Original subtitles

Some pellets.

Hello?

Yes, Gough. Dave.

There's been another one.

By your own, Constable.

Yours tastes much nicer, Gov.

D .I. Dent, Hammett. You must be D .C .I. Burnside.

That's right.

And this is D .C. Sam Phillips, D .S. Dave Summers.

D .I. Dent and I used to work together.

Flying squad, I think.

Dave? Not every day we get to work with a national.

Yeah, well, it's not every day you get a serial killer entering your ground.

What have you told the press?

Unidentified female body.

Has he left the tie?

Yeah. And has he done the business with a razor?

Yeah. Have you got an idea yet?

Louise Riley.

It was written in front of one of her school books. Her parents identified the

body. It's a schoolgirl.

Fifteen. Something on about it?

Yeah.

Anyway, tell your lot to keep it shut.

No leaking the M .O. and signature for the price of a pint.

Was she a virgin?

Her hymen was broken.

Can't tell by what or when.

And a pubic hair?

Just the odd nick, that's all.

Whoever he is, he's got a steady hand.

Only child.

She's going to be a licker.

No more where she came from.

Right, I'd like to introduce you all to DCI Burnside from the National Crime

Squad. He'll be working alongside us on the Louise Riley case.

With him, Detective Sergeant Dave Summers, Detective Constable Sam

Dr Anna Grant from Profiler.

Detective Chief Inspector.

Thank you.

This morning you probably thought you were dealing with the brutal murder of a

local girl.

Nasty enough.

But what I'm seeing...

He's the latest victim of a serial killer.

Now, this is strictly need -to -know.

We've got to stop this bastard before he's got a dedicated website and the

tabloids are screaming perv killer makes mockery of the old bill.

Bye, Dave.

Seven months ago.

Eileen Murdoch, 53.

Shortcut through Park in Southend.

Strangled, pubic hair shaved.

No sign of sexual assault, no DNA.

Six months later, Joan Stephens, 42.

Rambler found in field near Reading.

Same MO, except this time he strangled her with a tie, which was left around

neck. Again, forensics turned up nothing at the site.

Our guy is a very tidy operator.

Three weeks ago, Maggie Jordan, 27.

Ty left at the scene, shaved.

Her 14 -month -old daughter was found strapped into the buggy at the scene in

Margay.

The child's crying alerted a passerby, closest discovery to time of death.

The child has no vocabulary, but has been deeply distressed ever since.

No one knows if she witnessed her mum being murdered.

Two weeks ago...

A woman named Jane Aspinall was found unconscious from a blow to the back of

head on Beachy Head.

Now, unfortunately, she can't give us a description of her assailant, but my

guess is that it's our killer who was disturbed before he could finish the

What we're looking at is a signature killer, so -called, as you know, because

leaves a calling card.

In this case, the tie and the sadism.

What sadism?

It's not like he beat her up. Apart from the shaving, he's hardly touched her.

He saves her pubic hair, Inspector.

If a stranger does that to me, I feel humiliated.

First time out, he just shaved the victim.

Second time, he gets more imaginative, leaves the tie.

And judging by the way the last two victims were found, there's a distinct

possibility that he's arranging the bodies.

So what's all this stuff telling us, apart from the fact he's a weirdo, which

obvious? OK, so where does he target them?

Not the red light district.

Outside, park, fields, woodland.

You're more likely to find dog walkers, fresh air lovers.

So the link between the victims is their respectability.

It's a hell of a risk. He could be discovered at any time.

Which tells us something else about him. He has a mission.

This bloke isn't just angry. He's angry about something specific.

With someone specific.

He's angry with his mum.

His teacher. His wife.

But does he kill them? No.

This geezer is totally screwed up.

He targets people who he associates with the objects of his anger.

Shaving, the tie, arranging the body.

OK, yeah, that's perverse.

But he goes through all that trouble to kill them.

He doesn't rape them, ejaculate, nothing.

That's seriously perverse.

The woman's dead. She isn't going to fight back.

He can do whatever he wants, but he does nothing.

Apart from bag the hair up and take it home, presumably as trophies, you

the dark recesses of your mind to imagine what he does with it there.

So what's his problem?

He can't get it up in front of a woman, not even a very dead woman.

But now the pattern's changing.

Previously, he killed at weekends.

Louise was murdered at the same time, but on a weekday.

Killing during the week, selecting a younger victim.

Our man's changed the rules.

Which means what?

His urge to kill is growing.

Nice performance, Gus.

We should go and frame watch.

What, do you expect me to tell him the truth?

I mean, this bloke's been taking a piss out of us for seven months.

And what have we got to confess?

A load of theories and no stunning evidence. So what did you suggest?

I'm going to have to go back to basics.

Start local and work out.

Was Louise going to meet someone?

No, I don't think so.

Did she have a boyfriend?

Her mum and dad would have gone ballistic.

Why, what's he like?

Older? Really fit? We told you, she doesn't have a boyfriend.

She told her mum that choir went on half an hour later than it does and then she

left early.

I've built that stunt myself.

Look, I know whatever you promised Louise seems even more important now.

But this isn't little girly dream stuff.

It's not Romeo and Juliet.

It's Louise wetting her knickers as she fights for her life.

And just cut the sisterhood crap.

Tell me the boyfriend's name.

Jez.

Jerry Forbes, he's the car mechanic.

Louise Riley.

I serviced her dad's car on the side. Why?

You serviced anything else?

I looked at his lawnmower once.

Any other connection?

No.

How well do you know Louise?

Just tell her goodbye when I pick up the car.

And when was the last time you saw her?

Three weeks ago. Is something wrong?

Do you ever see her on her own?

Of course not.

Never took her out.

She's a kid. What's going on here?

34 C cup.

Lovely legs.

Jailbait.

I never touched her.

When didn't you touch her, Jerry?

Yeah, you can't mean when you picked up the car.

I've been accused of something.

It's okay, Jerry.

Yeah? Well, tell him to back off.

My governor just wants your side of things, that's all.

How come she wasn't a virgin?

Of course she was a virgin. How do you know?

Is that what you talked about when you went to pick up the car?

Her virginity?

I don't have to answer this.

Why not tell him the truth? You've nothing to hide.

OK, we've been seeing each other.

But not like that she was my friend.

But Louise said... She can't.

Can't.

Can't speak.

Why can't she speak, Gerry?

I've got a customer.

The motorist says the garage was closed yesterday night.

Jerry says he may have popped out for a pint of milk. Can't be certain of the

time. I ran a check on Forbes.

He spent two years in a council home.

During that time, he claimed his social workers sexually abused him. The

investigating officers concluded he was making it up.

Next day, the social workers' office was totally trashed. Was Jerry Forbes

charged? Forensics turned up nothing. The officers couldn't make a case.

Yeah, well, let's not get excited.

I mean, if Forbes has been randomly targeting women up till now, why should

suddenly kill his girlfriend?

We're looking at a signature killer here. The first question you have to ask

what's the link between Forbes and the other victims?

I may have found it.

You remember the football scarf on his wall?

Jerry Forbes is an Orient fan.

Dodgy, but not criminal.

They had an away match in Reading the day Joan Stevens was killed.

You're kidding.

And the day Jane Aspinall was attacked, they had a match in Brighton.

Which is a 20 -minute drive from Beachy Head.

What about Maggie Jordan in Margate? No game that day.

Well, that doesn't mean he couldn't have gone there.

And how about Arlene Murdoch in Southend? They had a game, but

wasn't away much in Peterborough. All right. Get some of the surveillance boys

to knock out a photograph of Forbes.

TFR survivor remembers seeing him on Beachy Head before she was attacked.

I'm surprised your governor took this job on at his age.

He's got to be slowing down.

What? All over in ten seconds with you.

I'll just go and hurry him along.

These two look before I'm good. She should watch it. Or what?

In case you're worried, I had my thought before I transferred.

What the lads. What we did to you.

I just want to apologise.

How are you going to do that?

Take me in the locker room again and rearrange my face?

I'm right, I must make a move.

Ring if you need me.

Come on, have another one.

We might have caught the sick bastard.

I'll have kids to put to bed.

And I'll have my dinner waiting.

See you in the morning.

See ya.

Yep. You can always tell the ones with no one to go home to.

In my day, the ambitious ones used to hang around with the D .C .I. till

time. Well, in that case, I'd better get another bottle in.

Let's go back a bit.

I don't want to go. I'll fall off.

All right.

One, two, three.

Gotcha.

Jean.

Sorry. Nothing.

Remind you of anyone?

My private life's my own affair.

Click.

What's for connecting?

All right, you've got your audience.

OK, we agree the last two corpses were arranged, right? He's posing them.

Maggie Jordan, hand across the tip, nipple exposed.

Louise Riley, hand behind head, head turned, right thigh raised.

What? Well, they're kind of sexy.

Not exactly porn, more...

Glam.

So Forbes has glam pictures on his wall?

No, no, I went through the witnesses' statements again.

And someone remembers seeing a guy taking photographs at the first scene,

End. He remembers it because he thought it looked dead professional.

And then somebody else mentioned seeing a guy taking pictures on Beachy Head.

We should be checking out photographers.

A football -loving photographer who hates his social worker.

He might be on to something.

So, I saw you in the photo in Mark Evans' window.

Is he OK?

What do you mean?

I wanted to get some pictures done, you know, for my mum.

Some of these photographers can be really randy bastards.

He'll be all right there.

Lots of funny.

Come on.

It's my fag you're smoking.

I never told you, right?

Absolutely. Well, my mum used to know Mrs Stephens.

And she used to be married to Mark Evans.

Go on.

Well, apparently, she told my mum.

I wasn't supposed to know, only I heard her talking to my dad when I thought I'd

gone to bed.

Ben's just killing me.

He couldn't get it up.

What?

This Mark Evans is impotent.

Yeah. Sad, isn't it?

Yeah.

Traffic.

Ben's on.

I'll be there in ten minutes.

I found a photographer.

Mark Evans.

He took photos of Louise.

Ex -wife to heavy -duty Roman Catholic.

Apparently Evans never consummated the marriage. She had it annulled.

I told you to check out Louise's mates.

I did.

But imagine the humiliation of an annulment.

I mean, it's not like a divorce.

It's like the marriage never happened.

Four? No.

We're looking for a signature killer operating across the South East.

we turn up not one, but two suspects who both just happen to know the last

victim and both just happen to live in the same area.

I mean, how bloody likely is that?

Evans's ex -wife gave birth to a baby by her new husband just two days before

the first murder. Could have tipped him over the edge.

So what do you want? 60p for an ice cream?

No. Drop it.

Oh, Frank.

I'm not here to plug a hole in your social life.

What have you got?

You know, I have this theory, right, Frank? If people exchanged presentries

more often, we wouldn't have road rage.

Yeah? And I've got a theory you just got me here to get some beer money.

The Turks delivery on Friday?

Well, it could be Thursday.

Could be?

Well, it pays to be flexible, Frank.

Oh, flexible is my middle name.

What about Ronnie Buckham?

I presume that's why you rang me.

Yeah, well, I'm working on it, all right.

So what are you doing here?

You know, Frank, obsession is unhealthy.

I'll call you later, all right?

The garage didn't have much choice.

How lovely.

Scotch? No, I'm all right, thanks.

I haven't been round for a long time, I'm sorry.

How are you?

Fine.

Tommy. Tommy, this is Frank Burnside, friend of your dad's.

His partner.

He won't remember me.

No.

He's grown up.

Studying computer science at Roampton University.

I've moved to the National Crime Squad.

I had.

Some of the lads from the old days still drop in.

Means I can pick the cases I'll work on.

I just wanted you to know that I haven't forgotten Ronnie Buchan.

Ronnie the Rosa.

Such a stupid name.

You and Tommy have waited long enough for a result.

Tommy doesn't even remember his dad.

And I've been married to Kenny in between.

We got divorced.

I didn't know about that, sorry.

A mistake from day one.

Maybe if you'd stayed around.

Is that the reason that you used to find it so hard to see me after Barry got

killed?

What do you mean?

The party.

Christmas before he died.

Listen.

I was drunk.

You're never that drunk.

Bloody electricity every time we looked at each other.

I'd better be going.

I'll let you know when there's any developments.

But for my dad, his idea.

He still lives up in Scotland.

Nice place.

Yeah. Don't get back much.

I'm very fond of Edinburgh.

OK. Now look at me.

Smile.

Relax. Your dad's going to think I'm torturing you.

I'll take a terrible photo.

And bottom jaw's too heavy.

Who told you that?

My mum.

I'm sorry to contradict it, but it's a very nice job.

We hold our nerve.

Wait for the game on Saturday.

Pray Forbes makes a move then.

What if he doesn't wait until Saturday?

Forbes' surveillance just checked in. He's hanging around outside the

She'll be ready in a couple of days.

Spring first.

Right.

Do you do any fashion stuff?

Fashion? Glamour?

Well, my mate reckons she might be able to get me a job modelling lingerie for a

brochure. You see yourself modelling lingerie?

Yeah, you're right.

Stupid idea.

Sorry.

No, I'm sorry.

It's just you don't seem the type.

Forget it.

Ridiculous. I would never get the job anyway.

I don't know.

There's no harm in trying.

Is that BG Head? I've been there.

Me too.

What, on holiday?

I was doing a wedding in Brighton.

Looks like they had a terrible day for it.

Yeah, they did.

I just wondered if you'd call in there.

Only I know how busy you are.

No news.

Sorry.

You know, all that stuff about her not being a virgin.

You know, she went to a convent. She was a good girl.

Yeah.

Well, there could be other reasons.

How are you doing?

My girlfriend's just been murdered, you know. Bloody great!

I just want to be at her house.

Talk about her. Be part of it.

What about your mates?

The blokes you go footy with.

I just take it in turns to drive to the matches.

They'd only start drooling and think I was into schoolgirl totty.

You must know him better than that.

Don't you and me out together after the game?

I just want to hit the pubs.

And you don't?

I hate pubs.

So what do you do?

I go for a walk, get something to eat.

On your own?

I don't mind.

I prefer it that way.

Look,

I know I don't know you very well.

What?

I feel I can really talk to you.

Look out.

He's after you.

Where exactly have you been?

Just doing some digging.

Had my photo taken by Mark Evans.

Didn't know if he'd seen me around.

You all know the killer prefers a straight look.

I told you to lay off Mark Evans.

He's got photos of beachy hair on his wall.

Lots of dark clouds.

He was really overcast the day Jane Aspinall was attacked.

You didn't by any chance ask him if he tried to kill her while you were at it?

Didn't think it was appropriate on a first meeting.

First meeting?

How was it left?

That was the question.

I'm going back.

When? Tomorrow.

What excuse?

More shots.

What kind of shots?

Glam.

Glam?

Bikini? Topless? Come on, help me.

Low cleavage, Brad.

G -string kind of thing.

Been with a suspect wearing a G -string.

Do you honestly think I would do this if it was any other way?

I have no idea how you get your kicks.

So when did you intend telling me?

Before or after?

This is a verbal warning.

You pull a stunt like that again and you're off my team.

What? What the hell do you think you're playing at?

You're not getting enough attention round here. You've got to go parading

in your knickers.

I've got the victims in Glamour Police. Where's Forbes in that?

I've got a photographer, an impotent, humiliated photographer.

He's been to Beachy Head.

And witnesses mention cameras.

Has he come up in any car number check?

Is there one scrap of evidence to place him near any of the other murders?

Look, we keep asking how he gets so close to the victims.

Man with the camera, excuse me, would you mind taking a quick picture of me?

You go over, you take the camera from him, bang!

He grabs you, stuns you.

That's fantasy.

I want facts.

Our guy shaves them.

He arranges them in an artistic pose.

He leaves a tie as a signature.

Facts.

Jerry Forbes is a loner.

We can also place him at the scene of two of the other murders and the attack

Jane Aspinall.

He also has a grudge against authority and he keeps glam photos on his walls.

No.

Our guy has imagination, patience.

Jerry Forbes does a lot of things, but he isn't exactly calm, is he?

And he's no artist.

I mean it.

Drop it.

Do you remember the very first thing you said to me when you came here?

Consider all options.

I was just doing what you said.

I was just trying to be a good copper.

I thought this was the sort of thing you'd be up for.

What, flashing your fanny at some mark?

Try lap dancing, darling. It pays more.

It's the old thing together again.

It's good.

You don't get it, do you?

You haven't got a clue what you did to me.

Guys, we're out, that's all.

You've really been up front from the first. As long as they're above the edge

consent. What right do you have to know why it's a group? All added together,

people feel more vulnerable, more confused.

What did they call me?

The African Queen.

Not much confusion there.

Any sign of our suspect?

Joanne is made to leave.

We're picking him up now.

We'll take them from the roundabout.

Let's stop it.

Paul is on foot.

He's heading down a... Kellett Street.

Kellett Street.

He's got a dark green and black hold all with him.

Sam's following on foot.

Someone stay with the vehicle.

Dave, try coming up Kellett Street the other way.

I'm pretty exposed here.

Yeah, it's spinning around.

It's coming back towards me.

Oh, shit.

No, I think he's made me.

Get someone to take over.

Did you get that, Dave? I need backup here. I need backup.

Don't panic.

He can't have spotted you.

He's following some young woman into the churchyard.

I'll go after her. No, wait.

I've got to give him a chance to make a move.

That's the woman.

Where's Sam?

Our phone's switched off.

What's he doing?

Crying.

We pull him in now.

A spot of imaginative questioning.

And if he doesn't crack, we still haven't got enough to hold him.

The fella sat on a gravestone, crying his eyes out.

Forbes isn't just in crisis, he's bloody falling apart in front of us.

We're pulling him in now. We interviewed the guy that drove Forbes to the match

today. Fell in some line about incidents on hooliganism.

And? It was his turn to drive the day of the Arlene Murdoch murder.

They had a game with Peterborough, remember?

So did he and Forbes go?

Calling to the mate, yes.

He's lying to protect Forbes.

I'll check it out, but I doubt it. They're not close.

The only thing they've got in common is football.

Who?

Jodie Forbes Gaffney, our killer.

Hi.

Hi.

I bet you

were nervous when Evans was taking your photographs.

Watching him.

Watching you.

A bit.

Admit it.

You thought you'd got a mark.

There you were, face to face with your psycho.

I bet the adrenaline was rushing through those veins.

You know what it's like.

You've done undercover for years.

That's right.

And it changes you.

It becomes harder not to see it from their point of view.

To resist the temptation to show off.

I'm good.

Good enough.

You seeing anyone at the moment?

No.

Why? Suppose Evans is our man.

You want him to like you, right?

He asks you out.

You get close.

You think he's going to reveal his inner secrets just like that?

Of course not. Too right.

He's going to start to play games with you.

Dangerous games.

You'll have to play back.

One false move and you're dead.

I know.

So what colour is it?

What? The G -string. And don't tell me you didn't go out and buy one.

Purple.

Leafy.

Do you want to see it?

Seen one, seen them all.

Does this mean you're giving me the go -ahead with Evans?

This is a tight operation.

No more Maverick moves.

I want to know everything you do to the last detail.

Thanks, Scott.

This isn't about you, Samantha.

I've got a serial killer on the loose and Forbes hasn't delivered.

Post for Evans tomorrow.

But one hint that you were out of your depth.

I'm calling you in.

I'm sorry, but this is ridiculous.

You said yourself the chances of finding another suspect close to the victim are

virtually non -existent.

We're covering all the options.

Okay.

Say this evidence is the murderer.

At best, we all land upon an entrapment charge.

At worst, Sam ends up dead and you lose your pen.

Sam's there to uncover possible evidence.

That's all.

As far as he's concerned, you're just a punter.

If he is the killer, he's hardly likely to confess.

Theory.

This man kills respectable, conservatively dressed women, who he

The glamour models he works with say he's the perfect gentleman.

It fits the pattern. It's so -called respectable women he's angry with.

Well, I'll be all right, then.

Great. He doesn't touch Sam, but she doesn't learn anything.

Look, how do we get through?

When you went in, you were Miss Demure.

Now you want glamour shots.

You're getting mixed signals. If he's our man, that might intrigue him.

So what's the name?

Somehow Sam has to show him their kindred spirits.

She has a dark side, too.

But don't dominate.

He'd hate that.

You're saying Sam should go ahead with this?

That's Frank's decision.

How do you feel about sending another woman semi -naked in front of a male

stranger? Possibly a male killer.

Are you telling me you're totally comfortable with that?

I didn't get the job because of my gender.

But things like this don't have a good track record, and I'm not infallible.

Sam will be at the studio for 11.

We'll maintain surveillance.

And for the moment, we don't tell Dent.

Don't give me any of it to my body and I can do what I want with it.

This isn't part of the job description.

Jealous because I get to wear the G -string?

I'm paid to catch villains.

For all you know, I may be a nudist in a spare time.

Is he making you do this?

No.

Being desperate for a result doesn't mean you have to degrade yourself.

There's other issues there.

No, actually, Dave, there's one issue here.

Admit it.

Sam's got problems.

She's a great mate, but she's crazy.

That's enough, Dave.

No, you're just going to run with Evans, that's it?

Absolutely not.

Until I've got CCTV of him going through the turnstiles at Peterborough, my

money's still on thoughts.

So get on it.

Go. Oh, and Dave, from now on, you needn't be involved with the Evans side

things. All right?

First sign of trouble, you get out of there.

Sure. That's an order.

Sir.

Just tell yourself it's not me that's looking at you, it's the camera.

Sorry.

I'm not here, okay?

Okay.

Imagine I'm your boyfriend.

I don't have a boyfriend.

Have I had a fantasy?

Yeah.

Imagine that.

My whole body feels like a bag of spanners.

I'm sorry.

I realise I'm wasting your time here.

I will get better. I promise.

Come here.

Afford me.

Turn your head to this side.

It's easy.

I got the impression Sam is one of your favourites.

Yeah.

She's the daughter I never had.

Why'd you stop?

Turned up, I'm afraid. Into the row.

Thanks.

My dark ring.

Can I have a look?

Strictly up to the limits.

Great.

You'd better get some clothes on.

You don't want to get a cold.

Just forgot my bag.

I'll ring you when they're ready.

Right.

Can I buy you a drink?

That's very kind of you, isn't it?

Thank you.

Right. Better get off then.

Well, maybe I could buy you one.

I really enjoyed that.

I know.

You shaved.

You were very professional. I didn't do it for the photos.

Oh, sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it. No, it's just... Well, I've

Since I was 15.

Right.

Why?

My mum used to search my room.

She thought she knew everything about me.

But she didn't.

It's my secrets that made me special.

The filing cabinet was locked.

That must be where he keeps all his memorabilia.

If he's our man.

He's our man.

And what makes you so certain?

Well, the pulse, for a start.

To be found in any soft porn, Meg.

I have to take your word for that, Gov.

Just wanted to make sure you were really alright.

Yeah, of course.

Come in.

Do you fancy a drink?

Hello?

I'm just passing.

Not convenient.

My mum.

Are you the boyfriend?

Mum?

No. He's my boss.

She never brings her boyfriends home anymore.

Why don't we have a drink?

Get to know each other, eh?

I'm calling a cab.

No cab will take her.

Shit. It's all right, I'll sort it.

I've got a firm house me a favour.

That's all right.

No, it isn't.

How could I bring boyfriends home? They'd run a mile.

He was in custody, Sergeant, when I told him that the alky and the puke they'd

caught was my mother.

You tried AA?

Yeah, been there, done that.

It's always going to be different.

And then she's standing in front of you, piss pouring down her leg.

Sorry.

It's not your problem.

Is it a problem?

Of course not.

It's time for that drink now.

I don't get it. What, suddenly I'm not up to the job?

He'll ring me. I know he will.

I don't want to go down that road anymore.

All right, we'll try another tack with Mark Evans.

Yeah, sit and wait.

How long have we got, Anna?

A week? A day?

I said leave it.

What do you think?

I can't handle Evans.

I know what I'm doing. I'm in control.

This is a big mistake, Gov.

I got him.

I really got him.

Oh.

Come on, Samantha.

What is this great connection that you've made?

What is it? I don't know.

I saved.

I saved and Mark Evans couldn't help himself.

He had to talk about it.

You... Cheapy little bitch.

That's a hell of a way to eat a donut.

If she's too sexually aggressive, she'll lose him.

Louise, she did it before.

What does she talk about?

Cubs, drugs, sex.

Thought you and she had one. Yeah, we hadn't.

You let him shave you?

Yeah.

You played psychological games with him and you didn't think to inform me. He

suffered from limp dick.

Are you suggesting I'm giving her one?

Do you want to?