All language subtitles for Endeavour.S02E03.Sway.720p.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.h264-jAh

The Greeks called it apeiros...

Anaximander of Miletus
termed it apeiron,

but we generally take it
to mean the same thing,

which is to say...

..endless.

Endeavour
Season 2 - Episode 03

Subtitles by Deluxe
Sync: Marocas62

"Woman Strangle"

"Oxford Housewife willingly
opened door to killer"

"Sway"

All right, matey.
Try calm your nerves, all right?

Vivienne Haldane, 43.
Husband's Rufus Haldane,

Maths don at St Saviour's
according to neighbours.

Body was found by the postie.
No sign of a break-in.

-Dr. deBryn?
-Strangled, from behind.

With a silk stocking.
Not hers.

Underwear balled up in her handbag.

Physical relations had taken place
within an hour or two of death.

Nothing to say unwillingly,
at first glance.

Any similarities to
Mrs. Curran-Matthews besides the sex?

The stocking's new. If it is him,
Mrs. Curran-Matthews, it was manual.

Same as Mrs. Merchant
at the start of last month.

I thought the husband had been
charged for that?

-He's on remand.
-That's DI Chard's case, isn't it?

-I took a look at the case files.
-That will please Mister Chard!

Mrs. Merchant's body was found
on waste ground,

Mrs. Curran-Matthews at home.

-If it's the same bloke it's hardl...
-It's him. The strangler.

Mrs. Merchant.
Mrs. Curran-Matthews.

-Now Mrs. Haldane.
-Yeah?

Three women.
So?

So, three married women,

not one of whom
was found wearing a wedding ring.

-What's that?
-A diary from Mrs. Haldane's handbag.

-And?
-Just appointments.

Hair.
Dentist.

Getting her nails done.

Golf with Prue and Audrey
couple of times a week.

Supper with this Josephine.
Other than that...

A junior officer
calling the work

of a senior Detective
Inspector into question?

Mister Merchant's been charged.
Are you sure about this?

Wedding and engagement rings
are missing in all three cases.

Could go along, sir.

I'd be glad of Morse, if you can
spare him from this report.

Yes.
Yes, I suppose.

Very well. Probably best keep him
out of DI Chard's way.

Not everyone has
my forgiving nature.

Right on top of Guy Fawkes.

Nip it in the bud, fast,
or we'll have a panic on our hands.

Lynch mobs and all the rest of it.
Shall we carry on?

When did you
last see your wife, Doctor?

Yesterday morning.

No.
The day before.

I think.

Yes. Yes.
The day before.

I went home to collect
a fresh shirt.

Vivienne and I...lived apart.

She had her world and I,
mine.

-What was her world, sir?
-I don't know...

Whatever women do,
I suppose.

Could I ask, sir,

what your movements
were yesterday evening?

I had a late tutorial.

Dined in, dropped by the SCR,

and returned to my
room about nine-thirty

to work on a lecture.

Can anyone confirm that, sir?

My pupils.

Some fellows, I'm sure.
I can give you a list of names.

It appears your wife
had an appointment

in her diary last night
for supper with someone
called Josephine.

It seems to have been a regular
occurrence these past few months.

Only I can't find anyone of that name
in her address book.

-Any idea who that might be?
-I'm afraid not.

You've no idea
of the company she kept?

Who she might have been seeing?

-Doctor Haldane?
-A man, you mean?

No.

I suppose I hoped we might
resolve our differences.

It was a pattern,
you see, with Vivienne,

every few years or so.

I was a disappointment to her,
I think.

In all the important ways at least.

The ways that matter...to a woman.

You see the way I look at it,

when it comes to birds,

there are two types of men
in this world.

Them that's got it,
and them that don't.

Know what I mean?

Yeah.
Not bad.

Not bad at all.

-I'll take it.
-Very good, sir.

Isobel Merchant.

Thirty-eight years old.
Housewife.

One daughter at Belbury Tech.

Mister Merchant's
a long-distance lorry driver.

Last week,
Mrs. Ann Curran-Matthews.

Forty-three.
Housewife.

Husband's something in the City,
where he stays through the week.

Now, this morning,
Mrs. Vivienne Haldane.

So, we've got a multiple murderer
on our hands,

with no suggestion
he'll call time at three.

-Jakes?
-Right.

Persons of interest.
The usual fragrant bunch.

Flashers.
Sex-cases.

Ask about chokers
and pseudo-stranglers.

You know the drill.

Thank you.

Good morning, sir.
How may I be of assistance?

Detective Constable Morse.
City Police.

I'd like to ask someone about
stockings, ladies' stockings.

You want Mrs. Armstrong in hosiery.

If you'd like to come this way.

Mrs. Armstrong,
this gentleman is from the police.

He'd like some assistance
in the matter of ladies' stockings.

Yes, certainly.

I'm trying to find if anywhere
in Oxford sells a particular brand.

Black. Silk. Seamed.
With a design at the top.

Do you have it?
The stocking.

I am afraid not,
but I have a sketch of the design.

Si. Le Minou Noir.
French.

It's a new line.

They only came into stock
for the Autumn/Winter season.

That's one. I don't suppose
you'd know how many you've sold?

I need to check with the stock room,
but two or three pairs a week.

They're quite expensive,
seventeen and six.

So...
If you'd like to come back?

Perhaps after lunch.

I will.

Thank you very much for your help.

Norman Parkis speaking.

This is Mrs. Armstrong in Hosiery.

-Yes?
-Could you bring me the stock

sheets for Le Minou Noir stockings,
please?

-Right away.
-Thank you.

The name of the stocking
is Le Minou Noir.

There may be others.
The only place I've found that

sells them in Oxford
is Burridges.

Unless he's not from Oxford.

I'd have thought so,
wouldn't you?

The odds of him finding
three married women,

all of whom live alone?

-So...?
-So he knew them.

Or had been watching them long enough
to know their whereabouts.

Someone was with
Mrs. Haldane last night.

What do you make to this ring business?
Souvenirs, maybe?

Some kind of memento?

Right, then...
Let's see what we shall see...

You'll see ham and tomato.

Thursday.

Why don't you go away
for your anniversary?

-Calais. Ostend. St Malo.
-Abroad?!

We're not made of money.
Where's this from, a magazine?

-All right. Torquay, then.
-Out of season?

It's your own fault.
Who gets married in November?

-We did.
-So much for "the June bride".

It was the war.
Things were different.

He had a 48 hour pass. One weekend.

Married on the Saturday.
Honeymoon Sunday.

Shipped out to the desert
on the Monday

and that was it.

Till after VE day.

You must have seen him once
before then.

Yes. All right.
The once.

They brought him back to London
for something... I don't know.

Dad?

It must have been important because
they put us up at the Dorchester.

Look at you!
What DID he do, Dad?

He never talked about it
and I know better than to ask.

I expect Mrs. Thursday's
made a few rounds over the years.

How long have you been married?

Well, let's see.

A while now.

How long would that be?

A good while, in dog years.

It's our silver wedding next week.

There's a lot to be said
for being settled.

Where are you in that
regard these days?

As a matter of interest.

Me?
I haven't got time, really.

Work's all well and good
but there's more to life.

Or should be,
a man your age.

Morse?

Three weeks...
between the first and second victims.

Less than a week between
second and third.

It hadn't escaped me.
The next could be days away.

Thanks for helping me
with Dad's present.

It was fun.
Can I help you onto the bus?

-Yes, can we help?
-Thank you.

There we are, one step up.

Thank you, conductor.

-See you later.
-Bye, Mum.

Bye!

Read all about it!

Strangler claims third victim.

Oxford woman murdered
in her own home.

I went back to Mrs. Haldane's
and found this.

She kept a private diary
outside of her appointments book.

Those 'every second Wednesdays'
she was meant to be seeing Josephine.

"Saw X, and we made violent love.

"I know X is a brute,
but I can't help myself.

"X is taking advantage.

"I know he's using me,
and he knows I know."

Next week...
"Terrible row with X.

"I told him I wasn't prepared

"to go on with things
the way they are.

"That it had to change.

"I wept and wept
as if the world were ending.

"Afterwards X very kind
and thoughtful and comforting.

"He put his hands on me
and I let him do what he wanted.

"I'm such a fool."

What do they want?

Passion seems to be the long
and the short of it, sir.

-Passion.
-Going by the diary.

Excitement.

Excitement!

What happened to reliability?

Of course, North Oxford's
full of that type.

Life a drama...

..and themselves its star.

The damage done.

What about the rest of them?
Anything like that there?

Mrs. Merchant, it's difficult to say
as she wasn't found at home.

With Mrs. Curran-Matthews
there was no forced entry

nor at Mrs. Haldane's.

Get anything out of this
stocking business?

Morse is on it now, sir.
I'm meeting him at Burridges.

Just right!

Mr. Highbank,
where do you want this Colston?

Window four please,
Mr. Huggins.

Walk this way.

If I could walk that way,
I wouldn't need the talcum powder.

Hello.

Hello.

Haven't seen you about
for a while.

I've been on nights mostly.

Listen, I-I meant to apologise
for...

-that night we were meant to...
-You don't need to explain.

I do need to explain.
I should have then.

See, a friend asked
me to do him a favour

to make up a four.

I'd completely forgotten
until the last minute

but I didn't want to let him down.

I didn't know what to tell you.

-The truth.
-I'd like the chance to make it up to you.

You could buy me a drink
if you're not doing anything?

I've got to see the manager now,
for work, but...

I'm free about 7.30.

-Shall I give you a knock?
-You going to turn up this time?

Good afternoon, Sir, Madam.

How may I be of service today?

-I am sorry. You misunderstand...
-Perhaps Madam knows?

Yes.
A new mattress.

Of course.
This way.

-That one looks nice.
-The Silent Spring deLuxe.

A wise choice.

Madam certainly recognises
quality when she sees it.

As I'm sure Sir would agree.

It's quite comfy.

Of course, to fully grasp the wonder
of the new cantilever springing

requires the presence
of a second occupant.

Just as you would at home, hmm?

As you see, we've sold 19 pairs of the
particular stocking you were after.

Thirteen to some
six account holders.

The remaining five
to casual shoppers.

So, if Mrs. Haldane did buy a pair,

she certainly didn't charge it
to her account.

And we've no record of the other
two names you've asked for,

Mrs. Curran-Matthews
and Mrs. Merchant.

Do you recognise them, Mrs. Armstrong?

I recognise this lady
from the newspapers,

but no,
I never served any of them.

Mr. Quinbury...

Sir, may I present

Detective Constable Morse
of the City Police.

Constable, this is Mr. Alan Burridge,
the proprietor.

Forgive me, please.

Mr. Quinbury
gave me to understand

we might resolve this issue
without troubling the police.

-Which issue, sir?
-Sir,

The officer is here in regard
of another matter, sir.

-These stranglings.
-I see.

One of the victims
held an account here, sir.

-A Mrs. Haldane.
-My goodness. How awful.

Well, of course, if there's
any way we can be of use...?

Thank you, sir.
Mr. Quinbury's been very helpful.

Well, then,
I'll leave you to it.

What's this amongst her purchases?
Ronson. Engraved.

It's a Gents lighter.

We have a key-cutting service
in the basement.

Mr. Jopling, our principal cutter,
handles all the engraving.

Would it be possible to find out
what Mrs. Haldane had engraved?

Certainly.

She has also bought a
couple of pairs of cufflinks

and a gents tie-pin.

A description of those items
would be very useful.

-Yes?
-Another policeman to see you, sir.

Send him in.

Afternoon, sir.
Detective Inspector Thursday.

-Oxford City Police.
-Sergente Giovedi?

Fredo?

Si.

Sir?

Must have been the shock.
That's all.

I knew...

-Mrs, is it?
-Armstrong.

Mrs. Armstrong.

..during the war.

They had it bad, her people.

She doesn't want all that
bringing up again.

Look, you'd better take her through

whatever she's got to say
about this stocking business.

-Of course.
-I'll see you back at the nick.

You can't come in here.

Staff only.
Not...customers.

It's all right, Norman.
This gentleman is with the police.

Yes, sir.

Mr. Burridge,
what issue was it you'd hoped

might be resolved
without involving the police?

A small amount of petty pilfering.

Nothing we can't resolve
within the store, I'm sure.

-Well, if you do need our assistance.
-Of course. Thank you.

Mrs. Armstrong's
been with us three years.

Widowed, sadly.

She's powdering her nose...

-Did your colleague say erm...?
-The war.

Strange.

I look around,
people going about their business,

living their lives.

You wonder sometimes whether
any of it really happened.

Forgive and forget, I suppose.

11 Group. Spits. Kenley.

One of the lucky ones.
Walking wounded.

Afternoon, sir.
Any luck at Burridges?

Morse is on it.
Anything doing?

Door to door's put a green car
outside Mrs. Haldane's

on one or two of these Wednesdays
she's been seeing Mister X.

No make, model
or registration number.

I went over witness statements
on Mrs. Merchant.

Report of her getting into
a green car earlier that evening.

You'd remember if a man had
ever bought a pair, presumably?

A man?
Si.

-But... No. No. Nothing like that.
-Unless there was anything else,

perhaps Mrs. Armstrong
could return to work?

Of course.
Of course.

If I remember anything else...

Where can I find you?

Cowley Road Police Station.

My number's on the card.

Your...
colleague.

He had to return to the station.
Sends his regrets.

Yes. Of course.

Is there anywhere else you
know of in Oxford that stocks

-Le Minou Noir?
-You'd need to ask the suppliers.

A Mr. Lisk at Goldfarb-Ligourin.

Well, thank you.

So, what have we got on our hands?

-A sex killer, hmm?
-Doctor?

Both Mrs. Merchant
and Mrs. Curran-Matthews

had engaged in coitus

within a few hours of death.

But, like Mrs. Haldane,

there was no evidence of force
having been used.

There is one thing you might
want to bear in mind.

I've only just had initial reports
on Mrs. Curran-Matthews' clothing,

but the skirt is showing traces
of calcium sulphate dihydrate.

-Gypsum.
-A plasterer, then,

some sort of manual labourer.

It's also used as a fertilizer,
I believe.

An agricultural connection?

Of course, she might have come
into contact with the material

through wholly innocent means.

Nothing like that showed up on
the first victim, Mrs. Merchant?

No, and it'll be a day or two

before we've a result back
on Mrs. Haldane's clothing.

I showed her a photograph
of Mrs. Haldane

but she'd no recollection
of having served her.

How was it you knew Mrs. Armstrong?

I told you, the war.

The engraving on the lighter
wasn't much use.

Just
"They asked me how I knew..."

"Smoke Gets in Your Eyes."

Present for her fancy man,
I expect.

-Think it's him?
-I know the type.

Bleed 'em for all they've got,

move on to the next meal ticket.

Why not just drop them?

To sleep with all three then
strangle them seems a bit...?

Maybe it's just his thing?
Maybe he'd had money off 'em

and they were looking
to make trouble for him?

Who knows with women-haters?

-Look!
-Your secret admirer?

Came in the pneumatic mail
not ten minutes ago.

The second one today.
One more and I'll have a dozen.

Those your invoices?
I'll pop them up before I go.

Thank you, Mrs. Deeks.

-Coming down the Lion, Lu?
-Not tonight, Charlie.

Story of my life!

What was all that about earlier?
I heard you had a turn.

A dizzy spell.
That's all.

I'm fine now, just a little tired.

We're still on for our
Friday manjarie?

-Of course.
-See you tomorrow, then.

Watch how you go in that fog.

Don't go talking to any strange men.

You hear me?

Ciao, bella.

Ciao.

Right.
That's the lot, then.

Don't!

All right, Norman?
What you got there then?

Here look, Roy.
I'm Jake the Peg.

I've got to get on.

If I don't g-get on,
I'll g-get told off.

Mr. Quinbury
have your g-guts, will he?

Give it back you...
Oi! Give it him.

You shouldn't tease people.

You can talk!
Anyway, he's not people.

He's Norman.

You have very beautiful hands.
Do you know that?

You can tell a lot about a person
by their hands.

What can you tell from this?

That whoever he is, he's a fool
to leave you out on your own.

Joan and me thought we'd go to
the Botanical Gardens.

Stay out of trouble.
You know what they get like in town.

I suppose you'll be working?

Dad?

Fireworks night.
You'll be working.

-He always works Fireworks.
-What are you going to be doing?

I just said.
The Botanical Gardens.

Don't go off and leave her, all right?

You know how bad things
can get in town.

And you, mind how you get home
from the bank of a evening.

Stay where it's well lit.
Same goes for you.

This thing in the paper?

I don't want to have to
spell it out, just be careful.

All right?

Ever had your palm read?

You'll get your face red
in a minute.

I'm waiting for someone,
so skip the blarney.

No, you're not.
You...

You're a very beautiful young girl.

Your problem is that you know it.

I reckon somebody broke your heart...

..and now you think men
are only after one thing.

And you're not, I suppose.

You wear that ring as a wall

to keep the wolves out,

and I don't blame you.

Only it's been up so long,

you can't tell when the genuine
article comes along.

It's full-time with you, isn't it?

On the ward this afternoon,

they were all talking
about this strangler.

Sorry.
I shouldn't ask.

No. No, it's...
You'll be all right because...

It's only married women he goes for.

Anyway,
shall we have another bottle?

Yeah.

Drop of Dutch?

Tell me it's not my place, Glo.

I know it must be hard on you
with Steve being...

where he is.

God knows we can all use
a friendly port,

but are you sure about this?

All set?

-I can't.
-What do you mean 'can't'?

Car's outside.
Come on.

I said I'd take you up Boar's Hill,
see the sights.

I changed my mind.
I'm sorry.

-I bought you a drink.
-Hey, handsome.

She's said she's not interested.

-Who asked you?
-This young lady,

-happens to be a friend of mine.
-Is that right?

You're barking up
the wrong tree there, darling.

He's a bloody fairy.

I don't know
why they let your type in here.

-Should be strangled at birth.
-Thank you, Cary Grant.

-Don't, Charlie.
-My old man

fought a war
for people like you.

-He never got one? Shame.
-Listen...

Pick on someone your own size.

-You with him?!
-Yeah! You leave him alone.

What is this?
The circus in town?

It's a bloody freak show.

Think about who you let in, Pat,
this place has gone right down.

When nobody arrived
at the rendezvous,

I made my way back to the villa
with Lupo...

We saw from the olive grove
through binoculars.

They had you lined up
against the white wall.

Francesca I recognised first,
her red dress.

Then I saw you beside her.

I saw you fall.

I thought you were dead.

I tried to get down
but Lupo cold cocked me,

probably just as well.

More than likely I'd have
got them killed as well.

When I came to, it was dark.
A cave, somewhere.

He said they'd got "everyone".

They did.

Francesca?

The next afternoon a...

an English company arrived.

They found me
lying with everyone else...

..close to death but somehow not.

There was an officer,
Major Hugh Armstrong.

He saw to it that I was taken
to a field hospitale.

-How did they get to you...?
-We were betrayed.

-Who?
-It doesn't matter.

The nearest farm down the hill.

Ugo...
the farmer's boy.

A good little fascisto.

But also...
malato d'amore.

Lovesick.

For Francesca.

He took to following her,
spying on her.

He saw where she went, who she met.

And then he realised
she was una stafetta.

And Ugo?

Hanged.

With his father after the war.

The mountains don't forget.

Let me see you home.

Thanks.

So...

Was that a date or...?

I don't know.

Maybe we should do it again,

just to be sure
if it was a date or not.

Well, I'd better...

Of course.

-Goodnight.
-Night.

What time do you finish
on Bonfire Night?

Midnight.

-Why?
-I'll pick you up.

This is him, is it? Major Armstrong?

He came back for
me after the war,

brought me here.

He was a good man.

I'm glad.

Children?

No. They took that from me too,
the Germans.

-French cigarettes...
-Hugh's favourite.

I buy a packet from time to time.

I let one burn out in an ashtray.

You get used to things.

So, what about you?

You have children?

A boy and a girl, Sam and Joan.

And a wife?

Yes, and a wife.

The same wife?

Yes.

I wondered if you would come
after today.

What do you want, Fredo?

I'm not her.

She died.

Remember the girl you knew.

I have.
Always.

It's somebody's initial,
presumably?

"A" for what? Andrew? Albert?

Whoever it is,
DI Chard's men missed it.

I'd think twice before throwing
accusations like that around.

Mrs. Merchant was killed
four weeks ago.

Who knows who's been
through there since?

-I suppose.
-Right, what's the order of battle?

You're going to pick up
with this stocking supplier?

-Middle-man or whatever he is.
-Mr. Lisk?

See if there's
any other local retailers.

I've got account holders
at Burridges to work through.

-Right, best get to.
-Dad! Sandwiches.

You're not thinking this morning.

-No. No, I'm...
-Come home safe.

Are we all here?

-Where's Mrs. Deeks?
-Not in yet, sir.

We'll have to start without her,
now, for the fourth month in a row,

we have a discrepancy between
sales recorded

and monies received to the sum of 18
pounds, 14 shillings and nine pence.

Until further notice, the evening
cash-up for each department

will take place in the presence of
myself or Mr. Jellicoe.

Where is your poppy, Mr. Lee?

My apologies, Mr. Quinbury.
It was there when I left the house.

As may be,
but the offence is given.

I'm sure no slight was intended,
Mr. Quinbury.

The pin must have gone.

Happens to me all the time.

Here. Please.

Have mine.

Thank you, Mr. Burridge.

To your departments.

-Mr. Jellicoe?
-Sir.

If you would, Mr. Potter?

Mr. Lisk?

Detective Constable Morse,
City Police.

You're the intermediary for
Le Minou Noir, a range of hosiery.

Right.
Yeah, I carried the line for a bit.

I'm afraid we won't get any more in.

Problem with the manufacturers.

Do you want to get that?

Hello?

No, that's the previous occupant.

As far as I'm aware
they ceased trading some months ago.

You'd have to apply to the leasor
for a forwarding address.

I'm afraid it's not
very convenient right now.

If you could...
call back tomorrow.

Ta.

Spelt with an R, isn't it?
Parmer?

Have a bottle if you want.

You'll be beating 'em off
with a stick.

I won't, thanks.

I would like a list of the retailers
you've supplied with these stockings.

-Apart from Burridges.
-Well, Burridges was the main...

Outlet.

If not, in fact...
the only...probably.

It was B-Stock, to be honest.
I got lumbered with it. Job lot.

What I've had, they got.
There won't be no more.

So, Burridges is the only place
in the county which sells them.

In the country in a nutshell.
What's this about?

I'm not at liberty to say.
For the record,

where were you Wednesday night?

-Me? Birmingham.
-Yes.

-Doing what?
-I had business in the afternoon,

toy line with Christmas coming up.

And the evening?
I ran into this air hostess.

Some bar somewhere.
Carol something.

I took her for a meal.

Saw her back to her flat and...

-You got a number for her?
-Nah.

-Address?
-She did tell the taxi but...

I wasn't paying attention
to where we were going.

I had my hands full,
if you follow me.

And she threw in a fried breakfast.

You can't say fairer, can you?

Still no Mrs. Deeks?
No, sir. Not yet.

This isn't like Gloria,
Mr. Burridge.

She's usually dead on time.

Perhaps you could telephone,
Mr. Quinbury

just to make sure she's
not ill or anything.

Traditionally, sir, it's been
for staff to notify the store

of such an eventuality.

That's always how things were done
under Mister Barridge Senior.

Mr. Quinbury,
you've served my late father

and the store better than
any man alive for 20 years.

He often spoke to me of how
much he valued your advice

as, indeed, do I.

Good of you to say so, sir.

Truth is, I've only been
in the job three months.

I don't doubt I'll make a great many
mistakes, but one thing I do know,

Burridges is its staff.

Their happiness and well-being
are my whole concern.

With that in mind,
might we not,

together, create a few
new traditions of our own?

I'll telephone at once, sir.

What did you make to him?

Fly-by-night wide-boy
knocking out third-rate tat.

Denies knowing the victims,
but can't provide an alibi for any.

He'd have to be stupid to knock

these women off
with his own stock.

-What about a car?
-Two-tone Cortina he says.

-Mark 1. Blue with a white top.
-Not our man then.

Whoever killed Mrs. Haldane,
bought these stockings themselves,

or is close to someone who did,

a wife maybe,
or girlfriend.

A daughter,
or sister even.

Stockings aren't as popular as they
used to be with younger women, sir.

-It's more pantyhose nowadays.
-Indeed.

Well, I'm sure we're grateful
for your expertise.

They've sold how many Burridges?

Nineteen, sir,
over ten or so customers,

six of whom are account holders
with the store.

Right,
better start there, then.

-Process of elimination.
-Sir.

There's no reply at her home.

Here she is now.

Mrs. Deeks!

You missed Mr. Burridges'
roll-call.

I'm so sorry, sir.

The cat brought down a shelf in my
front room with the goldfish on.

By the time I'd got it tidied,
I'd missed the bus.

Perfectly understandable.

It won't happen again,
Mr. Burridge.

Alan.
Please.

All right.
Get to your post.

How many's this?

Of the account customers?
Five of six. Mrs. Shears.

Bought a single pair Tuesday last.

Bloody wild goose chase.

I bet we'll get through the list,
they'll all be accounted for.

It's gonna be one of these five
we don't know about.

Mrs. Shears?
Hello?

Mrs. Shears?

Police, Mrs. Shears.

Mrs. Shears?

With the one found
around Mrs. Haldane's throat,

I would imagine that
to make the pair, presumably.

-Stockings.
-But not hers.

We found the pair she bought from
Burridges in a drawer,

-unopened.
-This was caught in her hand.

Unlikely to have been wearing one
on her nightclothes.

She's reached back over
her shoulder, clawing at him,

and only managed
to dislodge the poppy.

-Can you put a time to it, Doctor?
-About six hours.

Must have been after the kids
left for school.

Two girls.

A car and a WPC on way.

Neighbour this side said there was a
bloke watching the house first thing.

It was dark, so no description,

but he was carrying a bag,
a holdall, maybe.

-Any sign of a break in?
-No. Front door was on the latch.

Possible she let him in.
The back door was unsecured.

He could've come in that way unseen
and gone out the front.

So he left it unlocked?

According to the woman
over the road,

there was a green car parked
on the drive yesterday.

Not for the first time
whilst the old man's away.

What about the husband?

Away in Scotland on business.
Left the day before yesterday.

What do you reckon to that?
Behind the door in the front room.

Door stop, maybe?

Something you should see.

It's the mathematical symbol
for infinity.

Or it's an eight
that's had one too many.

Unless there's another four victims
we don't know about?

-So, what does it mean?
-A message perhaps?

A signature?

Infinity.
That goes on forever, doesn't it?

Maybe what he's trying to say
is he's not going to stop.

Until we catch him.

Hello, Detective
Constable Beckett's phone.

DC Morse speaking.

I usually call DC Beckett
in these situations.

She just keeps saying
it's a mistake.

They all say that, of course.

You saw her take them, Mister..?

Len Jellicoe.
Detective Sergeant. Retired.

I saw her standing by the section.
When I looked back, she was gone.

So was a nice pair
of kid-skin gloves.

I stopped her and asked her to
step into the manager's office.

The gloves were found
in her handbag.

My day, that was about as
open and shut as it gets.

This way.

Here she is.

-I didn't do it.
-Of course, you didn't.

I've never taken anything in my life
that didn't belong to me.

Detective!
He couldn't detect muck on a rug!

Then he's the damn cheek
to tell me if I paid a fine,

I could go on my way and no need
to fetch the police.

I said to him, "You fetch 'em!"
I wasn't having that!

A fine...?

What sort of fine?

It's Money with Menaces,
Mr. Quinbury.

She's lying.

They'd say anything
to get out of trouble.

-What's this?
-A shoplifting incident, sir.

Actually, it's rather more than that.

Your store detective
is running an extortion racket.

Wait a minute.

Look here, son.
I'm ex-job myself.

He's planting goods on customers

and then offering then a fine of £10
or risk having the police brought in.

-Is this true, Jellicoe?
-Of course not, sir.

I-It's her word against mine.

Sir, who are you going to believe?

Don't tell Fred.

Tell him what?
Nothing's happened.

No.

Well, I don't want him bothered.

He's enough on his plate
with all this at work.

You must be rushed off your feet,
the pair of you.

I mean, his tea had barely a chance
to go down last night

before he was out again
till all hours.

Observation, he said.

-This thing in the papers, is it?
-I... can't really go into it.

No.

You're like two peas in a pod.

I'm glad he's got you
to keep an eye on him.

It's got to him this one.

Joan and Sam are organising
some sort of surprise do

for our anniversary.

I'd like you to come.

Well, that's a...

family occasion...
surely?

I'd like you to be there
and I know Fred would, too.

You never thought to go back
after your husband died?

-There's nothing for me there.
-Family?

No.

You shouldn't be alone,
too much life in you for that.

I should find someone
to take care of me, you mean?

Who?
A policeman?

We were friends once.

That's the last thing we were.

Friendship takes time.

What did we have?

Two months?
Three?

If that.

There wasn't room
for friendship, too.

You can't tell me.
I was there.

I remember everything.

Everything.

Every moment
like nothing before or since.

It's here. Still. Forever.

The scent of the pines.

The sun on the water.

So vivid.

And you.

All above everything,
I remember you.

-Your eyes.
-You can't say these things.

You can't,
not to me.

I've no-one else to say them to.

Don't go. Not like that.
Let me get you another..?

I said only one drink.
I have to go. Really.

I'll see you home.

You can walk with me to the bus.

This may seem rather an odd
question, Doctor Haldane,

but your piano at home...

Would you happen to know
if it's been tuned lately?

No, that was Viv's department,

but we used to have a chap come by
once a year.

Usually around this time,
in fact.

A Mister...
Mr. Pugh.

Viv would have kept his number
in her address book.

You think it has something
to do with what happened?

I don't know.
It's just a line of inquiry.

Could I trouble you
for one more thing?

Certainly.

What does this mean to you?

It's a lemniscate.

Introduced into mathematics in the
mid 17th century by John Wallis.

It stands, almost invariably,
for infinity.

Does it have any other significance?

It symbolized eternity
and the soul of the world.

And of course, in modern mysticism,

it represents Ouroboros.

The snake which
devours its own tail.

Yes. Just so.

Right...
Thank you.

That was delicious...

How is your bum for love bites?

Anything on the horizon?
Apart from oojamaflip.

-Luuuu...?
-I met someone.

-Someone I knew before.
-Before?

We were something to each other.

I hadn't seen him
for more than 20 years.

I never thought I'd see him again.

Only now...

He was waiting for me after work.

I don't know what he wants.

To be a friend or...

What do you want?

Not love. Not now.

My heart can't take it. Too hard.

I had an old-time used to be.

Bosons Mate.

First time I saw him was
in some bijou harbour bar on Gib.

Tanned.
Blond.

I heard Mantovani.

Proper pals we was.

What happened?

I got careless.

Lost him somewhere.

You're young, you think...

..love's like buses.

There will be another one
along in a minute.

That was '48.

I saw him last New Year

in Berwick Street market.

Me on one side of the road,
him on the other.

I could have said something.

Maybe I should have.

I let it go.

-Funny.
-What is?

It's never the one
you haven't met...

..only the one you can't forget.

What's the story?
We've got a dead body.

Looks like someone attempted
to knock off yesterday's take.

The manager's office
has been turned over.

Some ham-fisted attempt
to open the safe.

-Robbery?
-That's what they're saying.

Norman Parkis, sir.

Stock clerk.

He was working late last night.

Passer-by noticed him in the window
just after four.

Uniform were first on the scene,

found the door to
the loading bay unsecured.

Dr. deBryn?

Multiple stab wounds to the chest.

Time of death between
eleven and one o'clock.

Be able to speak to the nature
of the fatal blow,

once I've completed the post mortem.

From the volume
and patterning of the blood,

this would appear to be
the locus of the attack.

And he went this way...

Thursday,
anything to go on?

There's talk of
a disgruntled ex-employee,

store detective
by the name of Jellicoe,

former police officer,
got given his cards yesterday.

And the promise of
poor references.

What was the cause
of his dismissal?

Some sort of bust-up
over a shoplifting scam

led to a search of his locker
which turned up several marked notes

management had planted
in the float.

Marked notes?

Petty cash had gone missing
the last few months.

In any event, this Jellicoe left in
pretty high dudgeon

by all accounts.

And last night, this.

Personnel's taken a going over,
too.

It's connected to the strangler.

The strangler,
by what means?

The stockings he's used
on the last two victims.

-Burridges is...
-The only place that supplies them.

Yes, we know.

the victim in this
instance is male.

He's been stabbed
rather than strangled

which leads me to believe

the inquiry should be assigned
to another Investigating Officer.

It'd leave us free to concentrate on
the strangler.

John Gorman's back off leave today.
He's a safe pair of hands.

Very well, Sgt Jakes will act as
de facto ADC pending the handover

and see Mr. Gorman has everything
he needs when he arrives.

Morse can help with statements
and pars from the staff.

-Yes, sir.
-Carry on.

That stock basket's
half full of Le Minou Noir.

This is where Parkis was stabbed,
on the hosiery counter.

And it's not connected?

"1 pair unaccounted for"

He was sweet.

Lived by himself, I think.

No mum and dad to speak of,
as far as I know.

He'd been in somewhere,
when he was younger.

Blenheim Vale I think it was called.

A place for...
well...

The ones that ain't quite right.

But, he was nice.

Kind.

Maybe it makes 'em that way.

I'm sorry to trouble you,

but I wonder when the staff
might be released.

Just as soon as they have
given their statements.

Is all this strictly necessary?

If it's Jellicoe?

Well, we still have to follow
procedure, Mr. Burridge.

You've given an account
of your own whereabouts?

No. No, not yet.

I attended a meeting
of the Oxford Traders Association

above the King's Head after which,
I went straight home.

-Can anyone vouch for you?
-At the pub, but I live by myself.

Did you get any further
with your other inquiries?

This strangler.

It's ongoing.

We'll return to that as soon as
we've finished here.

Well, here's hoping
you catch him soon.

It's a worry,
for the female members of staff.

Indeed. Well, thank you
for your help, Mr. Burridge.

Not at all, and er...
It's Alan. Please.

Mr. Burridge, do you favour
cuff links or buttons?

Buttons.
Cuff links are old hat.

Not to mention liable to fall out.

Indeed.

Last night?
I was at home.

Can anyone can vouch for you,
Mr. Huggins?

Flo. My missus.
She'll tell you.

I'm in most evenings.

-How well did you know Mr. Parkis?
-Just at work.

Bit soft like,
but he wouldn't hurt a fly.

He was sweet on Gloria,
Mrs. Deeks from Ladieswear.

-Not that he was alone there.
-How's that?

Half the blokes in the store are,
not that she's any truck with that

but that don't stop 'em trying.

-Her husband would have something to say?
-He's inside, ain't he?

-Prison?
-Farnleigh.

Went away in the summer.
Three years.

Only been married five minutes.
Gives some of 'em ideas.

You can imagine,
but...

we all keep an eye out for her.

Another pair of stockings
gone from the inventory.

Yes...

Actually, that was me.

I...

I find a stocking over my leg
where it fits into the prosthesis...

I find silk slightly
more comfortable.

I usually just grab a pair
and pay for them but...

It was after hours
and I'm afraid I forgot.

What an old wreck.

I turned 20 that month.
Can you believe it?

Throwing a machine around the sky
at 360-odd miles an hour.

My son's a year older
now than I was then.

He doesn't even drive.

-It must have been terrifying.
-Later, perhaps.

When the piano stops
and the beer runs dry but...

Not in the moment.
It happens so fast.

Then it's over and you find yourself
alone out on the edge of it.

The light up there, my God,

and this patchwork below.

You fall in love.

-With what?
-England.

"Her ways to roam."

Morse spoke to all the staff.

Roy Huggins gave his
missus as an alibi.

Barry Dobbs lives at home.
In all evening.
His parents will vouch.

And Mrs. Armstrong, where was she?

With this window-dresser.
Charles Highbank,

regular dinner date every Friday.

All girls together.

Ex-Merchant Navy, isn't he?
Rum, bum and concertina.

Widow she is so...

Company for her, I suppose.

Any event I've handed it
all over to Mr. Gorman.

Got ports and airports
in place on Jellicoe,

so only a
matter of time.

We can get back onto the strangler.

Speaking of which, where's Morse?

Mr. Pugh?
Detective Constable Morse.

City Police.

I wonder if I might
ask you a few questions.

Those in mufti,
it is your responsibility

to identify the
chief troublemakers

to your uniformed colleagues.

However,

this evening's
firework festivities

take place beneath the
shadow of something far worse

than mindless yahoo-ism.

There is a strangler at large
who has already claimed four victims.

It is up to us to ensure
he does not claim a fifth.

Yes, I tuned Mrs. Haldane's piano
a few weeks ago.

-What about Mrs. Curran-Matthews?
-I was there in August.

Rather a inferior instrument,
too long neglected.

Almost impossible to restore
to concert pitch.

-And a Mrs. Shears.
-Watling Street, yes?

-Yes.
-I was there very recently...

Thursday afternoon.

He said she'd had a man there
before he arrived.

The same man who had been
at Mrs. Curran-Matthews's

and Mrs. Haldane's house.

-How would he know that?
-He could smell him.

He wore the same after-shave
in each instance.

Lots of blokes wear
the same after-shave.

Yes, and smoke French cigarettes?

Turns out Mr. Pugh is
something of a connoisseur

when it comes to tobacco.

Mrs. Haldane's fancy man
was seeing all of them, then.

Good, write it up.
I'll tell Mr. Bright.

-This came for you.
-Thank you.

It wasn't Alan.

-What wasn't?
-The cufflink I found.

The description of
items Mrs. Haldane

bought for Mister X came through.

It was part of
an Alpha and Omega set.

-You what?
-Didn't you go to Sunday school?

-You don't want to know where I went.
-Revelations,

"I am the Alpha and the Omega".

The first and last letters
of the Classic Greek alphabet.

The beginning and the end.

Mrs. Merchant was the first victim.

So, if she was the Alpha...

Who's the Omega?

Damn.

OK.

-Here. Take this.
-No.

-Go on.
-No, you need it.

I'll be all right.
Go on.

Go on.

Better.

Much.

I came to give you these.

I've no right to keep 'em.

Never have had if I'm honest.

Francesca's in one of them.
The other... Well...

You should have 'em.

Arriverderci.

Fredo...

Hold me.

Once.

For what we were.

Fredo, don't come back.

Ever.

Please.

That you, Dad?

-Fred?
-Yeah. It's me.

-How was it?
-You know. The usual.

Nothing serious.

Guy Fawkes night,
it's always a bit busy.

You go through.
I'll put the kettle on.

Have you ate?
Doesn't matter if you have.

But, I made stew and dumplings
just in case.

Go nice with a Mackesons?

Dad?

Yeah.
Go on, then.

Bugger.

-Get away from me, you bastard!
-Come back, you little bitch!

-Oi! What's all this?
-Piss off, mate.

-Get in the car.
-I don't want to...

Get in the motor.
Stop messing about.

I'm not your mate, matey.
I'm the law and you're nicked.

You're not on today, are you?

You know a Mrs. Shears,
Mr. Lisk?

Mrs. Janet Shears, 32 Watling Street?

What about Vivienne Haldane?
12 The Elms.

Isobel Merchant,
156 Gilbert Avenue.

No.

You do know there's
a strangler on the loose?

Each of those women
was found choked to death

with a black, Le Minou Noir,
silk stocking,

a brand of which you're
sole supplier.

Smoke 'em if you've got 'em.

"They ask me how I knew..."

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes.

DC Morse found
a very nice tie pin...

..and a cufflink round
at your place.

-Didn't you?
-One of an Alpha and Omega set.

Only the Alpha was missing.

-I lost one, down the Baths.
-Careless.

See, we recovered an Alpha cufflink
on waste ground

where a Mrs. Merchant
was found strangled.

Here's the thing,

sundry receipts
of items identical

to your tie pin and cufflinks,

and lighter,

bought and paid for on account
by Mrs. Vivienne Haldane.

Anything you want to
tell me about that?

Where did you meet her?

Dinner and Dance.

Golf Club.

We got talking. I drove her home.
It went from there.

And the others?

Look, if they were getting
what they needed at home,

they wouldn't have to look
outside for it.

What would that be?

Attention.

Someone in their lives with more
to say than, "What's for tea?"

I'm not telling you anything
you don't already know.

Hard-faced tarts
past the first flush.

They know what the score is
and I'm good company.

You're a real charmer!

Don't kid yourself, most blokes
would do exactly the same as me

if they had anything more than
milk running through their veins.

Like the man said,
who wants to buy a book?

I didn't kill them.

Come.

He admits seeing the first
three on the night they died,

but says he left
them alive and well.

-And Mrs. Shears?
-He's no alibi

for the morning she was killed.

He says he was in traffic
on the way to work.

I'm going to hold him 24 hours,
see if that changes his mind.

-Well done.
-Thank you very much, sir.

Now that's the sort of collar
that gets a bloke noticed, matey.

So, Joey Lisk's our strangler then?

Do me a favour,

if I get this booked into Evidence,
would you keep an eye?

Make sure none of it takes a walk.

Couple of things been
going missing lately.

-Some light-fingered bugger?
-Let's hope that's all it is.

Mrs. Armstrong,

your name has turned up
in Joey Lisk's address book.

He came to the store
to sell his stockings.

I was under no illusion
as to what he was or...

-..even that I was the only one.
-Does Inspector Thursday know?

It would hurt him very much,
I think.

You were...
friends.

In Italy?

More.

We were comrades.

Hello.

Hello.

Just off to work?

Hey.
That new mattress.

They delivered it this afternoon.

They got it up the stairs?

They did.

What time are you back?

-I'll knock.
-Good.

Good.

-I'll see you later, then.
-Goodbye.

A policeman's lot
is not a happy one, I'm told.

But,
the lot of a policeman's wife

hardly gets a mention.

While I've been out running around,

nabbing villains and generally
playing silly buggers...

..the real brains of the outfit

has made a house a home,

raised two children, our children.

seen 'em off to school each morning,
clean and smart.

And somehow,
even with all that to do,

there's always been a hot meal
for me when I get home.

Twenty-five years ago
I got the best bit of luck

any man ever had.

Well said!

The toast is,
"My Win."

Win!

Morse?
You got a drink.

I hate to intrude...

-Not a bit of it. You were invited.
-I know but...

It's not Joey Lisk, sir.

Now?
This is my wedding anniversary!

-I'm sorry.
-Go and do your job.

If I'd wanted dull,
I'd have picked someone else.

What's it all about?

You remember the calcium
sulphate dihydrate,

the material on
Mrs. Curran-Matthews's clothes?

-Plaster or fertilizer.
-It's neither, and both.

It's the same stuff
on Mrs. Shears' wall.

-Good old-fashioned rock chalk.
-From where?

I suppose it's important the order
the deliveries go on board.

You wouldn't want get the first drop find,

the washing machine you
delivered at the back of the van.

That's why they chalk 'em.

So we know the order to stick 'em on.
More of an art than a science.

Did you make a drop to a
Mrs. Shears the other day,

-a Colston Dishwasher?
-She had the manual on the side in the kitchen.

That would have been the eighth drop
on your delivery that day.

Yeah.

How did you know that?

-Right.
-It wasn't infinity.

It was just an eight on its side.

Presumably,
the chalk on Mrs. Curran-Matthews

came off his work clothes.

Neighbour saw him leave an hour ago.
He had a holdall with him.

I found these on the bedside table.

The victims' rings.

He could be anywhere.
We've no idea who he's after.

Actually, sir, I think I might.

Joey Lisk's latest flame.

Mr. Huggins.

Cup of tea?

Yeah.

Ta.

Do you like music?

I don't mind.

This was my Flo's favourite.
She used to love dancing to this.

When last you dance with someone?

Before your Steve went away?

Probably.

I expect you're a good little mover.

I don't know about that,
Mr. Huggins.

Roy.

Come on! It's nothing like that.
I've a daughter your age.

-Have you?
-Yeah.

It'll just be like
dancing with your dad.

You know, in the old days...

A gentleman always wore gloves
to dance with a lady,

so as not to spoil her dress.

People were more considerate then.

Gallant.

Fred and Ginger.

And we thought it was Joey Lisk.

We were meant to.

The music's stopped now,
Mr. Huggins.

We've got our own music, Flo.

I don't think we should
be doing this, Mr. Huggins.

What about that bloke
the other night?

That Lisk bastard.

I bet he's light on his feet.

And you, a married woman?

I can smell him on you.

That ponce's aftershave he wears.

I could smell him on my Flo

the same the nights
she'd been with him.

Can you imagine?
Getting into our bed.

With me.

You're no better.

Are you?

She just threw it at me, didn't she?

Just like that, after 23 years.

I'd never lifted a hand to her
in all that time.

I don't care!

I only hit her the once.

It wasn't even with my fist,
it was open-handed.

It's just she...

She fell awkward and...

She banged her head
on the fire surround.

Where is she?

She's behind the bath panel.

I wouldn't have hurt
her for the world.

It was an accident.

These other women,
they weren't an accident, were they?

That was planned.

You followed Joey Lisk

to find out who else he was meeting
and if they were married...

Two victims in,
we hadn't made the connection.

That's why you started using
the stockings he supplied.

Then went to the scene of the murder
and planted the cufflink.

They weren't an accident, were they?

If he hadn't come
between me and Flo

I wouldn't have had to do any of it.
It's his fault!

You killed four innocent women,

and poor Norman Parkis
who was unlucky enough

to find you helping yourself
to more stockings.

Isn't that how it went?

I am sorry about Norman.
Wrong place, wrong time.

Going behind their husbands' back
with a bastard like that?

You call that innocent?

Why didn't you just
go after Joey Lisk?

Because I wanted him to suffer.

I wanted people to see him
for what he is.

Well, you nearly pulled it off.

We had Lisk in custody
ready to charge him.

If you'd killed Gloria Deeks,
you'd have proved he was innocent.

I don't think that would have
mattered much to Mr. Huggins, Morse.

Did it?

What started out
as a means to an end,

had become an end in itself.

-There you go.
-Thank you.

Where have you been all night?

-Don't ask.
-So?

-You dancing?
-You asking?

I'll get you another one.

Morse, something's come up
with a lady from Burridges.

-Can I have a word outside?
-Of course.

Suicide, while the balance
of her mind was impaired.

-Did the coroner say why?
-Grief, at her husband's death.

A broken heart.

I know a pub.

No.

Thanks all the same.

Home.

I found this.

That should have
gone to the coroner.

-I forgot.
-You read it?

-It's addressed to you.
-Where was it?

On the mantel.

The coroner was wrong.

"Died of wounds".

That's what we used to put.

Those that didn't die at once.

A week.
A month.

Years, some of 'em.

Bullet.
Bit of shrapnel.

Works its way to the heart.

She died of wounds.

"You should know...

"It was not Ugo who betrayed us
all those years ago.

"They said they'd spare Francesca.

"I should have died
at the Villa Casabianca.

"I have lived with my sin,

"hidden it from the world.

"And then, I saw you again.

"I just want to be at peace.

"Every life holds one great love.

"One name to hold onto at the end.

"One face to take into the dark.

"It was always too late.

"Remember the girl you knew...

"..and forgive her.

"We were young.

"It was the war.

"Amore mio."

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Sync: Marocas