Original subtitles

This is horrible.

You have three days to sort out this

mess. No ifs or buts.

What are we dealing with? A killer with an artistic flair?

Or an artist with a flair for killing?

It's easy to see. It's one of us, right?

They're nothing, are they?

You're saying that he was shot through the mouth. I am, but that's impossible.

There's no bullet in the brain.

No line of your glass gone anywhere.

Feel free to search, but... You know the cause of death

quote? Nassim Sheila is what happened. The marriage maiden held us to it. I'm

sorry, I can't talk about it. Miss Lake died by manual strangulation.

Sheila owned millions.

Isn't that your million dollar question?

The father's bathroom could be the key.

Someone at West Dean got done for what?

Jane.

I've never seen this one.

It's a present.

Can we afford such a present?

We're a golden couple, aren't we?

You deserve a nice watch.

Show me.

Let's say goodbye.

Jay Poop.

What?

A kitchen porter who works here.

He assaulted his wife 12 years ago, confessed, and went to jail for it. The

office in London just found out.

And I thought I had the big scoop.

Yeah?

What's yours, sir?

You hear that?

You knew about this?

No, my lord.

I thought you knew everything.

What are they up to?

All along my pilgrim journey, Savior, let

me walk with thee.

Close to thee, close to thee, close to thee,

close to thee, all along.

In my pilgrim's journey, saviour, let me walk with thee.

I have been talking to Sheila Legger's lawyer.

Apparently, she left almost a million in cash.

What? Plus a country pile, a bit like this one, but in Canterbury.

Sheila Legger's Duchess of Canterbury. The estate is worth no less than two

million. That's on top.

So she...

Three million pounds?

For who?

Take your wildest guess.

Nash.

Lord James?

She was her cousin after all.

Sorry to disappoint you, Quant.

The answer is...

Mr. Salvador Dali.

What?

Really?

Why Dali, in heaven's name?

Why indeed, Quant?

Why would the one man at the bottom of Arthur's business inherit from the

victim? I mean, that's a great motive.

No? What are the connections between Dali and Miss Lager?

I, um, found something in Dali's studio.

He bought sketch paper near Sheila Legg's old estate.

Some people think they had a thing once.

Beautiful, my friend.

Thank you, brother.

Did he be the mysterious father?

I'll look into it.

This, er...

Kitchen porter of yours, Jay Poots.

What did he do exactly?

Assaulted his wife.

Nearly strangled her to death.

Sounds like a lovely fella.

Why are we only getting this information now?

And how did he get a job on this estate?

Remember when I did some background checks back at HQ regarding the

the estate?

Well, there was...

Happy voyage, my dearest friends.

Our beloved Sheila and Nash.

I love you both so much. You will be missed.

When our time comes, we will meet again in Irvine.

Amen, dear.

I need a champagne.

I think we all do.

They certainly know how to create an atmosphere, this gang of lunatics.

And perhaps not one of them is the killer.

Here we go. Right, first things first.

I desperately need to talk to this Jay Poots. You figure out Darlie. Yes, sir.

On a small task.

Yes, sir.

Clock is ticking, Detective.

Why, look.

Sebastian. I think they'll see her.

All right.

Hi, I'm Magritte.

Hi. What do you have for me?

Bastian Excelsior.

Ray.

In memoriam maternum.

Ray?

Man Ray is the father of Sheila's son.

Yeah, motive.

No?

I mean, at the start we had no suspects, and now all of a sudden they're

everywhere.

Let me have it.

All evidence belongs in the murder room. I know, je comprends. But I was

thinking maybe I could have a chat with Man Ray, confront him with this and see

if he denies his paternity.

You're becoming a true detective, McGree.

Go for it.

I'm late anyway.

Hey, Sal.

You're up early.

Intrusive thoughts?

The only thoughts I know.

What was his name again?

Da Vinci.

Da Vinci.

I like it.

Do you miss him?

Yeah, I know it sounds silly, but we're all talking

Money Would you like the Vinci to be eternal?

The delinquent kitchen porter, Jay Poots, is currently downstairs churning

butter. Care to come with me while I chat with the butter boy?

I thought I might speak to our new millionaire.

Reckon he'll be pleased.

There's a copy of the will over there.

Good acceleration in the investigation, Quads.

These are the moments we live for.

I wasn't going to mention it, but...

Nash is the 364th murder case of my career.

Quite a tally.

I totted it up last night, couldn't sleep.

Years ago, New Year's Eve, I promised myself that when I reached a year of

murder, 365 cases, I would quit the yard.

And now, because of you, that is becoming a possibility.

How do you mean?

My second New Year's resolution was that I would only stop if I found the right

successor.

You remind me of my younger self.

In fact, you're a lot like me.

Work - wise, at least.

What?

Well, look on the bright side, Quant.

I will be hiking up Mount Kilimanjaro whilst you'll be up to your elbows in

blood and gristle for the next 30 years or so.

Enjoy.

And when amongst ourselves, do call me Thistle.

Thank you, sir.

Thistle.

You looked quite excited when you came in. Have you discovered something?

Man Ray is the father of Spassian, Sheila Legger's little son, who died

How did you discover that?

I have my sources.

So one big unhappy family.

Well, good.

Add him to the list.

I'll go and see what Mr Poots has to say for himself.

One of the richest estates in England, they can't even fix a bloody doorknob.

Jay Poots.

Turn around.

I am Detective Chief Inspector Thistlethwaite, Scotland Yard, and you

arrest.

Gentlemen,

handcuff the bastard.

Is that right?

You've got to kill us, sir.

It looks like it, doesn't it?

I'm one of the roughs, sir.

I admit to it.

I'm a hair and scare and sort of good for naught.

But I'm not your killer.

I catch you in flagrante while you're trying to rob a corpse and you've got

previous for battering your wife within an inch of her life. How do you think it

looks? She had it coming.

My son?

By this poor thing here.

You got it all wrong, guv.

I was only trying to pry out a gold teeth is all.

You've no shame.

Trying to steal from a... Take him to the murder room.

Come on.

Steady.

This is the will of Sheila Legger, sent by her law firm, Messrs. Watson Cushman.

And I need to see this because... You are to inherit £1 million in cash.

You didn't know this.

Plus, Miss Legger's whole estate in Canterbury, not unlike this one.

currently valued at £1,952,999.

Mr Dali, were you and Miss Legger ever in a romantic relationship?

Me and her?

No.

What an insane thought.

Sheila hated me.

You visited her, though, right?

Back in Canterbury?

Yeah. Of course I did.

We were friends.

Good friends.

But sometimes friends can't take the truth, so what is left is not, let's

real.

You understand?

Thank you.

You received a phone call yesterday.

What was said seemed to have shocked you.

Did it have something to do with this?

Look, your inheritance is real.

And now we have to wonder why.

I will never accept that woman's money.

You're not happy with all that money?

Mr. Darley?

Sir? Are you alright?

What's so funny?

Sorry, sir, but this is really weird stuff.

It's not pretty either.

Call me a simple - minded idiot all you want, sir, but I don't get this.

Those artists are oddballs, aren't they?

You want to know something?

About the... oddballs?

Look.

Not as simple as it seems.

In surrealist art, they constantly want to play with the question.

Is it a dream or real?

A joke or a tragedy?

Is the object just an object or do we give it meaning?

And if so, which one?

Too difficult for me, sir. No, it's not.

Do you know what a pipe is, to me great?

No?

A dick.

Really? A dick?

Yeah. Now I get it. He's tagging his pipe.

Yeah. All sex maniacs?

Every last one.

Just like you, but worse.

Yes, sir. Back to work. I need you over there.

Okay, gents. Laugh's over.

Let's get this tongue up. Come on. You take that side.

One, two, three, go!

All right. I'm busy.

We need to talk, man.

What? Now?

That's right. I'm a lip model. Say what you gotta say, pal.

Never mind.

I'll be back. Think I can't take it, mon ami?

Talk, damn it.

You're starting to piss me off now. Come on, pal. What's on your mind? Spit it

out.

Okay.

You bastard.

What is it?

How'd you find him?

There's nothing secret to you.

She was the mother of your son.

Son? What son?

What?

No.

Anyone but him. He isn't father material.

Lee, I'm so sorry.

If only you knew how complicated this is.

You?

Arnold Sepp's father?

No, in a way.

What? No.

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, please, no.

This is insane. This isn't happening. Tell me this isn't happening.

insane.

I thought you were going to pay for this, you little fake detective!

You think you know it all, don't you?

And you know nothing!

When you quit the fucking hammering!

I said stop the fucking hammering! Stop it! Stop it!

I'm so sorry, sir.

Sit down.

I was just asked to hang up the whip, that's all.

It's alright, sir.

I'm so, so sorry, Lee. Vraiment.

When he fucked Sheila, our relationship was at its height.

Every day, the bastard would lick the dust of Paris off the soles of my shoes.

You don't believe me?

The guy is nuts.

Complete goner.

And there I was believing him.

Stupid girl.

All the while His Majesty was banging Lady Leg.

Fucking making a child with the Duchess.

I don't believe it.

I'm so sorry, Annie.

You didn't hurt me.

Truth did.

You just happened to find it.

Amore, will you ever leave that bath?

You look like a peanut.

Aren't you getting cold at all?

My tears keep the water hot.

Come on.

Parcer, I almost forgot.

Today I won three million pounds.

What?

But why?

You didn't know?

Of course not.

Are you sure?

Pardon? You heard what I said.

You're a liar.

And you stole my throne, too!

What? For what?

Money.

From a pota.

Died by Galagali.

I spit on the day you took my name.

Okay, yes.

I accepted her money. Why not? She wanted you to have it.

For what, Gala?

For what?

To buy away her guilt.

And she should have kept the guilt. She should have kept the guilt.

Why do you hate her so much if your heart is so big?

You slept with her?

Don't be ridiculous.

I'm not like you.

It's because of Spain.

Of course it's because of Spain.

I lied to those doctors, Gala.

I lied about the death of an innocent child.

I like to protect two drug addicts not able to even care for the most helpless

of beings.

She's been trying to pay me off for a year.

And now there's Nikki Beach on the way and I can't give it back.

The only thing I could do was to say no.

Do not accept it.

But thanks to you.

You need some time.

What is that?

What is money?

It has no real value at all.

Millions in the bank will not bring back my conscience.

Every pound spent.

will be a reminder of the lowest point of my life.

I understand, but you are wrong.

Get out.

You get your things, Salvador, and see that I don't find you here when I come

back.

I put this couple first, always.

Not you, me.

Well, maybe you should stop that.

Out for a walk, my friend?

Still on a hunt?

Yeah.

I saw an interesting building yesterday night and I would love to see it in

daylight.

I don't believe man murdered Sheila just because he's the father of Sebastian.

So I think I'm going to keep investigating.

Normally I joke about being careful out there, but in this case... Be careful,

all right?

Okay.

Whoops - a - daisy.

Suspect slipped, sir.

Course he did.

Must be all that butter.

Thank you, Constable, for the preliminary interrogation.

You gonna start talking?

All right, then.

I will.

You've seen this? Never.

Don't know. Don't care.

Fancy foreign stuff.

He's perverse around here.

Who? A so - called artist.

Ask judge of others for a wife - beating corpse robber.

What a piece of crap.

Well, don't hold back.

So you've never seen this painting?

I wish you'd kept it that way.

Back in the good old days of our Lord Denver, all of this cack would not

here.

And now... We have to do as we're told by his little sister, and we get nutters

staying here.

The inmates are running the asylum, and you are surprised that the

bodies drop.

What were you really doing with that body down there? I wanted her gold teeth

to sell, to have money, to eat something decent for once.

Hold on, aren't you paid?

That's the big advantage of being in service, isn't it? That you're well fed

watered.

Lord James is listed in the Sunday Times Rich List as one of the wealthiest

people in the kingdom.

Surely... I might try to rob a corpse, but I am no traitor.

You can beat me all you want. I say nothing more.

Except this.

I am not your man.

But you are a convicted criminal without an alibi.

Lord Denver took me in.

Gave me a second chance when nobody else would.

So... So I was bloody saved.

By this family.

And where are they now?

Your family.

What is it that you're not telling me?

Do you remember jail?

Boots.

You being serious, mate?

Yeah.

Course you do.

You want to go back there.

Maybe this time for the rest of your life.

You can't tell her.

Who?

Her lordship.

Not a word.

I clean dishes at the pub every night after my shift here.

Now, I clean the bar.

I've got a new girl there, too.

That's what you think she is.

But I am always back by morning for my work.

Her lady shit doesn't know.

And you do this. Gotta eat now, don't I?

So you were washing dishes and sleeping with your girlfriend on the night that

Miss Legg died?

Yeah, every night. So if I go down to that pub, which I will, there's

to corroborate?

About two dozen.

Unshackle him.

Let him go.

Good day to you, Mr Poots.

Stay away from the cold storage room, will you?

Yes, sir.

What exactly am I to you, Manny?

The love of your life?

Your inspiration?

Your one and only?

That's what she said.

Liar.

A liar and a prime suspect.

Okay, you, want to hurt me?

I get that. Do your work. No, I want this to stop, Manny.

Look at us.

I know, it's all so complicated.

Look, I promise you, someday soon, I will tell you everything.

Someday soon? Are you joking, man?

Do you love me?

Because that's all that matters.

Look, I love you more than anything or anyone else.

I don't know why I love you.

What did I ever see in you?

Was I too young?

Perhaps.

Anyway, it's pointless to revisit the past, especially when you don't know

was true and what false.

Everything was true.

What about your son, then?

Not even recognizing him properly?

A son, Manny, a goddamn child with another woman, and you hide that from me

whilst being with me?

Don't you understand that nothing can repair this?

What kind of a man are you?

I wanted to protect her. From the most important event in our life?

Seb was more important than me or you. No.

You knew that if this thing came out, we would end.

And these things always come out.

And the fact that you made another woman pregnant was what I was asking.

For a child from you. I did not.

Among all this mess, what

hurts the most is that you hid your emotions from me.

Your grief, your pain.

I'm asking myself what kind of a person is capable of that.

And I have no answer.

But I do know that I don't want a person like that in my life.

Like this.

Like one.

Huh.

A dinner not eaten.

I wonder why.

And all these guns.

There's one missing.

L.E.H.

1891.

Is that better?

It's just about one of the best rifles in the world.

It costs a fortune.

It's strange, isn't it?

What is, detective?

A family of game hunters, each with their own rifle going back to Napoleonic

times. And yet, only this particular rifle is gone.

The best of the lot.

The killer would have taken it, right?

If so, then our killer is not only an artist, but a professional.

Yes, but when is this professional ever going to make a mistake?

No.

Please.

No.

Before the exhibition is my guess.

How would you know?

I don't know.

That's why it's a guess.

You felt that too, right?

Felt what?

That place?

Yeah, as if someone was watching us.

If you must.

You as well.

Love sucks.

Yes? Bloody hell.

My name is Edward Leon Theodore Mason.

But please, call me E.L.T. I am a great agent.

How do you do?

Why are you here?

I'm very worried about my husband.

And how beside is that? I can't be without him.

It's true. It's like a Dalian gala. You can't imagine them separated, can you?

Please call me E.L.T., Your Lordship.

Lord James, an honor.

How did you do, madam? We were supposed to arrive on Friday for the exhibition,

but Georgette was just too anxious to see her husband.

I hope you don't mind we jump the gun.

Don't be ridiculous. West Dean is always open, although it's mostly very

closed at the moment.

Mrs. McGree, I am thrilled.

You are most welcome to my humble abode.

You're so cute.

Open the gates, boys.

I brought my lord. I thought we agreed. No, but listen. Once and for all, I

agreed that nobody can leave my property until you get your man. But do not

believe for one second that you can tell me who is and who is not welcome in my

estate.

Got that?

Now get out of my way and stay out of my way.

Quick, my dear, before you catch pneumonia.

Thank you.

What's going on back there? Well, we've got a bit of a situation.

But the best detective's working on it. I'm so sorry you had to arrive at such a

time.

I'll tell you all in advance.

After you. Thank you.

May as well get in the back with us. Come on.

I hope you have a wonderful day, despite the unpleasantness of it all.

I'll see you at breakfast.

Weather should be glorious and sunshine is sorely needed for the soul.

Thank you, my lord. Don't mention it.

Look after her.

My pleasure.

Well, um, I need to see Renée immediately.

She's such a delicate flower, so... so sensitive.

Where is he now?

Follow me.

Hold on a moment, you.

Mrs. McGree, I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I feel

it's my duty to tell you that your husband is one of the chief suspects,

especially in the first case, the strangulation of the beautiful young

Miss Sheila Legger.

Did you know her?

No.

Well, it's impossible.

It's madness.

Well, your husband wakes up next to a corpse after spending all night in bed

with her. What would you call it?

Please, Mrs McGreat, nothing has been proven, nothing at all.

Everything will turn out fine as it always does at West End.

Allow me to escort you to your husband.

Thank you, Mr Dukes. Just Dukes will be fine, madam.

Well, that was rather harsh.

What, you just wanted to see her reaction?

Not as much as I want to see his when she catches up with him.

I thought we agreed that Magritte was innocent.

Well, you surely did.

Yes, you're right.

I want to stir things up. You put pressure on these people, and the one

something to hide will surely make a mistake.

If you say so.

We're here to catch a killer, Quant.

Not to make friends.

So?

The beat that drives you mad.

The best beat.

For you.

No, after you.

No, after you. No, after you.

A la una por las buenas.

A las dos por el dolor.

A las tres quitar las penas.

Yeah. Manny.

Yeah?

I'm taking the right side of the bed.

Sure.

But in which bed did you decide to sleep, René? I was completely drugged. I

imagine that would be the exciting side of things.

To sleep with a woman ten years younger than you.

Beautiful, intelligent, adventurous.

And dead.

Can you imagine that it's the first time I've left you? In so many years.

And look where we are.

Forgive me.

Even if I think I didn't do anything wrong, I ask you to forgive me.

Hey, what's going on?

Dali and Gala separated, and Man Ray and the Millers too.

For eternal love... You will know, we will come back.

That doesn't give you any ideas, you two.

Dali, therefore, took the last room friends available.

He's fucking Man Ray.

Artists...

Anything I can get you in terms of refreshments, sir? Yes, Jukes, sorry.

Can we get this man a room? Because I need some time with my wife.

Well, of course, Magritte, I understand.

I'll find a solution.

No, no, no, no, no, no. It's not necessary.

It's just for one night.

It's too late. We Belgians, we stick together.

No, but I need some time alone with my wife.

No, no, no, no, no, no. You don't. No more.

Thank you. Thank you, Mr. Jukes. Thank you. Have a nice evening.

Thank you. Bye - bye.

Je suis désolé.

Forget the brochures, it was just curious.

Yes, curious, indeed, that's what that I heard.

My love, please.

So, friends, let's breathe?

Let's rest.

We will have to give the best of us themselves, huh?

Did you say?

Everything seems scary at night.

But at sunrise, you will talk again.

All right?

No.

I have nothing to say to this man.

Charge. Okay, I'm going to put on my pajamas, I'm going to bed.

Brighton to 948.