Original subtitles

Yeah?

Yeah?

Yeah?

Yeah?

Son, you're in the middle of his lane.

I don't get any lighter.

A bit lost, love.

One, five, eight.

Just there, sweetheart.

Ta.

Hold that, would you?

What do you make of it?

Looks old.

It is.

Fairly indifferent Jacobean poetry, calfskin binding, worth a couple of bob.

What are these brown spots on the pages?

You go straight to the heart of the matter, Mr.

Jack.

It's just Jack.

That's called foxing.

Jack, just Jack.

It's what time does to books.

To all of us.

In the profession, we say it's slightly foxed.

Interested?

You know, there's a mistake.

A mistake?

Well, isn't there?

Above the door, the sign.

What about it?

Well, it's wrong, isn't it?

There's no apostrophe in books.

There is.

No, there isn't.

There is.

There isn't.

There is.

Your name is Book, and you own the shop, which it is, and I do.

My name's Book.

Books, books.

Confusing, I know.

Or is it handy?

I can never decide.

Anyway, I'm Book, and I run a bookshop.

This one, obviously.

You must be here about the job.

Tea?

Not quite there yet.

I'm trying to make ginger snaps.

Uh, how much?

Where were you dragged up?

One for each person, and one for the pot.

Now, where have we got to?

Jack, just Jack.

This is dog, book, dog, job.

I have a little hobby on the side, and I find it's taking me away from the shop more and

more.

So, I require assistance.

Oh, God.

Oh, that's better.

I must have tea.

Without tea, I am merely unreconstituted dust.

Look, this isn't really my sort of gaff.

I mean, I thought they'd maybe send me to a factory or something.

They?

Well, you know where I've come from, don't you?

You know that I was...

No need to mention it again.

What are you hoping for now you've got the job, Jack?

Just Jack.

I just want to keep my head down, you know.

Try and get back to norm...

Wait, I've got the job.

Normality is overrated.

Yes, you've got the job.

If you want it.

Darling, you must come at once.

Oh.

Uh, Trotty, this is Jack.

Just Jack.

Jack, this is Trotty, my wife.

Hello.

Hello.

Well, what is it?

The bombsite.

The man carrying the bombsite.

You know where Inkeman Street used to be?

Oh, yes, that one.

What of it?

Well, they found something.

In suspicious circumstances.

My favorite kind of circumstances.

there.

Hear a name?

The bombsite.

No.

Hooray

Just Batman.

Houth!

Let's do it.

Go.

Let's do it.

Get for it.

Go.

Bye.

Bye.

Bye.

Bye.

Bye.

Bye.

I was wondering if we'd be seeing you.

Like a bad penny, Sergeant.

Yeah, well, you know my feelings.

You've made them exquisitely plain.

But as you know, I do have a special letter from Churchill.

Yeah.

All right.

Oh, hello, Book.

Mrs. Book, thought this might be up your street.

Almost literally.

Start at the beginning, Inspector, and leave nothing out, especially if it's salacious, gory, or vaguely scandalous.

Bit of a puzzle.

Mr. Basehart here was starting to clear away the rubble from this old bombsite the other day.

Winkerman Street caught it in 44, didn't it?

Yes, sir.

Terrible pounding.

Do you remember that raid, sir?

How could I forget?

Trotty and I ended up cheek by jowl in the Anderson shelter with the man from the Prudential Insurance Company.

He had lovely fingernails.

Terrible halitosis.

Those shelters weren't built for sharing.

War's over, Mr. Basehart.

Quite so, sir, but I still like to patrol my route.

For old time's sake.

And to keep an eye on old Brenda there.

My trusty searchlight.

Well, here he was, trying to clear away the rubble, when Lowe, what does he find?

Lowe what?

Ah.

Heavens to Betsy.

Tossed together like a skeletal salad.

How many?

It's hard to tell, because they're all jumbled up.

Ten or twelve, I'd say.

Quite why Mr. Basehart didn't tell the authorities about his discovery forthwith is another matter.

He didn't?

No.

Some kiddies who were playing here let us know.

As I was saying, I have a theory.

Well, obviously they copped it in the raid, didn't they?

What do you think, Jack?

Me?

You.

Uh, yeah, that's what must have happened.

Air raid killed them.

Died two years ago, and now they're all rotted away.

That would be a logical assumption, is this?

So you don't think they died in an air raid?

If you recall, Inkeman Street was already empty, wasn't it, Mr. Basehart?

Scheduled for demolition.

So nobody was living here, in which case...

Who are they?

Well, anybody, surely.

Anybody could have taken shelter from the bombing in one of the empty houses.

A dozen of them.

What about clothes?

Clothes?

All flesh is grass.

The raid was only two years ago.

Even if the bodies had rotted away, their clothes would still be intact.

I think Mr. Basehart and I are thinking along similar lines.

Well, that would appear to be the clincher.

What do you think?

The unmistakable bonds of King Charles II.

Oh, does it have a date on it, too?

1665.

1665.

Plague pit, yeah?

So it would seem...

A what?

Plague pit.

The Great Plague.

London's burial grounds were overflowing, so they dug these great big pits and dumped all the corpses in them.

Oh, I... I'm a bit of an archaeologist.

On the side, strictly amateur, you understand?

So why didn't you tell us straight away when you found them?

Well, I... I knew I'd never get a chance like this again.

I just wanted a bit of time to excavate them.

Fascinating stuff.

I really am very sorry, Inspector.

Yes, well, no harm done, I suppose.

Not sure about that.

These skeletons might still be lively.

What? You mean, it's still catching?

The jury, as they say, is out.

But I think it's very unlikely.

Do you mind if I hang on to this?

You're welcome to it.

Right, Mr. Book?

Oh, hello, Nora.

Why, I'm not surprised to see you here.

Did you know that back then, they used to use great catapults to toss plaguey corpses into besieged cities to deliberately affect people?

That's horrible, Nora.

I know.

And a split infinitive.

Even more horrible.

That'd be worth a bit, too.

Sergeant, get this.

It's not taken care of in a prompt area today.

With care.

Where to, sir?

Uh, uh, morgue, I suppose.

Get Dr. Golder to take a shifty.

See if there's any chance they're still infectious.

Yes, sir.

Thank you, Book.

Anytime, Inspector.

Sergeant!

Why can't you collect stamps like normal people?

Oh, dear.

Are you all right?

Yeah.

Um, it's all just a bit, uh, being coppers.

I've, uh, been away, you see, and...

Oh, yes, I have.

I know.

Can't have been very nice.

You can tell me all about it when you're ready.

Here, let me take this.

Well, you must stay with us, mustn't you, now that you've got the job.

I have the premises next door.

Book has his books, I have my wallpaper, and there is a darling little attic room between the two.

Why are you helping me like this?

Why not?

I'll get this.

I know.

What old Harkup?

Suicide, I heard.

Heard?

Uh, from your colleague over there.

Oh, love his ruddy guts for garters.

This goes against all the rules of...

All right, Sergeant, all right.

Mr. Book's always welcome to give us the benefit of his wisdom, and as you know...

Yes.

Yes.

Bad business, but very bad.

Oh, sod.

But, look, Morris has a point.

This is a plain, ordinary suicide.

I mean, I can be flexible, as you know.

Weren't something a little bit more...

Recherche, outré, anything with an acute accent?

Unusual, comes along.

Like our barbed friends, the skeleton.

I mean, this is a meat and potatoes job.

You know, the Sergeant and I are perfectly capable of...

Who found him?

Charwoman.

Hader, dredge.

Pretty shook up, she is.

Dredge?

That rings a little bell.

Which she'd been doing for Harkup for donkeys.

Ding dong.

Was there a note?

No, no, no.

How did he do it?

Prussic acid.

It's not...

Nasty.

And intriguing, don't you think?

Mr. Harkup.

Great, sir.

Looks like suicide.

Oh, how dreadful.

Well, I'd better get on.

Too much excitement for one day.

Jack, knit back to the shop, would you?

There's a pile of newspapers,

third stack on the right as you come in,

Charing Cross Dispatch,

underneath two volumes on Eleanor of Castile

and the Wilting Espadistra.

Fetch them for me, would you?

Okay.

Oh, and put the kettle on again.

We're going to have company.

Have a drink.

Oh, well, see, this is from him.

Yeah.

Oh, I brought a coffee and walnut cake round for Mr. Harkup.

You might as well have it.

This is your usual char day.

Yes, every week, regular as clockwork.

But I only saw him yesterday.

Pop round to get some bandages.

Bandages?

Oh, my son, he was injured in the war.

He needs constant attention.

The dressing.

What time did you see Mr. Harkup?

Six.

Six-ish, I think.

Oh, it doesn't seem possible.

Him standing there all full of life and then...

Finding him lying there like that.

You're doing very well.

And was he?

Was he what?

Full of life when you saw him.

In good spirits, I mean.

Well, to be honest, he seemed a little down.

Although I'd want to go and do an horrible thing like that to himself.

Any vices?

Vices, sir?

We must investigate all angles, alas, dear lady.

Man of very regular habits he was.

Church every Sunday.

Kept his accounts in very neat order.

I think that was the soldier in him.

He did play dominoes.

Dominoes?

Every Monday and Thursday night.

In the ball.

With Mr. Baseheart and some others.

Does that count as a vice?

I hardly think so.

Do you have any family?

My mother always said if you can't see anything nice about someone, don't open your trap.

So there was bad blood, then?

There's a daughter, isn't there?

Some estrangement.

I wouldn't like to say.

No.

Don't seem right.

What with Mr. H. not cold in his grave.

Heavens, this cake.

Yes.

Oh, it's superb.

Oh, too kind, sir.

But then I'd expect nothing less.

Oh, why'd you say that?

From Miss Lyons' Corner House, 1921.

Oh, I fancy you knowing that.

It was 1922, though.

My mistake.

How the dickings?

Oh, I store off a lot of little tidbits like that, mostly useless.

Must have been a lovely experience.

Oh, yes.

Oh, I've never felt so glamorous.

I got a new hat and the Lord Mayor winked at me.

Winked.

Fancy.

Worked there for years, I did, at the Corner House.

So I got very good with the baking.

Mr. H. used to love my pineapple upside down.

You know, it really would be most helpful to know why he and his daughter, Sarah,

Marula, that's right.

Why he and Marula no longer saw eye to eye.

Well, seeing as you've been so kind, sir.

Very good of you.

She was a cow.

A right horrible, money-grabbing little cow.

I see.

Apple of his eye, she was, after his wife passed on.

But she knew how to twist him round her little finger.

Nothing was too much for his little princess.

And then she has the gall to run off with him.

Him?

Mickey.

Mickey Hall.

It's a right and there do well.

Up to all sorts in the war spivvy stuff.

You know, Black Market.

He's a motor mechanic.

They've got a garage out Mile Endway.

Mile End.

Charming.

And now Marula will inherit the lot.

Don't seem right, do it?

No, it, um...

Don't.

Thanks for the cake.

What the hell do you think you're doing?

Just being neighbourly, Sergeant?

Uh, your witness, I think.

Hello again.

Oh, hello, Book.

I just wondered if I could have a little nosy round before I head out.

See if I can help at all.

Head out?

Oh, Mrs. Book and I are often pleasure-bent.

The new boys, babysitting.

Oh, for the dog?

Dog.

There's no definite article.

Off to the pictures?

Rerunning a Sandra Dare at the Rialto.

The opera.

Fat ladies singing.

Speaking of which, may I, um...

There's a daughter, but Mrs. Dredge says they didn't get on.

So I gather.

Yeah, we're endeavouring to trace her.

She has a garage at Mile End.

Oh, right.

Thanks.

Funny, aren't they?

Mrs. Bliss goes in for something similar.

A little, a little make-macks.

Not quite the same, I think.

These are jade.

Rather fine.

And this one.

Mr. Harcup was obviously a connoisseur.

Do you think it was suicide?

Do you have doubts?

I do.

What's your theory?

Evening, gentlemen.

Evening.

Oh, Eric.

Black Lamb and Grey Falcon.

Hey?

That book for Sheila, it's arrived.

Oh, smashing.

She'll come over tomorrow for me.

Right-o.

Wait a whistle?

Oh, no, thank you.

I was never keen on him myself.

Harcup.

God forgive me.

Bit of a little Hitler.

Still, poor bugger.

Stop it himself like that.

Hmm.

So, so, what's your theory?

Patience, Inspector.

Patience.

The two most powerful warriors are patience and time.

Holstoy.

Oh, I couldn't get into it.

I tried that one, you know, where she chucks us up in front of a train.

No?

No.

Well, Inspector.

There you go.

Too much?

No, not at all.

Uh, you look amazing.

I meant the walls.

Oh.

Book says it's an affront to good taste, but I don't know, I think it has a certain something,

don't you?

I'm good at knocking things together.

I, I always have been.

Wardrobes, wireless sets, heads.

I was in the land army.

Gin?

What?

Oh, yeah, please.

So you're going out then?

My dear, we're always going out.

Well, one has to live, doesn't one?

Especially after the time we've all had.

There's some chops in the larder, I think.

Yours runs up at the top.

I've aired the sheets.

Your, I mean, thank you.

Better go and unpack.

Well?

Well?

I know that look.

You're on to something.

Nonsense.

Really the happy look of a contented man.

I have my lovely wife, my lovely shop, my lovely dog.

What more could a man ask for?

Broad.

Three things, then.

Mr. Harkup collected Chinese jade figures of exceptional quality.

But dust is eloquent, as someone once said.

Dust doesn't lie.

One of the figures has been replaced with a bit of cheap trash, a chess piece.

But the larger outline remains clear.

Mrs. Dredge hasn't cleaned in a while, despite what she said.

Secondly, Mr. Harkup has a small lump on the back of his head.

Not caused by him falling, I don't think.

Or probably a blow with a blunt instrument.

A blunt instrument that didn't break the skin.

And yet there is blood on the back of Mr. Harkup's scalp.

Thirdly.

Yes.

Darkly I listen.

For many a time I have been half in love with easeful death.

Called him soft names in many amused rhyme.

To take into the air my quiet breath.

God.

Why would a chemist, with every known gentle poison in the shop,

choose to kill himself with something as horrible as prussic acid?

Well, book.

There you are then.

Yes, Trotty.

Here we are.

It's murder.

Book.

Book?

Mrs. Book, be careful.

Mrs. Book, be careful.

Shop.

Ah! Good morning.

How can I help?

Oh, well, I'm...

I'm after a book.

You are very much in the right place.

What do you think, young man?

What would suit the lady best?

Dickens, Wilkie Collins, Henry James?

Do you have the new Georgette Hayer?

Oh.

Well, I've read all her other ones.

Me too.

and what a smasher she is.

But that would be a new book, Miss...

Mrs. Goodwin.

Mrs. Goodwin.

Jean.

Jean.

We're not really going for those, do we?

We should try foils.

It's a bit of a trudge.

My feet being what they are.

I have the perfect alternative.

One who was spinning romantic yarns

when Miss Hay was still in the cradle.

Probably.

Oh, well, if you think that...

Shh!

I mean, if you'd recommend...

Shh!

Beg your pardon?

I'm sure.

Sorry, thinking.

Ah!

Ortsy.

Never heard of him.

Her. Baroness. Hungarian.

The Scarlet Pimpernel.

Oh, I've heard of that.

French Revolution.

It's a delight.

You won't regret it.

When you've finished,

come back and I'll find you the sequel.

Oh, that's very good of you.

What do I owe you?

Oh, let's call it a bob.

Hang on.

Feet.

Feet, feet, feet.

Ah.

This

is free.

Oh, I couldn't possibly.

Oh, there's nothing.

But sending you off happily on the bus without further bunions is a price above rubies.

Wouldn't you agree, Jean?

Oh, thank you.

Cheers.

Bye.

Come on, woman.

I'll never make any money like that, will I?

I'll never make any money like that.

Hey-ho.

Now then, Jack, excited to start the day?

There's a whole world of learning in here.

All human life and some inhuman.

You've got that coin.

What?

Oh, uh, yeah.

Yeah, of course.

Good.

i don't mean to pry mr book but um what exactly is it you do i would have thought that was obvious

i sell books yeah but that's not all is it yesterday out there at a bomb site

chat with a charlady yes well is that like your your hobby i mean the way you talk to those coppers

where they let you roam around that pit are you like some sort of advisor to them or something i

mean why should they listen to you they frequently don't more fool them i did the inspector a favor

once during the war he hasn't forgotten also i have a special letter a letter from churchill yeah

the copper said that a letter saying what

it's a chaotic world jack i have a system sometimes people like me to give an opinion

on things impose a little order that's all you can read all sorts of things as well as books

this this is your system yes what's wrong with it well they're not in any kind of order

uh cataracts of denial diseases of the eye and their treatment cataracts eye disease logical

the guillotine a practical guide the life and death of alfred mutton's gent coins of the realm i mean

there's no system there's no system at all it's all up here isn't it how best to explain

alfred mutton's was a career criminal and a successful forger in his day which was queen

victoria's day extraordinary chap in his field he was a coiner a forger of coins but his luck ran out

of paris and they chopped off his head which is why all those books are clumped together you see

yeah but that's i mean that's silly nevertheless

well i shall leave you to uh hold the fort

yeah

slightly foxed

slightly foxed

says it all

morning

yeah uh can i help you i've come to collect an order

uh right oh um what's the name sheila well beloved

hello jack yeah i'm norah we've got lots to talk about

you

thank you miss uh again very sorry for you can i go now well if you wouldn't mind just answering a few

questions um you would just just come with me please listen

fascinating way better to hide a tree than in a forest

and these markings indeed

look oh hello just checking in on those skeletons with dr calder here oh yes any risk of infection

quite safe on that count inspector however

loose lips drop slips as they say in the knicker trade wouldn't want to spoil the surprise would

we surprise

anyway back to the case in hand this is miss marula harcup

oh my dear child i'm so very sorry a few questions you said do you mind if i tag along

well don't forget that blood test will you on its way

sorry about that there you go black lamb and gray falcon sounds interesting

time

getting the hang of it slowly so who are you nora i live across the road in the turkish restaurant

help out in the shop sometimes so um do you know him well then mr and mrs book yeah

and do you know about his little hobby bloody hell yes it's all i think about

isn't all that i mean

isn't that unhealthy i should think so what do your mom and dad think don't have any

what do you mean well it was the war wasn't it everyone lost someone

i lost them sorry

what happened so how are you getting on anyway with the books mr and mrs

it's not quite what i expected what is his christian name by the way what do you think

cookbook scrapbook mucky book

uh gabriel ah like the angel archangel i think you'll find their dream both of them such sweethearts

so what's the real story

so what's the real story

what's the real story you think i'm hard i'm not sniffling boohooing all over the shop

i mean it's just not the way i'm made so there

your father

i'm sorry that he's dead

of course i am he was my dad

in spite of everything

he didn't make it easy to um to love him though can you think of any reason why he'd want to take his

own life none no he was nicely set up with a shop and well mum had left him a few bob when she died

you don't think your estrangement no nothing to do with that he wasn't the type to get all emotional

maybe that's where i get it from i mean he made it very clear that he didn't approve of um

me and mickey but um he'd hardly have gone killed himself in a fit of the glums about it he just

he weren't the type as i say tell us about mickey

what's to say he's my fella

how was his war

why do you ask that well we know how much our father appreciated the armed forces always wore his

metal ribbons with great pride yes well mickey wasn't lucky his eyes they're not they're not good

i say that's why he ended up with me i mean he wouldn't have been much good against jerry with

eyes like his dad didn't like that thought he was a shirker that was the start of it what was the finish

well dad was convinced that mickey was thieving from him cash morphine

mickey got up to some shady business during the war just stocking cigarettes small stuff

dad had um just got it into his head that mickey was bad and he'd noticed morphine had gone missing

yes wouldn't speak to us but you've had a bit of news haven't you

i mean i thought a little one might be the thing that brings back together

what's all this about why are you so interested in mickey if dad has gone and topped himself

stories detective stories that's what i want to write

i've got so many ideas it's such an exciting new world out there everything's all smashed up

the whole world no one knows what to do anymore well i do the war turned everything upside down

shook it up that's great there's no going back to how things used to be including murders including

murders after soldiers in britain have come home with pistols they stole from dead nazis

the country's a washroom so so we only seems to have lies in this country because we know aren't

think of all that throbbing suburban passion husbands having affairs with secretaries ladies having

affairs with their chauffeurs all those contested wheels and domestic rows people used to kill each

other by boiling down arsenic from their wallpaper now they just have to reach for aluga

pow pow pow

what did happen to your parents you're supposed to be telling me your story

i'm an orphan too i never knew my mum i've got a picture of my dad

that's all i'm sorry

it's all right

i should um yeah it was nice to meet you it was an incendiary

incendiary an incendiary set the roof on fire in the blitz

mum got me out and went back for dad

and then the roof fell in i just sat there in the garden looking at the house just

felt sort of numb

the arp warden found me then my uncle took me in so

now i have to help him out with the restaurant

but you'd rather be

much more exciting over here isn't it

i gave up pleasure for lent

i gave up lent

pleasure

well

what's your answer

i told you before i'm just a bookseller

i sell books again like i did before the war

this would be

for old time's sake

and we did help you find him

very kind of you

how's all that working out

it's complicated

well yes i imagine it is

delicate

and we wouldn't want anything to go wrong

now would we

not

but

don't

i

i

really

i

i

i

i

i

i

i

and

i

i

i

i

Oh, my God.

So, what do we make of him, hmm?

Jack, put him in the attic room.

Like Mrs. Rochester, only slightly more butch.

Has it ever occurred to you that you are such a...

Bibliophile?

Because of your name?

Nominative determinism, hmm.

I mean, if you've been called butcher, you might be slicing up choice cuts of meat.

Flenzing, that's the word.

Removing fat from a carcass.

Wonderfully descriptive word, flenzing.

I shall endeavour to bring it back.

Well, I wish you joy with that.

Yes, you could be slipping your black market chops under the counter like Mr. Wellbeloved.

Much more useful than books these days.

I could have been an archer, or a baker, or a chandler.

Speaking of which, farewell, my lovely.

Oh, you're going out again.

You're so sharp, you'll cut yourself.

Crime fiction, American.

Customer put in a request.

I know it's here somewhere.

I saw a lady in the lake recently.

Anyway, Jack.

Oh.

Definitely a promise, definitely a promise.

And he didn't try to flog that coin.

So jail hasn't made him a wrong gun for life?

Touch wood.

And the, uh, other matter?

It's too soon to tell him.

What was so special about your dad's birthday?

I guess it's too soon to tell him that he's been a little bit.

It's too soon to tell him that he's a little bit.

He's been a little bit.

And he's been a little bit.

He's been a little bit.

He's been a little bit.

He's been a little bit.

What was so special about your book?

Nothing really, it's just about some chaps at school playing cricket.

And what do you think of Carol Darley?

You've read Tim?

Started it.

When?

After I saved it from the incinerator.

Book.

What's your name?

Budge over.

It's a funny name.

Stratford Perry.

But my friends call me Trotty.

You're splendid.

You owe me.

I do.

So when I get into trouble here, will you help me out?

Let us make a solemn pact.

Put your strong arms around me, Carol, and raise me a little.

I can talk better so.

Carol bowed his head without a word and kissed him.

And thus, their friendship was sealed.

Good night, Mrs. Book.

Good night, Mr. Book.

The daughter, the spiv, the char, the warden.

Who gave Harkop the ruddy poison?

Absent friends.

Absent friends.

Absent friends.

Who came to help?

I can't talk better.

I can't talk better.

Don't forget.

Sir, you never believe it.

It takes a lot to surprise me, mate.

What? Why is it?

We've got the chemist's wheel through, sir.

Really?

Daughter doesn't get a bean.

No.

No.

No, no, no, no.

Then it does.

Oh, the charm.

Mrs. Ada Dredge.

Ah! Ah! Come! Come! Come! Come! Come!

Oh!