Original subtitles

'The good ended happily and the bad, unhappily.'

'That's what fiction means.

'When the overture begins,

'you don't know what the opera might be.

'Or where the story might take you.

'Whether it'll be comedy...

'or tragedy.

'This...

'..is a story about love.'

Castle Gate CID. Strange.

Oi! What are you doing?

What do you think you're doing, eh, touching her like that?

Get out. Come on.

Come on. Get out.

You'll like this one, you'll like one, have a listen.

So, I've got this dog and I love my dog,

but I had to take it to the vets the other day,

vet took one look at it,

picked him up, checked his eyes, checked his ears, checked his teeth.

Then he went, "I'm really sorry, I've gotta put the dog down."

I burst into tears, why you gotta put him down?

He said, "He's really heavy."

So, there's this, er, Irish man...

Three more chicken in a basket.

Two scampi in a basket.

You all right, Jen?

Yeah.

Yeah, sorry, Tony.

I'm fine. It was just a turn.

I'll be all right.

This is more like it.

Thank you.

Cheers. - Cheers.

We said... no questions.

Got a name for her?

I wouldn't like to swear to it,

but I think it could be Molly Andrews.

Barmaid down The Grapes.

Taking a short-cut home, maybe?

Body was found by David Clemens.

Works at the Morris plant.

Keep-fit fanatic.

Doctor. Gentlemen.

Have to wait on the post-mortem to confirm it, but...

cause of death would appear to be a broken neck.

That what the mark's about?

Yes. Possibly.

I'll know more after the PM.

Any...?

If that was the motive, he hasn't gone through with it.

He may have been disturbed, of course.

Shall we say two o'clock?

Oh, and, er...

Happy New Year.

Her handbag was found over there.

No purse in it.

Robbery, you think?

Some drunk, maybe?

Be enough of 'em about last night.

Tried it on.

Or'd had too much of a skinful to do what he meant to.

Uniform up and down the towpath.

See if anyone moored up, saw anything.

So, how was your New Year's Eve?

Resolutions?

Find out who did this. You?

Oh, I'm long past mending my ways.

New Year, new decade...

..new start.

You always hope for better, don't you?

Bitter mornings,

up in the dark and the cold,

and the worst of human nature at the end of it.

You start to wonder how many more of these you've got in you.

No Morse today?

Fortnight's leave.

Oh, yeah. Anywhere nice?

What time is it?

1970.

Felice anno nuovo.

The body of a young woman

discovered on a stretch of canal towpath

in the early hours of New Year's Day,

has been identified as 24-year-old Molly Andrews.

Miss Andrews is believed to have been attacked

shortly after finishing her shift at The Grapes pub in Oxford

where she worked as a barmaid.

The investigation into her murder is continuing.

I told you, I was at a party.

I left The Grapes, but wasn't gonna get home before midnight, was I?

The landlord says you were arguing with her earlier in the night.

Then you started chucking your weight around.

Said he had to throw you out.

Somebody said she'd been seeing another fella.

Some college type.

Where's this come from?

I just heard it somewhere, is all.

All right.

Let's just have it one more time.

From the beginning.

'Fiore per la signora?'

Oh, no, grazie.

Si!

Avaro! Come se dice...

..cheap!

Discerning.

Grazie. Grazie.

If you wanna rose, I'll get you a rose.

I just won't waste money on this artificial rubbish.

It will never fade.

Never die.

Yeah, but it's not real.

Michelangelo's David isn't David.

"Ceci n'est pas une pipe."

If it's beautiful, does it matter?

You think he is responsible?

Denying it, of course,

but they were seen rowing earlier in the evening.

And her purse is missing.

We're searching Sturgis' place now.

No sign of it as yet.

At the bottom of the canal, as like as not.

I've divers coming in, but in my opinion,

the whole purse business is just a blind.

A domestic dispute leading to a murder, Thursday?

Such a ruse as you're suggesting

supposes a far greater presence of mind

than one usually finds in cases like these.

It's him. I know it is. I can feel it in my corns.

I can crack him.

I'm sure.

Well, keep me abreast of any developments.

Of course.

Very well. Carry on.

Sir.

If I might ask, sir.

How's Mrs Bright bearing up?

As well as can be expected.

You're back, then? How was, erm...?

Oh, you know.

So, what've I missed?

I'm given to understand that the ACC's daughter

was amongst a group of young women

making their way back from Lady Matilda's boathouse,

along the towpath,

when a man exposed himself to them.

Obviously, with the killer of the barmaid...

Molly Andrews, sir.

Yes, thank you, Sergeant.

..the young woman at New Year, still at large,

the ACC is keen to know what progress is being made.

Bit of a sticker, sir.

But I'm still of the strong opinion that the boyfriend's responsible.

Carl Sturgis.

Her purse was taken, wasn't it?

Doesn't that suggest a robbery?

One wouldn't expect that in a domestic dispute.

The boyfriend always seemed a little pedestrian to my mind.

Plus, he's alibied, isn't he?

What's this?

Well, a cab driver said he picked him up outside The Grapes, smashed,

and dropped him at an address in Cowley.

Had to pour him through the letter box, supposedly.

Well, he could've come back.

That's if the cabby had the right man.

Sturgis did say that he got a cab though, didn't he?

One young drunk on New Year's Eve

looks much like another, I'd have thought.

Ye... I...

I was on leave the initial week of the investigation,

so I may not have the full picture.

Indeed.

Well, perhaps you might take another look.

What do you say, Thursday?

Fresh pair of eyes.

If you think so, sir.

Yes, well, I can't see the harm in it.

Done yourself an injury, Sergeant?

Rat, sir. Big bugger.

Been hanging about the coal shed.

Gave me a nip when I went up the yard last night to fill the scuttle.

But you've seen someone about it?

Yes, sir. Tetanus first thing. From the house man.

Where is he, the boyfriend?

Carl Sturgis? Mm-hm.

Drives for Duxbury's at Cowley.

Undertakers. I'll dig out the address.

Pedestrian? You never said.

Well, I came to it late.

I thought perhaps you knew something I didn't.

Not everything's a crossword puzzle.

Sometimes, how everything looks is how it is.

The boyfriend, the husband, the father, the brother.

Right, so, if you thought he did it,

why didn't you charge him?

We couldn't put him at the scene!

We turned his place inside out. Not a shred. No purse. No nothing.

And if he didn't do it?

Then I'm sure you'll get to the bottom of it.

Did Molly ever mention a college type?

Boyfriend, perhaps?

Not lately.

She did like the college-y ones.

Said they treated her more nice.

Thought I was done with kiddies.

My Rose.

Molly.

Now Lucy. Third time lucky.

What about the child's father?

New Year's Eve, when your granddaughter didn't come home,

you weren't concerned?

I took it she was seeing her fella.

Carl Sturgis?

She weren't a bad girl.

Just lonely.

I think it's not having a father herself.

She was always looking for something.

What did you make to him? Carl.

Couldn't say.

She never brung any of 'em home.

Professor Donald Blish, Cardinal College.

Higher Mathematics screen test,

Seventh of May, 1970.

And action!

Hello, and welcome to Module Seven.

In this module, we'll be looking at...

Rectilinear shapes.

Erm, don't tell me, don't tell me, er... What is it?

Particularly triangles.

Thank you. Erm, particularly trian... particularly triangles.

And finding the gradient, equations and intersections

of medians, altitudes and perpendicular bisectors.

Sorry, this isn't public.

Oh, Detective Sergeant Morse. Thames Valley.

I'm looking for a Carl Sturgis.

This about Molly Andrews?

I said all I had to when it happened.

Don't you wanna find out what happened to your girlfriend?

I know who you lot think did it.

Not me, I wasn't part of the original inquiry.

I'm keeping an open mind.

That's why I'm here. Why what do you think happened?

I don't know.

I'd give anything not to have had that row with her.

I wasn't thinking straight.

I liked her.

She was a smashin' bird.

She was a smashin' bird and now she's dead, and it's my fault.

If I hadn't acted like a berk...

This other man you thought she'd been seeing?

"Some college type," you said in interview. Where d'you get that?

One of me mates said he'd seen her in town with a bloke

who looked like he was in college.

You know the sort, scarf, pushing a bike.

Should one get an agent, do you think,

just to handle the money?

Putting the cart somewhat before the horse, aren't you?

No. No, I don't think so, Jeremy.

Oh, they told you you'd got the job, did they?

Well, not in so many words, but I think we've got an understanding.

Look at this.

Well, well.

Dr Naomi Benford, 28, currently, Junior Research Fellow

at The Department of Latent Potential.

As you tilt the horizontal plane, the section is an ellipse,

but there will come a point where the plane is parallel to the line.

Now, let's see how that applies to...

Strong... to break someone's neck?

Not necessarily.

The right angle, a sudden twist.

At least it would have been relatively quick.

Nothing out of the ordinary, then?

All too ordinary, I'm afraid.

The female of the species might hold good for Kipling,

but he never walked a crooked mile in these brogues.

There's nothing here that wasn't in my report at the time.

Well, I was on leave at the time.

Mr Bright's asked me to take a second look.

It's just fresh horses.

What do you make to the mark on her neck?

Ligature?

Garrotte, possibly?

But I thought you said her neck was broken, that she wasn't asphyxiated.

Well, perhaps, he started out trying to choke her and...

changed his mind.

You don't sound terribly convinced.

I'm not.

Answers on a postcard to the usual address.

I think she's got a bloody nerve. She's not been here five minutes.

Oh, give it a rest, will you?

Oh, speak of the little succubus.

Here she is, look.

You are a dark horse, aren't you, love?

Something you want, Ferman?

I just wondered where you got the idea

you would put yourself forward for the television.

I wasn't aware I had to ask your permission

There was an advert in the college newsletter.

Oh, I know there was. We all saw it.

There's such a thing as seniority, you know.

You've heard the phrase, best man for the job, have you?

Don't talk rot.

You're a junior research fellow.

Tea and filing, that's what you're here for

and don't you forget it.

Naomi, if you have a moment.

And a certain woman,

which had an issue of blood 12 years

And had suffered many things of many physicians

and spent all that she had, and was nothing bettered,

but rather grew worse.

When she had heard of Jesus

she came into the press behind,

and touched his garment.

And he said unto her,

Daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole.

Go in peace, and be whole of thy plague.

I am feeling better, Puli.

Stronger every day.

Well, that's marvellous.

You do have faith, don't you, Puli?

Of course, my dear.

Of course.

You said to call if I didn't hear anything.

No. No, I understand. No.

I haven't changed my mind.

I'll be in for the usual session next week,

but you know where to get hold of me if there's any news.

OK, bye now.

Morning, yeah.

Morning, Win.

Morning, Reet. Bridget.

Shoo. Shoo!

It's nine o'clock with Mr Bright.

Sharp, he said.

Traditionally, the condemned man gets a hearty breakfast.

Oh, come on, it's not like that.

Isn't it? My investigation passed scrutiny, then?

Well. Early days.

That right?

Butter's cold.

Square.

Wavy lines.

So, going through the original statements,

there's a dog-walker came forward, day after the body was discovered,

said he'd heard someone whistling on the towpath. Whistling?

Hm. A melody that he couldn't place.

But it doesn't seem to have been followed up.

I followed it up.

I spoke to him. Mr Scrimm. He didn't see anyone.

There's nothing to say it was connected, sir.

What about traffic on the canal?

Very little of it, sir.

The odd bit of boating for pleasure, but not at that time of year.

I'm sorry, sir, but that's not strictly true.

Erm, I have a report of a narrow boat, The Rosie Jugg,

logged passing through Braunston Junction

in the early hours of New Year's Day.

Skipper was an Abraham Petrovski.

He has history of petty theft and drunken disorderliness.

Though, where he is now is anybody's guess.

Any other business?

Good.

Erm, F-23? I just wondered,

now you've had a little time.

Mm. Well, I don't think we're taking that any further, are we?

F-23 scores very highly.

Some little nobody?

What's that got to do with anything?

She might not know which knife and fork to use at high table,

but her scores are off the chart.

Jeremy, you'll back me up.

I don't know, Nay.

There's nothing there that couldn't have come out of the papers?

Well, I don't know. Isn't that the point? Don't we have a duty?

To science? Certainly.

Yeah, but science doesn't exist in a vacuum. We're part of this town.

There's no need for hysterics.

I'm not hysterical. I'm worried, genuinely worried.

You said you'd consider this seriously, but it's been months.

It really isn't any of our concern.

But it will be if something happens

and it gets out we've withheld information.

But it won't. Won't what?

Won't happen or won't get out? Either.

Now, really, I am very busy.

It don't sit right with me, you do know that, don't you?

Not being able to close the book on it.

I don't care for it any more than you do.

You've just got to be patient.

Keep your powder dry. We'll get him.

I know.

Oh, I tried to call Miss Thursday at Welfare,

just about Molly Andrews' daughter. They said she's on secondment.

That's right. Win did say.

Four months. Six months. Something.

Talk to Viv Wall.

She'll see you right about the kiddie. I will.

Monday morning, then.

Mind how you go. Mm-hm.

Oh, I thought you'd gone home.

No.

Can you lock up, then?

He's right, you know.

It's none of our business.

Something like that's never anyone's business.

Till it's everyone's.

I thought you were on my side.

Is this about...? No.

Good heavens, no.

Then, why?

You'll always be on the outside, you know.

Snotty grammar school nose pressed against the pane.

They'll never let you in their club,

no matter however often you take their part.

I'm sorry.

Me too.

Morse.

'I have Doctor Benford on the line for you.'

Put him through.

'Hello?' Doctor Benford? How can I help?

'I'm calling about the woman killed in the towpath at New Year,

'Molly Andrews?'

Oh, yes.

What was it you wanted to say?

'One of my test subjects...

'Actually, can we meet somewhere tomorrow?'

Well, this is something.

Yes. Yes, it is. Naomi Benford.

Dorothea Frazil. Oxford Mail.

You making a speech?

A speech? Me? No. No, I wouldn't know how.

I'm just, er, saying a few words.

I'd love an interview with the organisers,

even just a quote, do you know them?

Yeah, of course. It's Arielle, Sheila and Sally.

I can introduce you. Oh, fantastic.

Hi, sorry, can I introduce Dorothea Frazil. Oxford Mail.

Sally Alexander, I presume.

Sorry. Excuse me, just a minute.

The creche is just along the hall.

I'm sorry? The creche. The chaps are running it today,

if that's what you're looking for. No, I'm here to see a Dr Benford.

You're the policeman. That's correct.

Erm...

..I might have spoken out of turn last night.

Prematurely, at least.

Well, how's that?

I'm afraid my blood was up when I telephoned.

You are aware there's an offence of wasting police time?

I'm sorry, but there are professional protocols

I'm obliged to observe before I can speak freely.

If you have any information about what happened

on the towpath at New Year,

you have an obligation to tell the police.

And I'm sorry, but it's not my story to tell.

There are people I need to talk to, well, a person.

I'm speaking to them this afternoon. Right.

I can't betray a confidence. I'm sorry.

This you for the weekend, is it? Some of it.

At four, I've more of this dreadful cat business.

Cats going missing, and then turning up...

all...

Oh, it's too horrible.

One for the RSPCA, no doubt.

So as you can see, my dance card is positively chocker.

What is it that you're all hoping to be liberated from, exactly?

Is it just the dishes, or light housekeeping in general?

Patriarchal hegemony, in the main.

Ah. Freedom from the tyranny of the squeezy bottle's just an adjunct.

Speaking of which, how are you settling in

to this new place of yours?

Urgh, slowly.

I'm still waiting to hear about Venice.

Streets are filled with water.

Stop press

What about you? You've clearly plans?

Oh, I shall be oppressing someone somewhere, I expect.

Keeping the chauvinist end up. Mm.

Otherwise, I'll take my comforts where I can. "Music hath charms."

Have a nice weekend.

You're sure?

I didn't think it was right to speak on your behalf,

not without asking you first.

No, no. You know,

I wanted to go to them in the first place. I just...

wanted to do it the right way.

Will they believe me?

He seemed pretty decent.

Slightly bad tempered, but then, he did think I was wasting his time,

so I guess that's understandable.

I did get the impression he wanted to get to the bottom of this.

I'll just feel better once they know.

I'm sure I will.

It's just, er...

..a weight on me.

I know.

I've been meaning to thank you.

For what?

For believing me.

It's going to be all right.

I promise.

Oh!

Excuse me.

Stop! Stop!

Careful!

Are you all right?

It's, erm...

Morse.

..Morse! Of course! Forgive me.

English names.

I'm sorry, have we met?

Ludo. We were up at the same time.

I was at Beaufort, and you were at... erm...

No, wait, don't tell me.

I was at Lonsdale.

Lonsdale, yes! Please, allow me to stand you a drink?

Oh no. I'm fine, thank you.

No, look, I insist.

I have some small connection to this afternoon's entertainment,

which, in a manner of speaking, makes you my guest.

Frivolous. It is NOT scientific work!

It's NOT important.

This... this is... demeans us all, I'm sorry.

Donald, I think you're being unreasonable.

Oh, sorry.

It'll keep. If you're in the middle of something.

I can... No, we're not.

Donald.

Do you know about this?

Oh, I might've heard something about it.

Well, you might have told me.

You know, this is a serious department.

We are engaged upon serious work.

The Bursar's already making noises about funding.

Something like this could turn us into a laughing stock.

You enjoyed the concert?

Very much.

Music is my life. My grand passion.

Second only to the dogged pursuit of beautiful women.

You would say this,

"dogged pursuit," in English? Yes, we would.

Well, there we are, such are the articles of my faith.

The only ones I acknowledge, in any event.

There are much worse.

Ah, none better.

And now I am hungry.

Shall we have supper?

Oh, well... I shall brook no refusal.

There's a little place I know.

You'll love it.

Cross.

Wavy lines.

Triangle.

League Division One.

Cambridge - nil, Lincoln - one.

Oxford - one, Birmingham - nil.

Leicester - four, Manchester...

Not like you to miss the results.

..Ipswich - two, Carlisle...

Right. Work.

..Northampton - one, Halifax - two.

Er, it's work. The, er...

..the girl up the towpath at New Year.

Mr Bright's asked Morse to take a look at it.

Make sure there's nothing I've missed.

Morse?

Well, I'm not sure what I think about that, I'm sure.

Don't mean anything.

Standard practice, that's all.

Ah...

I bought a couple of canaries down the market.

A pair, a cock and hen. We might get some chicks.

Might we?

I used to keep birds when I was a boy.

Well, look after them for the old man.

I thought it might be...

Something. An interest.

Feathers everywhere.

It's not feathers everywhere.

And if it is, I'll... I'll see to it.

It's two birds.

They're not gonna bother you.

Well, where're we going to put them?

Where we going to keep them? Up my arse, Winifred.

That's where gonna keep them. Up my arse.

Like David Nixon.

I'm just asking.

No need for language.

In a cage, where d'you think?

I just saw them, and I wanted them, and I bought them.

And that's it, and that's all.

I thought it might be something nice. Something not...

..blood and cruelty.

And hatred.

What one person will do to another, you've no idea.

Just gets you down sometimes, that's all.

Another bottle?

Oh, no.

Well, what a day.

We have a saying in my country,

"Do not praise the day before sunset."

Which country is that?

War has redrawn national borders so many times

as to make such notions an irrelevance.

I prefer to say I'm a man of the world.

And what is it you do in the world?

Travel mostly.

My family's in shipping.

Since before Vasco da Gama.

I look after the various arms of our charitable foundation.

I buy and sell beautiful things. Artwork.

I have a music festival. And you?

Oh, nothing quite so interesting.

I'm a policeman.

Truly? Mm-hm.

But you seem a man of refinement. Of great taste.

Not at all a lumpen, plodding, petty official.

Ah, I've offended you.

I meant, of course, those policemen not in England.

Have you travelled much in the continent?

Oh, a little.

So, you will know the border officials

and provincial policemen are one of two types.

The dull, everything-by-the book sort

And those who understand the only international language worth a damn.

Which type are you?

The former. Definitely.

Incorruptible? Is that it? That's right.

Every man has his price.

Every man.

I shall make it my life's business to find yours.

And once I have found your weakness,

I shall exploit it without mercy to my own ends.

And what is that?

I shall think of something.

And what about you?

What's your weakness?

My weakness?

My weakness left me.

Ah...

I see. I'm sorry.

Perfect.

Bridget?

Department Of Latent Potential.

Some sort of science research lab.

Attached to Cardinal College, so far as I can make out.

Who's the deceased?

Dr Naomi Benford.

28 years old.

What? She's just so young.

Did you know her?

I saw her about once or twice.

You know, early bird. But not to speak to.

You're all right though? Yeah.

It was Reet's granddaughter, Bridget, that found her, not me.

It's you I'm married to.

I saw worse on fire watch, in the war. Really.

I'm fine.

Now, go on. Do your job.

She'd just been picked to be on the television

for some new academic broadcasting programme.

There's a bit in the Mail today.

Interview, she did with Miss Frazil.

Family?

Penge. Locals are notifying them.

But she had a flat in North Oxford.

Multiple catastrophic injuries

consistent with a high fall onto an unyielding surface.

Have to wait on the post-mortem

to establish exactly which killed her,

but there's perimortem hematoma to both upper arms.

Someone gripped her by the biceps,

firmly enough to bruise,

within moments of her decease.

When?

Saturday evening, sometime?

Watch is stopped, just after eight to twelve.

You think this is connected to Molly Andrews?

Don't you?

So, she calls the station Friday night,

claiming to have information on the Towpath Killer.

Only when I see her on Saturday, at Ruskin, she's got cold feet

and says she needs to speak to someone

before she can disclose anything she knows.

And now she's dead.

Somebody's killed her before she can spill what she knew about Molly.

Somebody here.

Who's in charge of this place?

Head man's a Professor, Sir Donald Blish.

He's got tutorials this afternoon,

and never comes in on a Monday morning,

but one of the junior men is in.

A Dr Jeremy Kreitsek.

What is it you do here, Doctor Kreitsek?

We're examining certain aspects of human consciousness.

Psychic phenomena.

Telekinesis. ESP - Extra Sensory Perception.

Telaesthesia - travelling clairvoyance

or remote viewing, if you prefer.

Some people call it distant seeing,

but it all means the same thing. Which is what?

A subject will be able to focus in on places they've never even been.

Could be next door or on the other side of the world,

and describe it with great clarity and detail.

All in their mind's eye.

People too, that have never even met.

So, do you get paid for this?

I'm sure that to a layman

it all sounds like a whole lot of mumbo jumbo,

but Faraday was an early researcher.

Sir William Crookes, Rufus Osgood Mason.

They all believed the mind contains vast, untapped powers.

What's all this?

So?

It's Naomi. There's been some sort of accident.

The stairwell.

I don't know what happened, but she's... she's dead.

These gentlemen are with the police.

What? No, that can't be right.

I'm afraid it is. Dr...?

Ferman.

We'll need an account of everyone's movements

between Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning.

Well, I was in the pub on Saturday night.

I'm afraid what I did see of Sunday was beneath an eiderdown.

Which pub?

The Baby And The Bird.

The Turl.

And, well, after that it gets a bit hazy.

Anyone vouch for you?

Bar staff, I suppose.

What about you, Doctor Kreitsek?

I was at The Tunnel, Saturday night.

It's a folk club.

Oh, yeah. Who was on?

Who was playing? Mm-hm.

Chap called Thackeray, I like.

Seen him at Braden's Week.

I've seen him a couple of times.

Doctor Benford been with you long?

Since, um, about autumn.

What was her role here?

Junior research fellow.

Naomi carried out a number of our experiments.

What sort of experiments?

The subject undergoes a period of sensory deprivation.

A red light is shone on ping-pong balls,

which are cut in half and placed over the eyes.

At the same time, headphones play white noise.

What's the game there, then?

Well, the idea is to clear the mind of any external stimuli

in order that the subject might become more receptive,

more attuned to their extra sensory potential.

And do they?

Some, yeah.

Once the subject is suitably prepared,

the tester turns through a collection of flash cards

which show various geometric symbols.

Like, er, triangles, squares, circles, wavy lines and that.

The subject tries to see what's on the cards.

Triangle.

Anything in it?

Some subjects show an above average aptitude

for correctly identifying the symbols.

And some subjects show a below average aptitude, I assume.

Given the nature of averages.

Look, the government show us a lot of respect for the work we do here.

Perhaps you might want to extend the same respect that it warrants.

Well, to get back to the matter in hand,

did Dr Benford have a boyfriend, or...?

Not so far as I know.

Well, I can't say we were close.

When did you last see her?

Saturday afternoon.

Here?

Doctor?

Good morning.

Detective Sergeant Morse - Chief Inspector Thursday.

From Thames Valley. We're looking for a Professor Blish.

Donald. My husband.

He's in the garden. Won't you come in?

Thought I heard the door.

The police, darling.

Someone at college has died.

A Dr Benford?

Naomi? I'm afraid so, sir.

Detective Chief Inspector Thursday, Detective Sergeant Morse.

Would you like tea, or something stronger?

Thank you, Mrs Blish, we won't if it's all the same.

Sorry...

Darling, if I could just trouble you for a cheque for Querels

and then I'll be out of your hair.

I've made out the amount.

The butchers.

Only, I'm not allowed my own chequebook.

In case my head explodes and falls off

Quite right.

Do you let your wife have her own chequebook?

I know it's all the fashion, but money, seems to me, a man's job.

There we are, darling.

If there's anything you want, just shout.

At the Department, you say?

Poor girl.

But how? I don't understand.

Was there some sort of accident, or...?

A fall, sir, but hopefully, with your help,

we'll be able to get to the bottom of it.

When did you last see Dr Benford?

Saturday, it would have been.

Half-past five or thereabouts.

She'd been over at Ruskin in the morning for this women's conference,

and then came in for a few hours after lunch.

Was there anyone with her when you left?

Not that I saw.

But I wouldn't expect anyone to be in the lab much after that.

She said she had some work to finish.

Did she ever mention a young woman killed on the towpath at New Year?

Molly Andrews.

She was a barmaid at The Grapes.

I read about it, of course.

Awful thing. But I...

I don't remember Naomi ever mentioning it.

Really?

Only, she intimated that there were some professional protocol

that she were obliged to follow, before being able to discuss it.

I'm afraid I'm at a loss to explain what she might have meant by that.

We have it that you quarrelled with her on Saturday afternoon.

Well, I wouldn't call it a quarrel. We had a frank exchange of views.

You upset her, supposedly.

Really? Well, I'm afraid it doesn't take much.

They don't respond well to criticism.

What was the nature of this criticism?

I felt she had become less than rigorous in her work.

Her mind was on this television business.

You disapproved?

One can either be a serious academic or a frivolous person.

On the whole, I think women are too emotional for the life scientific.

That will come as grave news to Madam Curie, I'm sure.

Hm, well...

I'm not sure I'd offer up someone

who managed to give themselves radiation poisoning

as a shining example.

They just get under your feet in the lab.

If they're not crying about who they do love,

they're crying about who doesn't love them.

It's a distraction.

There's a don like that in every other common room in Oxford.

His experience of the other half of humankind

starts with matron and doesn't get much further.

Women are only good for ironing their shirts

and making sure the cruet's filled at the high table.

Anything in it, d'you think? This, er, sixth sense business.

I've always had it down for a load of old baloney.

I mean, if you had the gift of second sight, or whatever it is,

you'd be down the bookies, wouldn't you,

not trying to see what Mr Brezhnev's got in his briefcase.

Yes, but we all get feelings don't we?

Like what you had about Carl Sturgis,

only we call them hunches. That's experience, though, isn't it?

It's not something from the great beyond.

Mrs Blish. Hm.

It's always the ones you like.

I read your piece. What do you make of her?

Clever, beautiful, funny.

Excited about the television.

Whoever hired her knew what they were doing. How so?

Well, they could have hired some dusty old don,

no-one would have turned a hair,

but put an intelligent young woman on screen...

Was she attached?

She said not.

Was it an accident?

Well, that's what I'm here to find out.

She did ask me, off the record,

if I'd heard anything about the towpath at New Year.

The barmaid at The Grapes.

Such as?

Oh, anything the police might've been keeping from the public.

Seemed a strange thing to ask. Hm.

Did she say what her interest would be?

Behalf of a friend, she said.

You think that's connected?

Oh, really, I couldn't say.

And any avoidance of speculation in print ahead of a formal statement

would be greatly appreciated.

It'll cost you.

Oh, it always does. But, thank you.

Just make sure you get the bastard.

She was all right.

Where's all this come from?

The handbag. Pen was under her body.

A few bits and pieces had fallen out,

lipstick, a compact, address book.

Anything else? Afraid not.

Hmm...

According to the diary at her flat,

Dr Benford was supposed to meet a Jennifer Tate

on Saturday at eight o'clock.

A friend?

Well, if she was, she wasn't a close one.

There's no address for her in the book.

Doctor Benford had also asked Dorothea Frazil,

if there was anything she'd heard of

that we'd kept back from the public about the towpath killing.

She had clippings related to the case upon her desk.

And in her appointment book, next to Jennifer Tate,

she'd written, "Regarding MA."

Molly Andrews?

Well, that would be my guess.

I was in the neighbourhood.

If it's a bad time?

No. No, no. Um, come in, come in.

It's the second on the left.

I don't get many visitors.

I like what you've done with the place.

You might want to let that breathe.

Well, I'm afraid I've a very limited cellar.

But, erm, I've a reasonable bottle of everyday wants finishing

while we wait.

Perfect.

Oh, my God!

You have the Calloway '54 Traviata from La Scala.

I've never heard it.

Very few have.

It's a test pressing.

They were trying out some new recording system.

Can I hear it?

Well, you can have it.

You are joking, I can have it?

Do you know how rare it is?

No, I haven't listened to it for years.

I'd sooner it went to a good home. Cheers!

So, to what do I owe the, er..?

I'm having a few people around to my place at the weekend.

A few drinks. I haven't seen you.

Oh, yes, I've just been busy. With work.

What devilish conundrum currently occupies the mind

of the great detective?

Murder in pursuit of robbery.

What makes you say that?

Her necklace.

That's what he took.

That's what made those marks on her neck.

The chain, as he tore it away.

We were occupied... during the war.

There was a girl.

Young girl, daughter of one of our staff.

14? 15?

She wore a St Christopher.

One of the soldiers, erm...

Playing in the woods, I found her body.

The marks on her neck were like this.

I'm sorry, I have never told anyone that story before.

I, erm...

I had forgotten it until I saw that.

Can't... I can't imagine.

No. You know, I think that's why I'm drawn...

to the beautiful things in life.

Well... Excuse me.

Oh, sorry, matey, I didn't realise you had company.

Erm, this is my colleague,

Detective Sergeant Strange.

This is my friend Ludo. Ludo. Strange.

Jim.

Ooh, see you've got the record out, then?

Can't go wrong.

So, how'd you know our Morse, then?

Oh, we were up at Oxford at the same time.

Oh, were you? I've been up in Oxford with him the last five years.

Well, up and down.

Cowley for the most part.

Castle Gate now.

Do you mind if I borrowed him for a minute? It's er... It's work.

Excuse us.

Well, I've got a work address for this Tate girl

that Doctor Benford was due to see, Friday night.

Thought you'd wanna know.

In case it was important. Mm.

Well, that was all.

I won't stop if you've got company.

Don't worry about seeing me out. I know the way.

It's nice to meet you.

Anything from the TV people?

Nothing that won't keep.

Look, I didn't like to say anything in front of your mate,

but we've talked about this.

You can't be bringing work home.

Not evidence, you can't.

Orderly running of the office is my responsibility now.

Anything goes missing, it's my neck.

Just think on.

Have a good night.

It's about Dr Benford, Miss Tate.

I thought it must be.

How's that?

Well, Naomi said it'd be passed to the police months ago.

Right after it happened.

What would?

What I told her.

About the girl on the towpath at New Year.

What did you tell her?

What I saw.

The man who did it.

You saw who killed Molly Andrews?

You were on the Towpath that night?

No. Not exactly.

What do you mean? You said you saw who did it?

Yes, I did, like...

..in my head.

It was a vision.

Well, we're very grateful for your assistance, miss.

You don't believe me.

We're the police, we need evidence.

Physical evidence.

He took her necklace, didn't he?

We're not at liberty... Yes.

Why? What else did you see?

Did you see his face?

No.

But I felt him.

This... anger.

This hatred.

Something evil.

And the taste, I could...

..taste it in my mouth, on my tongue.

Taste what?

Blood.

Blood?

That's what she said, sir.

There was no blood.

Not at the scene.

Certainly, none from Molly Andrews.

Is it possible, do you think?

This girl could literally have seen

what passed on the towpath that night?

Well, I'm not one for the macabre, sir.

The way she described it all...

Maybe you'd have had to have been there, but she did seem sincere,

if you're at all susceptible to that way of thinking.

Susceptible or not, she knew about the necklace.

It's that which caused the marks to Molly Andrews's neck.

The killer tore it from her.

A keepsake, perhaps?

And what of this television programme

that Doctor Benford was involved with, anything there?

I spoke to the producer, sir.

A chap called Ray Douglas.

Quite flamboyant, as is often the way with these people,

but in his words Doctor Benford was a natural.

She had a...

Yeah, here we are.

"She had a very easy rapport with the camera

"and the camera loved her.

"I think we knew as soon as we saw her

"that we'd found our presenter for the Higher Maths module."

Did they interview many people for the post?

Audition.

Hundreds, apparently.

Anyone with a half decent science degree in Oxford put in for it,

including one or two from her own department.

I just went along to see what it was all about.

Didn't expect to get very far with it at all.

I wasn't disappointed.

I think I knew at once that I wasn't the sort of thing

they were looking for. That none of us were.

How's that?

Sex, isn't it? That's what it's all about nowadays.

That's what sells. Sex appeal.

I mean, why bother hiring a fella who knows what he's talking about

when you can put a pair of knockers on screen?

For an academic programme?

For anything, my boy.

From soap suds to Japanese cars.

You see it at the motor show, at the boat show, in the papers now.

I mean, it's not us blokes they've got sprawled all over everything,

showing the world what we've got, is it?

I think that's a bit unnecessary.

I won't have you talking smut about her.

We were friends. Ha, friends!

Jeremy had a soft spot for her, didn't you, eh?

Well soft-ish

Asked her out the week she started, didn't you?

- But she turned him down flat. - Shame

You never mentioned.

I asked her out once, for a drink.

She said no.

She was under no obligation anyway.

I wasn't her type, clearly. That's all there was to it.

Not her type? You didn't have anything to offer her.

That's why you weren't her type.

No leg up, no leg over.

You wanna wake up, man.

It's not a battle of the sexes, it's war, mate.

And they've got the bazookas.

How's your poor little pea-shooter gonna compete with that?

I'll tell you, it's not.

Sam.

What is it?

We're proceeding upon the assumption that, what?

The towpath killing and the murder of Dr Benford

are the work of the same hand?

Potentially, sir. But in truth, there's very little to go on.

Her colleagues at work?

Only one of them has a solid alibi, sir.

Professor Blish.

At home with his wife.

He denied Dr Benford had mentioned the towpath killing to him.

If he'd lie about that...

Well we've only really got Jenny Tate's word to go on, sir.

You said Kreitsek had interviewed for this television post

and had been turned down?

Something in that? Professional jealousy.

Hmm. Ferman seemed rather bitter about it.

Put her getting the job down to her natural advantages.

And Professor Blish?

What was his position with regard

to Dr Benford's part in these educational programmes?

Far as we could make out, sir,

he's none too keen on having women in his department at all.

Only had her there on sufferance.

Word just through from Birmingham, sir.

Petrovski, the bargee who passed through Braunston Junction

in the early hours of January 1st.

Collapsed on his boat yesterday afternoon near Gas Street Basin.

Apparently, he died of alcohol poisoning.

Sister says he'd never hurt a fly, but just couldn't resist a drink.

Yeah, the place is full of empties.

Look, I got a bone to pick with you.

Oh, yeah?

I didn't think much to you hanging the old man out to dry.

I've read the case files.

The first 48 hours of the Molly Andrews' investigation

were slipshod at best.

Slipshod?

Yeah, all right, shabby, then, if you'd sooner.

Poor record keeping. Statements misfiled.

In short, it was a catalogue of errors from start to finish.

We were short-handed, with the New Year.

You know Ainsley's rubbish on exhibits.

If you hadn't been on leave...

Yeah, well, if people had done their job in the first place,

then perhaps Naomi Benford might still be alive.

Anyway, Molly's boyfriend,

Carl Sturgis?

I don't think so.