All language subtitles for Endeavour.S03E01.720p.HDTV.x264-ORGANiC[ettv]

The finding of this Board

is that the tragic events
of last December,

which led to the shooting
of DI Thursday

and the arrest of DS Morse

were due solely
to a mental breakdown

suffered by ACC Clive Deare.

We are also of a view

that further investigation
into other, extraneous, matters

would not be
in the national interest.

To which end,
all investigative materials

relating to Blenheim
Vale Boy's Home

are to be sealed for 50 years.

Donald Campbell's
heroic attempt

at the speed record
on Coniston Water

ended in tragedy.

Upstairs.
All change.

I require assistance
of beautiful lady?

- Me?
- A very brave gentleman?

ENDEAVOUR
Season 3 - Episode 01

Subtitles by Deluxe
Sync: Marocas62

RIDE

- Get off me.
- Jeanie!

Jeanie, come on.

- Can we not talk?
- No, we can't.

Jeannie!

What was all that?

Frog in my throat.
That's all.

Bullet in your chest more like.

- Come on. Don't fuss.
- Fuss?!

You weren't due back until Tuesday.

It's work I'm off to.
Not the Front.

You said that last time.

- Here.
- What's that?

That's for the fair?
Win us all a goldfish.

Now let me say
cheerio to your mother.

Here.

If you're going.

- Where is it we're going?
- About 12 miles out.

The woods by Lake Silence.

Have you seen him?

Not since he got out.

No-one has.

I wasn't sure who it was.

- Hello, Morse.
- What happened there?

Damn!
Bloody pheasant.

Thought I'd missed it.

- How are you getting on?
- You know?

I thought you might fancy a drive.

Take you out of yourself.

Really.
Where?

Surprise.
Best bib and tucker.

How are you?

Right now it's not the state
of my health concerns me.

Dead about eight hours.

Say between one and three
this morning.

But you didn't call me out here
cos she was hit by a car.

No. I called you out

because she was hit
by the same car...

several times.

Initial impact,
about 50 yards that way.

There's a shoe.

She's been thrown,

then hit again

and dragged under the vehicle.

Finally, the car's
reversed over her.

Stand to.

Morning, sir.

Thursday.
Doctor.

Well...

..here we all are again.

Where are we going?

To see some pals
on the other side of the lake.

You remember Bruce?
My second-cousin.

Loose-head in the Varsity match?

East Indies Steamship Company,
wasn't it?

- The family firm.
- That's right. Well remembered.

-So, do I 'My Lord' it or what?

Stick to Bruce.

It's all terribly egalitarian
with the bluebloods these days.

Even I'm Tony.

What's the trouble, officer?

Accident, sir.
Fatal.

Pretty little thing too.
Red head.

- Where is it you're trying to go?
- North side of the Lake.

- It's only about two miles up the road.
- Take a left.

I don't suppose
you could just let me through?

Take a left.
I know a detour.

- Thank you, officer.
- Thank you.

Just as a matter of interest, what
are you going to do with yourself?

Here he is.

What in God's name d'you call that?

Bluebell, actually.

A hundred quid says
I make it to the house first.

That's a hundred quid
you owe me, Tony.

- Bruce, you remember Morse?
- I don't.

Pagan!?
Good God!

Where the hell did Tony find you?

He's at my parents' old dachas
for the summer.

Is he? Is he?
Well, come on in.

- See anything of the old gang?
- Not much.

No. You never were
the clubbable type.

Always thought too much.
That was your problem.

- Was it?
- So, what have you been up to?

This and that.

But not much of 'the other', eh?
Same old Pagan.

Still falling for the wrong
girl too, I'll bet?

Line your excuses up for lunch.

I must talk business with Tony.

Drinks are in the drawing room.
Just follow the music.

Are you married?

- No.
- Good!

I was hoping to fix Elva
up with Julius Hanbury...

but look...

bagged by a bloody actress!

As if I care.

Baronets are ten-a-penny
in Annabel's these days.

Perhaps I shall throw
you two together, instead.

Well, you might at least
introduce us first.

- Elva Piper, this is...
- Morse.

And I'm Kay.

Champagne?

Why not.
Thank you.

What do you do, Mr. Morse?

Nothing.
At present.

- Are you one of the idle rich?
- Idle, certainly.

What about yourself, Miss Piper.

- I play a little tennis.
- Don't tease.

Elva just happened to win a little
trophy at the little French Open.

I thought I knew
all Bruce's friends?

It's Anthony I know better.

Anthony Don.
He brought me over.

- From London?
- No. From just across the water.

Who do you know there?

No-one, really.

You must know Bixby.
Everyone knows Bixby.

He just bought that vulgar pile.
Right on the lake.

Bixby?

What Bixby?

Mrs. HEARNE: It's my Jeannie,

she left the kiddie with me
last night when she went out.

Only she never got back.

All right, Mrs. Hearne. Let's
just take it slowly. Went out where?

To the fair. With some fella
from the depot.

A mechanic.
Albert.

- Which depot?
- Town and District.

She's a clippie.
On the buses.

Sorry, he's teething.

Good boy.

Albert Potter?

DS Jakes, City Police.
DI Thursday.

You got a minute?

Did you see her home?

No... she went on the Ghost Train
and I kind of lost her.

Kind of how?

Well, she wanted a toffee-apple.

Only there was a queue and
when I got back, she was gone.

- What time was this?
- Gone ten.

I had a bit of a look for her,
but,

I give up and went home.

- We should do something.
- I am doing something.

Beside getting drunk.

Why don't I get the I Ching?
Have you done it?

- No.
- It's fantastic.

It's a, kind of,
Chinese fortune telling book.

Darling, I know I married a model,

but you really don't have to fulfil
everyone's expectations of vacuity.

For God's sake!

Is he going to do that all day long?

There's talk he's going to attempt
to break the speed record.

- He's a daredevil.
- He's my neighbour.

He has these parties.

Bixby's a bloody chancer.

Him and the rest of his
Belvedere set, so-called!

Don't go on.
It's so boring.

What the bloody hell's
this about now?

I didn't tell you, did I?

We came across an accident
on the way over.

Young girl got herself
more or less cut in half.

Some rather toothsome redhead,
according to the constable.

I can't think what they want
to come bothering us about it for.

They're probably
speaking to everyone local.

See if anyone knew her...I'd expect.

Why don't the three of us
go into town and tie one on.

There's a fair, isn't there?
On the Green.

We could all go.

- I hate fairs.
- Well, I must be on my way.

- Thank you for...
- Tomorrow, then.

We'll come and dig you out!

Have some bloody fun!

- All right, Sir?
- Will you follow me, please?

- All done?
- All done.

Like nothing ever happened.

What was Jeanie Han's body
doing at Lake Silence...

..if she was taken from the fair?

Somewhere quiet.
Nobody about at that time of night.

Very well.

- Carry on.
- Sir.

I had an inquiry from
Gerald Ashborne's parents.

A student found
dead in his rooms

at Carlyle College this morning.

The family are keen
to have the body...

unless there's anything untoward.

His mother knows my wife.

Flower arranging.

Of course, sir.
I'll chase it up.

It's just you and Miss..?

Brawton, Roselle.
And Mr. Swopes.

My brother-in-law.

He's a mute.
His lungs.

He was home on leave
when Coventry got bombed.

Wonderful what the surgeons can do,
but even so.

So what?
He helps you out, does he?

With certain,
my stage affects,

it's been hard for him
to find work.

People are funny!

What's all this about?

Young woman found dead
by Lake Silence yesterday morning.

She attended the fair
Thursday night.

Red head?
20s?

We're just looking to see
if anybody remembers her.

We don't really see any of the
punter's.

They're just...
shadows beyond the footlights.

Her boyfriend said she came up
and helped out with your act.

- Really?
- You don't remember her, then?

- No. I'm sorry.
- No.

All right, thank you, Mr. Newton.
That'll be all for now.

Next!

This way, sir.

Miss Hicks?

I'm only to use it
in an emergency.

Any message, if I find him?

I'll leave you to get on, Miss.

Mr. Thursday?

He doesn't want to be found.

No, I'm fine.

Mr. Morse, how are you?

- I can't hear you.
- Come. Come with me.

He has a man flies around,

scouring the palaces of princes
and maharajahs.

- Can you imagine?
- The loot of the world.

Some of these pieces
are priceless.

Literally.

Some of them are worthless.
Literally.

This. It's a copy.
Fake.

- A good one, but...
- I doubt that.

He's as rich as Croesus.

I've seen it. The real painting
hangs in the Rijksmuseum.

How do you know?

Maybe this is the real one and the
one in the Rijksmuseum's is the fake.

I think the curators
might have noticed.

They might.

Then again...
Perhaps for your next trick

you can pull our host
from that top hat

- and we can ask him.
- Be delighted.

Et voila!

I'm sorry, old man.
I thought you knew.

I'm Bixby.
My friends call me Bix.

Morse, isn't it?

- Anthony said it was.
- Yes, you know Anthony?

He's been my guest many times.

Both here and in London.
I've a place on Berkeley Square.

The Belvedere.
Perhaps you know it?

I'm afraid there are things
to which I must attend.

Do you have everything you want?

Which of us can
answer yes to that?

In present company,
obviously.

If you're free tomorrow,

come and watch me put
Redtail through her paces.

My hydroplane. Say about 11:00?

- Bix, I must speak to you...
- Not now, Roddy.

- Harry!
- Bix!

How are you?

You know?

Liver still works.

How did you find me?

It was my lung got a hole in it.
Not my brain.

Monica?

She's worried.

How long you been holed up here?

Since I got out.

I went to your flat.

They put you in hospital

and tried to frame
me for murder.

I couldn't put anyone else at risk.

You might tell her that.

You seen the findings, then?

- The whitewash.
- What did you expect?

- Better.
- We broke them.

The worst are gone.

What's left,
scattered to the four winds.

And I'm light one bag-man.

- Ask Jakes.
- Situation's not vacant.

He spoke for you.

Strange, too. Mr. Bright. It's over.

Not for me.

You live in the shadows
long enough,

you forget the sunlight.
I'm finished with it.

You didn't put your papers in.

I'm still suspended,
pending inquiry.

They want me gone, they can fire me.

Then what? You're just gonna sit
here feeling sorry for yourself?

We've got a woman disappeared
off the ghost train

at the fair last night.

She was found dead this morning
about three miles from here.

I can't. I'm not the same.
I wouldn't be any use to you.

- No?
- No.

Well...

Fair enough.

Mind how you go.

Why would you go back?

After everything?

There's a town needs looking to.

That doesn't change just cos
I've dropped a suit size.

Throw the towel in now, it was all
for nothing and the bastards won.

I found something...

back up the road from the body.

It's a scorecard from
the North Oxford Golf Club.

Yesterday's date.

The players' names
haven't been entered,

but their handicaps
and the scores per hole.

Should narrow it down.

There's a Cowley
telephone number on the back.

That's the best I can do.

Good luck with it.

I've spoken to the club, sir.

They're running me
off a list of members

who booked to play
a round on Thursday.

And the telephone number?

A call-box sir.

Across the road from
Jeannie Hearne's house.

Jakes.
Any luck at the fair?

One or two with minor form,
sir.

Nothing like this.

We've been over
Jeannie Hearne's footsteps

so far as Albert Potter
can remember them.

- And?
- They went on a few rides,

took in a magic show,
shooting gallery...

Potter says he won her a monkey.

- £500?
- Stuffed, sir.

- What?
- Soft toy.

No sign of it as yet, sir.
Nor her handbag.

You must be mad.
Why would you risk all this?

If you can make a heap
of all your winnings

and risk it all in one turn
of pitch and toss...

Did you hear about this dead girl
found on the lake road yesterday?

A constable came by.
I don't think she was local.

Staff, maybe, from one of the houses
on the north side.

Speaking of which,
Tony said you know the Belboroughs.

You must bring them over.

I don't think Bruce
is your cup of tea.

Lady Belborough, then.

I should like to know
all my neighbours.

A matter of fact, I'm having
a mask ball here tomorrow night.

- You should invite them.
- Another party!

You can not have too much
of a good thing, you know?

Can you?

I can't!

Tony tells me that you
were both at Oxford with him.

- With Belborough.
- Yes. For a while.

I was at Harvard myself.

But all the important things
in life, I learned at the tables.

- You a betting man?
- My father played the horses.

One gambler in the family's
quiet enough.

You must come to the Belvedere.
As my guest, of course.

You get to know the truth
of a man at cards.

And what's the truth of you?

Sportsman?

Gambler?
Tycoon?

Who's the real Joss Bixby?

I wonder myself, old man.

I wonder myself.

Bruce?

Really, old man,
it's nothing very remarkable.

My parents died when I was young.

My inheritance was held in trust
until I reached majority.

I travelled a bit, I got to know
the stocks business.

You see, The truth
of it's altogether dull.

But these are my real passion!

The new Klipspringer Continental.
She was delivered this morning.

Why don't you take her for a spin?

It's a bit too fast for me.

I'd be more at home in
something like...that, maybe.

She's yours.

Don't be ridiculous.
You hardly know me.

A gambler's instinct.

You're a straight bat, old man.
I knew it as soon as I saw you.

What's your line,
if you don't mind me asking?

- Didn't Anthony say?
- He said you had a bit
of trouble somewhere.

But he didn't say what kind.
And I didn't press him.

He was discrete.

Let's just say I am
reviewing my options.

Well,
I could use a good corner-man.

Why don't you come and work for me
while you make your mind up?

Doing what, exactly?

Keeping me out of trouble,
in the main.

Why?
Do you get much of that?

Anyone who ever made a deal
made an enemy.

You seem to be doing
all right so far.

Luck of the draw, old man.

One was damned
and one was saved.

The toss of a single coin!
God called it. Not me.

Jesus!

Bit before his time, actually.

Book Of Numbers,
Chapter 32 Verse 23.

"You have sinned against the Lord

"and be sure your sin
will find you out."

I've found something
under her nails.

I've sent it for analysis.

Let you have the findings
as soon as they're through.

Blood results in on your "sudden".

Under-grad Gerald Ashborne.

Chinese heroin.
Number three variety.

New for these parts
and rather worrying.

How's that?

This Chinese stuff varies
in strength enormously.

Results are somewhat hit...

and in the case of the
late Gerald Ashborne,

a rather resounding miss.

Right.
Thank you, doctor.

Evening, officer.

Hello, matey.

Last place
I'd expected to see you.

- I mean...
- Not sure it's your colour!

Bloody pickpockets, innit.
Where they dump the empties.

Here, cop that.

There's a few more under there.

Not belonging to this dead girl,
there's not.

Leopard print handbag, wasn't it?

The paper said.
Jeannie Hearne.

Trust you!

We've been tearing the county
apart looking for that.

You found it, not me.

Congratulations, by the way.

Sergeant Strange.

Yeah. Well...

Like piles, eh?

Any leads on this dead woman?

The brains trust retraced
her route around the fair.

Shooting gallery.
Magic show.

Did you look at the Ghost Train?

They did and...
no sign she was ever there.

No blood.
Nothing.

What are you doing
poking around anyway?

Actually, I came to have
a go on the... attractions.

If you say so.

We were all rooting for you.

And the old man.

Bright had him under
24-hour armed watch.

Never left his side
until he was out of the woods.

How was it?

'It'? Prison 'it'?

How'd you think?

Safest place you could have been.

It didn't feel
very safe at the time.

You being banged up bought us
room to get it squared away.

Clear your name.

Well... I'd better get this
back to the nick.

I'll be seeing you.

The item is...

..a gentleman's wallet!

And now for my next trick,

I require the assistance
of a beautiful women

and a very brave gentleman.

Yes! Madame.
You!

And perhaps you, sir?

If you'll be so kind.

Let's give them a round of applause.

It is you!

We called at the house
to pick you up.

- Everyone's here.
- You didn't fancy the show?

I told you, I don't like fairs.

Besides,
you've seen one trick...

Come and buy me a drink.

Then you can win me something.

- Five out of six.
- Five? Are you sure?

I do believe he's got you,
Bruce.

- What's for the face card?
- That's the big prize.

Well done, old man.

Well done.

A kiss was for the runner-up,
wasn't it?

Look, a man-eater.
How apt.

Keep me warm.

Wotcha.

Any word on
Jeannie Hearne's handbag?

Yeah, well done, Jim.
It's with the old man.

Actually it was...
Morse identified it!

He was there, wasn't he,
at the fair?

- Having a poke around.
- Thursday's seen him...

Apparently, he's living
in some shack in the woods.

Running with some posh set
by the lake over Cacklebury.

Posh set?

It doesn't sound like him!

Prison, maybe.
It changes a man.

So is he coming back or what?

Your guess is as good as mine.

I wouldn't hold your breath!

- What's this?
- Eat, drink and be merry?

As the fella says, old man.
It's just one go around the board.

Harry Rose, meet my good friend
and neighbour, Mr. Morse.

I want you to look after him
for me this evening.

Make sure that he has a good time.

Be a pleasure.
Will you excuse me, Bix?

Who's that?

The man that fixed
the World Cup.

The trophy that went missing
last year?

All that in the paper
about a dog finding it?

It was Harry got it back.

Made a nice bit of money
as a finder's fee too.

Here's Tony.
I must leave you, old man.

Someone's pushed the boat out.

He's got a trial run
at the record tomorrow.

Let's get a drink.

Heard anything more
about this dead girl we saw?

I told you, I'm out of it.

Says in the papers
she went missing at the fair.

It's all anyone's talking about.

Found right on the doorstep,
as it were.

Well, well. Mr. Morse.
Back for Seconds?

Now there's a turn up.

- Is this your doing?
- No.

Really?

- Bruce!
- Hello, Tony. How are you?

- Pagan.
- Hello.

- Hello, darling.
- Kay.

Bruce,
may I introduce Joss Bixby?

Bix, this is Lord Belborough
and his wife, Lady...

Hello, Kay.

You've met?

Just now.
On the stairs.

Tony tells me a man might get
a decent game of cards around here.

He might.
Later...perhaps.

- All work, Bixby?
- I'm sorry, old man?

Trade.
The white man's burden.

If you'll excuse me a moment.

You won't forget about that game
of cards, will you, old man?

- Bloody upstart.
- He's all right.

Is he? Is he?
Did you hear that, Tony?

Pagan says he's all right.

If it's going to be bloody,
why did you come?

Same reason as everybody else here.

To see what all the fuss was about.

You'll have to forgive my husband,
he's been drinking since...

You don't have to make excuses.

Not to me.
I know Bruce of old.

Dance with me.

Please?

Is everything all right?

I've been a fool.
That's all.

If there's anything I can do?

I never should have agreed to come.

Mind if I cut in, old man?

Hello.

Is it really you?

- Cigar?
- No, no thank you.

They make a nice couple,
don't you think?

How is it you know Bixby?

He advises me on my investments
now and again.

But as friends
we go back a long way.

Bix's got everything,
wouldn't you say?

- Pretty much.
- Deserves it too.

Nobody more.

If only he could find himself
a nice girl and settle down.

Well, it's from the Belvedere,

but how this Miss Hearne
came by it?

Any chance she was here?

Well, it's possible.
Either here, or in London,

or she knew
somebody who has.

There must be thousands
of these chips.

People hang on to them
sometimes for luck.

Well, it didn't bring Miss Hearne
much of that,

however she came by it.

Well, unless there
was anything else, Inspector?

It's a poor host
neglects his guests.

Sir.

Excuse me a moment, will you.

Sir?

What was all that?

Police business.

I might ask you the same.

- Harry Rose?
- Who is he?

King of the one-armed-bandits.

There isn't a slot machine in England
doesn't have his dabs all over it.

He's been away.

Got out on Thursday morning.

The same day Jeannie Hearne
was killed?

His number's in her address book...

..and this was in her handbag.

It's from the Belvedere.
Bixby's place.

Some nice company
you're keeping.

And Mr. Bright's seen
your inquiry lifted, by the way.

If you ever decide
you want to get back to work.

Why does Bruce call you Pagan?

Long story.

It's a joke...
at my expense,

because I don't have
a Christian name.

You must.

Not one that I care to use.

What does it start with?

I bet I can guess.

Hold out your hands.

- Kay?
- Hold out your hands.

Right.

Now.

Look into my eyes.

A?

B?

C?
D?

E?

F?
E?

It is, isn't it?

Quite a trick.
Where did you pick that up?

- A misspent youth.
- Don't change the subject.

E.
E for what?

- Embarrassment. Mostly.
- It's just a name.

Almost nobody in modelling
goes by their real name.

"A rose by any other..."

What?

You remind me of someone.

Good someone or bad someone?

Both.

Are you falling in love with me?

Men do.

I can see how that might happen.

Then why don't you kiss me?

It's Elva you're supposed
to fall for.

- Bruce?
- Bruce doesn't give a damn.

He's got a girl in town.

Don't you know that?

A bus conductress,
of all things.

Room for one more on top!

There you are! Thank God.

Don't 'old man' me.

You could've left the table
at any time you wanted.

No-one was holding a gun
to your head.

I bet you could probably arrange
for that too, couldn't you?

Where's Kay?
We're leaving.

Welch here, there won't be a table
open to you in London.

You lost fair and square.

I'll lose to a straight house,
not to a crooked racket!

- Keep your voice down.
- You want your money, don't you?

All these people here can't see
what you are, but I can.

And what's that, old man?

A fraud.

Well, sooner a fraud
than a Blackshirt's bastard.

Bruce?
Please.

What are you?
You his big pal now?

Don't forget
who your real friends are.

Where's my wife?

You don't have to go.

I'll be back.

You don't have to go,

that's what Harry
was getting at too.

It's Kay.

That's who it's about.
That's what you want.

Wouldn't you?

If you loved someone

and lost them
and had a chance to make it right?

No matter how much you want it,
you can't turn the clock back.

Of course you can.

Of course you can, old man.

What do they say?
Time is money.

I'd have killed every man
in that room

to live just one more hour
in her eyes.

But you could have
any woman in the world.

What were you doing at the fair
last night? I saw you there.

I wondered if any of the sideshows
might be available for this evening.

Nothing to do
with Jeannie Hearne, then?

No. That's twice
I've heard that name tonight.

The first person to ask
was a policeman.

So's the second.

I don't know her.

Sorry, old man.

Come on...

..I need to clear my head.

On a night like this...

..a man might believe
anything's possible.

Will you come and watch tomorrow,
when I go for the run?

I've seen enough death.

What do you need to prove?

That I'm as good a man
as Bruce.

If she sees that, she might...

..well, maybe she'll come back.

Don't you think?

Anything's possible.

Good luck.

You too,
old man...

You too.

Bix?

Bixby!

Bixby?

All right?
Morse.

There was a car. I saw
its headlamps through the trees.

That was around...
half five.

The shot came
about 20 minutes later.

Did he ever mention any enemies?

No, not to me,

but somebody vandalised one
of his cars the other day.

Left him some kind of...
I don't know... A warning.

About what?

It was Old Testament stuff.

"Be sure your sin
will find you out."

Any chance he did for himself?

I wouldn't have said so.

She's up on his bedroom wall.

He must have carried a torch.

They were both here last night.
Bruce and Kay.

Bixby took Bruce for 75,000.

75,000?
Pounds?

That's nothing to Bruce.

- It wasn't about the money.
- What was it about?

He just wanted to make Bruce
look small in Kay's eyes.

Bruce got it into his head
to call Bixby a cheat.

- There was a row.
- Where will I find them?

Across the lake.

There was something Kay said to me
last night.

She'd an idea Bruce had a mistress.

In town.
A bus conductress.

Jeannie Hearne?

Bruce is a bully. Always has been.
But a murderer?

I can't see it.

Shotgun.

Point blank to the face.

Any chance it could have been
self-inflicted?

No.
Weapon would suggest not.

Given the injuries, I'll need a set
of latent prints from the house

to confirm it's Bixby.

Check his right-hand pocket.
You'll find a gold gambling chip.

His lucky charm.

Get the lake dragged. 50-yard arc.
See if the gun's in there.

You'll have to come in.

Tomorrow'll do.

Get your head down
for a few hours.

- You've been up all night.
- Oh, I'm fine.

I can start now.

I meant...to make a statement.

I found him.
He's a...

A friend? You know these people.

You can't be a part
of this inquiry.

If you want to make
yourself useful,

see if you can't get any further
on the Jeannie Hearne angle.

Step to, then.

I thought...

It doesn't matter
how far you run,

or how hard you scrub,

it's there,
the stench of it.

- Everything we touch.
- It gets so you don't notice.

That's what worries me.

Morse?

Good heavens.

Inspector Thursday
said you might be in,

but I didn't think today.

Well, the fair packs up tomorrow,
sir.

Just so.

What happened, I...

I can't change yesterday, but...

..a better tomorrow, yes?

- For all of us.
- Sir.

I think I met Bixby.
Briefly.

Some years ago,
in Juan-les-Pins.

And there was never anything
between you?

No.
Not on my part.

And there's no reason
you can think of

why he'd have a photograph of you
on his bedroom wall.

None.

You told someone last night
that you believed your husband

was involved
with a bus conductress.

- I told Morse that in confidence.
- And Detective Constable Morse

repeated it to me in confidence.

Where did you hear it?

A friend.
Elva Piper.

Friends like that.

Did Miss Piper give you
the name of this woman?

No.
It's just gossip.

I wonder then,
Lady Belborough,

if you could account
for your movements Thursday evening.

I was here.

Alone.

We went on a few rides.

Merry-go-round.
Dodgems. Magic show.

Jeannie wanted me to go on stage
with her for a trick,

but the magician picked some
other bloke out of the audience.

- What did he look like?
- Normal working bloke. Thirties.

Specs.
Doug, he gave his name as.

You didn't notice him
or anyone else

following you around the fair
afterwards?

No.
Nobody.

We were just having fun.

You won her a prize at
the shooting gallery.

Is that right?
A monkey?

I think the fella
must've felt sorry for me.

Or else he fancied Jeannie.

I couldn't hit a barn door
at ten paces.

Where were you between
four and six o'clock this morning?

Asleep.
On the sofa.

Tony Donn and my wife
will confirm that.

What about Thursday?

Play any golf, my Lord?

I'm afraid I side with those

that think it's a
good walk spoiled.

And the evening?

I had some drinks
in town with Tony.

- Why?
- There was a woman found dead

Good Friday morning on the Lake
Road about two miles from here.

Jeannie Hearne.
Did you know her?

No.
Whatever gave you that idea?

Actually, sir, your wife.

She's of the impression you were
carrying on with a bus conductress.

It happens Miss Hearne
was a clippie.

My wife, Inspector,
is very highly strung.

An hysteric personality.

Often given to flights of fancy.

You'll have no objection if Sergeant
Jakes has a look at your car, then.

I'm afraid my car was stolen
from Oxford station on Wednesday.

You'll find
that I made a full report.

All the good it'll do.

Well, her boyfriend said
you gave her a stuffed toy.

Why was that?
He said he hadn't won anything.

Gotta cast your bread.

Punters see a good-looking girl
walking round with a prize,

might have a go themselves.

Where are they from, the prizes?

I don't know.
Far East, maybe.

I'm looking after the pitch
for a pal.

He's laid up.
Done his back.

Why,
what's your usual line?

Dreamland, Margate.

Penny arcade there.
Slots.

Didn't you say
that was Harry Rose's business?

Slots, drugs,
racketeering, you name it.

Harry Rose has been at it since
the Devil was in short trousers.

Right.

Have you seen them?
Cheese and pickle.

- The Belboroughs?
- All bar the tennis player.

She stayed at the Randolph.

The rest of them haven't had a
decent alibi between them for Bixby.

Though your mate Anthony Donn
says he was with Belborough

the night Jeannie was killed.

You really think
there's a connection

between that bloke at the shooting
gallery and Jeannie Hearne?

Oh, I don't know.
Maybe it was free advertising,

giving Jeannie that monkey.

I'm just stumbling around,
really.

It's what you're good at.

The first week,
I hardly slept at all.

Kept thinking I'd be found

hanging from the
bars of the cell

or take a dive from the top walk.

I kept expecting to hear
boots on the landing,

a key in the door,
but nobody came.

A month.

I didn't know
if you were alive or dead.

That was the worst of it.

Well, no, not quite.

The worst was knowing
it was my fault.

I was too slow.

My stupidity almost
left Mrs. Thursday a widow -

I knew,
walking in to Blenheim Vale, that

I might not walk out.

That's the job,
I suppose.

Something bad like that.

Sometimes,

you've to put all you are

against all they've got.

It was my decision.

I'd do it again
without a second thought.

Don't ever blame yourself.

If I'd been quicker
off the mark.

You were there at the end.
Nobody else.

You had the chance to run,
to look to your own neck.

You didn't.
You stood.

A pinch like that,

it's not brain that counts,
it's guts.

I won't forget it.

Ever.

Oh, for God's sake,
I can't stand this.

- I'm getting out of here.
- To see her?

Well?
Aren't you?

Coward.

Joss Bixby's more of a man dead
than you'll ever be alive.

Bruce!
Stay out of it, Tony.

This is between me and my wife.

I'm going to stay at the club.

Of course you are.

And where do they all come from,
the props and so forth?

Oh...er... Well, some I've had made
and others I got at auction.

- What about this?
- That's from a collection.

I bought them from James Green,
a colleague of mine.

The right illusion can keep
a magician in work for years.

I'm quite partial
to the old abracadabra.

I had an uncle used to magic
a penny from behind my ear

when I was a boy.
I could never work it out.

Years of preparation
and rehearsal

come down to a single heartbeat

in which one makes the impossible...

..a reality.

Miss Hearne's boyfriend said
she took part

in some kind of a gun trick here
the night she died.

- She had red hair, if that helps.
- Didn't notice. Sorry.

The gun trick requires
absolute concentration.

You see,
we have here a revolver.

If you care to examine it,

you will see it's perfectly normal
in all regards.

Likewise, two bullets.

If you would be so good.

Your brother-in-law, Mr. Swopes,
might he have seen anything?

No. He would have been backstage,

preparing the props
for the next bit of the show.

Anyway, his eyesight is rather poor.

We can agree
that this pistol has worked.

Roselle.

Inspector.

You must stay perfectly still.

Behold.
I show you a mystery.

So the second bullet
was a blank.

A magician must keep
his secrets, Inspector,

even unto the grave.

Perhaps Mr. Swopes
will be more forthcoming.

Mr. Swopes?

I can't believe it.

Andrew,

murder a woman for drugs?

He hadn't exactly taken the trouble
to conceal the evidence, Mr. Newton.

The soft toy was just lying there
in his caravan.

Of course, he's never been right
after Coventry.

He might've got over Betty.

But his son.
Babe in arms.

Terrible thing to lose a son.

Whatever he lost
doesn't excuse murder.

We've put out a general alert.
He won't get far.

Not with a face like that.

It just doesn't seem
like Mr. Swopes.

He was always so kind and...

I'd get upset sometimes
over my mum and dad

and he'd do his best to cheer me up.

Even lent me his scrapbooks.

Why?
What happened to your parents?

They died.

Two years this June. Car accident.

How I ended up doing this.

Make ends meet.

This will finish Mr. Newton.

Zambezi.

Well,
I'll need to keep hold of these.

I'll let you have them back
when I'm done with them.

We've had it tested.

What our little friend
had stuffed in his belly.

It's confirmed.

Chinese heroin.

Jeannie Hearne was the go-between.
Right?

That's why you gave her the prize.

It was nothing to do with
'casting your bread'.

Drug run, was it?

Fair's in town every bank holiday.

You pass a new shipment
on to Jeannie Hearne.

Then who's it meant for?

Harry Rose?

Bixby?

And where does Swopes fit in?

Or was he just helping himself?

Look, you're just a small cog
in a big machine,

but we've got a kid dead
of the stuff.

An Oxford Student.
Gerald Ashbourne.

Killed by your heroin.

It's a long stretch, Clem.

You scratch our back...

I'm saying nothing
till I've seen my brief.

So save your breath.

Thought you'd turned in
your tin star.

I thought there was a choice.

Seems we were both wrong.

I went by Bixby's.

Seems very forlorn.

Lights out,
staff gone.

Look...

If things go bad...

can you keep me out of it?

For old times?

Bruce said he was with you

the night Jeannie
Hearne was killed.

I was with him
the early part of the evening,

but about nine,

I lent him the
keys to my car

- and he went out.
- Where?

To meet Jeannie Hearne?

It's really not me
you should be asking.

Six months ago, you introduced

Jeannie Hearne to
Bruce Belborough,

the Chairman of the East Indies
Shipping Company.

A useful connection, if you're
looking to import Chinese heroin.

Maybe your pal Bixby was in on it.

Are you sure
you won't try the moules?

No-one does them
quite like Pedro.

It was the same variety
of Chinese heroin

that did for Gerald Ashbourne,

a student at Carlisle College.

We think Jeannie Hearne
was skimming off your heroin

and making up the shortfall
with milk powder,

knocking out the difference
to students for a bit of bunce.

Maybe you took
exception to that.

Saturday night,
I saw Bixby at the fairground.

What was he doing?
Looking for your heroin?

You're wrong.
You couldn't have seen him.

No?
Why not?

Cos I was with him at his place

till... well...
well after the fair closed down.

Maybe Bixby did a deal
with Jeannie and Swopes.

Then they double crossed you.
Now two of them are dead

and the third's gone AWOL.

But I loved Bix like my own son.

A son...

Do you think I could
harm a hair...?

Your theory is this Clem character
brings the heroin to Oxford

and passes it to Jeannie Hearne

who was acting as
some sort of go-between for Rose.

That's about the size of it, sir.

Either Swopes was in on it
from the start

or, most likely,
he got wise to their racket

and decided to help himself.

Did Swopes kill Jeannie Hearne
for the heroin?

She had something under her nails,
didn't she?

- Drug related?
- To soon to say, sir.

Dr. DeBryn has sent
it for analysis.

- Then where does Bixby fit in?
- He doesn't.

Beyond the fact
that he knew Harry Rose.

And the gold chip from the Belvedere
in Jeannie Hearne's handbag.

I don't think we can take that as
proof he had anything to do with it.

Well, it could of been given to her,
by Harry Rose.

Who was he, Bixby?
Dr. DeBryn has not been able

to locate any medical records
for him.

No records of any sort.

Until he materialised four years ago

to open this gambling club
in Berkley Square.

- Man of mystery.
- Just so, sir.

Well, somebody killed him.

Perhaps there's
evidence at the house.

I'll take a look...
unless there's any objection.

All right, Morse,
don't let us keep you.

It's good to have him
back around the place.

Both of you, of course.

But is he up to it?
If Bixby was his friend...

Morse knows his duty,
sir.

Kay.

Kay?

Kay?
Kay, can you hear me?

Kay?

Come on.
The doctor will be here soon.

Kay?

Can you hear me?
Come on, stay awake.

That's it.

A policeman.

- Yes.
- You took us in.

- That was never my intent.
- What was?

He was in love with you.

- I can't help that.
- You knew him.

- No.
- Yes.

- Before, I found a letter.
- Don't. Please.

"By the time you read this,
I'll be gone.

"Don't come after me.
You're my heart, Charlie Greel,

"but every time
I look at you,

"I've got to put it behind me
and start again.

We let the stars go. Kathy."

You're Kathy
and Bixby was Charlie.

"Every time I look at you."

What?

What is it you had to put
behind you?

Don't you want to know
what killed him?

Will that bring him back?

Well, if you...

- If you loved him -
- Love?

We were kids.
You wouldn't understand.

No.
I don't.

You see?
How soon it turns.

Us in the car.

That night under the trees.

If Tony hadn't found us
when he did...

You can still help me.

- Kay.
- Bruce is in town.

The staff are gone.

Make me feel something.

Anything.

God.

It was your car I saw.

You came back.

To tell him to forget about me.

He said...

He said he couldn't.

Did you see anyone else
hanging around the grounds?

I came back when I heard the shot.

There was no sign of him.

Only you.

Morse?

What the hell's going on?

There was a call. Very late.
A business emergency.

I had to leave at once for London.

We all thought it was you.

One evening suit looks
very much like another, I suppose.

It must have been Roddy.
Farthingale.

Farthingale.
You saw him before, I think.

That night we met.

- What happened?
- When I got back to the house,

Roddy was still there,
looking rather the worse.

He'd gambled away his family fortune
at the table.

And more.

I told him to go abroad,
get out of the country.

He must not have been able
to face it,

took his own life, poor chap.

But we found your gold poker chip
in his pocket.

Oh, he was such a state,
I gave it to him for luck.

If I hadn't been called away...

Well, you ought to let Kay
know you're all right.

She's in a pretty bad way.

This is yours.

I've read it, I'm afraid.

Charlie Greel.

Is dead and gone.

If East End barrow boys

can become world-famous
snappers...

The world has changed.

You can be anything you want.

I chose to be Joss Bixby.

The Porter hasn't seen
Ronnie Farthingale since Friday.

Not that one would expect to
over Easter, necessarily.

We thought he must have gone back
to his estate.

I'll need his next of kin.

There's a great aunt, I believe,
but his parents are deceased.

What about friends?

Someone who might shed some light
on his state of mind?

Did Roddy Farthingale
know Gerald Ashbourne?

Gerald Ashborne.
The overdose.

They were inseparable,
according to the bursar.

I found these
in Roddy Farthingale's bureau.

Presumably, Roddy found Gerald dead
and tidied up.

Spare his parents' feelings.

Unless they were both addicts.

This is the body of Roddy
Farthingale, then,

then, not Joss Bixby.

The coroner does tend to get picky
about that sort of thing.

And the last word
on Jeannie Hearne.

It's polyurethane
under her nails.

Results came in this morning.

Also traces of rosin,

copal, isopropyl
alcohol, and silica.

They said you were dead.

North Oxford Golf Club's
finally got their finger out.

About that score card you found.

There's two members played that day
with a seven handicap.

One of 'em was Bruce Belborough.

Only the game was booked
in the name of his oppo,

a Mr. Outis.

We're bringing him in now.

Wanna come?

- It was your lead.
- He was a friend once.

- Sort of.
- Bad luck.

- Elva, call my solicitor.
- God.

Search the grounds, Jim.

12 bore.
36-inch barrel.

Spot the deliberate mistake.

Or rather, I suspect,
non-deliberate.

The barrel's too long for
his fingers to reach the trigger.

This wasn't suicide. It was murder.

What are we doing here,
Charlie, of all places?

The last night of the pitch always
belongs to the show folk, Kathy.

You know that.

Do you remember we always used
to go round the attractions

when the fair had closed

and all the punters
had gone home?

It was just you and me
in the whole world.

It was never just you and me,
though, was it?

No...

No, but it is now.

- Sir.
- I've just come from Dr. DeBryn.

Roddy Farthingale
wasn't suicide.

There's more. Roddy always
wore a diamond-point bow tie,

but the body I dragged from the lake
was wearing a club-round.

There's a reason magicians use doves
and white rabbits in their act.

- Charlie?
- Long time.

I brought an old friend to see you.

We found your car.

I know things didn't end so good,

but I've done all right.

Made something of myself.

When I saw you were in town,

it was just too good a chance
to miss.

That's why I'm here.
I want to make it up to you.

Just like old times.

Morse,

Inspector.
Everything all right?

Lady Belborough's husband
has been arrested

for the murder of Jeannie Hearne.

- What?
- Bruce, are you sure?

Thursday afternoon,
he played nine holes

at North Oxford Golf Club
with a Mr. Outis.

Morse turned up their scorecard

not far from Jeannie
Hearne's body.

And he's confirmed this, has he,
this Outis?

Well, we haven't been able
to find him yet,

but we found Bruce's car
on the estate

earlier this evening.

There's no doubt it was the vehicle
used to run down Jeannie Hearne.

- My God.
- Darling, it's all right.

- You're with me now.
- Bix.

I went through Roddy's effects.

Thought you might want this.

Though, of course, it wasn't
Roddy Farthingale's pocket

we found it in any more than it was
Roddy I dragged out of the lake.

Not Roddy?

- Then who was it?
- I'm sorry, Kay.

It was Joss Bixby.
The real Bixby.

- What's going on?
- James Green and Co.

Isn't that where you picked up
some of your props, Mr. Newton?

What of it?

It's a rather a lacklustre name
for a magician, don't you think?

Not a patch on Janus
Greel and Conrad,

the original name of your act.

It could just as easily have been
Janus Greel and Sons.

Charlie and Conrad Greel.

Two boys.
Born within an hour of each other.

Identical in every way,
except for one.

But as soon as Conrad
removed his spectacles,

no-one could tell them apart.
Certainly not the audience.

The illusion depended
on everyone believing

there was only one boy.

An illusion you maintained
amongst the other show folk.

A magician keeps
his secrets, even unto the grave.

- Isn't that what you told us?
- So?

So one boy had to be kept hidden
from the world.

He existed only
for those few moments on stage.

The rest of the time,
he lived in shadow.

What that might do a young soul,
I don't like to think.

Then Kay, or Kathy, joined the act.

You fell for Charlie
and Charlie fell for you, too.

But Conrad wanted you also.

"You're my heart, Charlie Greel,

but every time I look at you..."

What?

I saw Conrad.

And that was too much to bear.

He took advantage of you?

I thought he was Charlie.

We ran away that night.

I tried.

I really tried,
but in the end...

You couldn't forget
what his brother had done.

We lost one another.

But Charlie never forgot you.

One fine morning,
somehow, somewhere,

he discovered that you were
to marry Bruce Belborough.

Bruce was rich, titled, successful.

If that's what it took to win you,

then that's what Charlie
would become.

All he needed was a patron,

so Bixby was born.

A man with no past -

the perfect, legitimate
front for Harry Rose.

Really, Kathy,
that's not what happened.

You still insist you're Charlie.

Of course he is!

It's Charlie.

It's you.
You... You tell them.

I'm sorry, Mr. Newton.
I know you want to believe it.

You think I don't know my own son?

I think
after Charlie and Kay ran away,

you pulled off
one final disappearing act.

To maintain the secrecy
of the original act,

Janus Greel became
the Great Zambezi

and Conrad became Swopes

and every other audience plant
that the act could ever need.

Now, what am I? Some sort of man
of a thousand faces?

You were here
when Jeannie Hearne got on the stage

and you were there at the wheel
of Bruce's car when Jeannie came to,

afraid and wondering how the hell

she got there from
the ghost train.

Polyurethane was found
under Jeannie Hearne's fingernails,

part of your disguise
she'd scratched from your face

while she fought for her life.

You knew the scorecard
would lead us to Lord Belborough,

that we'd find out
about his affair with Jeannie Hearne

and that it was his car
used to kill her.

Help!

Having framed Bruce,

the only thing that stood in your
way was Joss Bixby.

While Bixby drew breath,
you would be forever Swopes

so you decided to take back

the life you'd
always been denied.

A man who wasn't there

slew a man who didn't exist
and became someone.

Swopes takes the powder.
You take Bixby's place.

You get the money,
the girl, the whole shebang.

It's a hell of a trick.

An impossible murder.
No victim, no killer.

It's the perfect crime.

Not quite.
"Mr. Outis"?

If you're going to choose an alias,

don't pick the same pseudonym
Odysseus used to fight Polyphemus.

Not in a town
filled with classicists.

- You killed Charlie.
- It was the only way.

I just wanted you
both to look at me

the way you looked at him.

We could have lived
the rest of our lives together

and you'd never have known.

-It would have been a lie.
- And you and Bruce is what?

At least with me,
you would've been loved.

We were meant to be together, Kathy.

I love you.

What put you onto it?
Something he said?

Actually, sir,
it was something he didn't say.

Bixby affected the habit
of calling everyone "old man",

but when I saw him again
at the house, he didn't say it.

- Not once.
- And Roddy Farthingale?

I think Conrad intended
just to take his brother's place,

to bury him
somewhere on the estate

and none of us
would be any the wiser.

Only Morse arrived
before Conrad had the chance

to drag Charlie out of the water.

Someone else had to die.

If Conrad was Bixby,

another body had to be
recovered from the lake.

There you go.

Why Conrad's name
if it was Charlie

- who performed the tricks?
- It looked better on the playbill.

I tried it both ways.

"Janus Greel and Conrad"

brought more people to the tent.

It had...
class.

How could you do it?

- Your own son?
- All art...

demands sacrifice.

But how do you decide?

How does a father choose
which son gets a life

and which is condemned
to darkness?

Just like that.

Morris!

Bring the car around.

- So you're leaving.
- Safari. Kenya.

Guy Mortmain has a place out there.

Bruce thought a change of scene
might be good for me.

Bixby's funeral -

you can't just walk away?

He wasn't the only one who changed.

Bixby didn't belong
in their world

any more than I do.

Did.

I wanted to tell him that
the last night I saw him.

That he was better than that.

Nobody gets to choose.

The further a man runs away
from his nature,

the sooner it'll find him out.

So what does that make me?

A good detective.

And a poor policeman.

That too.

If only I'd have told him.

Wouldn't have made
the blindest bit of difference.

He was set on the girl,
his memory of her at least.

Zambezi was right.

There's no real magic in this world.

Only love.

The rest is just smoke
and mirrors.

Back to work, then.

Back to work.

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