my husband hit him...hard.

SOLICITOR: That really is enough.
- Hit him with?

A stone door stop thing.

And then you had the brilliant idea
to switch the bodies?

They did that together, Matt and Peter.

Peter was supposed to bury the other body.

But he's so useless,
he couldn't even do that properly.

He said he'd been "interrupted".

The fly-tippers.

And then he tried to kill Ruth?

In case Liam had told her something.

And that was my fault, too.

I told him that Liam was waiting to talk to you.

So much of this is my fault.

When Johnny realised his son
had been used to smuggle drugs,

he went mad.

He threatened to go to the police.

He was raging.

So I shut him up.

No-one else would.

Well, of course, that was wrong.

According to the great humanitarian
Matt Whitby.

Then when you found the other body and
came sniffing around, he wouldn't shut up.

"Thug, bully boy, psycho."

He threatened to feed me to the wolves.

You lot.

I just wanted to kill him.

So I did.

You killed Johnny Jay and Matt Whitby?

Yep.

Because they threatened
your drug smuggling operation?

- Yep.
- And Brian Miller's role?

He embalmed the bodies, packed them
with drugs, got them out again this end.

While you sat back and raked in the cash?

I financed the thing, didn't I? That was my bit.

Crystal meth.

Made in Eastern Europe
for supply to the holiday hot spots.

One body packed with two kilos
could net us 80,000 quid.

How long would it take you to earn that?

And Cornish?

How did he fit into this?

The wife's little bit of rough.

♪ He left me here to ramble on

(Hums along)

♪ My ramblin' pal

♪ ls dead and gone

♪ If when we die

♪ We go somewhere

♪ I'll bet you a dollar

♪ He's ramblin' there...

I told Dr Whitby I'd seen someone
unloading something at Miller's.

Did you see who it was?

Just a van.

Shadows.

Thought it might have been a body
but it was so odd.

And then you came round asking questions
and I didn't know what to do.

If in doubt, tell the police.

I was going to, but Dr Whitby
said Dad was involved.

Up to his neck in a drugs racket.

Your dad didn't do anything wrong, Liam.

He died because he cared about you.

A drink for old time's sake?

There isn't a spoon long enough...

For supping with the devil? Very good, Robbie.

Almost witty.

You do know that from now on
everybody in the force will be on your back?

You'll have to find me first.

See you.

Battle between an owl and a ferret.

Which one would win?

I'm allergic to fur, sir. And feather.

You did OK in spite of it.

GREY: So, who would win, sir?

The one with the dull car,
the cheap shoes...and the raging thirst.

- Cheers.
- Thank you.

Oh, here is the Boy Wonder.

I thought you had another three days, James?

I knew he'd be bored out of his skull without...

- Not far wrong, sir.
- I'll get you a drink.

- No, no, you...
- No, you...

Sit down.

I've enjoyed being the inspector's sidekick.

- It's been all right, hasn't it?
- Ma'am.

Don't listen to anything he says,
he's been a lonely little soul without you.

I've been thinking about doing that all day.

Same here.

Evening.

Oh. James.

- Gosh, you're sunburnt.
- Thank you.

- I'll get the drinks in.
- No, I'll get them.

No, we'll both get them.

You can have that one.

How long...?

I turn my back for five minutes...

It was good of you but we could have got a taxi.

You'll have a load of stuff to sort out
with the coroner in the next few days.

Take my advice,
if anyone holds out a helping hand...

LIAM: Grab it.
- My dad died suddenly, too.

I was 16.

Police and coroners and all that.

- Did someone hold out a hand to you?
- Yes. A policeman.

A Geordie.

- Is that why you became a police officer?
- Yeah.

He doesn't remember it.

I'll never forget.