All language subtitles for A Touch of Frost Season 04 Episode 05 - Deep Waters 720p WEB-DL HEVC x265 BONE

Don't know why.

Ta -da.

What's that?

What do you mean, what's that? What's
that?

These are keys, Johnny. Oh, the flat.

You took the plunge then?

Yeah, I just dropped my stuff off just
now. So, goodbye section house. Hello,

own front door, own fridge, own tide
mark round the bar.

Knife day, Claude. What in the world,
you know, could do with a lick of tape.

Mr. Frost, control room, armed robbery.

Single knife wound to the stomach. Looks
bad.

Paramedics are on scene.

Just £85 stolen from the till.

Lindsay's found a witness who saw two
men looking in the shop window 20

ago before the robbery.

Right.

How about a bit of synchronised
swimming, Adam?

I don't think so.

See you later, Jamie. See you.

Help you out.

No thanks, Adam.

Use the hat pin this time, yeah?

Hat pin?

He's got a tutorial with Michael.

Is that stuff about him true, then?

Pretty is.

Now, put your tongue away, Adam. It's
hiding your manly chest.

Mr Chandani.

Mr Chandani, I'm Detective Inspector
Frost.

The ambulance is leaving with your wife,
sir.

I think it would be better if you came
away from the till.

You know, it might be some evidence and
some fingerprints, maybe.

Oh.

Come on, your wife needs you, sir.

Don't worry about the shop.

That's all right.

We'll look after that for you.

You just go with your wife.

It's here.

Don't worry about anything.

Hello, Mr. Michael.

Hello.

Helen, come on in.

Mrs. Ann, would you go up to admin and
see if those television people left a

message? Fine.

Oh, if you get a minute, would you go up
pop into town and pick up my trousers

from the dry cleaners?

Thanks.

Dental control from 27 Paxton Road. Two
males, IC1s as described.

That's Bainbridge.

We have a word, please, lads.

Spice the wall!

Hands above your heads! Here we go.

What's the matter with you? Just take it
easy, yeah?

Looking again at the historical
perspective, the behaviourists evolved

concept of drive, i .e.

something which causes an animal to
perform a particular act to satisfy a

bodily process.

Now, under this system, all basic
behavior can be explained in terms of

drives. The drive to reduce hunger, the
drive to reduce thirst, to reduce pain,

and the drive to achieve sex.

Hunger, thirst, pain, sex. Very good.

Later, however, this attractively simple
theory developed complications, because

although there is no appetite, human or
animal, which cannot be satisfied, if

only for a brief period, it offers no
answer as to the nature of pleasure.

Is there, psychologists began to ask, a
pleasure centre?

And if so, how do we go about finding
it?

You're all right. You're like a
frightened rabbit.

I'm sorry, but I don't like you standing
so close to me.

Well, if you were uncomfortable, why
didn't you say?

Perhaps I should have done.

Perhaps you misunderstood.

What's there to misunderstand? Look, I
know it's politically incorrect to stand

within five yards of a student, but I
thought we knew each other better than

that.

Helen, please.

I'm sorry, Dr. Michelson, but I really
think it would be better if I changed

courses. Helen, you're being silly.

I'm not

Don't die here.

Don't die here.

The notice to detain persons.

He wants a solicitor.

I don't, he does.

Well, let Peter speak for himself, shall
we?

I told you, he wants a solicitor.

And he ain't saying anything till you
get one here.

Well, it's going to be a lonely old wait
sitting in that cell on his own.

Do you know how long it can take to get
a duty solicitor, Rod? You've been in

here often enough.

Back off, Jack. Yes, well, get their
clothes off and to forensic.

They don't need a solicitor for that.

Richard, what are you doing here?

All right, don't answer. I don't want to
know.

I've been apprised of the case.

It meets none of the criteria for
denying access.

Rod Bainbridge may not want a solicitor,
but if Peter does, well, he's got to

have one.

But a woman has been stabbed.

Which makes it all the more important to
get it right procedurally.

Procedurally? They are banked to rights.

How's Mrs Chandani?

They're operating.

Ruptured spleen.

And, mister?

He hasn't said a word.

Anyway, what are you doing here?

University challenge.

Helen Tudor.

Detective Sergeant Toolan Denton CID.

And this is P .P. Hunter.

Hello.

What's happened to you, then?

An ankle ligament. Ah.

Now, how's your head?

They're going to do a brain scan.

Hopefully it's still there. This is
Jamie. Hi.

Now, don't get me wrong, Miss Tudor, but
could this have been an accident?

Well, you know, a bit of horseplay that
ended in tears?

Why did he whisper to me then?

Sorry? He leant over to me at the bottom
of the stairs and whispered, Don't die,

Helen. Don't die here.

Oh. But no witnesses?

No. It was definitely a man, though. You
said he.

Did you get a good look at him?

No, I was already passing out. But the
voice was a man?

I think so. I assume so.

Oh? Any reason why? No, no reason at
all. I didn't see that it was a woman,

assumed it was a man. Why do you have
such a problem with that?

I don't.

She's been scared stiff as well as
knocked about.

If someone who's just laid hands on you
whispers, don't die here, it implies

that they might want you to die
somewhere else. Jamie, please.

Well, don't you think?

Possibly. Do you have a boyfriend, Miss
Tudor?

Yes.

Does he know what happened?

He's not at the university. He's not a
student. She's in love with a long

-distance lorry driver.

Oh, come on. Gary wouldn't knock her
down the stairs.

He adores her.

Gary? Gareth.

Gareth King.

Well, can you think of anyone who might
want to attack you, Miss Tudor?

No, I'm sorry, I can't.

Jamie?

Attack, no.

Group, yes.

Can you tell me where you were at two o
'clock this afternoon, Rod?

Will you answer the question, please?

We have independent witnesses who will
testify that they saw a man answering

your description outside Bishop's Green
sub -post office at that time.

A formal identification parade can be
arranged.

Do you wish to say anything?

When you and your cousin Peter were
arrested, you were found to be in the

possession of a certain sum of money in
cash.

£85 in notes and £2 .50 in coins. Can
you tell me where the £85 came from?

No, Joey.

Duty solicitor turned up yet?

I'll let you know as soon as he arrives,
James. Yes, all right, you do that.

You still doing cars, are you?

No, Mr Frost.

A misunderstanding.

Caught red -handed.

Returning something he'd paid for.

So it's a cup of tea and out.

Still at the B &B, are you?

Well, sort of, yeah, but... Are you
going to give me your new number while

you're here? What?

Well, Johnny Johnson tells me you've
moved. I know, you like being called out

all hours.

Yeah.

There you are.

Er, no.

That's Mr Mullet's weekend cottage.

Hmm?

Oh, there you are.

Van Elton Road.

That looks more like it.

Duty solicitor. Don't let him settle.
Call me.

All right, Jack.

Right.

We're going to sign you out then,
Richard.

So you understand our concern, Dr.
Michelson.

Obviously. I share it. We all do.

She wasn't sexually assaulted, though,
so we can't rule out a female offender.

And the other thing is, of course, is
that Miss Tudor's name was used, which

suggests that she was known to her
attacker.

If she was attacked.

Sergeant, there are some 8 ,000 students
on this campus, plus 300 ancillary

staff. I don't wish to appear impolite,
but why are you starting with me?

We have to start somewhere, sir.

And I understand that she had just
attended a tutorial with you? It's

psychology, isn't it?

The Year One Foundation course, yes.

And would that have been a group
tutorial, sir?

One -to -one.

Hardly unusual.

But if you have to ask the question, did
I attack her?

No, I didn't. She left this room
unmolested at 2 .30, and that's the last

of her.

OK, well, thank you, sir.

Sorry to have had to intrude like this.
No problem.

Mrs. Michelson.

If there's anything else we can do to
help, just get in touch. Thank you, sir.

We will.

Goodbye for now.

And did you result, though?

Don't be ridiculous.

Did you?

Well, go to hell!

No, I'm not.

There's no forensic at the shop, no
weapon, no duty solicitor. And where

you been? University.

I did leave a note. All right.

Alleged assault on a first -year
student.

Helen Tudor by name, stunning by nature.

Brains, beauty and modest with it. Just
the thought you'd kill me. Yeah, well,

as long as you're enjoying yourself.

Frost.

Right, Billy.

Duty solicitor has finally arrived.

In with Peter Bainbridge.

What's his name?

Simon Marsh. It's a new one on me.

Oh, is that in there now?

Yeah.

Doesn't look much of a problem to me.

I think you'd better call an ambulance.

Peter?

Peter, are you all right, son?

Where's the pain?

Here?

All right, all right. Look, he's got
indigestion.

Nice one.

George! Get down to the hospital.

What? That Peter Bainbridge is working
at Flanker. I want you to sit with him.

Strictly no visitors.

And you let me know the minute he's fit
for an interview.

What about this university thing?

Are you still here?

What's the latest, Jamie?

Well, they say they'll let her home this
evening if there's someone to look

after her.

I've ordered you.

Sorry to spoil your fantasy, but I
already have.

Oi! Oi!

Bitch. Bitch.

You summoned me, sir?

Yes, sir. Just making sure you're not up
to any mischief.

Mischief?

I'm investigating an armed robbery, sir.

Well, while Peter Bainbridge is still in
hospital, you just have to be patient,

don't you?

Yes, like Mr Chandani.

His wife's in hospital too, only she's
in intensive care. Yes, unfortunately,

that is not relevant to the rules of
evidence. Oh, come on. Bainbridge is a

It's a delaying tactic.

Better than him dying in custody.

That's a matter of opinion.

I'm sorry?

You said I'm waiting for a second
opinion.

Sir, leave Peter Bainbridge alone.

Are you willing to engage in casual sex?

Not with you, I'm not.

Would you consider having an affair with
a married man?

Are you all right, Sandy, or what? Never
better.

Spare a minute?

I'm not sure I dare.

Let's find a seat.

All right.

What is your most frequent sexual
fantasy?

What? It's a bonky questionnaire.

A girl called Jamie Merritt gave it to
me. A friend of Alan Tudor.

Oh, yeah?

The university assault victim.

Oh, yes.

George Toulon reckons that could be an
accident.

Oh. So, why did his wife try to kill
herself? Whose wife?

Dr. Michelson.

Alan's psychology lecturer.

I don't know. He lost me.

Now, come on, Jack.

Now, it's supposed to be the news hound
who gets the information from the

copper, not the other way around. Are
you investigating this Michelson

character? What for?

Well, according to Jamie, this Dr
Michelson dishes these out to all his

-year students.

Of course, he assures them it's just an
icebreaker to prepare them for a

discussion on the psychology of human
relationships.

But he only collects them in off the
women.

So she's saying that he targets likely
conquests from the answers given in this

questionnaire. That's just one of his
little ploys.

What if Helen really was threatening to
go public, not just about Michelson, but

about the way the establishment covers
up for him? I see.

So, either Michelson pushed her down the
staircase, or it's a conspiracy and the

whole governing board did it.

Well, nice story either way.

Especially with the human interest of
the wife's attempted suicide.

So, what have you done with all this
information?

Have you published it?

Oh, I'm prejudice of police
investigation.

What do you think I am?

An irresponsible opportunist.

All I did was phone our sister papers in
the university towns listed and get

them to check their back numbers.

Just for fun, really.

The result?

Six reports of unsolved campus assault.

In six months.

Plus two murders.

And not on campus, the murders?

No, no. The victims were students.

Not that I want to frighten anyone.

No, of course not.

You're a journalist.

I want you on this now.

What about the armed robbery? You've at
least got time to interview the girl.

If Sandy Longford's right... Yes, if...
Then we can't afford not to investigate

further.

Find the long -distance lorry driver.

Oh, and Jack. Yes? Can we stay one step
ahead of the press from now on, please?

Lindsay, get those clothes off.

I want you in civvies now.

Right, sir.

Helen Tudor?

So, when are you going to arrest
Michelson?

I've no reason to arrest anyone yet,
Miss Merrick. The man's a snake.

knows it.

Jamie, he's a snake, OK, but I can't
accuse him of doing anything seriously

wrong, can I?

Yeah, can we leave Dr Michelson out of
this just for a moment?

Now, when did you last meet your
boyfriend?

Gareth. Gareth.

About a week ago, before he went up
north.

Ah.

What about you, Miss Merrick?

Where were you yesterday afternoon at 2
.30?

In the shower.

Well?

I'd say Helen's been telling the truth
all along.

Don't think I'm hysterical type.

And Jamie?

A good friend.

Yeah, a bit overprotective.

A bit too much righteous indignation
against my person.

Covering her own guilt, perhaps.

Why should she push Helen downstairs?

Well, let's face it.

Helen puts her in the shade in the old
looks department, doesn't she?

I think the lorry driver's a better bet,
sir.

So do I.

Find him.

Hi, anything else?

At the shop?

Oh, no, no.

Do you need help with the loop before I
go? No, thanks.

Jenny, don't be long.

Helen, it was Michelson and they know
it.

They're just making doubly sure because
of who he is. Now, no -one's going to

break the door down, OK?

No, I know, I know.

Suddenly drowning in a black wave.

Nothing to live for.

Oh, she's crazy.

But at the bottom of it all, a deep
sense of loathing.

Not for him.

For myself.

For having put up with it all for so
long.

Helen Tudor.

Do you know her?

No.

She seemed a nice, decent girl.

Do you think that Helen Tudor might have
been on her way to blow the whistle on

Dr Michelson when she was attacked?

It's possible.

And in panic, he might have tried to
stop her.

I really don't know.

Who can say what any of us are capable
of?

Men or women.

Not me, Inspector.

One thing I'm not capable of is playing
the violently jealous wife.

All I ever want to do is climb into a
small box in the corner on my own and

close the lid.

Jamie?

I don't know. Somebody shoved that out
of the door.

Well, it's your handwriting.

First page from an essay. Look, your
name and everything.

Maybe you fell out your folder when you
got thumped.

I didn't do this underlining.

Why did somebody underline that?

Beautiful people are consistently chosen
in preference to those of average

appearance. It's called the halo effect
in social psychology.

If you're physically attractive, you're
assumed to be special, because the

advantage is obviously.

But it can be quite a burden.

I know the feeling.

I'm surprised to find you still here on
campus, sir.

I thought you'd be at home with your
wife.

Is that relevant?

It means that you could have slipped
this under Helen Tudor's door.

Did you?

Of course not.

Why would I do that?

Why, indeed.

A veiled threat.

Perhaps.

Hi.

Gareth King?

Yeah? P .C. Hunter, Denton Police.

Are you going to ask me something

or not?

You're not under arrest, Mr. King.
You're free to go any time you want.

What time did you get back from
Northampton yesterday?

I don't know.

Well, what's the problem?

G509 MLP. That's your law, isn't it? So?

Well, I had a word with our traffic
division.

They've got a camera on the Ring Road
contraflow system. You're on video.

I wasn't speeding.

No, you see, they've got a time code on
the videotape, which means that you were

back in Denton at 13 .47.

That's about half an hour before a
female student called Helen Tudor was

assaulted.

Helen? What's happened to her?

She was pushed down some stairs at the
university.

She's OK, but she won't be going dancing
for a minute.

Can I see her?

No, I don't think that's a good idea.

I need to see her.

Where did you go when you got back to
Denton?

Mr King?

The university.

Well, parked up behind it anyway.

Why?

Because I was going to speak to Helen if
I could find her.

But in the end I bottled out.

Bottled out of what?

Giving her the good news.

Pregnant. Yeah, you know.

Yes, thank you, Gareth, I do know. I'm
just trying to come to terms with the

fact that you've got a wife.

Her name's Stephanie.

Mm -hm.

And she's actually not as pretty as you.

Oh.

I just thought I ought to do the decent
thing, you know, not just disappear.

Obviously the time is not that I give up
with what's happened to you.

No, no, it's reassuringly normal, wives
and babies.

I mean, Steph's a bit dicky at the
moment, you know, morning sickness and

everything, so... She needs looking
after whenever I can.

And in the future, you know, I'm going
to be a father, so... Presumably so,

Yeah.

We'll take care of you.

You're very special to me, you know,
Helen.

Yeah.

Well, you find out who did this to you,
let me know, and I'll kick his head in.

Thank you, Cass.

Oh, well.

One down, seven to go.

So, you're saying he's got a wife in
every port.

Only one wife, sir, and she lives in
Denton. The other eight are girlfriends.

But regular relationships?

It does seem like it. He's given us
names and addresses.

Students? Some, but not all.

He meets them at clubs when he's
overnighting around the country.

For some peculiar reason, beautiful,
intelligent young women seem to find him

irresistible. Yes, thank you very much.
Can we save the jealousy till later,

please?

What about his work dockets, though?

If they showed him in towns where
assaults have occurred... It's a

afraid, sir. I've double -checked. Only
half of the towns match up and none of

the dates.

And in any case, I've been on the phone
to the Knicks concerned.

There's no pattern to the assaults. Half
of them weren't even on women.

Now it's just Sandy Longford speaking
through his organ.

The country's undergraduates are not
being stalked by some mysterious

Helen Tudor could be, and she's on our
patch.

Don't die, Helen, don't die here.

Yes, all right, well...

Have you spoken to her parents?

Not as yet, sir. I believe they live in
Boxborough.

Boxborough? Oh.

I know someone who lives in Boxborough.

Hello. How is it?

Yeah. Yeah, it's fine.

It's been six months now.

You make it sound like prison, Clive.
No, I'm learning all the time.

Like I did at Denton.

Only now I'm a DS, I don't get all the
crappy jobs.

So why are you here?

Oh, I'm covering Hornrim Harry's back,
really.

A sort -case Denton Uni young female
student.

A bit odd, I must admit.

But we didn't cover her parents, so what
I'm doing here today, called them on.

What's odd about it?

Well, a real motive for the attack.

Don't know whether the attacker was male
or female.

And left a rather cryptic parting
request.

Oh, come on.

Close over here.

Look at that. Helen Fuder. First year
undergraduate, psychology student.

Peace your eyes on that, eh?

I've seen her before somewhere. In your
dreams, my son.

No, no, no, I'm sure.

Can I borrow them?

Of course. I'll tell you later.

Are you going to come back for the neck
afterwards?

No, no, no way.

I'll tell you what.

I'll meet you in that fish and chip shop
in about an hour.

All right.

Thanks.

The wife's in Oslo on business. Works
for a furniture company.

I'm semi -retired.

Do this for fun, really.

But you haven't been down to see Helen.

I spoke to her on the phone last night.

She sounded a bit shaky, but said she
was OK. So, basically, I don't think she

wants me down there fussing about.

Better off with Jamie, at least till her
mum gets back.

Oh, excuse me.

Sorry.

So you think well of Jamie, do you, Mr
Tudor?

Oh, yeah, she's a good, sensible girl.

A plain Jamie next to Helen, but not
jealous with it like some so -called

friends are.

It's amazing how catty some girls can
be.

Don't like cruel, some of them.

To someone with a prettier face.

All right, Clive.

Shopping? Yeah, thank you. It's
something for my new flat. Do you mind?

Flat? What happened to the house? It
burnt down.

It's all right. I'll tell you about it
later. This is a very extensive menu.

They do everything here. They do carp.

They do grey mullet.

They also do red mullet.

The best is goujons of mullet served on
a bed of rice in a sour lemon sauce.

That's the one we'll have, I think.

Here's your photo.

All right, thanks.

And there's another.

Is this, then, a twin?

No, it's a look -alike. That's what rang
a bell. Name's Paula Tate.

The investigation was being wound up
when I first arrived here. Well, wound

down, anyway.

Case unsolved.

She died two years ago.

Drowned in an open -air swimming pool.

Coroner recorded an open verdict.

Well, he had to. There was no apparent
motive for murder.

She'd not been sexually assaulted.

She had no enemies.

There was only minimal marking on the
body, just slight bruising to the

shoulders. Look, there was a bang on the
head.

That kid was a brilliant swimmer. She
was happy. There's no way she would have

committed suicide.

It was an accident.

An accident.

Then what the hell was she doing here in
the middle of the night?

Yeah, she died when the pool was shut.

She was probably drunk.

No. She was lured here and murdered.

Are you reopening the case?

No. Well, you bloody well ought to.

Go.

Beautiful people are consistently
chosen.

Good morning.

Peter Bainbridge.

Been discharged from hospital.

We're ready when you are.

Get me a cup of coffee, will you?

It's the same solicitor as before, Simon
Marsh.

But Rod Bainbridge is gone.

He's gone?

Bailed. Time's up. I've enough to charge
him.

All right.

Take interview with Peter Bainbridge.
Time, 08 .30.

Those present, myself, D .S. Toulon.

Detective Inspector Frost.

Mr. Simon Marsh, Mr. Bainbridge's legal
representative.

First of all, Peter, may I take this
opportunity on behalf of myself and my

colleagues to say how delighted we are
that you are fit and well.

May I also remind you that you are still
under caution.

Now, you do not have to say anything,
but anything that you do say...

Yes, you do not have to say

anything.

But it may harm your defence if you do
not mention, when questioned, something

which you later rely on in court.
Anything you do say may be given in

Everybody clear on that?

My client understands.

Good, fine.

Now, Peter, can you tell me where you
were 2 o 'clock Wednesday afternoon?

Having taken legal advice, no comment.

Rod has got form for robbery.

You and Rod were seen outside a sub
-post office.

Twenty minutes later, that sub -post
office was robbed.

Five minutes after that, you and Rod
were picked up. And lo and behold,

Rod had in his pocket exactly the same
amount of money that was stolen from the

post office.

Unreasonable.

Hmm? No.

So, come on, Peter, what went wrong, eh?

It was Rod, wasn't it? He cocked it up.

He forgot that Wednesday was half -day
closing at the post office counter.

Hmm? So that when you charged in, all
that was left for you was the till by

sweetie counter.

And Mrs Chandani.

But you didn't know that he had a knife,
did you, Peter, eh?

You didn't know that Rod had a knife,
eh?

So what did you feel like when you saw
him stick it in Mrs Chandani?

What did you feel like then, Peter, eh?
Inspector Frost, I must record for the

benefit of the tape that your body
language and behaviour towards my client

becoming oppressive.

So are they.

Then I suggest we take a break.

This interview is suspended.

George, give Mr Bainbridge a cup of tea.

Predigest it first.

Can I have a word with you?

Excuse me. If you could just separate
your legal duty from your moral...

Frankly, I don't think my moral duty is
for you to dictate.

Rod Bainbridge would stab his own
grandmother for her last teabag. I'm not

representing Rod Bainbridge. I'm
representing his cousin. Yes, I know,

seen your last stroke, the heart attack.
I didn't say he'd had a heart attack,

and nor did my client. He was in genuine
distress.

He's not the only one.

Mrs Chandani's had her spleen sliced in
half, and you're preventing your client

from telling the truth. He has a right
to say nothing.

I bet he's told you, though. What he's
told me in private is none of your

business. Both Rod and Peter Bainbridge
are innocent of this crime till proven

guilty, and neither of them is required
to help you prove that guilt any more

than I am.

Defending that principle is my only
moral duty.

Yes, right. Thank you very much. Thank
you for the lecture.

Jack. Yes?

Ketley's called from the hospital.

And?

No, go on.

Mr. Marsh is entitled to all relevant
information.

Mrs. Chandani's dead.

Well, there you go, Mr. Marsh.

Murder.

Where does that leave your moral duty?

You don't have to do this, you know. I
do. Just the library and back.

I can't sit here feeling scared
forevermore, can I?

I've got to get a grip.

Oh, Helen, you're still woozy, you've
got a headache and you're shaking. Come

on, give yourself time.

I can't.

Positive thinking. If I think well, I'll
get well and then I won't feel like

such a sitting duck.

Nothing's changed since we first spoke,
Peter.

A woman's dead.

There is no fresh evidence.

Helen!

How are you?

Fine, thank you.

No touching.

Have the police discovered a motive for
your mishap?

You do know we have a counsellor on
campus to help students with problems,

you?

I don't have any problem with Dr.
Michael, don't I?

No, you don't. But I think you're right
about changing courses.

Psychology isn't a good choice on your
part.

Perhaps you should call it a day and
start again next year.

Something less, sir.

Think about it.

Now do you believe he's at night?

He was always going to try and label you
as sad.

And you weren't even going to tell the
police about what he gets up to.

You just need to go back to bed.

Come on, then. We'll talk about it
later.

My pink top.

It's gone.

What? My pink top. It was hanging by the
window, drying.

Somebody's taken it. Oh, come on, Helen.
Who else in this place but you wears

pink top? It's been taken.

Somebody's stealing my clothes.

If a court was to accept that you were
outside of some post office and they

told that you would give no reason why,
then that court is entitled to draw its

own conclusions.

But such an inference would not secure a
conviction.

Look, what the law is saying here is
saying, look, Peter, this is your chance

tell your side of the story.

It's only fair, isn't it?

Because most people feel the need to
explain. It's a basic instinct,

if you're innocent.

You see, I am not accusing you of
anything.

Oh, come on, let's be honest.

You're not really much of a villain, are
you?

No.

He's the hard case, everyone knows that.

You know what I think?

I think that you're so used to being
told what to do by Rod that that's what

you're doing now here in this room.

When really you want to get something
off your chest.

Well, why don't you do what you want for
a change?

Eh? Come on.

Just talk about it.

You'll feel a whole lot better, believe
me.

No comment.

Inspector, my client's clearly fatigued.
In view of the time, could I suggest we

suspend the interview? Yes, yes, yes,
yes, yes, of course.

This interview is suspended at 17 .10
due to Mr.

Marcy's client's fatigue.

Cracked him, sir?

No, not yet.

I'll finish him off in the morning, I
expect.

Is it all right to show you this, then?

What's that? From the university.

You asked for a list of students
domiciled in Boxford before coming to

Did I? How many?

Seventeen. Seven?

You what?

Nine men, eight women.

Hmm.

Any on the same psychology course as
Helen Tudor?

No. Any in the same residential block?

No. Shall I send the details up to DS
Barnard? Do what?

Well, if your theory is there's a link
between the lookalike's death and the

assault on Helen... Did I say that?

Well, no. Oh. But... If it transpires
that someone on that list was also

interviewed during the Paula Tate
inquiry.

Hmm.

Could be a coincidence, isn't it?

Still, go on.

Send it off to Barnard. Let him work
through it. He loves anything

He should have been a lawyer.

How are you doing?

How about me, Jack? I'm a marvellous
little vertebrae.

Hello?

I'm not home tonight.

I've never heard about you, Pat.

I don't suppose I could interest you in
a swap, could I? What do you mean?

Well, you could have news at ten, the
wife in a quilted dressing gown, and

take those. Please?

No. What have you got lined up, then?

Nothing, Johnny.

Absolutely nothing.

Great, isn't it?

And those things will kill you.

Nora? Hello, Mr. Trust.

Bye -bye.

Yeah, goodnight.

Who's that meant to be?

It's me.

Well, the eyebrows are too big.

Look, the eyebrow... Just sit down.

Now, what do you want?

Nothing.

Why are you here, Richard?

I got the bum's rush.

Him from the B &B and me from the
hospital.

Why? I thought you said that you weren't
in trouble.

I'm not, Mr Frost. Straight up.

I'm still doing the magazine vending and
everything. I haven't even got my badge

to look.

Oh, yeah. So, why were you slung out?

Because he was never there.

Well, where was he then?

At my place. That's why I've been slung
out.

I'm pregnant.

Oh, terrific.

Well, we think so.

Going to get married.

Right.

So, have you been to the council?

Had a flat?

Yeah.

Couldn't understand a word she said. She
was foreign.

Bet she's got somewhere to live. Yeah,
well, don't worry about that. Are they

going to house you?

Well, eventually.

Probably. I mean, I don't know.

So many forms to fill out, it panics me.

Well, you can write, can't you?

I mean, you've got a brain.

You can't stay here.

How did you get my address, anyway?

Oh, well, you see, the thing is, this
morning, when... Yeah, yeah, yeah,

yeah. Right.

Frost.

Oh, hello, Clive.

Laura, turn the milk off!

Who's Laura?

Huh? Oh, she is a pregnant 22 -year -old
with psychiatric problems and we're

living together now. Did you want
something?

Yeah, well, I just thought you'd want to
know straight away.

You know that list you sent up?

Denton students with a home address in
Boxborough?

Yeah, well, I got a match.

One of them was interviewed during the
Paula Tate investigation.

His name's Adam Weston.

Morning. Morning.

If you're still here when I get back,
you're nicked.

Mr Mullet will have a fit if he finds
out.

Have they got him?

Well, Richard has. Not recent. I managed
to frighten him off crime a few years

ago.

Yeah, OK. Bye.

George, what have we got?

The Bainbridge is closed, back from the
lab.

No blood.

Forensic finished at the shop, have
they? Yeah, they wound up yesterday.

The only liftable prints on the till
were the Chandani's.

The support team are looking for the
gloves as well as the knife, I hope.

of course.

What do you mean, of course?

Jack? Yes?

Mr Chandani's here to see you.

Your man said, could I make a statement?

About my wife.

Yes, it's just a formality, really.

Could have waited.

It's just that I wanted to ask you, and
I realise how difficult this must be for

you.

I just wanted you to think again about
what happened on Wednesday afternoon.

Now, as I understand it, your wife was
alone in the shop.

Yes.

Are you sure that...

You weren't with her.

I closed the post office counter at 1
.30 and went upstairs.

I was there when I heard her shout.

And then the alarm.

I ran downstairs.

She was lying on the floor.

Was anyone else in the shop?

No.

Mr Chandani, I'd like you to think again
about that very carefully.

You see, these things, well, they happen
so quickly, and when it's as

devastating as this, we find that when a
witness is in shock, you know, his or

her memory doesn't function properly for
a while.

They need time to recover.

They need time to remember things more
clearly.

So I must ask you again.

Please.

Try and picture it for me.

You come down the stairs.

You see the till is open.

You see your wife lying on the floor.

Are there two men in the shop?

Do you see two men?

It's not only my wife.

Your mother told me you have arrested
people.

Why do you not ask them if they were in
my shop?

We have done, Mr Chandani. But under the
law, they are not obliged to say

anything. I see.

They're not obliged to tell the truth.

So you want me to tell lies.

He knows what I need, but he just won't
do it.

His wife's been murdered and he just
won't do it.

A lie is not going to resurrect her,
sir.

Is that the point?

Rod Bainbridge is at home laughing his
ruddy head off. That is the point!

Right, Peter.

You've had all night to think about
things.

Anything at all you want to say to me
about Wednesday afternoon?

Do you want to tell me why you were
outside Bishop's Green sub -post office?

No comment, Inspector.

All right, fair enough.

George, take Peter to the custody
officer, will you, and make the

arrangements for bail.

This investigation is not closed,
though.

And if I find just one tiny piece of
forensic, I'm going to come knocking at

your door.

Not that I'm being oppressive or
anything.

This interview is now terminated at 10
.15.

Well, I hope you're satisfied.

Yes, I am, for the moment.

Peter Bainbridge is a weak man.

And that's why you wanted to get at him.

The right to silence may have been
eroded, but it's still his best defence.

He's vulnerable, inarticulate and out of
his depth.

Without me here, you'd have got a
confession out of him in seconds flat.

not have been the truth, of course, but
he'd have told you what you wanted to

hear.

And are you going to drop in on Mr
Chandani on your way back to the office?

Wish him all the best?

Attend a funeral, perhaps?

Now you're being cheap.

Cheap!

You tell me what the law is supposed to
be for, Mr Marsh, if it isn't to protect

decent people like the Chandanis. And
don't give me all that crap about moral

duty and principles.

What is it for?

Justice. Ah!

So that is what you've been pursuing, is
it, for the last four days, Justice?

You explain that to Mr Chandani, because
I can't. Has it occurred to you for one

moment that Rod and Peter Bainbridge
might not have committed this crime? No,

hasn't. Because your nose tells you
they're guilty. Because Rod Bainbridge

deserves to be squared up. He's on your
list of scum that society needs

protecting from. Your list, Inspector
Frost. Your judgement.

If the law's not a stick for hitting
your least favorite people with, you're

interested. So let's not confuse the
truth with a result.

And don't tell me an innocent person has
nothing to fear either because history

proves you horribly wrong.

Yes, sir. Yeah?

All right, thank you.

Did D .F. Barnard phone you, sir? Yes,
he did, last night.

I was in the middle of the domestic
crisis.

Well, this Adam Weston... Oh, right,
yeah. ...is a second -year English

Paula Tate died just before he started
at Denton.

He was one of a group of lads who'd been
at an 18th birthday party with her on

the night she drowned.

Apparently, the statement seems to have
been pretty routine. He didn't know very

well. Not a boyfriend or anything.

Still, it'd be worth speaking to him,
wouldn't it? And just following your

I don't know about that.

Noses are out.

Make your mark.

Go!

Mr Adam Weston?

Yes? Detective Inspector Frost, Denton
CID.

Carry on, don't catch your death.

What's the problem?

Do you know a fellow student by the name
of Helen Tudor?

Sort of.

Not as well as I like.

Well, do you find her attractive, then?

Don't you?

I presume you've met her.

She's about this all.

Why were you expecting me?

Well, word is, our tutor, Marcuson, is
not going to be done for us. It's got to

be a student.

Any reason why you should be at the top
of my list?

Am I?

There is a hometown connection.

Oh, right.

Right, yeah, I'm with you. We come from
the same place, so therefore I...

It was actually I didn't know, then.

We met here during Freshers' Week.

I was queuing up to win a swimming club.

Hmm.

Well, you did know Paula Tate.

So?

You're just asking.

Also, could I ask you where you were at
2 .30 last Wednesday afternoon?

I was in the pub.

Waterman. No,

I tell a lie.

Wednesday's my healthy day.

I was in halls, in the communal kitchen,
preparing an exotic dish of tinned

ravioli.

Any witnesses?

Only the care note, no, I'm afraid.

No.

All right, then.

Is Megan Frost?

Yes.

Hi. Huh?

Tony Jarvis.

I live in the same hall as Adam Westing.

Same floor.

I've just been speaking to him.

Oh, yeah? How nice.

Adam does talk like a pro, I know.

Well, that's education for you, isn't
it?

He said you asked me about Wednesday.

About Helen Tudor.

Did he?

So I thought I ought to let you know
that it's crap.

What he said about not being able to
prove where he was.

Oh. He just can't help being perverse,
basically.

I was making lunch, in the kitchen, and
he was definitely there.

I'm sorry.

Adam's his own worst enemy sometimes.

Well, he ought to be more careful, that,
shouldn't he?

Ah, so you've lost to Bainbridge.

For the moment.

Local inquiries are still continuing,
sir.

Don't you think those inquiries should
be widened a little?

If the Bainbridge's didn't do it,
somebody else did. You should be looking

them. No, they did it.

What about the university, then? What
does instinct tell you there?

Not a lot.

Though it might all end in tears.

Helen Tudor.

Her hair was as a wet fleece of gold.

and each separate hair as a thread of
fine gold in a cup of glass.

Her body was of white ivory, and her
tail was of silver and pearl.

Silver and pearl was her tail, and the
green weeds of the sea coiled round it,

and like seashells were her ears, and
her lips like sea coral.

The cold waves dashed over her cold
breasts, and the salt glistened upon her

eyelids.

When did it arrive?

It was in the box when I came in about
20 minutes ago.

Was it typewritten or word -processed?
Word -processed. Oh, it doesn't give us

much of a chance, does it, eh?

Where's it from?

Sir? Well, it's a quotation, presumably.

Oscar Wilde, I think.

It's the third weird thing to have
happened since they shoved down the

Third?

You've got to tell him about your top.

Someone's stealing her clothes.

Sir, what do you reckon? The prank? The
pink top?

Maybe she's just mislaid it.

Could be an object of obsession.

The mermaid stuff's not exactly
threatening, though, sir. Isn't it?

Mermaids are supposed to be brilliant
swimmers, aren't they?

Helen Tudor's look -alike was a
brilliant swimmer, Paula Tate. On the

hand, the guy who sent it, if it is a
guy, might just...

Get off on bare breath and fit tail.

No, I think this implies something more
than just sex.

You know, it implies adoration.

Worship.

Idealisation. Is that a word?

Yeah.

And there's something else about
mermaids as far as sex is concerned.

Well, because of their anatomy, they,
you know... I mean, you can't...

I mean, they haven't...

They're hardly a target for rape, are
they?

Paula Tate wasn't raped.

Well, that knocks Michelson out of the
frame then, doesn't it, as a suspect?

He's a strictly hands -on man, not
distant worship.

Not necessarily.

He's a psychologist, isn't he? He'd know
all about obsession.

Know all about sex.

I'll see you later in the students' pub.
The Waterman, all right?

What the hell are you doing in here?

Looking for you, Doctor.

The door was locked.

It was unlocked, sir.

Well, what do you want?

Helen Tudor has had another
communication.

Can you swim?

You're here to ask if I can swim?

Yes, it might have some bearings, if you
don't mind.

No, I can't swim.

Does that prove I'm innocent or guilty?
I'd appreciate being told.

So you're not keen on water?

Water? Yes, you know, sea, swimming
pools.

To be precise, because I wouldn't want
to misinform you on what is clearly a

crucial matter, water isn't keen on me.
My skin's allergic to chlorine and salt,

which makes anything more watery than a
shower a distinctly unpleasant

experience, rather like being in a room
with you.

So, did you see Michael?

He's not into mermaids.

I'll tell you something else.

It can't be Wednesday.

The ravioli eater is here.

Who?

Home in there, look, at the table.
Ginger Norbert's Western.

Along with every other student in
Denton. They're supposed to be poor.

No, it's the likes of Laura and Richard
who are poor.

This lot are just playing at it.

Do you ever imagine what it's like to
die?

Not often, sir.

No.

I got shot once.

Makes you think about it, then.

I can't help thinking about Mrs
Chandani.

How she must have felt when the knife
went in, knowing that she couldn't do

anything about it.

The weird thing.

The helplessness.

It's your body. You can't do anything
about it.

What about drowning?

Knowing you're being drowned.

That must be truly horrendous.

Knowing that you haven't got the
strength to stop it, but your brain

what's happening.

Give over, sir.

Oh, yes.

Yeah, I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Listen, why don't you go?

What about you?

I'll be all right. I'll have another
half.

I'll stay on.

I'll be a bit morose by myself.

See you tomorrow, then.

Yeah, good night. Night.

is not a crime, sir.

I know.

And why should it have anything at all
to do with Helen Cedar?

No reason at all.

And he's got an alibi for the assault.

Or rather, he's given an alibi to
Weston, which amounts to the same thing.

Ah, Weston is the one who was in
Boxborough when Paula took Brown, not

No, no.

But you test out Weston's alibi anyway.

After you've got me Jarvis's hometown
address.

All right?

I don't know if he was in the kitchen
with me.

If he said he was, he was.

People are in and out of there all the
time.

Do you know any Oscar Wilde, Mr Weston?
Oscar Wilde?

Please, I'm strictly medieval.

Where's Inspector Frost?

He's gone to Reading, sir.

Reading?

Yes, two, please.

Oh, thank you.

So you've got two champion swimmers in
the family then, Mrs Jarvis?

No, no, just Tony. My daughter died when
she was seven.

I'm sorry, I didn't know that.

There's no reason why you should.

Sterling must be very proud of Tony. All
these awards.

County Camp in 1986.

Yes, there's only ten when you run that.

There's only ten?

That means that Tony must be, what,
twenty?

Yes, why?

Well, it's just that I always thought
that first -year students were eighteen,

so that means that Tony was here in
Reading two years ago.

No, he was at university in Hull.

I wish you'd tell me what you're here
for.

Oh, yes, right.

I don't know whether Tony told you, but
there was an assault at Denton

University a couple of days ago.

No, he didn't mention it when he phoned
this week.

Yes, a young female student was grabbed
and knocked down some stairs.

I think it was an accident, but, well,
we just don't know.

So?

So I'm just talking to all her first
-year friends and their parents. I don't

normally do this, but there is a slight
coincidence between the assault and a

murder that happened two years ago.

Oh, not at Denton.

In Boxborough.

The young girl was drowned.

But as you said, Tony was in Hull two
years ago, so there you are, that's

Yes.

He spent a year there.

Doing geography and geology.

But he didn't like it and so he started
again this year at Denton.

Anyway, what does Tony say about all
this?

Oh, well, to be quite honest, I haven't
interviewed him yet.

See, I like to clarify the background
first.

You know, just to make sure there's no
heartache.

Hello. Who is it?

Adam.

What do you want?

I'd like to talk to you.

Hello.

Come in.

Adam.

Just like I know what you said to the
police.

About me.

You?

Nothing. Why have they been hassling me
day in and day out? I don't know.

I did not shove you down the stairs, OK?
I never suggested you did, Adam.

If you weren't so pretty, you wouldn't
be getting all this attention.

Do you want to know why I haven't
arrested Markeson yet?

I'll tell you why.

So that Frost character can keep on
seeing you. Adam, please!

They suspect me of hurting you.

Can you imagine how that makes me feel?

I've never hurt you.

Look, it's okay, Adam.

Adam, I do understand, really.

Let's just forget about the whole thing.

It's all in the past.

I'll see you later.

At the swimming club.

I'm better.

What are you looking so cheerful about?
Helen's out of powder and back in that

swimsuit.

Lindsay. I'm on my way back. Meet me at
the university and speak to whoever you

have to and get access to Jarvis'
application papers.

All right?

Thanks very much. No problem.

Your tax is out.

Well, what have you got? Was he in Hull
two years ago? Yes, he was.

Except he spent two weeks of the summer
term studying coastal erosion at a field

centre just outside Boxborough.

Mrs Jarvis!

I want to talk to Tony.

All right, where is he?

Mrs Jarvis, I know that Tony was in
Boxborough when the girl drowned.

What are you doing here, eh?

And why didn't you tell me that you knew
all about Boxborough?

Mrs Jarvis, if your son is a fruitcake,
I need to know about it.

Just to let you know that there's no
swimming club.

Oh? Yeah, I've just been to pick up the
keys. It's a no -go.

Filtration plant's on the blink again,
apparently.

I'm doing the rounds, telling everyone.

Right.

OK, then. See you. Thanks.

He was unbelievably jealous of Simone.

His little sister?

He was three when she was born.

They say that's the worst age for
sibling jealousy.

But Tony was dreadful.

I never dared leave him alone with her,
not even for a second.

It was my fault, I suppose.

I spoiled him rotten till she arrived,
and then... he had to share.

And she was so beautiful.

Everybody loved her.

She was so sweet and lovely.

And she was a wonderful swimmer.

Even better than Tony.

We used to call her our little mermaid.

And she died when she was seven.

Did she drown?

We were on holiday in Devon.

It was a beautiful spot.

And everything was just fine.

And then, one day, they went missing.

We searched and searched.

And at last, I found them.

I was at the top of a hill, looking down
across a meadow towards a river about

100 yards away.

And there were Tony and Simone just
sitting together on the bank, looking

into the water.

There was nothing I could do.

Suddenly they just fell in.

They didn't just fall in, did they, Mrs
Jarvis?

Did they?

Did Tony drown his sister?

You know you have to.

Yes.

And I was the only witness.

I had a choice.

And I chose not to tell the truth.

Except to my husband, who chose not to
believe me.

We were divorced shortly afterwards.

And Tony never spoke of it.

He was silent for weeks.

And then the clouds seemed to lift.

He suddenly seemed quite normal.

Except for an obsession with water. I
don't just mean the swimming.

But with mermaids.

And poetry.

I suppose he was hiding the horror of it
from himself in a childish sort of way.

A sort of pretending that he'd never
murdered her.

Jack took her to a better.

Find Jarvis. Try Weston's room now.

She'll be back in a minute.

She'd already limped off to swimming
club when Tony arrived.

What, Jarvis?

Yeah. To say it'd been cancelled.

Mr Weston?

Hi, Tony.

Hello, Simone.

Why, there's ivory.

Tony.

Your hair.

There's a wet fleece of gold.

Jamie.

Jamie!

Come into the water.

Come down to the pagans of bright pearl.

Tony, let me go, please.

What's wrong?

Are you cold?

Oh, it's as cold as the sea.

It only takes a second, Simone. Trust
me.

Tony, I'm Helen.

Don't struggle.

This is death. This is freedom.

You're going to work.

Grabbing Helen on the stairs.

I just wanted to make sure she was okay.

I didn't want Michael to spoil her.

And then she fell.

It was awful.

The perfection.

Damaged.

Because she is perfect.

Like Simone.

Your sister.

I never had a sister.

Simone was our little mermaid.

And what about Paula Tate?

Who?

The girl in Boxborough.

Was that her name?

I never knew.

Yes.

She was a mermaid, too.

Did you kill Paula Tate?

No.

I didn't kill her.

I released her so she could swim
forever.

Water is the only true element for the
pure and beautiful.

You do understand that?

Inspector Frost.

Mr Marsh.

Anthony Jarvis, murder suspect.

He's in there.

I'm afraid he asked to start without
you.

And, uh, well...

Thank you for all your help, Lindsay.

It's a pleasure, sir.

Do I take these clothes off now, sir?

You what?

Back into uniform.

Yes, yes, yes.

Jack?

Congratulations.

Can I buy you a drink?

No, thanks.

Maybe PC Hunter would like one, then.

Any news on the armed robbery?

No, it's been five days, Agaf.

I think we have to be realistic.

Do we?

I'll get him if it takes five years.