All language subtitles for New.Tricks.S03E03.Old.Dogs.DVDRip.doob.eng

Now,
we've got to be ruthless, Scruffy.

Esther wants this clutter halved.

So... Come on, let's crack on.

Now...right...

Chest expanders.

Follow through.

And now it's Brian Lane, going
for his third World Championship.

How's it going?

You've been out here ages.

Oh, Brian!

I'm so glad
you got me to do this, you know.

I'd forgotten I had half this stuff!
You're not going to keep all...

# It's all right, it's OK

# Doesn't really matter
if you're old and grey

# It's all right, I say it's OK

# Listen to what I say

# It's all right, doing fine

# Doesn't really matter
if the sun don't shine

# It's all right, I say it's OK

# We're getting
to the end of the day. #

In the late 1970s, there was
a serial killer on the loose
in South London.

The killings had all the classic
hallmarks of a psychopath.

There was a particular MO

and the victims seemed
to be chosen at random.

The only difference from the
norm was they were all dogs.

Oh, yes, I remember the fuss.

Yeah, well, another dog last night
was found with the same MO

in the bushes on Hampstead Heath,
which makes three killings
in the last two weeks.

So it's a current investigation.
Based on original files.

Well, I wouldn't touch it! Nor will
any other department in the MET.
SO6 claim it's down to SO7...

who reckon it's not within their
remit, and the Special Inquiries
team DI is threatening to resign

so hey, it's come to us. They're
having a laugh, aren't they?

I was a junior detective at the time
and I worked on those cases.
It was a total bloody nightmare.

Yeah well, you can tell us
all about it at the venue.

You know why we've got this case,
don't you? It's the dogs' revenge!

The top brass must think you've
got some special insight into
killing dogs. The facts, Gerry.

Well, actually it's very
much like the original case.

The killer started
with nasty dogs like pit bulls,
so no-one took much notice.

When did the headlines start?
When he moved on to nice dogs
with nice owners.

Yeah, the press went berserk.

That's the same old story, isn't it?

The great British public care
more about animals than people.

That's why it's the Royal Society
for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals

and only the National Society for
the Prevention of Cruelty
to Children.

Anyway, the killings logged up,
the police were caned

and every department in the Met
was diving for cover.

Apart from your lot. Yeah. The
press were all over us like a rash.

We had to drop everything -
murder, rape, burglary,

so we could scour the parks looking
for some bleeding dog killer!

So did you ever come close? No!

No, and then just as suddenly as
they started, the killings stopped.

Well, what do you think?

Well, I'll need to go back
over the original files.

But it looks like the same MO
to me. Yep.

How could anyone do that to
a poor innocent animal?

So, it's been a long time, Jack.
How're you doing?

Oh, I can't complain.

I've a touch of
arthritis in the old knee.

Well, at your age...
And my arrhythmia, of course.

And I'm getting this funny
tickle in my chest...

You should see a doctor, Jack,
not a vet. What can you tell us?

Well, not so much I'm afraid.

I think it was a pit bull/Doberman
cross, maybe a bit of Staff in too,

and all the organs, other
than the heart, have been removed.

Same MO then. Mmm...
So the killer would have been
spattered with blood, gore...?

Oh, no, not necessarily. These organs
were taken after death, not before.

How taken?
Well, it's a very neat job.

A textbook mortuary incision.

I couldn't have done better myself.

Well, 30 odd years ago
there was no weapon,
no forensics and no witnesses.

The only leads we could come up with
all had collars on them! Oh...

Now, the original investigation
just put one name in the frame.

John Fletcher. A weirdo who
worked in the meat trade.

You mean like a butcher? No, I mean
like a slaughter man in an abattoir.

Doesn't make him a psychopath.

With teenage convictions for
cruelty to animals. Dogs? Cats.

It's a classic profile.

And I'll tell you something else
about psychopaths.

They might begin with animals,
but they nearly always move on
to humans.

We couldn't make anything stick.

Well, why don't you go
and see if you can make a
better job of it this time?

Yes, ma'am.

Er, Mr Fletcher?

I feel bloody stupid.
Tell me about it!

At least we're better off than them.

Mr Fletcher?

Gerry Standing and Brian Lane
from the Unsolved Crime Squad.

What do you want?
A dog was killed on Hampstead
Heath the day before yesterday.

So one down, five million to go.

What? Have you got a dog?

Yeah. I'm not talking to you.
Forget pooper-scoopers, I'd make
the bloody owners lick it up.

Have you got a dog, too?
No, I never really... Fine.

What do you want to know?

Where were you between 9.00 and
11.00pm on Wednesday?

At home. On the net.

And you can't check my hard drive
without a warrant. I know how to
change the log anyway.

What about Tuesday 21st
when a Rottweiler was killed?

Will you make him stop
looking at me like that? Like what?

Like he hates me.
Perhaps I'm prejudiced against
people who don't like animals.

I hate people who don't like people.
So you approve of these killings?

I can understand the reasons
behind them. What reasons?

Apart from the fact that canines
harbour 15 different
serious diseases?

Well, did you know that the
money this country spends on dogs

would give every child
in Africa their vaccinations?

And provide their family
with drinking water?

He agrees with me. I what?

Your mutt must cost you, what?
�1500 a year?

How much do you give to charities
like Oxfam and Save the Children?

I do my bit.
What do you get in return?

A slavering, fawning slave who
encourages all your worst fascistic
tendencies. What, I'M the fascist?!

Do this, do that, sit, stay, beg!
Love me! Make me a fuhrer!

If it's any consolation, I don't
like cats either. I know.

Now look,
you're obviously an educated man.
Why do you work in an abattoir?

Because I enjoy it.

Mr James Farlow? Yes.

Hello, I'm Detective Superintendent
Pullman. This is Jack Halford.

Thank you for agreeing to see us.

I can't believe this
has started again.

Do come in, please. Thanks very much.

Do come through.
Oh, I'm sorry about the mess.

Mmm, something smells nice.

Ah, you've been to the Arctic!

Antarctic. I was an animal welfare
officer on one of the survey teams.

You were the Canine Society field
officer at the time of the original
dog killings? Yes. Do sit down.

Thank you.
Yes, I used to go out on patrol

and investigate any reports of
canine cruelty that were
phoned through to us.

And you were first to raise the
alarm. I tried, but the police
didn't take took me seriously.

Thought I was some sort of animal
crank. But that's changed?

Yes, once the killings hit
the press, it was mass hysteria.
So why do you think they stopped?

I don't know. Maybe it became
too dangerous for the killer.

By the end, there were police
everywhere and people had stopped
walking their dogs anyway.

Why do you think he moved on
to family pets? I don't know.

If he'd stuck
to pit bulls and Rottweilers,
no-one would have bothered.

I think he wanted to send out
some sort of message.

What kind of message?
Have you ever heard of the
Human Liberation Front?

Sandra? What?
The Human Liberation Front.

It was a shadowy organisation set
up in the mid-1970s to oppose the
growing animal rights movement.

Their slogan was, "Put People First".

So they'd picket animal charities,
leaflet dog owners in the park,

and promote vivisection on the
grounds of human benefit.

Still around?
No, they folded in 1979.

Ah, just before
the dog killings started!

Membership was secret, but guess
who their press officer was.

John Fletcher.

The very same.

And he calls ME a fascist. All right.
Brian, you stay with Fletcher.

Gerry, Jack, I'd like you to go up
to the heath and talk to anyone
who uses the park regularly. OK.

Hey Brian, look - one dog year
equals seven human years, right?

Once they're fully grown. I've
just been looking at the victims
of the original investigation

and look at this.

13-year-old pit bull.
11-year-old mastiff.

12-year-old ridgeback.

13-year-old Doberman.

Oh, cheers!

What I'm saying is - these
dogs are practically geriatric.

I mean, what's so special
about old dogs?

See you later.

Brass Phillips, brass Phillips...

Silver standard, non-brass standard.

Well,
new jar of your very own, in you go.

Arghhh... Sod it!

Come on, Scruffy.
Let's have a cup of tea.

Ah. Hang on, hang on.

Put you there...

That'll fool her.

And you there...

Come on, Scruffy.

Scruffy?

Scruffy?

Scruffy.

And I think it's how Scruffy
would have wanted to go.

But I'm going to need some time off,

you know, for the arrangements.

Yes, of course. What arrangements?

Well, the funeral and so on.

After the service, Esther and I
thought we'd scatter Scruffy's
ashes at the bottom of the garden,

under his favourite tree.

Service? As in remembrance service?

It's not compulsory, you know.

Oh, I was just thinking... He means,
of course, we'll all be there.

You take all the time you need,
Brian. It's compassionate leave.

Thank you.

Just make sure you nail that bastard,
Fletcher! We will. I promise.

What?! Just don't take up a career
in bereavement counselling,
will you?!

In our day, we never spoke
to the press, did we, Jack?

Yes, well, we need witnesses.
Down the pub, over a pint perhaps.
But never on the record.

Oh, for God's sake,
it's just the local rag.

First, they give the villains a
dopey nickname. The Canine Crippen.

Then we get bombarded by weirdos.
Then they doorstep you.

I'm so glad to see that you've
embraced modern police methods(!)

Morning, ladies and gentlemen.

I've prepared a short statement.

On Tuesday the 16th of May,
the body of a Rottweiler was found
on Hampstead Heath.

All its organs had been removed.

One week later...

We should have ducked out of this!

I cannot believe we're going
to a dog's funeral.

Just stop whingeing.

Now show a bit of respect,
turn your phones off.

OK, let's get on with it.

I think dogs get a bad press.

People talk about dogsbodies

and dogs' dinners
and things going to the dogs.

If you're ugly, you're a dog.

If you're mad, you're a dog.

If you're cringing and pathetic,
you're a dog.

Well, as far as I'm concerned,
that's all slander.

MOBILE PHONE RINGS

Sorry, Gerry, am I boring you?
No, I'm sorry, mate.

You're right!

I thought Scruffy
was the dog's bollocks...

Yes... Yes, he was!

Because to be...

true...

as a dog, to be loyal and loving
as a dog,

that's more than most people
can aspire to.

MOBILE BEEPS
Bloody hell, Gerry.

If you behaved a bit more like a dog
and a bit less like a thick copper,

you might even pass muster
for a human being.

We've got to get out of here.
I told you, phones off.

They're trying to get hold of you.

There's been another dog murder.

Well, it's the same method.

The only difference is that this time
it's not a stray or a pit bull.

It's exactly the same
as the original case.

The killer started off with vicious
dogs, then moved on to family pets.

Judging by the meat between
the teeth, this one's a posh one.

His last meal appears to
have been fillet steak. The owner
was a single mum living on benefits.

Again, there's no weapon and no
witnesses. Any idea how old it was?

Er...13.

Another old one. You better
check out Fletcher's alibi.

Jack, are you all right?

Yes, I just keep getting
these coughing fits.

If you were a dog, Jack,
I'd be worried about distemper.

But speaking as a vet,
why don't you go to a chemist?
Or doctor. Or a funeral director.

Well, there's no-one more
expert on coffin fits, is there?

Same as last time.

Home. Alone. Surfing the net.

Here's a search warrant. I want
your phone records and hard disk.

Be my guest. She's new.

Animal lover too, is she?

Yeah, but she hasn't got a dog.
What happened to your last oppo?
Man's Best Friend's Best Friend?

Compassionate leave.
Oh, lost someone close, has he?

Yes.
The killer only chooses old dogs.

Why do you think that is? Stupidity.

If he wanted to make a difference,
he'd start with puppies.

Now, I need to speak to a solicitor
about a possible case
of police harassment.

Bloody hell!
I spent years in the murder squad
and never got more than a few dozen.

Yeah, but four dead dogs
and we're buried.

Look, I mean, letters,
logged calls, e-mails, texts...

It'd take us weeks to work through
this lot. What about Fletcher?

His phone records
and his hard disk do prove that his
computer was logged on to the web.

But it doesn't mean he was
sitting at the keyboard, does it?

And I'd like to see that
James Farlow again. Why?

Well, he might give us an insight
into why all our victims are old.

Mr Farlow... Sorry to bother you
but there's something I'd like
to clear up.

What? I've told you everything
I know.

It's just a quick question.
It won't take a minute.

This really isn't a very good time
for me, you know. That's my wife.

I'm sorry, I didn't realise.

They're bringing her back
from the hospital.

Of course, I understand. Perhaps
we could arrange another day.

I don't know... She's dying.

I am sorry.

I do know what it's like to lose
a loved one. I'll come back later.

No, no,

I saw the local paper.
And Claire, my wife, she'd want me
to do everything I can to help.

Could you just go to the kitchen,
I'll be with you in a minute.
Thank you.

Dog owner number seven.

Hi, Mr Christie? Yeah. We're from
UCOS. I believe you're expecting us.
This is Gerry Standing, I'm...

Detective Superintendent Sandra
Pullman. I remember from the papers.

Nice picture. Thanks.

Please, come in.

Cheers.
Can I get you a glass of wine?

Oh! Excuse the cliche,
Mr Christie, but we're on duty.

Tom. And so am I. Sorry?
I'm a wine dealer.

The Value Wine Company. Yeah, I got a
couple of bottles off your website.

You haven't got any
of that '79 Pinot?

Er...no, but I'm just tasting
a white burgundy that I wouldn't
mind a second opinion on. Yeah.

Gerry.
Well, I'm not a policeman any more.

So, Mr Christie... Tom. Please.

You were walking your dog on
Hampstead Heath on the night
of the recent dog murder.

Yeah. So what did you see?

Well, nothing much.
When you say nothing much? Mmm.

Bloody hell! You like? Yeah.

Did you get the oak? Absolutely.
And the gooseberry aftertaste?

Yes! You know your stuff.
I didn't always. I used to be
in haulage, continental runs.

Friends started asking me
to bring back wine for them.

I hope you paid the duty.
Oh, always.

Anyway, I started picking up
a couple of bottles for myself,

then I booked a wine-tasting
holiday... Now you're swilling and
spitting with the best of them.

Actually, I found a bit of a
niche supplying the Armed Forces.

I even ship a few cases up
to your mob in Hendon.

But those probationers
wouldn't know a Pinot from piss.

You on the other hand...

I reckon you'd care about quality.

Right now, all I care about
is what you saw on the heath.

I told you, there's
nothing to report.

Why did you come forward?
I thought you might want to use
this place as a surveillance point.

Mate, you do not want coppers
tramping through your bedroom.

Don't I?

It must be hard living
without a diagnosis.
It's harder dying without one.

At first they thought it was
some kind of brain tumour. And now?

They just don't know.

But whatever it is,
it's starting to attack her joints.

Tell me, do you remember anything
about the ages of the dogs
that were killed? No, why?

We think the killer only chose
old dogs and we wondered
if you'd noticed anything.

It didn't strike me at the time,
but I can't recall any
puppies being killed.

Anyway, what kind of psychopath
could do such things to any
innocent creature, young or old?

Now, I'd like your opinion of this.

Here we are. If you wouldn't mind...

Careful, it might be a bit hot.

Oh, cheers.

What do you think?
Mmm, it's very tasty!

Does it need seasoning? No, no,
it seems perfect to me. Perfect!

Then you should have some! Oh!

Thank you!

Yeah, you're right. You've got a
fantastic view of the heath here.

Spend a lot of time watching
your neighbours?

I'm hardly ever here. That's why
you're welcome to set up shop.

OK, thanks, I'll bear it in mind.

Now, I always thought
I might make a good detective.

Is there some kind of
Munchausen by proxy thing because
surveillance is just that.

There'll be no car chases or
shoot outs. Glad to hear it.

No, there's just a bit of sleuthing
involved in the wine business.

Really? All those criminal
chardonnays and elusive merlots?

It's a game I play with my clients.

What they drink, how they drink it,
tells you a lot about
their character.

Guv, are you ready to go?

OK, go on then, impress me.

What's your favourite wine? Chablis.

I drink the way I dress.

Seriously. Well, it would
have to be a good Bordeaux.

Notice the word good. You know your
stuff and how to treat yourself.
You wanna read my fortune as well?

OK, what about me?

I like a nice fizzy Lambrusco.

No, you don't.

You haven't met your
favourite wine yet.

No-one's had the class
to buy it for you.

Well, hope it's not expensive.

She drinks it by the bucket load.
Thank you, Gerry.

I'll be in touch. Good.

If I need to use your bedroom...

for surveillance.

Yeah?

This has just been delivered
for you. Thank you.

Well, aren't you going to open it?
Yes, I am. In private.

"Dear Sandra,
the thought that you might actually

"be knocking back cheap Lambrusco has
been haunting me ever since we met.

"Allow me to offer an alternative.

"I think you'll find
a new favourite amongst them."

That's fantastic. Thank you
very much. Thank you, bye. Bye bye.

Excuse me, I'm working
for the police. Sorry.

Well, well well... Look who
we have here! Oh, hello, hello.

I can't take a short cut home, can
I? You can go anywhere you like
guv'nor, but first can I...

have a look in your bag?
Yeah, go on. Take a look.

I use them for work and
they needed sharpening.

There's nowhere to sharpen
knives in an abattoir?

Of course there is. But I prefer
to use my own whetstone. Why?

It gets a keener edge.

Do you know how many spring
lambs we killed last week? 500,000.

Not to mention 200,000 piglets,
50,000 veal calves
and 10 million 59-day-old chickens.

But that's all right.
Just as long as we're nice to dogs.

Those knives
you were carrying are domestic.

So what? They wouldn't be used in an
abattoir. Well, they're sharper
than the knives they supply.

Of course, Health & Safety
won't let me use mine.
So I have to sneak them in.

And you expect us to believe this
load of old cobblers, do you?
KNOCK ON DOOR

Can I see you for a moment?
Excuse us.

They found another dog. They reckon
it was killed two hours ago.

He's been here for at least three.

How old?

12. Remember the fillet steak?

Stuck between the teeth
of the last one? Hmm.

Well, this dog had the same final
meal. Now that can't be coincidence.

No, so I decided to analyse it
and the meat was doped. What with?

Traces of mandrake root.

What's that? Well,
it's a very powerful analgesic.

Yeah, but it could still kill them?

With a big enough dose, yeah. So like
a lot of poisons, mandrake in small
quantities has medicinal properties.

You could look at it like that.
Hey, you might try it
for that cough of yours.

Well, that's pretty much what
the Ancient Egyptians thought.

They used it for everything.
From a cold cure to an anaesthetic
for serious operations.

Really? Did it work? Oh, yes. Nobody
uses it nowadays, though, except
hippies, and homeopaths.

So we're looking for a compassionate
serial killer. Compassionate?

Even without an alibi, it doesn't
sound like Fletcher to me.

So what kind of rescue dog
did you have in mind?

Erm... I don't care.

White, brown, black, mongrel.

Any sort would do.
That's so good to hear.

So many people traipse in here
with a shopping list. As if
we run up dogs to order. Not us.

Any nice puppy will do.
Puppy?

Mmm, delicious. There's something
very nostalgic about beef tea.

No-one's drunk it
since my great-gran was alive.

Not at all! My mum always used to
give me beef tea when I was ill.

Beef tea, the latest Billy Bunter
story and two weeks in bed with
mumps and measles.

I bet you had the lot! I went
through the card. I almost enjoyed
being ill as a kid.

Hello! Hello, Brian.

Brian. How are things?

Bloody awful.

I've been trying to find a puppy
to replace Scruffy.

Yes, I can see that would be hard.
Hard? It's impossible.

The last place me and Esther went to
had a policy of turning down people
over 50! 50? That's ridiculous.

You'd have no chance! No smokers! Cos
passive smoking is bad for the dogs.

And they don't want you
to drink either.

What's passive drinking?

No idea, but since hanging around
with you, I'm certainly suffering
from it! Anyway,

they want their dog owners to be
young teetotallers who don't smoke,
but are married, home all day

with large gardens,
but have no children.

I tell you, it's easier
to adopt a bloody kid.

So I'm coming back to work. You're
on a doctor's note. Yeah, well,

I'll sign myself on again.

Brian, I'm afraid you can't.

It's nothing personal.
It's a health and safety issue and
the paperwork's already been filed.

So you don't want me, either.

Erm...Brian?

Brian, what do you know
about mandrake root?

Nothing. Except it was sacred to
the Egyptian dog-headed God, Anubis.

He was the keeper of the poisons,
you know? No, I didn't know.

Well, I bet John Fletcher knows.

Look, Brian,

if it helps, maybe you shouldn't
think of Scruffy as dead
but as gone to another place.

It doesn't help.

Not one word.
I feel bad enough already.

In that case, I really do need
to see a man about a dog.

Oh... Oh....

Are you all right? Yes.

I just felt a bit dizzy.

I must have got up too fast.

Jack, you weren't sitting down!

Well, whatever...

Oh, thank you, that's so kind of you.

I can't promise Claire will notice
but do come through. Thank you.

The doctor's with her now.
So we've got a few minutes.

Oh, I haven't come about the
murders. I can come back later.
It's fine.

It's just that a friend of mine
recently lost a dog and being

quite senior himself, he's having
trouble getting a rescue puppy.

That's the policy these days
I'm afraid.

I was hoping you could pull a few
strings with the
Canine Protection Society.

Oh, no, they don't have a dog pound.

No waifs or strays I'm afraid.

Oh, well,
I'm sorry to have bothered you.

Oh, no, not at all
and thanks for the lovely flowers.

Oh, by the way, this is probably
nothing, but when these killings
first started, I remembered one of

the owners asking me to take her dead
dog and remove his organs. Really?

Mmm, but it wasn't something we as a
society could countenance, of course.

Can you remember the
name of the owner? No,

but her dog was called Osiris.

Osiris, now... Oh...

I'm sorry. I keep getting
these dizzy spells.

Oh, I don't like the sound of that.

Shall I get Claire's doctor? No,
no, no. Please, if I could just
sit here and get my breath...

Yes, of course. I'll get you a drink.

You haven't eaten anything.

I'm not hungry.

Well, leave it there.
You might change your mind later.

I won't.

Why don't we go for a walk?
Get your appetite back.

I don't want a walk.
I'll get you the paper.

Look, I'll get the...paper.

God, parking round here's
a nightmare... Gerry?

I made copies of the original files
for you to pick at.

Then you can make a start on these.

All right?

You mean work on the QT?

No, certainly not.

But I can't see how Sandra could
object to a little light filing.

ESTHER: Tea, Gerry?
Oh, yes, please...

Look, we still don't know
why the killer moved from
strays to family dogs.

Or why he only clobbers old ones.

Mmm, I wonder why
he leaves the hearts behind?

Isn't that typical?

They don't give the cause of death,
here. Kettle's on.

Or here. Bloody amateurs.

What kind of investigation was it?

Look, he's getting better by
the minute! Yeah, he's never happy

unless he's moaning
and even then he's not pleased.

Brian seems a bit chirpier.

Gerry, do you remember
a dog called Osiris in the
original spate of murders?

Mm, it does sound vaguely familiar.
Stupid name for a dog.

Well, I've been looking it up...
Listen, you've got to see someone.

I'm fine. Osiris is Egyptian.

Now the pathologist said
mandrake root was used by
the Egyptians, didn't she?

Yeah, yeah. Coincidence?

No such thing.

Professor Styles is an expert
in Egyptology and she's the
curator of this museum.

And Osiris was her dog, yeah?

Fourth victim. December 5th, 1979.

Osiris disappeared
when we were out for a walk

and that was the last I saw of him...
until they found his mutilated body.

I can't tell you how upset I was.

I couldn't sleep for months.

How old was he, Professor?

He would have been 13.
That's him there.

What, that little statue?

That's not a statue, Detective,
that's his mummiform. His what?

On his earthly passing,
Osiris was mummified

so his essence and his shrunken body
will be preserved for all eternity.

Do you believe in reincarnation?

No. I believe the Great god Anubis,
will guide me to the life beyond.

So I preserve all
his canine descendants,
or at least as many as I can.

I'll show you. Here we have
Ammut who passed on in 1992.

Isis, Nefertiti and Tutankhamun, you
probably passed in the lower gallery.

Do you mummify them all yourself?

No. It would be too distressing.

Under UK law
it's not permitted anyway.

I have to send them to America
for the blessings of the hereafter.

And when you pass on,
you're expecting to join them?

Yes, I have a provision in my will.

Of course it could be years
before our time comes,

isn't that right, Horus?

Er, excuse me,
what are you feeding him?

Fillet steak.

What else would you feed
a descendant of a God, detective?

So you reckon the probable cause
of death was this mandrake root?

That would be my
working hypothesis, yes.

I can't be absolutely sure
without analysing the liver.

Which isn't there.

Well, could that be the killer's
motive for taking it?

He doesn't want us to find
the cause of death.

It's possible, I suppose.

In that case, why bother
with the rest of the organs?

He removes everything
apart from the heart.

Spleen, pancreas,
lungs, kidneys, the lot.

Not to begin with.

In the early cases
the selection seems random.

But in every instance,
he always takes the liver.

Who would want dog liver?

Old dog liver. How long does it take
for mandrake root to have an effect?

That depends on the size
of the dog, of course.

With a large breed,
I'd guess five minutes?

Best keep this on the QT.

What? The cause of death?

No. The fact that I've been here.

Oh...

So the victim was poisoned somewhere

which is five dog minutes from here
in any direction.

Right...

No, no, no. Dogs don't run
in a straight line, do they?!

Cos they're sort of hunting,

tracking, sniffing things out.

So it's like two steps forward,
one step back.

Right.

Ah, no, no, no...

Scruffy worked in squares, didn't he?
Yeah!

Triangulating the corners...
Of course.

Right...

So what do you think? The dogs are
anaesthetised with mandrake root
prior to the removal of their organs

which just happens to be the
first step in mummification.

That puts
Professor Styles in the frame...

Plus she'd know all about the use
of mandrake root in Ancient Egypt.

Absolutely. OK, so she's got the
know-how but where's the motive?

Why kill your own dog?
To put us off the scent, maybe?

All right, why move from
strays to family pets?

Why choose only old dogs?

Yeah, we haven't got
enough evidence to arrest her.

Yet.

I was just...trying to be a dog.

Jack, what's going on in there?

I mean, she's getting drink
delivered by the caseload! I know.
I carried on in for her.

And she was very cagey about it.

She's not becoming an alky, is she?
She spits it all out again!

Blimey... A bulimic alcoholic!

Maybe she's moonlighting as a wine
taster. But where's it all coming
from? The Value Wine Company.

Ah, Tom! What?

That's the bloke who's got a house
on the heath.

Funny, that. He's not sending ME any
wine! Maybe he doesn't fancy YOU.

You should've seen the way he looked
at her. That's a thought...

What? There's something about our
wine expert that doesn't
quite add up.

PHONE RINGS
Hello?

Sorted. They only think I'm the
bloody dog killer, don't they?

No, they don't, I just vouched
for you. Here, have this back.

Fillet steak, Gerry,
and I bet you anything,
it's dosed with mandrake root.

Come on, we're going to tell Sandra.
Have you been working on the case?

She'll have our guts for garters!
She'll know I put you up for it.

Just say I happened to be walking
on the heath and I was passing the
scene of the crime and... No, no.

You leave the cheating to the man
who's got three ex-wives. Come on.

So completely off your own bat,
you decided to borrow a retired

police dog from the Met sanctuary
and take it down the park.

Yup, make myself a target.

And then Tootsie here noses out
a couple of pounds of prime beef,

possibly laced with mandrake root?
That's right.

Good work. Yeah, I thought so.

But there's another thing. What?
Tom, the wine shipper,
the one who sends all the booze?

Yep, none of your business.

Well, Tom hasn't got a dog.

What? Well, think back
to when we were at his house.

Did you see a dog basket? A food
bowl? Any leads? Hair on the sofa?

No, cos he hasn't got a dog

and the neighbour confirmed it.

Hello, Tom! Hello.

Fancy a walk? Nice walk...
with the DOG? No, mate, it's
getting a bit dark. Even better.

Nice stroll under the stars, the
hound trotting to heel. And he's at
the vet's. Oh, no!

Tell me...

what's your dog's name?

..Rover?

All right, I've never owned a dog.

So why did you say you did?
It wasn't to cause trouble...

Then enlighten me.
I saw you in the paper.

And? I liked what I saw.

Yeah, right. Pull the other one.

Do you mind?

I want the truth. It is the truth.

I saw you and I knew
I had to get to know you.

So you made up a pack of lies?

That's always the way I like to meet
new men. It bodes well
for the future.

It seemed like a good idea. I can't
be the first bloke who's stretched
the truth to impress a woman!

Leave me out of it!

I thought you'd find it romantic.

Me risking arrest and public
humiliation so I could meet you.

It's a better story
than we met in a pub or at Tesco's.

Do you realise this is all
going down on tape? Yeah.

It gives a whole new meaning to
"police harassment".
Stop enjoying this!

Nope, it can't be done.

I don't know whether to charge you
with wasting police time or bring
in the men with the white coats.

OK, interview terminated...

Hang on. Can I see you again?
You're free to go, Mr Christie.

Sorry to bother you again,
but something you said has
been preying on my mind.

Well, as I explained earlier,
we really can't help you.

I know, because I'm too old
for a puppy. That's right.

So what about an old rescue dog? Say,
something ten or eleven years old?

I'm sorry. We don't have any.
What, none at all?

Strays don't get old, Mr Lane. They
either die or they get put down long
before they reach that kind of age.

So you never see any really old dogs?

I'm afraid not. No. That's answered
my question, thank you very much.

I've been thinking about motive...

Now, Professor Styles believes
in the Ancient Egyptian concept

of the afterlife
and worships a dog-headed god.

So she says. Ah, but which one?

Is there more than one?
There are two.

And if she worships the one I think
she worships, I may be able to give

you a perfectly rational explanation
for these crimes.

Now, the more famous of the Egyptian
dog-headed gods was Anubis here.

As far as I can work out,
he was the god of embalming.

There was another one
called Wepwawet, who was
more associated with the jackal.

You see, when a master died,
his prestige in the life to come
depended on how many slaves

and animals were
sacrificed to go with him.

Before mummification,
it was Wepwawet who consumed their

corporeal organs in order to release
their souls from earthly corruption.

That's handy. She's not in!

Oi! That's virtually breaking
and entering. Not if you knock.

You stay here, I'll go and find her
and don't touch anything!

So if Professor Styles
is standing in

for Wepwa-thingymibob, the more
animals she kills, the more comfort

and companionship she secures for
herself in the after-world. Right?

Exactly. And if I'm not mistaken
this is a canopic jar...

Jack, you've got to see a doctor!

I mean, this might
have been priceless.

In fact, it might be. Look at that!

All the major organs apart from the
heart are preserved in the jar.

Fillet steak,
mandrake root, mummification.

Yeah, all beginning to fit.

Except these aren't animal remains,
they're human.

I've been dreading this call
for 25 years. I knew you'd catch up
with me in the end.

So you'll make a full confession?

Of course. There's no point
in lying about it now.

You were acting for Wepwawet?

Yes.

I knew it was against the law, but
I had a religious duty to perform.

So you started with dogs
and then moved onto humans.

No, I started with Henry.

Henry? My husband - Mr Styles.

Those are his organs over there.

It was his dying wish
to be mummified.

I suppose he also told you that
you should kill other people's dogs
to keep him company? Of course not.

My husband loved dogs. As I do.

So you're not confessing
to the dog murders? No!

Then what are you confessing to?

Illegally interfering with a corpse,
contrary to the 1847 Burial Act...

and failing to apply
for a Home Burial Licence
under the 1968 Public Health Act.

Do you think they'll put me
in prison?

Brian, Brian!

Is he all right?

He's not allergic to dogs.
So what's wrong with him?

The symptoms point
to some sort of brain tumour.

Symptoms, what symptoms? Nobody
told me anything about symptoms.

No, there's nothing specific.

A bit of dizziness, nausea...

They won't know
until they've done tests.

All we can do now
is keep our fingers crossed.

I'd no idea it was serious.

Mary? No, love. It's me, Sandra.

Ah...

I thought it was Mary.

He's too old for a medulla blastoma.

And acoustic neuromas only affect
women, so it's probably a glioma.

Now they come in three kinds -
there's astro... Brian!

Listen, mate, I know you're worried.
We all are. But can we talk about
something else?

Yeah, sure.

Thank you.

Bloody hell,
I hope it's not a menigeoma!

Sorry, sorry, Gerry.

I'm no good at just...
just waiting around!

Who is?!

Here, did I tell you... I think I
know why the killer went on to family
pets... No.

He only wants old dogs.

We know that. It's gotta be easier
to kill a mangy old stray than one
with an owner, isn't it?!

But there aren't any!
Dogs have to loved and looked after
to reach old age.

Don't we all!

Jack's got his scan results.

Well, the good news is,
I haven't got a brain tumour.

So what's wrong with you?
That's the bad news.

They don't know. Anyway, they're
keeping me in for observation.

If you lot really want me to feel
better, you won't come back here

until you've made some progress
on this case. Brian thinks
he's found something.

The reason the killer
moved onto family pets is...

you just don't get old strays.

That still doesn't explain WHY
he only wants old dogs, does it?

I think he wants the liver. What?

Right from the earliest cases, the
selection of organs just look random,

but he always takes the liver. What's
so special about old dogs' liver?

Yeah, it's hardly foie gras, is it?

I can't find my copy of Home Of
The Blizzard by Sir Douglas Mawson.

I've had that book since I was a kid.

The Arctic explorer?
No, the Antarctic explorer.

It was my favourite book
when I was ten years old.

I would never have chucked that away.
Well, it's gone now.

This charity box was full yesterday!

Yes, I know. So I put a few more
things in and took it to the shop.

Oh, no, I was keeping all that!

Well, why didn't you put it
in the keep box?

I did! This is why I say don't give
or chuck anything away without
checking with me first.

You never know
when you might need something.

Which charity shop did you go to?

Gerry?
Did you ever read a book called

The Home Of The Blizzard by Sir
Douglas Mawson when you were a kid?
I barely got through the Beano.

It was one of the first genuine
mysteries I ever came across

and I've been fascinated by them
ever since.

What's your sad, anorak childhood
got to do with anything?

Because his colleague, Xavier Mertz,
was killed by Sir Douglas Mawson.

Only that didn't come to light
until 60 years after the event.

Really?

Ah.

Oh, hello! What are you doing here?

I heard you were in hospital
and when I came to pick up my wife's
prescription, I thought I'd look in.

That's very nice of you.
Not at all. Are you all right?

Well, they think I've got a bit of a
virus, but I'm feeling a lot better.

Good, good.

Sorry I didn't have time
for grapes, so... Thank you!

Thank you very much!

Well, I better be going.

You look after yourself, all right?
I will.

Thanks again. It's very kind of you.

Bye. Bye.

It's a rare thing for anyone
to take an interest in Sir Douglas
Mawson these days. You amaze me.

What's it got to do with dead dogs?

Everything.

Because it's a classic tale
of derring-do.

Charting Mawson's epic journey
across 2,000 miles of unexplored
polar waste.

Now, when Mawson and Mertz
lost their supplies,

they were left with a single team
of Huskies miles from base camp.

At first,

everything looked hopeless
but they trudged on,

killing and eating their
sled dogs as they went.

Then Mertz grew weak very quickly.

Mawson insisted that
his friend eat something.

He said he should take the soft
parts of the dog, like the livers.

But he got worse.

He started suffering
dizziness, nausea, stomach cramps.

Then his skin started to crack off
in handfuls. Get to the point, Brian.

Mertz died 100 miles from base camp.

Mawson soldiered on alone, finally
arriving to a hero's welcome.

Now, what killed Mertz remained a
mystery until an obscure article in

the New England Journal Of Medicine
suggested that Mawson himself had
inadvertently killed his colleague.

There's something wrong with
dog livers? They're lethally
poisonous to human beings.

So instead of a psychopath,
we're now looking for a poisoner?

Yes. And the reason why the
killer only wants old dogs is

that the older they get, the more
poisonous their livers are. Why?

Because all the excess vitamin A
that a dog gets from eating other
animals is stored in his liver.

Now, if we eat those livers
we ingest a lethal amount.

And apparently, one single dose
of dog's liver delivers

30,000 times the recommended
daily dose of vitamin A for adults.

How long would
that take to kill someone?

That depends on the dose
but the pathologist
said two to three months,

which was just about the length
of the first spate of dog murders.

We need to look over medical
records and see if we can find

the death certificate of
anyone who died
of a mysterious illness during 1979.

Oh, forgot my purse!

I've got money, don't worry.
Oh, look what the cat dragged in.
I don't think so.

Why are you here? I got tired
of waiting for you to sniff
the killer out.

Go home, Mr Fletcher.
Well, I've come in to help!

Yes. Lassie can't be expected
to solve the case all on her own.

Get on with it. I did it. What?

You did it? I am the killer.

The man you're looking for?

I killed the dogs, all of them. This
is what you would call a confession.

Well, do you need me
to start whining(?) Sandra.

Hang on. As Mr Fletcher is so keen
to have a look at the interview
room, will you please show him in?

Here's the list. Mysterious deaths
in '79. Blimey, is that all?

Well, it's all they'll admit to.

Think Harold Shipman. Hundreds of
people murdered and nobody knew.

Jennifer Farlow. Excuse me?

Third on the list.
Jennifer Rose Farlow.

Farlow. Yes, that's the same name
as Jack's contact. James Farlow.

Yeah. The dog protection officer.

It's got to be.

Right Gerry, I want everything.
Background, health records,
family history, the lot.

OK. Brian and I will go and deal
with Mr Fletcher. Right.

So, it would have fooled the
pathologist about the time of death.

A little dose of this,
a little dose of that.

I killed all those dogs.
Every single one of them.

So run us through
the details of your method, then.

Oh, no. Not till you arrest me
and set the pace machine running.

You don't want me to get off
on a technicality.

I thought you didn't talk to fascists
like me! That's right. I don't.

I've got to admit, you had me fooled.

At last... I can begin to see what
you're up to now. Very clever.
Thank you.

Well, you had the knives, the motive,
the opportunity... Of course.
You made perfect incisions.

Well, I'm trained to.
Just one question though.

When you were removing the
organs of the dog, why did you
always leave the liver behind?

What, the liver?
Yeah, why did you do that?

Well,
I always leave the liver behind.

You always leave the liver behind.

But why?

Mr Fletcher, is there anything else
you'd like to confess to?
Shergar, Cock Robin, Bambi's mum?

How many times
do I have to tell you?

You see what really interests me,
is the kind of dim inadequacy that

leads someone to indulge
in such a pathetic fantasy.

Is it the oxygen of publicity, or
something to do with your mother?

You rattle my cage
and I rattle yours.

I had you down for a monster,
but you're not, are you?

You're just a pathetic little runt.

Could have been a result though. You
don't get many of them now, do you?

Remind me? What's the police
clear-up for muggings and burglary?

It doesn't matter, though, does it?!

They're not serious crimes!

They only involve people!

So James Farlow was married before
and his first wife, Jennifer,
died in 1979.

And the dog killings
stopped after her death.

According to his bank, she had a
large life insurance policy which
paid out on her mysterious demise.

A year later, he remarried
Claire Haslam, 15 years his junior,
who is the current Mrs Farlow.

Guess where he worked
before coming to London?

He was in the Antarctic, employed by
the South Australian Survey Group
to be their Husky Welfare Officer.

Of course he was. So he would have
known all about Douglas Mawson.

He could have written
a book on it himself.

But instead, he decides to
poison his first wife and
claim the insurance money.

The Canine Protection Officer?!
It all fits together, Jack.
It's almost the perfect murder.

We just have to work out how he
managed to administer the poison
and we nick him.

What do you give someone to eat
when they're already ill
and they've got no appetite?

Jesus Christ, Jack!

How much of that stuff have you had?

Farlow! Police, open the door!
SIRENS WAIL

Farlow!

Please be quiet.
I don't want her to get upset.

She loses her appetite so easily.

Appetite? You're poisoning her!
And she's not the first.

How is Jack? A little remorse
will go a long way, Mr Farlow,
especially where you're going.

Remorse? I did away with that
a long time ago.

So it was all just for the money?
Do you know, it was.

And you had another go
with wife number two.

Well, how often do you realise you
can commit the perfect crime? Perfect
is when you don't get caught.

Oh, come now that's rather graceless.

It's taken you a couple of decades.

I should imagine the mandrake root
puzzled you a little bit? Eh?

Do you know how the Ancient Greeks
used to uproot the plant?

Perhaps you'll enlighten us
down at the station.

Oh, I love trivia. All those little
titbits that no-one knows about.

Like, Britain is the eighth
largest island in the world and

the boiling point of water is lower
at higher altitudes... Fascinating.

And the liver of aged dogs
kills beautifully without a trace.

You should have joined a pub quiz...
No, because I'm not a dullard,

like my wives or that idiot
you sent to question me.

You should have heard him,
"What a delicious beef tea.
Please sir, may I have some more?"

If you were that clever you wouldn't
have got caught. True, but it's
satisfying how things turned out.

I always hated having to hide
my light under a bushel.

I could write a book! James Farlow,
I am arresting you on the suspicion
of murdering Jennifer Farlow.

You do not have to say anything but
it may harm your defence if you do

not mention something which
you later rely on in court.

Oi, what are you doing?
I'm discharging myself.

Are you sure you're well enough?
I've never felt worse.

Can you believe it?
He tried to kill me!

He poisoned me, Gerry!

Do you know what really pisses
me off? I let him do it.

I sat and let him systematically
poison me. Do you know why?

Because I made a fundamental error.
I committed a cardinal sin.

I felt sorry for him.

Me! You'd think I was old enough
to have more sense!

Jack, you flushed him out.

Flushed him out, I'll flush him out!

I'll flush him down
the nearest flushing lavatory!

HE COUGHS
And this bloody cough!

Listen, I'm a bit tied up. I've got a
client here for a taster. That's OK.

I just came by to return these.

I have to tell you, you've made me
feel like a right prat.

I rather think
you did that to yourself.

So which one did you like best?

Guess. The Semillon. It was lovely,
but not my favourite. Chenin Blanc.
Nice, but nah.

Not the Zinfandel, surely?
Not that either. Go on, then.
Put me out of my misery.

It's a glass of dry white plonk
I'm about to share with my mates.

Sorry. Tom, I thought we were going
to open... Oh...

That's your "client", is it? Yeah...

Got a bit of a thing
for women in uniform.

I'm a plain-clothes detective.
I know.

A man can dream, can't he?

So in the end, it was just
a standard insurance job.

It's like life, isn't it? Things look
complicated, but actually,
they're quite simple.

Well, I for one will be happy if
I never see another dog in my life.

Sadly, that's not going to happen.

Brian, this is for you, mate.

ALL: Oh!

Where'd you get him? Remember
when you sent me down the heath?

Well, I met this little old lady
with this dog and she wanted
to find a good home for him.

What's he called?

Well, it could be Scampi,
couldn't it? Scampi in a basket.

Scampi? Are you Scampi, cos
you're a little scamp, aren't you?

Jack, you've still
got those sores on your face.

Sores! What sores? Very kind
of you! I'll have a pint.

# It's all right, it's OK

# Doesn't really matter
if you're old and grey

# It's all right, I say it's OK

# Listen to what I say

# It's all right, you're doing fine

# Doesn't really matter
if the sun don't shine

# It's all right, I say it's OK

# We're getting to the end
of the day

# Hi-tech, low-tech, take your pick

# Cos you can't teach an old dog
a brand-new trick

# I don't care
what everybody says... #

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd