All language subtitles for Patience.S01E04.The.Locked.Room.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-RAWR_Track03

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Mr. Franklin?

Mr. Franklin?

Hello?

Mr. Franklin?

Mr. Franklin.

Mr. Franklin.

- Sorry, Sir, I was...
- I can see.

This is the first Sunday
I've had off

in more than a month.

Yeah, well, I was on
the third tee.

Oh, you were playing golf?

Does the name Harry Franklin
mean anything to you?

- The crime writer?
- Yeah.

He was found dead in his flat.

Doors bolted from the inside.

Now, look, I want this tied up
before it becomes,

you know, a thing.

Police baffled by mystery death

of best-selling crime writer.

Exactly.

Have you contacted Parsons?

Yeah, she's been there an hour.

Poof...

Urgh.

Um, Harry Franklin's dead.

Yeah. How do you know?

Uh, Mr. Gilmour,
he... he told me.

Who the hell told him?

It sounds like a locked room
mystery.

No mystery, he killed himself.

Right, but in his book,
A Crooked Man, the famous writer

appears to have killed himself,
and then we find out...

Do you want to see for yourself?

Uh... yes... yes.

I...

- Sorry.
- Hmm?

Sorry.

Can you confirm
of death?

You worked it out yet?

This might be more of
a challenge.

-Patience.
- Mm?

Pop these on.

Oh, thanks.

What are we dealing with?

Uh, well,
preliminary indications

suggest potassium cyanide
as cause of death.

Or hydrogen cyanide.

Uh, potassium cyanide
is more common.

Hmm, not in this case, it's not.

Well, the lab will confirm
either way.

Just let her do her job.

People don't like to be
contradicted in public.

Boss?

- I'll just be a minute.
- Okay.

Mr. Franklin usually responds
promptly to phone messages.

When he hadn't rung back in
three days, I was concerned.

And you are?

Kelvin Fitzwalter,
Pardona Publishing.

You publish Mr. Franklin's
books?

No.

We were hoping to.

We contracted him to write
a memoir.

So, when did you last see him?

Today's the first time I've ever
set eyes on him.

He never came to your office?

Oh, Mr. Franklin never
left the building.

He didn't own a computer
or a mobile.

We only ever talked
on his landline.

You gave him a contract based on

a few chats on the phone?
- When someone like him

offers you their memoirs,
you don't say no.

So, what about you?

Well, I spoke to him maybe...

three days ago.

He asked me to post a letter.

Did you happen to notice
the address?

I respect the residents'
privacy.

Has he had any visitors since?

None that I saw.

And, uh...

my desk is right by
the front door.

Right, are you sure?

Is it indeed, definitely?

Oh, right, okay. Yeah.

Thanks for that.

Yeah, okay, bye, bye.

Uh, that was the lab.

Swabs from the glass show
traces of HCN.

Hmm. Hydrogen cyanide.

You were right.

Yes, I was.

It smells of almonds
and Harry's favorite liqueur,

the killer must have known that.

Except we don't think
he was killed.

And why are you whispering?

Well... DI Metcalf said that

if I'm to contradict you,

I shouldn't do it publicly.

So...

were there traces of HCN

in the amaretto bottle?

I've a lot to get on with.

Please don't touch anything.

Patience?

What happened?

Is something the matter?

Would it help to talk about it?

To make the correct patterns,

the player must be able
to see things

from multiple perspectives.

Patience.

I got carried away at
a crime scene

and I touched something
that I shouldn't have.

Oh, dear.

Now Detective Bea won't want me
as her investigative assistant.

We all make mistakes.

I know, 19 minutes late.

I didn't think we'd be seeing
you today.

Um, were there traces of HCN
found in the amaretto bottle?

Or were there traces of HCN

found in any receptacle
in the flat?

Slow down.

Okay, were there traces of HCN

found in a receptacle that
could have been

thrown out the window
of his apartment?

I'll check with forensics, okay?

Okay.

Um...

I...I wanted to say sorry,
as well.

This is everything that I could
find on Harry Franklin.

I was up most of the night,

I used red pen, 'cause it
felt like the right color

for those questions.

That's...

that's very helpful. Thank you.

Miss Evans.

Oh, Mr. Scott.

Uh...

Um...I...

I noticed that you
have a button missing here,

on that... that shirt that you
wore the other day.

So, a... close match.

Ah. Uh...

that's very observant of you.

And very thoughtful, thank you.

That's okay.

Patience.

I've got answers to your
questions.

Plain or black ink, I'm afraid.

Can you believe it?

More than 90 comments.

Most of them think
he was murdered.

He was.

Patience has questioned how
the cyanide got into

Harry Franklin's glass
if he killed himself.

There's no traces of the poison
in the amaretto bottle

or in any receptacle found
in his flat

other than in his glass.

But he's a crime writer.

He... threw it out of the window
to confuse us.

Uniform searched the vicinity.

Somebody put it in and left.

But the door was bolted
from the inside.

Well, maybe he showed 'em out.

The poison's too fast-acting.

And, besides, the caretaker was
adamant, no visitors.

So, he kept it in the glass
until the right moment.

It would have evaporated.

Sounds like a locked room
mystery.

If we can't account for how
Harry got the cyanide

into his own drink, then...

we have to assume some form of
third-party involvement.

Let's pull in CCTV images from
outside the flat.

Everybody's favorite job.

- I know.
- You're so good at it.

See who came and went.

When and why.

Did you follow up on
the paperwork

we found at Harry's flat?

Yeah, the bank's offshore
and they won't play ball

without a court order.

What a surprise. Let's get one.

We did dig this out, though.

Two months ago, Harry opens his
first domestic account

in 20 years.
Completely different bank.

That six-figure deposit paid in
by Pardona Publishing

the very same day,

for his memoirs presumably.

Except there was nothing
resembling memoirs

or notes for memoirs in
the gubbins

we found in his flat.

Maybe he just hadn't started.

Or maybe somebody
cleared it all out.

We know some of his papers
are missing.

Dear Lottie, thank you for your
reply to my letter.

Where's the reply?

The SOCOs didn't find it.

So, who has interest in
preventing the memoirs

from being published?

What about his ex-publisher?

Uh...

Pippa Junor.
Halfpenny Publishing.

It's practically a one-woman
operation.

Who's just watched her pot of
gold walk out the door.

Hmm, we should call her in
for a chat.

Harry's a creature of habit.

Same offshore bank account
for 20 years.

I want to know,
why change it now?

New customers get a cuddly toy?

You paid a tidy sum
for his memoirs.

That was just the advance.

Reckon they were gonna
be worth it?

Look, his books have sold
18 million copies.

They bring thousands of people
to York each year.

Haven't you heard of the Fortnum
Mystery Weekends?

Hmm. Can I see them?

These fabulous memoirs.

He hadn't delivered anything.

Oh.

Well, there's nothing in
his flat.

Reckon he was playing you?
- No, absolutely not.

No immediate family,
no real friends,

barely leaves the house.

Doesn't sound like much of
a life to write about.

There was going to be a section
on the fire

that almost killed him.

Plus, he promised a reveal that
the public

and the literary world would
find absolutely explosive.

Yeah. Writer's retreat,

the fire that destroyed me,

my life as a ghost,
unmasked at last.

Yeah, he'd been researching
for months,

there must be evidence of that.

Barely a shred.

I'm trying to identify
these people with Harry.

Well, I have no idea
who the woman is, but, um...

that is Edmund Lennox.

He's, uh,
one of our star writers.

Well, he's, uh, gone a bit
grayer since then.

Hm.

Better day?

Uh, yeah. Yeah.

You fancy some lemonade?

It's homemade.

Uh, okay.

- There you go.
- Thank you.

- Patience, we're just about...
- There are seven types of

locked room mystery,
including the ice arrow

in which the murder weapon
disappears.

Are we on a Fortnum Mystery
weekend?

We're just on our way to...

The killer mixed cyanide
and water,

and put it in the ice cube tray,

and then Harry Franklin
put the frozen cube

into his drink.

That's brilliant.

Can you get on to Parsons?

Tell her to test the ice tray.

Yeah, what about an interview
with Junor?

Patience can observe.

When did you last speak to him?

A month ago.

What'd you talk about?

A new contract.

Uh, Harry had killed off
Fortnum.

I thought of a way
to bring him back.

How did he react?

He was evasive.

Then I found out he'd signed
a deal with Pardona.

And when did you last see him?

In person?

Maybe a year ago.

After he sent me the final
Fortnum manuscript,

I came to try and dissuade him.

CCTV has you visiting his flat
last Saturday,

after waiting for
the caretaker to leave.

I knocked.

Got no reply.

You looked pretty angry.

Did I?

Fortnum was your golden goose.

In my office, I have got
the typescript

of the first Fortnum novel.

Harry's first draft.

Overblown, pretentious, a mess.

Every other publisher had
rejected it,

but I saw a clever plot,
cut it to the bone,

sent it back to him,
said I'd publish it,

but only in this form.

He agreed.

Six months later,
it's a bestseller.

I made him.

I put up with his refusal
to promote his work,

his typescripts, his rudeness,

and then out of the blue,
I'm history.

I'll tell you why I didn't want
to be seen.

If Harry had opened that door

and treated me in that bloody
condescending,

offhand way of his,

I don't know what I would
have done.

Patience?

Uh, yes?

Whe... where are you?

Uh, I'm...

nobody actually comes in here.

Do you want to come out?

No, I don't.

Shall we shout through
the crate, then?

No.

Do not touch anything, okay?

Why are you here?

You were right about the, um,
ice cubes.

Hmm.

How would you feel about
talking to Baxter,

making your role with
us official?

Um, I found them.

The people in the photograph.

The fire claimed the life of
Lisa Newman, 23.

Harry Franklin, 24,

was taken to hospital with
second degree burns.

A second man, Edmund Lennox, 24,

also attended but was later
released.

Aldous Tate, who owns the cabin
that was destroyed in the fire

and runs the Sandend
writers' retreat,

said he was devastated
by Miss Newman's death.

Yeah, so this is
the incident report

that Harry Franklin requested
a copy of two weeks ago.

To help research his memoirs.

Yeah.

He also requested access to
Lisa Newman's post-mortem.

I mean, the findings were
inconclusive, but...

It could have been
started deliberately.

Possibly.

Pardona could put us in touch
with the other man in the photo,

Edmund Lennox.

It must have been a shock,
Mr. Lennox.

Hmm. That's an understatement.

I've known Harry since
we were 17.

You both have the same model.

Uh, yeah, dared each other to
buy those

with our student grants, um...

Commit to being a writer.

Harry loved the clatter of
the keys,

wrote all his novels on it,

and mine just sat there
glaring at me,

telling me not to give up.

You were never tempted?

To write detective fiction?

God, no.

No, my... my ambitions
lay on a higher plane.

Tell me about Lisa Newman.

Lisa, uh, um...

what can I say? Uh,

her death shattered Harry,

turned him into a recluse,

uh, and a writer, al...

although it would be another
five years

before he created Fortnum.

Hmm. Was this taken
at the retreat?

Yes.

Aldous Tate took it. The creep.

Why'd you call him that?

Uh, Harry told me that he, uh,
Aldous, tried it on with Lisa.

And... she found him a bit scary.

- Hmm.
- Did Lisa have a twin sister?

I believe she did, yes.

Uh, leave that, please.

If... if you must handle
my books,

here...

have one of these.

When did you last visit Harry?

Uh, must have been a while back.

Um... are you treating his death
as suspicious?

Did you know he was writing
a memoir?

I didn't, no.

Uh, but I'm not surprised.

I mean, every writer cranks one
out eventually.

If they live long enough.

Oh, you bought a copy?

A gift. He insisted on
signing it.

Well, we've got a gift for you,
too,

and I think you're gonna
like this one.

But first, the bad news, Will.

There is another entrance to
the apartment block, Ma'am,

via the car park,
but it's not covered by CCTV.

- Right.
- Now, the good.

Facial recognition
picked him up.

Convicted of assault, 2015.

Aldous Tate.
- Tate. Yeah.

He's featured in the news
coverage about the fire.

Ran the Sandend writers'
retreat, owned the log cabin

that burned down,
killing Lisa Newman,

and scarring Harry Franklin
for life.

And the PNC says Tate assaulted
the boyfriend

of a student that accused him
of sexual harassment.

A bunch of other women
came forward,

and the university had
to fire him.

Lennox said Tate made
unwanted advances

towards Lisa Newman as well.

And Patience dug out the
original fire report,

it could have been started
on purpose.

I checked Harry Franklin's
phone records.

He'd called Aldous Tate four
times in the past two weeks.

Hiya.

We're looking for Aldous Tate.

He's around somewhere.

Are you his daughter?

I'm his wife.

Excuse me.

Sweetie pie.

Are you Aldous Tate?

What do you want?

This is humiliating.

Yeah, well, we have to test
your clothes.

Why did you visit Harry's flat?

He wanted to talk.

About the fire.

About Lisa Newman,
more specifically?

She was an attractive
young woman.

I've said all I'm ever going to
about Lisa Newman.

You took that photograph
of Edmund Lennox,

Lisa, and Harry Franklin.

No comment.

I want my lawyer.

Um, I finished it.

I haven't got past page 20.

Well, I'm a fast reader.

Hyperlexia is the medical term.
- Right.

So, at first, I thought, this is
terrible, there's no puzzle.

But then I realized
there is one.

Lennox didn't write this.
- What?

It was written by
Harry Franklin.

What makes you think that?

Well, it has the same cadences,

the same syntactical constructs,

the same narrator's voice
as all of the Fortnum novels.

I think we need a bit more than
similar writing.

Identical writing.

And the Jaccard Index
will prove it.

I have no idea what that is.

Uh, it's a similarity
coefficient.

Can't believe
you didn't know that.

Let's see what Lennox has
to say.

Ask now.

Hm, just a sec.

Look, don't you think we should
stay focused on Tate?

What did I say about
an open mind?

Yeah, I'm trying, believe me.

But it feels like you're just
doing this

to make Patience feel... useful.

You know the letter
in Harry Franklin's typewriter,

'Dear Lottie', have you figured
out who Lottie is?

- No.
- Well, Patience has.

Come on, come ride along.

Make yourself feel useful.

Ready?

So... how may I help you?

My colleague's read your book.

She's hyperlexic.

Did you enjoy it?

Oh, no, I didn't enjoy it.

Who cares?

You didn't write it.

Oh, I...I was sure I did.
So, let me see.

No, that...
that is definitely me.

Hm, Harry Franklin wrote it.

The Jaccard Index will prove it.

Why would he use your name,
Mr. Lennox?

Uh, it's... uh...

it's not a crime.

We'll be the judge of that.

Harry thought the critics didn't
take him seriously.

He wanted to write
something literary.

Prove them wrong.

Our plan was to reveal all,

but only after the reviews
were out

and it had been judged on its
merits, not on his name.

Then Adam's Island was, uh,

shortlisted for one of
the better literary prizes.

We agreed to hold off
the big reveal

until we found out if it
had won.

Since I heard about his death,

I admit I have been wondering

whether it might not be
a better idea

to... just allow our secret to
be buried with him.

Metcalf.

Great. On my way.

Traces of cyanide
on Tate's clothing.

We got him.

What's his motive?

He's afraid of what's
in the memoir.

Um, we think Harry Franklin
found out

that Tate had killed Lisa Newman
after sexually assaulting her.

Then he set fire to cabin
to cover it up.

Tate was fired
for sexual harassment.

Still, it's quite a leap.

What about Lisa Newman's sister?

Can she corroborate any of this?

We've left messages, Sir,

she's on a walking holiday

in the Cairngorms.

Go back to Tate,
see what he spills.

And if we still get no comment?

Charge him.

- Mr. Tate...
- My client

won't be answering
any more questions.

Release him or charge him.

Aldous Tate, you are charged
with the murder

of Harry Franklin.

You do not have to say anything,

but it may harm your defense

if you do not mention
when questioned

something that you
later rely on in court.

Anything you do say may be given
in evidence.

Come in.

Here you go.

I'm...

I don't know, I...

I've only looked at this from...

one perspective, and I'm...

I'm starting to think
the reverse

might also be true.

I don't understand.

Well...

why would someone with
a badly damaged hand

use a manual typewriter?

Are you saying that you
don't think Harry Franklin

wrote the Fortnum novels?

Ma'am? Got a minute?

Yeah.

Uh, Patience thinks she may have
made a mistake.

Uh...I...

I...I told you that I thought

Harry Franklin wrote
Adam's Island

and the Fortnum novels, but...

the opposite could also be true.

Yeah, the opposite would make
more sense.

Edmund Lennox wrote
all the books.

The uncertainty is
upsetting her.

Does it matter who...
who wrote them?

Yeah, it matters to Patience.

We've... we've charged
Aldous Tate.

Our priority is to make those
charges stick.

Right, boss?

We'll deal with this
another time.

Thank you.

Okay, Patience?

Come on.

Thank you.

- Good morning.
- Good morning.

Uh, DCI Baxter is not receiving
anyone at the mo... excuse me.

- Calvin.
- Marissa.

According to this,
hydrogen cyanide

occurs naturally
in certain plants.

Millet, sprouts, cassava roots,

lima beans,

all grown by Aldous Tate's wife.

DI Metcalf was also in
the greenhouse.

She will also have traces of HCN
on her clothing.

Are you going to charge her too?

Release my client immediately

or I will sue you
for wrongful arrest.

Mr. Tate.

We've got a suspect in the room
on the day that the guy died.

Traces of cyanide
on his clothes.

What more do they want?

Boss...

Puts a different
perspective on it.

Patience, it's Detective Bea.

Here you go. Harry's first
Fortnum manuscript.

- Could I...?
- It's not a holy relic.

So, Harry Franklin didn't write
the Fortnum novels.

In his Dear Lottie letter,
in his typewriter,

which we assume he did write,

the indentations
on the left-hand keys

are much weaker, and...

well... on these pages
there's no discernible

difference between

the keys you'd strike
with your left hand,

and the ones that you'd strike
with your right.

I'm sorry,
I gave you bad advice.

Why would Lennox lie about it?

I don't...I...

What do you think?

I don't...

I...

I think I'm not cut out to be
your investigative assistant.

I'm... I think I'd just like to
go home.

Patience?

Huh.

Mr. Lennox.

I just have one more question.

But you've arrested Aldous Tate.

- Who told you that?
- The publishing world

is one big grapevine of gossip,
Detective.

Well, then, your grapevine
needs updating.

Mr. Tate was released
this morning.

Oh.

So, you're back bothering me?

Right, well, I don't have time
for this right now, I'm afraid.

Mr. Lennox.

Just, I feel like I'm not...

I'm not doing anything right,
and I don't know.

Yeah.

Self-doubt, the way Patience is
describing it, is common.

But perhaps for us,
due to trauma in the past,

it can be extreme.

We can be...

drawn to thinking in absolutes.

- Everything is all or nothing.
- Yeah.

Yeah.

Your father was a police
officer, Patience,

and a decorated one at that.

Yeah.

That's... that's a lot to
live up to.

- Hiya.
- Hi.

Hiya.

Almonds?

Cyanide.

Found it in the boot.

Looks like notes.

From Harry Franklin's
lost memoirs.

I cannot believe we had

Harry Franklin's killer
in custody,

and we let him go.

Well, the cause of death
for Tate, Sir,

is exactly the same MO as used
to kill Harry Franklin.

Hydrogen cyanide.
- Yeah.

The forensics don't indicate any
third-party involvement.

CCTV places Tate at the scene
of the murder

on the day that Harry died.

We've got to assume that
he stole the notes

for Harry's memoirs that
we found in the car.

'Asked Tate to visit, said I
needed help to research

what really happened with
the fire.

He demanded payment.

£2,000 agreed.

Worth it to see his face when
I tell him

I know he killed Lisa.'

This sounds like supposition.

I digitized Lisa Newman's
post-mortem images.

The same ones Harry Franklin
requested

as part of his research.

Now, this is not
a heat-related lesion.

This is a stab wound.
Look at the clean line.

Well, why wasn't it noticed
at the time?

Well, modern topographical
techniques can pick it up,

but not, uh, not in the 90s.

Alright, so you've given me
a possible motive

for Tate murdering
Harry Franklin,

to stop him exposing him for
the murder

of Lisa Newman 20-plus
years ago.

But what was Tate's motive for
killing himself?

He had the notes,
Harry was dead.

The memoirs aren't going to
see the light of day.

Care to honor us with
an insight?

Not until I've shown these to
our colleague

in criminal records, Sir.

Yeah, this was typed by
the same person

who wrote the Dear Lottie
letter.

On the same typewriter,
it would appear.

Are you sure?

- Yeah.
- Good.

What you're looking at is
the letter Harry sent to Lottie

requesting information about
her sister Lisa,

just before he was killed.

Now, look at this.

Well, this was typed by a...

completely different person,

on a... different machine.

Well, it's the one that was used
to type the Fortnum manuscripts

we looked at. I'm...

I'm certain of it.

It's one of the pages of Harry's
notes we found in Tate's car.

But Edmund Lennox wrote them.

We've got him, thanks to you.

You wrote the Fortnum novels,
Edmund.

Do you have proof of that?

We can prove Harry Franklin
didn't.

We had an expert analyze
the pages

of the first Fortnum manuscript.

It shouldn't be too difficult to
match them

to the Olivetti typewriter on
your client's desk.

I'd call it typing, not writing,

but yes, Fortnum was
my creation.

- So what?
- But you despise crime fiction.

Well, as Samuel Johnson
almost said,

only a fool would write
crime fiction

for anything other than money.

You certainly made plenty
of that.

For the tape,
I'm showing a letter

from the Tortuga National Bank
in the Cayman Islands,

dated October 2004.

An offshore account,
opened and closed by you,

but in the name of Edmund Lennox
and Harry Franklin.

We got a court order, Edmund.

You paid Harry an awful lot
of money.

For research.

For the tape, we are showing
three items.

A letter typed by Harry Franklin
to Lisa Newman's sister,

a page... from the typescript
of the first Fortnum novel.

And notes for Harry Franklin's
memoir,

recovered from
Aldous Tate's car.

Because of the burns to
his left hand,

when Harry typed, the keys on
the left side of the typewriter

made a weaker indentation
than those on the right.

Harry's letter to Lottie is very
distinct from...

from the notes
found in Tate's car.

This was typed by Harry.

These were typed by you.

You didn't pay him for research.

It was blood money
paid out of guilt.

Harry was my friend.

He suffered.

Oh, you have no idea.

The burns, the...

loss of the girl he loved. He...

I did what I could
to support him.

I'm sure you tried to convince
yourself of that over the years.

But then you discover Harry
is writing a memoir.

Oh God, I told you,
I had no idea.

You're lying, Edmund.

We spoke again to
Kelvin Fitzwater.

He told you over dinner

that Pardona had signed Harry

about Harry's research
and the... explosive reveal.

You realized he was gonna
tell the world

that you'd murdered
his girlfriend.

That's utter nonsense.

We spoke to Lisa's sister.

It wasn't Tate she was
scared of, it was you.

Lisa Newman died
from a knife wound.

You set fire to the cabin to
cover your tracks.

You staged Harry's death to
look like a suicide.

When that unraveled,
you tried to frame Tate,

lured him with the promise
of money,

poisoned him, left Harry's notes
in his car.

Except they weren't Harry's
notes, you made them up.

The success that I had with
Adam's Island,

I took to be a sign.

I no longer had to expend my
talent on Fortnum.

I'd paid Harry reparations
enough.

Then I found out he's not only
cashing in

on the fame I'd given him,

but he's about to expose me.

So, you killed Harry Franklin.

I had no choice.

And Aldous Tate.

Oh, no... no loss.

And Lisa Newman.

A crime passionnel.

When she told me that she
preferred Harry,

I had a... moment of, um...

blind...

black, fathomless rage.

Interview suspended, 17:40.

This is a letter from
Harry Franklin

that Pardona Publishing found in
their post room this morning.

The explosive reveal
he was planning.

He didn't write
the Fortnum novels.

He blamed Aldous Tate for
Lisa's death, not you.

You had no reason to kill him.

- It's a puzzle box.
- Oh.

Is it... easy to open?

Uh, I don't know,
I've never tried.

You left a puzzle unsolved?

Who's Mathilde Hendricks?

It's my mother.

It's the only thing she didn't
take with her before she left.

Have you ever tried to
contact her?

Why would I want to do that?