All language subtitles for Taggart s19e01 Penthouse & Pavement

Late again?

What is it with you? Are you some kind
of bum -pot or something? No, Chef.

I'm bored of hearing you say, no, Chef.

From now on, and for the rest of this
shift, and until I say otherwise, you

say, yes, Chef. Got it?

Yes, Chef.

See? Not so slow on the uptake now.

Get that rubbish out of here.

Yes, Chef. No, Chef. Three bags full,
Chef.

Thank you.

Chef.

Hey, Mia.

Chef.

Ah, the gentleman of the press.

Chief Inspector.

James Coyle, courier. I know you and the
raggy whipper. That will you wrap a

thick supper in it? A personal taste
aside, can you tell us anything?

Aye. You're all in danger of polluting
my crime scene.

My sources say this is a juicy one.

Get this lot back.

Gemma? Morning.

Rangulation is cause of death to him?
Yep.

But he went with a smile on his face.

Trousers are open and he was wearing a
condom.

Some people have very strange ideas
about safe sex.

Jackie, talk to the girl.

Oh, I don't think you'll get much sense
out of her.

Concussion? Plus, she and her friend
here both have clearly visible traces of

white powder around their noses.

ID? No.

What if these and this?

Condoms and cash?

At least we know what the girl did for a
living.

Hello?

Can you tell me your name?

Can you tell me what happened here?

We were in...

It's in the street.

Make sure you tell us the minute she
comes round, yeah?

One credit card with white powder on the
edges.

Mr Jason Randall.

And this looks like a key to a hotel
room.

For the penthouse suite.

Cuffs here.

Belt in the alley.

Could be a sex game gone wrong and the
girl ends up strangling. Yeah, but she

had marks on her hand.

Could have been from where she pulled
the belt tightly.

Easy to get carried away with all this
booze and coke.

I've seen plenty of people on cocaine.

No one acted like the girl in the alley.

Well, one thing we can see, Mr Randall's
a taste for the extreme.

He could afford to indulge you.

Britain's number one horror master.

Read. A rich writer specialising in
horror. Found dead in an alley next to a

prostitute.

That journalist was going to be juicy.

OK, thanks.

That was Stuart, sir.

PPTV.

11 .35pm.

Randall leaves the hotel.

Autograph for someone.

Any idea who the autograph hunter is?

Mr Randall's publisher hosted the launch
of his new novel last night. It was

very well attended. Lots of people
around the place.

How long had Randall been a guest?

Just since yesterday, the suite comes as
part of the hospitality package.

No questions asked.

12 .15am, Jason returns with the girl
and heads for a private party in his

suite. There's no shot of them leaving,
but the service elevator opens right

next to the kitchen exit.

I can't believe that Mr Randall would do
something like that. He and his wife

have hosted charity functions right here
in the hotel and they both look so

happy at the launch.

So you'll have an address for them? Yes,
of course.

Right, until Sleeping Beauty comes round
and tells me exactly what she did, we

treat this like any other case.

Me and Stuart will break the bad news to
Mrs Randall. You two, get one of those

Polaroids in the book jacket.

Head down the drag.

See what you can dig up about Jason and
his lady friends.

Funny.

This place.

So, eh, anonymous.

Yeah, but it's for the women, not the
punters.

They're not exactly going to stick a red
light over the door.

You all right, darling? No one's in any
trouble?

You will be, if you call me darling
again.

Hey, we're police officers.

We'd just like to ask you a few
questions.

Is that right?

We'll give you a few quick for your
time.

I don't need your money, Constable.

Inspector.

Detective Inspector Ross.

This is D .S. Reid.

Naomi McKellen. I run this place.

Can you tell me if this room in use is a
drop -in centre?

This is about that Randall guy, right?

As soon as I heard it on the radio, I
knew you lot would be snooping around.

Yeah, we are investigating a suspicious
date. We'll investigate someplace else.

If we could please just have a wart.

You can have two.

I'll leave you to figure out exactly
what they are.

Nice to see you haven't lost your touch
with the ladies, Robbie.

Coming to places like this does present
its own problems.

The people who live in these houses
reckon they pay the taxes so the police

keep trouble out their lives and they'll
bring it to their front doors.

I'm going to tread very carefully round
Moira, Randall.

Might be a bit late for that.

Do you have any comment to make, Mrs
Randall? Kyle!

What do you think you're doing? My job,
same as you.

I assure you, Mrs Randall, there's a lot
worse than me in this job. If you give

me the exclusive, I'll make sure your
husband's reputation...

I could have you for police brutality.

Get in our way and we'll have you for
obstructing justice.

Is that right?

The judge will slap my wrist.

The paper will pay the fine. And that
will be that.

I'll see you spend the night in the
cells first.

And I'll pick out a nice playmate to
keep you company. Now get the hell out

my sight!

Mrs Randall.

Is everything all right?

No, Doogie.

It's not.

That reporter said...

that there was a woman with Jason.

That's true.

A young woman. She was injured herself
quite badly. We've not been able to talk

to her as yet.

Did she... Were they... Evident for
Jeff, there was intimacy, yes.

I see.

I appreciate this is a

very difficult time for you, but...

Anything you can tell us about last
night would be a hell.

It was a book launch like any other.

And you left your husband there at what
time?

10 .30, 11.

And you weren't tempted to stay in the
street yourself?

No.

Jason liked to unwind at the publisher's
expense.

I'm a bit more of a homebody.

I didn't know he was having an affair,
if that is what you mean.

Mrs Randall, nobody mentioned affairs.

But the woman?

We have reason to believe the woman in
question is a prostitute.

No, I don't believe that.

The evidence is pointing that way. Then
the evidence is wrong.

My husband was a decent, respectable
man.

We also believe Mr Randall was using
narcotics.

Is that something you were aware of?

Certainly not.

Drugs?

Prostitutes? Chasing?

Oh, I'm afraid you've got this very,
very wrong.

Mother? Mother?

There's a police car outside and... Who
are these people?

Damon.

I'm afraid I have some very, very bad
news.

Stuart, one of the hospital staff.

They're doing a rapid detox.

The girl should be able to talk in less
than an hour, sir.

Call Jackie. I want her and Robbie there
the minute she's complimented.

She can tell us they're going right for
strangling somebody to death.

I'm not sure how clear her memory's
going to be.

Turns out she and Jason weren't on coke.
It was PCP.

Angel does?

Last time I came across that, Duran
Duran won the chart. It's not easy to

hold of these days, but the happy couple
managed it.

Great. The drug that makes you violent,
paranoid and increases your physical

strength. Without it, I don't see the
girl strangling Jason.

With it, maybe.

Debbie Thompson, 18th of June, 1978.

So, basically, your memory's fine, apart
from last night.

Convenient, eh? I hear the police.

Don't expect you to believe me.

No, we want to believe you, Debbie. We
want to get to the truth. Well, the

is, I don't know, right?

He picked me up, right?

Flash car.

Nice hotel, plenty to drink, and chopped
out a few lines. And that's the last

thing I remember.

Is she having a don, Gemma?

PCP has major amnesiac effects.

She could have experienced a total
blackout.

No amount of standard questioning is
going to help her remember.

Do you have any better ideas?

Well, as a matter of fact, yes.

Although it might be a bit cutting edge
for your taste.

I'm younger than I look. What have you
got in mind?

Forensic hypnosis.

Now, let me guess. I happen to be
qualified in that field.

Is there anything you're not qualified
in?

Well, I field domestic science, but
don't tell anyone.

All right, so how does it work?

We have to use open questions, draw her
back into our memory banks, get her

sensory recall working so she's not just
remembering the events in the alley,

she's reliving them.

Junior staff are we? Well hands up
anyone else?

So cold in the night.

What can you see?

Sky.

Stars.

What else?

What if you look straight ahead?

Him.

The guy.

Does she know?

Is he hurting her?

Look at her hands.

Gemma, I forgot about her hands. The
belt.

What are you doing with your hands,
Debbie?

Pulling the belt.

He likes it.

Leather against his neck.

What's that, Darren?

Tighter. Okay.

Okay.

Nice.

And tight.

Feels good, doesn't it?

Yeah, you like that, you, you perv.

What's that?

Jason, someone's there.

Piss off!

Get away!

Ask a gentleman. What's happening?

Who is it?

It could be Debbie's just trying to put
herself in the clear.

She tells us there's somebody else in
the alley who kills Jason and knocks her

out. Isn't it practically impossible to
lie under hypnosis?

Well, she might not have known she was
doing it. She was on drugs.

It could have been a hallucination.

I was in the room with her. It was real.

Yeah, it looked like she was reliving it
to me. I mean, she was genuinely

terrified. Yeah, but no real
description, though. I mean, just

have been a man, a woman, old, young.
She may well remember more.

The hypnosis has freed up her memories.
They could surface at any time. Well,

fingers crossed, eh?

Meantime, go over everything found in
the alley. We're going to need more than

Debbie's work to prove there was a third
party involved.

Right, you two back down the drag.
They'll be open for business before

Oh, great.

Your lover's down there.

What, problems?

Naomi,

the sex worker, outreach woman, she's
got it in for the police.

Well, police men, anyway.

Good.

Good, we can use that.

Jackie, get back there. Tell her what a
numpty the inspector is. Gain her trust,

be her pal, get her on your side.

And you can give her a big kiss from me
as well.

Bitch. And then you stab.

You think of every bastard that's ever
smacked you about, or left you needing

stitches, or stole his money back, and
you go for it.

Head, neck, ribs, and the family jewels.

If you've got a pair of heels on, you'll
nail the bastard to the floor.

And remember, never shout help. Shout.

Fire.

Nobody comes running if you shout help.

OK, ladies, that's it.

Keep your wits about you if you're
working tonight.

And don't forget to sign the diary so we
know who's out there.

Very impressive.

I used to teach self -defence.

I thought you might want to know about
Debbie Thompson.

Oh, right.

Your number one suspect, is she?

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

You're a policeman, aren't you?

Yeah, and there's hundreds of others
right inside there. Yeah.

Listen, I need to talk to someone about
Jason Randall.

What about him?

You see, I'm his number one fan.

I hate to tell you this, mate. We found
six number one fans in today, and two of

them have confessed to murder.

No, but I'm... Can't stop now.

Leave your name and address on the front
desk and we'll be in touch.

There's something I want you to see.

The diary.

The girls let each other know about
dodgy punters.

Ugly mugs, we call them.

Also, new girls working on the cheap or
without protection.

Stuff like that.

I see.

Go to the 17th of last month.

Carrie Battered, Coleman Street.

Three weeks before that, Babs attacked

Langen Road.

Now, two months before that, the pen.

Shona. Yeah, I'm sorry, but what has
this got to do with Debbie and Jason

Randall? Nothing.

I just wanted you to see.

Three women attacked, and the police
never bothered with a proper

for any of them.

A rich guy gets involved.

You lot can't keep away.

No, he didn't get involved, Naomi.

He got murdered.

That's why he's our priority.

Now, I'm prepared to look into these
incidents, but are you prepared to help

Fine.

I'll go round the girls one by one. I've
already asked about Randall.

So was he aggressive towards the women?
No, he bought them a dozen red roses

before he threw them onto their knees in
the alleyway. You know what I mean.

Did he ever harm the girls that he went
with?

Nothing serious that I know of.

He liked it rough, though.

Pulling hair, ripping clothes, throwing
them about.

When men get a taste for stuff like
that. Yeah, it escalates.

So don't ask me to cry too many tears,
will you?

And don't expect me to be your contact
either.

You may be a woman.

But you're still a pig to me.

This is one possible scenario suggested
by the deceased's injuries.

Stuart, you're Jason, I'm Debbie.

We're getting it on in the alley. Give
me your belt.

Could at least buy me dinner or take me
to the pictures first?

Right. My back's against the wall and
I'm pulling the belt around your neck

because that's your thing.

Plus, Debbie remembers doing it under
hypnosis.

Look at the placing of the belt. It
wasn't like a noose when we found it. It

like this.

To pull it tight, Debbie had to cross
both ends over. How's that, Stuart?

Uncomfortable. But not lethal.

I'm not sure Debbie could get her arm
wide enough apart at this angle to do

real damage.

But if someone was to reach over from
behind, Mr Burke... Voila.

Immediately, the point where the belt
crosses over forms a ligature. The

then places a knee in the small of the
back that matches the bruising on Jason,

and it's over in a matter of seconds.

Traces of leather and his own skin
tissue found under the victim's

He was grabbing at the belt, but he
didn't stand a chance.

The killer strangled him, then cracked
Debbie's head against the wall, leading

her to plead to death.

It sounds plausible enough, but the PPP
could have given Debbie the strength to

do it, even at that awkward angle.

Like I said, one possible scenario.

All right, I'll run it past the lady in
question, see if it rings any bells.

Sure.

Same time next week?

I can't smoke in here.

I'll keep an eye out and get it if
anybody calls the cops.

Here.

Take the packet.

Any chance I'll get my own clothes back?

It'll be a while yet.

You see the stuff they gave me?

Stuff I thought I'd died in and left at
the hospital.

I've got some dead girl shoes. I can't
go back to work dressed like that. You

can't go back to work at all.

No doubt about it.

You going to compensate me for Los
Angeles?

I can see my accounts department
validating that particularly

Listen, Debbie, a man's dead.

You were found unconscious next to him.
You've admitted to pulling the belt

round his neck. But I didn't tell him,
Mr Burt. Then tell me who did. I don't

know.

Ever since I came out of the trance,
it's been playing over and over in my

and I can't make it stop.

Good. Don't try to make it stop. Stay
with it, see where it goes. No way.

I tried that.

And it freaked me out.

Why, Debbie?

What did you see?

Nothing.

Debbie, did you see the killer? Aye.

Aye, I did.

I was lying there and I looked up.

And what did you see?

My face.

They had my face.

And that doesn't make any sense, does
it?

What have you got for me, Jackie?

Ah, it may be nothing, but... Go on.

Well, there's been a couple of attacks
on women in the last few months.

Prostitutes beating up nallies on or
near the drag.

They've been increasingly violent.

Somebody building up to a murder?

Only our victim wasn't a prostitute.

No.

But maybe he was attacking the girl when
he was killed for it.

There's a thumb link between Jason and
the earlier victims. Could he have been

with them?

Well, Naomi reckons he played the field
down there, but it's hard to say.

I mean, this file is hopeless.

No formal statement, no canvassing of
the area, no follow -up on the addresses

that the victims gave.

Paul. Yeah, well, what do you expect?

The prostitutes and punters don't like
talking to the police.

Yeah. And everyone knows that, which is
why these girls are fair game.

Well, that's the way it's always been,
Jackie.

We can't change the world. We just have
to do our jobs as best we can.

OK?

Yeah, OK.

Well, I can feel my arteries hardening
already.

I can't remember the last time I cooked
myself a proper meal.

Part of the job, innit?

Bad food to keep you going, coffee to
keep you awake, a couple of large drams

knock you out at the end of the day.

Who are you doing here?

Working, same as you.

You look terrible. Christ, Carrie, I'll
give him 10 % off if I have to.

I feel like I'm treading water, you
know.

Waiting for this hypnosis thing to pay
off so Debbie comes up with something

concrete. Well, there's not a lot else
we can do right now.

Laura Randall can't tell us anything.

She's in the dark.

Some folks' marriages, eh?

I think we all live in a glass house in
that school, Robbie.

Three divorces and a celibate
homosexual?

It's no fun, is it?

Getting a kick in. I don't really
remember.

I remember everything that happened to
me.

Every punch, every kick.

And getting called filthy scum for my
trouble.

But... But... I think... I think that's
what they said to me in the alley.

No way.

I think so, aye.

Then that means whoever got me jumped
you as well and killed that guy.

I don't know. This is what we've got.

Jason leading his secret life.

Hmm.

That's my starting point.

That's what got him killed.

Do we know that for sure?

Well, even if it wasn't the motive, it
certainly provided the opportunity.

If he hadn't got into the alley, he'd
still be alive.

This guy's a regular, Debbie. I can't
miss the money.

I'll be fine.

No, listen, don't wait around here on
your own. I'll meet you later at the

centre, right? We've got to talk about
this. OK.

OK, I'll see you there.

Well, if Debbie did it, and Jason hadn't
been with her before, it's a

spontaneous act.

Anyone else would have to know how he
got his kicks.

Yeah, but that's assuming he was the
intended victim.

I mean, it could be he'd get in the way
of someone out to kill Debbie.

No, no, no. If you were out to kill a
prostitute, you wouldn't go to the Opal

Hotel.

You'd go to the drive.

Anyway, secret life's one thing.

What about public?

Stuart, Jason's books.

I'm skimming through them. Sex,
violence, and violent sex.

A winning combination.

Anywhere a best -selling novelist gets
strangled in an alley?

I'm afraid not.

You know what these books are like,
Robbie?

It's always, always the women that get
killed.

I'm not working tonight. Go and get
someone else.

No.

I want you.

Jason Randall and now Debbie Thompson.

Punter and prostitute.

Somebody's finished the job they started
behind the Opal Hotel.

Time of death, Gemma? An hour.

Bless. I was still out dancing with my
pals when this happened.

She was actually killed a few feet away
and then dragged along here.

Leaving her like... Like garbage.

Like she didn't matter.

She matters to us.

Any girl still working, take her to the
station.

Jackie, get to the drop -in centre. Tell
Naomi we're shutting down the drag.

The women aren't going to like that,
sir.

If they could see this, they'd be
running off the streets.

There's grey matter all over the place.

And look at the arterial sprays. Six,
seven, eight of them.

She wasn't just knocked out.

She was beaten to death.

There's rage here.

I'm going to need that.

I hope it's a help to you.

Naomi, listen.

You listen, Sergeant.

Let me tell you what it's been like.

Police, press. I even had the dead guy's
son around in the middle of the

afternoon. Wanted to talk about his poor
daddy.

I told him all to piss off.

I'm just supposed to look after the
girls, aren't I?

What are these?

My latest brilliant idea.

Licence numbers.

I told the guards to write down the
number plates of any car they saw a pal

into. Or any that was just parked up.

Someone watching.

A way to track the guy down.

Because I was worried about them.

Only I wasn't worried about Debbie.

She was supposed to be safe. In police
custody. She was under guard in

She was weak and in pain.

We didn't expect her to sneak off in the
night.

Don't you get it?

The night is where she lived.

You realise they're desperate women.

Move them off these streets and they'll
just go someplace else. Maybe that'll

make them harder to find.

Harder to protect.

I can't work with them if I don't know
where they are.

Look, Naomi, I respect the work that you
do here.

I'm touched.

Why are you being so uncooperative?

Do my job for a little while and see
what sort of opinion you have of the

police. Some of them flash their warrant
cards like free passes.

They use the girls as much as the
punters. And they don't even pay.

Then when some politician gets nervous,
they sweep in and make a few arrests.

Send a few girls to jail.

Like as if that makes anyone's life any
better.

That's not what's happening tonight.

Look, I want Debbie's killer caught.

So does my boss.

So does everyone working in this key.

There's police everywhere.

What's going on?

Who's that?

Debbie Thompson's dead, Babs.

Sergeant Reid here thinks she can
protect you by taking you into police

Only that didn't do Debbie any good, did
it?

I need you to come with me.

No way.

It's okay, Babs.

I'll be right there with you.

Nice up here.

Better than the cells, anyway.

Glad you came then.

Like I had a choice.

Oh, you look knackered, love.

You know, if there's a wee cupboard or
something we could nip into, I could

you feel a whole lot better.

What are you scared of?

Eh? You've been cracking jokes ever
since we picked you up.

But you've got frightened eyes.

I just don't like the polo.

No offence.

I'll take it.

Name? Carrie.

What's her name?

Smith.

You're not even going to tell me her
name?

Why? So you can look up my record and
give me a load of grief.

We don't care about that.

We just want to talk to you about
Debbie.

Is that the lassie that got killed?

Yeah.

Well, you don't need me then.

I didn't know her.

What about under a different name?

No, sorry.

Might have seen her about, but I've
never met her.

Same like.

Right, Ed.

Sergeant Reid!

Is it true?

Another dead pro?

Don't need to sound so excited about it,
Coyle.

Come on, it's a big story.

Yeah, and that camera's going to be a
big suppository if you don't get out my

way.

She's not going to turn into some
barrack room lawyer, is she?

Maybe.

Although she did give me the
registration number for cars spotted in

She mentioned that Damon Randall turned
up at the centre.

Last night?

No, during the day. I don't think he was
looking for Biff.

All right, we'll start with the numbers.
People we know were in the area when

Debbie was killed. Stuart, you know the
drill.

Get their names and check for violence
against women.

Yeah, and if nothing goes up off that,
we'll just have to start knocking on

doors one by one.

Take time. Well, everything's better
than the interviews.

Either they know nothing or they're
saying nothing.

I'm trying to get myself bloody, thank
you.

Ladies, ladies, ladies, listen, please.

Now, I know you all resent being here,
but it's in your own interest to help.

Debbie Thompson, who I'm sure most of
you know, was murdered last night.

Beaten to death.

Now, we brought you in to get you out of
harm's way and also to tell you the

fact we're asking for help for Debbie's
sake and your own.

But I'm only talking to her.

Good.

Good.

All right, Jack, I'll leave you to it.

Gemma, what have you got?

We haven't got much, I'm afraid.

I can tell you Debbie's nails were
broken, which suggests she tried to

the assailant. Did she get a piece of
them?

Hair, skin, anything? Nothing that's
useful in terms of identification.

I did find a trace of blood, though, but
it's strange.

Strange how?

Well, the blood's not human.

Not human? I'm having it tested.

Right, soon as you get the results. I
know, I know, but these things take

Case in point, Jason's full toxicology
report.

Obviously, the booze and the drugs
caught the eye, but I did notice

else showed up in the bloodstream.

Penicillin. Anyone else had a human ear
infection, but knowing Jason's taste...

An STD.

I'm a big girl now, Chief Inspector.

You can call it a dose of the clap if
you want.

I was with one guy.

They dropped me off and I was cutting
down behind the shops on Langan there.

And then somebody belted me from behind.

Can you describe the person?

Are you kidding?

They hit me.

I hit the ground.

They ran off.

So did they say anything to you?

They said something, but it was sort of
muffled.

Can't remember.

You know, I'd had a smack to the head
and I was already a bit out of it

The guy I was with had given me a few
lines of coke.

It was mental gear.

Is this the person you were with right
before you were attacked?

Aye.

Aye, it is.

So Babs had sex with Jason and got
attacked.

Debbie gets attacked while having sex
with Jason and killed less than 24 hours

later. Somebody punishing women who had
sex with Jason Randall.

Plus... There's this other girl, Carrie.

If it turns out she knew Jason too,
then... Carrie?

What is it?

We had a Carrie in here earlier.

Did she leave an address?

What do you think?

She gave us the I -know -nothing routine
and legged it.

Track her down, Jackie. If she was with
Jason, he's got to be our common

denominator.

Any names yet, Stuart?

Nothing yet, sir.

All right, keep at it. Rigged if you
find any.

Where will you be?

Time to ask the grieving family exactly
what they know.

Robbie?

Relax. I don't like leaving her alone.

Don't worry.

The chief inspector left his knuckle
dusted in the car.

Was that supposed to be a joke?

More of an icebreaker, really.

See, I'm going to ask you some delicate
questions and you might be glad we're

alone.

Jason so enjoyed having breakfast out
here, I thought I'd just sit for a

a while and think of him.

Mrs. Randall, you paint an idyllic
portrait of domestic bliss with your

As I've previously explained, Chief
Inspector, the seedier element of

life came as a complete surprise to me.

And wasn't the fact you contracted
venereal disease a wee bit of a

Something wrong, Miss Lough?

Nothing, Doogie.

Nothing at all.

There's not many young men would want
their mother to hear the police question

them about a bidet to fix workers' drop
-in centre.

Oh.

That.

Yeah, that.

I wasn't looking for company, if that's
what you're implying.

What were you looking for?

I already felt like I hardly knew my
father, and now I'm hearing all sorts of

things. I thought if I could go down
there, see the women he used to go

Well, I... I thought it might help me
understand.

And did it?

No.

Not exactly.

I don't know what you're talking about.

Surely a wife would know one way or the
other.

Mrs Randall?

All right.

All right. Yes, Jason did have a
problem.

And you didn't think that was worth
mentioning in our earlier conversation?

He lapsed once on a publicity visit to
Amsterdam.

I forgave him.

We were rebuilding our life. He was
taking drugs and visiting prostitutes.

Are you kidding yourself or me?

That's enough!

Yes, it is.

You have no right to talk to my mother
like that.

Don't you see what you're doing to her?

She's trying to be strong. I've got only
a few more minutes. I have nothing else

to say.

And as far as I'm concerned, the matter
is closed.

With all due respect, this is about more
than your husband now.

I don't understand.

The young woman who was with Jason was
killed last night.

You think there's a connection?

That's why we're here.

And that's why you'll have to forgive us
if we're not observing all the night.

It is a polite conversation.

Mrs. Randall, I need you to think about
anything your husband might have told

you. He never told me anything.

Isn't that clear to you by now?

Chief Inspector, please.

This is bordering on harassment of an
innocent, respectable woman.

Roar.

Hold on a minute, Stuart.

But he's on a coming.

Does that mean you'll leave my mother
alone?

Two people are dead, son.

We're going to keep coming back here
till we get straight answers. And the

sooner your mother understands that, the
better.

By the way, Stuart.

I found something on the lifting number
plate spotted in the drag last night.

No. This guy hasn't got a record, but
he's got a parking ticket.

A ticket he got opposite the Opal Hotel
approximately the time Jason Randall was

murdered. Here's the address.

That's his car. He must be in.

What's his flat number?

32.

Up there.

He's there for the catalog.

Keep waiting on him.

Number one fan.

Boss.

Hello, Jason Randall.

Is this true?

We've got someone in custody?

Keith Leyland.

His car was outside the Opal Hotel the
night Jason was killed, handing the

His flat's wall -to -wall Jason Randall
memorabilia.

I sent Stuart out with a van to bring it
all in. We had him yesterday.

Till I let him go.

What? He came down to the station.

Told me he was Jason's number one fan.

I didn't even give him the time of day.

Yeah, well, you couldn't have known what
was going to happen to Debbie.

Don't you think?

Yes, it was.

And we can't afford to make any more.

Any sign of this Carrie girl?

No, none at all.

I've tried every address in her record.

No one's seen or heard from her.

She's gone underground.

All right, there's other girls we can
talk to in the meantime.

Get out there with Keith's photo, see if
anybody knows him.

Sir.

What will I do?

Well, Robbie, I imagine you're feeling
quite a lot of anger and frustration

right now, aren't you?

Good.

Because I want you to frighten the shite
out of Keith Leyland.

You're a jumpy, aren't you?

Well, that's it for me.

I don't want to cry on my neck looking
at you.

Sit down.

I know you're trying to intimidate me.

What's he just standing there for?

Forget about him, Keith!

It's me you need to worry about, mate.
Look, I've done nothing wrong.

Your car looked in the red light
district after dark.

So?

Well, driving through somewhere's not
against the law, is it?

It's completely innocent.

Innocent?

Oh, look at you.

And I see guilt.

I smell it coming off you in waves.

You're going to tell me exactly what it
is you feel guilty about, starting with

Debbie Thompson.

Who? Don't play a gun, son.

Never seen him before in my life.

What now?

Do you know this man?

Nope. Never seen him.

He's helping us with our inquiries.

Is this the bastard that killed Evie and
beat up the others?

Well, that's what we're trying to find
out.

It carries nowhere to be found.

And even Babs has left us with a false
address.

Oh. And you think I'm going to give you
the real one?

It depends.

Are you interested in putting a killer
behind bars?

So I just played a good citizen and let
the cops bring him to justice.

That's the idea.

It's not my idea.

I'll take you to some of the girls, but
I'll do the talking.

Wait there.

The guy's rattled, Gemma. I just need
something to tip him over the edge. I

can't be of much help.

We know the car was in the drag, but
there's no trace of Debbie's DNA inside

What about the autopsy? I'm getting
information faxed through as and when

pathologist finds it.

All right, thanks.

I can tell you one thing.

What? Debbie didn't have sex.

She hadn't been touched underneath her
clothes.

What?

What are you talking about?

Well,

Keith, looks like we might have
misjudged you, mate.

Really? Yeah, we...

We had you doing us a bit of a perv. No,
no way.

No, sir, no way. Relax, Keith.

We got it all wrong. We know now that
you wouldn't go with a woman like that.

No, no, I wouldn't. Some of the things
these girls do for money, it's

disgusting, really.

I know it is. I mean, I can see how that
would get you, you know, driving around

watching them.

It'd make you sick. It'd make you angry.

It will. It'd make your blood boil,
Keith, all that corruption, all that

depravity. Didn't they deserve to be
punished?

Well, I don't know about that. Don't you
think Debbie Thompson deserved to be

punished? No.

I don't know. Didn't somebody have to
teach her a lesson?

Maybe. And you were just the boy to do
it, weren't you?

No.

Sir, something I'd like you to see.

What the hell are you thinking about,
disrupting an interview?

Normally I wouldn't, but I thought this
was important.

There was a camera in Keith's flat, and
I had the film developed.

Jesus. OK.

Good work, Stuart.

Right, this is how we play it.

Jason Randall, taken by you, two hours
before he was murdered.

Oh, my God.

Debbie Thompson, last night, taken by
you, less than an hour before she was

murdered.

What's she... The camera never lied,
Keith.

She was beaten to death, a savage and
brutal thing.

No, no, no.

No, I never... Two people, a prostitute
and a customer, both dead within hours

of being photographed by you. No, no.

No, I couldn't have done... No to
anybody.

No to Jason. You killed him, and the
next night you finished the job on

No.

I could never hurt Jason. But the girl,
you could do her no problem.

No.

My God, you don't understand.

Make it.

I'm the keeper of the flame.

I'm Jason's archivist.

You see, I collected everything about
him.

Everything.

But it just wasn't enough.

I needed the whole picture.

So I went out with my camera.

And I documented every aspect of his
life.

Now, once he'd gone, I had to speak to
Debbie.

Right?

Because she was the last person to see
him alive.

And I needed her picture to complete my
archive.

God.

It didn't hurt her.

It didn't hurt anybody.

You've got to believe it.

You're shared now.

Babs!

You don't come round here. This is where
I live. No, look, I'm sorry, but we'll

be away in a minute and your old man
needn't know a thing.

Hurry up, then.

That guy?

Do you know him?

Aye. He's down the drag all the time,
but he's never had the nerve or the

to go with one of us.

Carrie calls him the happy snapper, cos
he's always got his camera out. So

Carrie knows him too?

We all do.

He's harmless, I'm telling you.

Great.

You're on to another winner there,
Sarge. What is your problem, Naomi?

My problem?

My problem is I know how you people
really feel about these girls. You

Look... I know you must have had some
run -ins with the police. Run -ins?

Aye, I've had a few.

But I'm just trying to do my job.

Not making a very good fist of it,
though, are you?

You had Debbie under guard and Carrie at
the police station.

Now one's dead and one's missing. Now
you wait a minute.

That's unfair.

Unfair?

You don't know the meaning of the word.

So why don't you go back to your cosy
little life and your paychecks?

You're on your own, Sergeant.

Every press cutting, every interview
going back years, and the photos, well,

there's hundreds.

All taken by Keith.

The guy even developed them himself.

He rented a darkroom in town.

Dedication for you. He's organised, he's
meticulous.

He's your kind of suspect, sure. Yeah,
and that's how I spotted the anomaly.

Keith keeps absolutely everything, even
his receipts from the photo place.

Only this doesn't make sense.

He rented the darkroom two months ago on
the 17th.

The thing is, there's no snaps
corresponding to that date in the

spoil the collection by hiding them, it
could mean there's something

incriminating. Keep at it, Stuart. Work
through every scrap of paper.

Yes, sir.

Incriminating.

Two months ago on the 17th.

What about it?

I guess that date's supposed to mean
something.

Yeah, well, it does.

Carrie Anderson was almost beaten to
death in the early hours of the 17th.

Right, darling.

Now, what about business?

Well,

Debbie fought. She fought like a tiger.

The knuckles in her right hand were
broken and her fingernails were dug into

palm. She hit her with feeling hard.

Went down fighting.

Certainly gave him something to remember
her by.

And that's no way to ID them.

Whoever it is should look like a refugee
if they make Tyson press conference.

He doesn't.

No, the guy's definitely hiding
something.

Well, the girls reckon he hasn't got it
in him.

They've been ridiculing him.

Carrie calls him the happy snapper.

Why? Because he took her picture?

Sure.

Carrie's not in any of Keith's
photographs, though.

OK.

In fact, Keith, we're starting to think
that you might be telling the truth.

That you didn't kill anyone.

Really?

Really?

So I can go, then?

Of course you can, mate.

Why don't you tell us about the missing
photographs?

I don't... What?

We're losing both of them, Keith.

Two people are dead and Carrie Anderson
is hiding.

Now tell us.

What's on those photographs?

Come on, Keith.

OK, OK, OK.

She is.

Carrie is.

Her and Jake are together in the alley.

He... You know, they're... You
photographed them having sex?

Aye.

And he saw me.

And he called me a freak and a pervert.

And Carrie was fine when you left?

I don't know.

Aye.

Like, she doesn't matter.

I wanted to speak to Jason.

So where are the photographs now, Keith?

A fan of your husband claims he sent him
a photograph a few weeks back. Would

like to see them.

I'm afraid I don't know anything about
that.

Any fan correspondence at all could be
useful. Jason never kept it. He threw it

away instantly. He hardly bothered
reading the stuff.

All rubbish.

Well, if we could possibly look round
for ourselves.

I don't want you poking around in my
home.

Two people are dead, including your
husband, and you're worried in case we

a couple of ornaments. I won't have my
mother interrogated like this.

When are we going to be left in... Once
we find out who killed your father, we

won't bother you.

Then get out there and do your job. Our
job begins and ends with a gathering of

evidence.

We'll be back with a warrant.

Show them out, darling.

What do you think?

I think Maury's turned a blind eye to
her because she can't see straight.

We need to talk to Carrie.

Jackie. Yeah.

I'll get back out there.

Take Naomi if you think it'll help. You
know, she's never going to be on our

side, sir. She doesn't need to be.

She cares about the women. That's all
that matters.

We'll be back in the streets whether we
close down the drag or not. Carrie too.

Yep. Like Naomi said, the night is where
they live.

It's where some of them die as well.

You can't have exhausted Keith's archive
already.

No, sir.

I've found something.

Keith couldn't face Jason to give him
the photos personally, but he needed him

to have them.

He needed guaranteed recorded delivery.

And would somebody have a record for
that? Yeah, on the website. You just

in the sender's code and... Delivery.

Accepted and signed for. My Mick is
Moira Randall.

She told us one lie too many.

Chase up that warden. We're going to
tear that ideal home apart.

Dougal, whatever would I do without you?

This is a gross invasion of privacy. I
hope you realise that. You brought it on

yourself to intrude on a family's grief
like this. We'll not stay any longer

than necessary. It isn't necessary for
you to be here in the first place.

You won't find anything of an
incriminating nature, I promise you. You

very sure about that, Mrs Randall.

Board.

Up here.

It's locked.

Open it, please.

There's nothing.

Kick it in, Robbie.

Wait!

Such melodrama.

See?

A totally empty room.

It was well worth your while obtaining
that search warrant, wasn't it? There's

been photos on this wall.

What have you done with them?

Sir, the garden.

Can you explain this?

Oh, I find gardening very therapeutic.

And Doogie burns waste as we go along.

Isn't that right, Doogie?

Yes, Mrs. R.

Listen to me, pal.

If you're covering for her, you're a
mug.

She'll dump you in it right up to your
neck and then pour herself a nice dry

sherry. I've worked here for 13 years.

I think I know Mrs. R. Oh, I doubt it. I
think she's just starting to come into

her own.

Doogie understands, as I do.

that there is nothing more important
than protecting home and family. You're

talking about reputations, not reality.

My reputation is very real to me, Chief
Inspector.

I'll do whatever, whatever it takes to
uphold it.

Naomi, wait. I've said everything I need
to say. Oh, no.

No, you haven't.

You've ranted and sneered and bad
-mouthed me and the people that I work

but you haven't actually said anything.

Now, I don't know what happened to you,
Naomi. Nothing happened to me.

It happened to my mum.

She was on the game, my mum.

And the police hassled and hassled her.

Never gave her a minute's peace.

Until some punter stuck a knife in her.

They never bothered after that.

They never found the killer.

But at least there was one less whore in
the streets, eh?

And you think I'm like that?

I know what the girls go through.

I know they get treated like second
-class citizens.

But not by me.

Not with the people who work in this
team.

We want whoever killed Debbie to pay for
it.

Will you help us?

How? Well, finding Carrie would be a
start. Do you know where she is?

Maybe.

Will you show me?

Aye.

Aye, OK, Sergeant.

Ash is on the fire, Gemma.

Hope that stuff's more useful than the
blood under Debbie's fingernails was.

got the test results back?

Just. It's culicoides impunctitis
goitiber.

OK, kid on my biological Latin's a wee
bit rusty and I don't know what you're

talking about. Ah, but you do.

The blood comes from midges.

Common or garden midges.

I was hoping it came from some exotic
species that would pinpoint our killer

some kind of collector.

What?

I've got an idea.

This is your Keith.

It's my... It's my things.

That's right, Keith.

That's why we wanted to talk to you.
We've been admiring your archive.

Well, it's taken me years to assemble.
I'm sure it has.

Don't worry. I'm looking after it. Yeah,
we put D .C. Fraser in charge because,

well, he's a resident geek.

No offence. None taken.

Stuart used to have a bit of a
collection himself, isn't that right?

Yeah. Comics were my thing.

X -Men, Fantastic Four, Silver Surfer,
the lot.

If you've got any of the early Silver
Surfer, I mean, they can be worth a

fortune. Yeah, well, that's the problem.

I kept them in my parents' loft, but
they had a conversion.

Threw away the lot.

No.

I was devastated.

I understand how much things like this
can mean to a person.

Yeah. We all know it took a lot for you
to send those pictures to Jay.

Yeah, it did.

I understand why you had to keep a few
back for yourself.

This is bothering me.

What do you think it is?

Oh, fuck, I thought it was a street
light in the distance, but... Too low

Yeah.

Could be a car headlight, but it needs
to be parked at an odd angle.

Mr Burke?

That was quick.

It was straightforward.

You wanted anything that might be
photographic material.

Turns out practically the whole lot is.

Traces of chemicals used in developing
labs and the instant stuff you get with

Polaroids. So we know Moira burned the
pictures then?

Is that enough to bring her in?

No. That won't have a team of lawyers in
the room before she answers a single

question. We need Moira.

I've never seen so much evidence in my
life. The answer's going to be here

somewhere.

I've got nothing to say to you.

Look, Carrie, we think the person that
attacked you went on to kill Jason and

Debbie. Or tell me something I don't
know.

Me and Debbie worked that out right
before she died.

So why the hell did you not tell us that
when you were brought in for

questioning?

Your friend was dead! Aye, she was!

So what good was that to her?

Can you see me testifying in court? The
lawyers have ripped me to pieces! We can

help you. Oh, like you helped Debbie?

Debbie ran away from us.

We couldn't protect Debbie. I don't need
you to protect me. I can look after

myself, right?

Doesn't look like it, Carrie.

You look tired and scared.

You're down here with the junkies.

How long can that go on for?

Till you catch the guy.

So get on with it, eh?

It was a guy then.

When you were attacked, it was
definitely a man.

Carrie, look!

It may be too late for Debbie, but at
least take care of yourself.

The killer's still out there.

Sir. What?

Moira Randall's lawyers have sent a
letter threatening to sue for defamation

we leak any information to the press.

What? We haven't leaked a damn thing to
anybody. No, sir. We still need to find

her. Bloody nerve of that woman.

If her husband's killer were trying
to... What's wrong?

To my own face.

Just like Debbie said, the killer had
her faith.

Boss, one headline.

It's a motorbike.

Let me get it done.

You've got terrible bother with midges.

You can take your helmet off.

I know who you are.

Where's Carrie?

Who are you?

Does it matter?

Not really.

Need just another whore out to make
money any way she can.

What, you think I'm here to blackmail
you?

Because I know you attacked Carrie.

Killed your father.

Killed Debbie.

You won't get a penny out of me, slut.

So what's the thought me telling what I
know?

Me. You?

What,

do you think I'm scared of a mammy's boy
like you?

Did you leave my mother out of this? No,
no, because she's involved in it too,

isn't she?

Because your daddy gave her something
nasty.

Infected her.

So that she's like all the women down
here. Shut up!

Make me.

Or maybe you don't like a woman that
stands up to you.

Would you rather attack me from behind?

Because that's what you like, isn't it?

Isn't it?

Bitch.

You pathetic little man.

That's enough.

It's okay, sir. I'm fine.

It's not you I'm worried about.

Leave the dirty, hairy stuff to Robbie.

Get the cuffs on him.

I'm not sorry.

Those sluts are worthless.

Debbie Thompson's worth about 30 years
of your life.

I hope you spend every day in that cell
thinking about her.

Jackie? Yeah, give me a minute, sir.

You'll need this.

It's cold.

It's yours.

Can I give you a lift anywhere?

No. We don't work very far away from
here, do we?