All language subtitles for Endeavour.S07E02.720p.STV.WEB-DL.h264.ENG

At The Jolly Rajah,

we use only the freshest spices,
the choicest meat

and the highest quality vegetables,

to bring you
the very best of Indian cuisine.

From a romantic dinner
to a full wedding reception,

The Jolly Rajah,

only two minutes' walk
from this cinema.

Synced and corrected by nkate

For a better Oxford,
and a better Britain,

this Thursday, 18th June,
vote Conservative

because a vote
for the Conservative Party

is a vote for a better tomorrow.

Adam, "Danger Man", Sloane!

And all the way from Africa...

it's Johnny Simba!

How is she, Doctor?

Perhaps better
than one might expect.

There will be good days.

It's no accident that I use
the word "invasion" advisedly.

Because it contains
the word "Asian".

Since the war,
we have been literally swamped

with a tidal wave of people

from our former territories
and colonies.

But we left!
We gave them their countries back!

If the British Movement
is about one thing,

it's about British jobs
for British workers.

Yes!

British homes
for British families!

And British hospitals
for British patients.

Yes!

It's not the colour of your
passport that makes you British.

- It's the colour of your skin.
- Yes.

Don't let the food get cold, eh?

Salim!

Et Voila!

Tournedos Rossini, finished
in a madeira demi-glace sauce.

Together with a glass of rose...

Very sexy.

This is Oberon Prince
wishing you, "Bon appetit".

Where you going? Hey?

Where are you going?

Eh? Come on!

Of all the opera houses
in all of Venice, hey?

- Do you believe in sin?
- No.

Damnation?

It's a bit late for that, isn't it?

Morse,
come and meet my wife.

Some things are unforgivable,
though, don't you think?

'If I wasn't such a trusting soul,
I'd think she'd taken a lover.

But you wouldn't do that to me.
Would you, darling?

Morse.

Right,
well, we'll be in touch.

- Thank you.
- Thank you.

♪ Spanish eyes

♪ Teardrops are falling... ♪

Sod it.

Jolly Rajah. Silver service.

A chicken vindaloo, pilau rice...

So, er... one lamb bhuna.

Oh! I'm sorry,
chicken, er, jalfrezi, yeah. No?

Oh, oh, er...

That'll do, lads.
Old style wrestling.

Dad? Dad? Let me.

- I... I've got it.
- No, no, it's all right.

You just, er... just take a minute.

- Yeah?
- Yes, yes. - Yes, sir.

You'll be at it
for most of the afternoon.

- You won't be the only one.
- Oh, you saucy beggar.

- How is he?
- Confused, Uncle.

He keeps laying
and relaying table four.

I left a message for Farook.

You don't think it could be
a stroke or something, do you?

Your brother, Farook, will know.
Aziz, that's the last of the night.

Five drops, and then home.

Excuse me... Boys.

- Boys!
- Yeah.

- It's my wine, you buffoon.
- Oh, ho-ho! Ho-ho!

Hey...

How is he?

You all right, Dad?

It's Farook.

Yes, I know who you are.

What do you want?

Mendip Gardens West.

- Oh!
- Oh, 'ey!

He's more pissed than you, Simba!

Cheers!

Delivery!

Hello?

Hello?

Joan, erm... said to send her best.

- Her secondment's going well?
- Very well.

There is talk
of her staying there permanently.

They all fly the nest.

- We had a letter from Sam.
- Hm.

Belfast, he's off to.

Seeing the world.

- Morse.
- Ah, morning, sir.

Anything in?

Mrs Radowicz?
Detective Chief Inspector Thursday.

My Sergeant, DS Morse.

We've met before, I believe.
Couple of years ago.

- You ran a hairdressers.
- Salon.

I still do.

- What's all this about?
- It's about your son, Gary.

- Is he home?
- No. No, he's not. He's at school.

What do you want him for?

Can you account for
his movements last night?

He was here. Home with me.

- You're sure about that?
- Quite sure, thank you.

We have an eyewitness

placing him at the scene
of an assault last night.

Like to look at his room,
if you don't mind?

I do mind.
You wanna poke about in my house,

you'll want a warrant, won't you?

And until you've got one,
you know what you can do.

- This is our country. Yours and mine.
- Yes!

- Let's take it back.
- Yes!

- Mr Gorman.
- And you are?

Police.

It's all right, Nige.

I'm always happy to help
Her Majesty's Constabulary.

I'm sure
Her Majesty's very grateful, sir.

We've got a question
about one of your supporters.

Young man called Gary Radowicz.
Also calls himself Rogers.

Doesn't ring a bell.

He was at the talk that
you gave on Monday night.

Was he? Mm.
I really couldn't say.

I don't know
each and every one of those

sympathetic to the cause,
you understand.

There was a lot of people there.

A lot of people are very concerned
about the state of our country.

Well, we're very concerned
about young Pakistani lads

getting knifed on the street.

Terrible.

But...
I can't say that I'm surprised.

You cram all of these
incompatible cultures together

on one small island,

of course it's gonna lead to blood,
and worse.

Sounds like a threat, Mr Gorman.

It's just an observation.

If the police
can't keep the streets safe

and defend the indigenous population
against outsiders, well...

...no wonder people take it
into their own hands.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I've got a seat to win.

Ah, Thursday.

- Morning, sir.
- Morse. Sir.

Division have been asking about
this Jakobsson case,

the cook at the working men's club.

We've got two women
who've positively identified him

as the man who's been exposing
himself along the river.

- But beyond that... - Random attacks,
as far as we can make out.

Robbery doesn't appear
to have been a motive.

- What about last night's stabbing?
- We've got a name.

Juvenile. 15 years old.
Gerwazy Radowicz.

What's that? Polish, is it?

On his father's side.
AKA, Gary Rogers.

- He runs with this racialist crowd.
- You're bringing him in, presumably.

If we can find him.
At school, according to his mother.

Though, if he was involved
last night,

I'd be surprised
if he turned up for assembly,

but we'll take a look.

I see, well, keep me apprised
of any developments.

The last thing we need is a public
order issue in Election Week.

Sorry to interrupt, sir.

Couldn't do us a favour,
could you, matey?

- I've got court in an hour.
- What's this? More about last night?

No, sir. Something else.

Missing person,
according to Uniform.

I see. Very well. Carry on.

I'll take the school,
if you want to... Sir.

- Good afternoon, Mrs...?
- Her name is Aziz.

She doesn't speak English.
That's why I'm here.

Mrs Sardar. Nuha Sardar.

Detective Sergeant Morse.

A missing persons case,
my colleague said.

Mrs Aziz's husband. He delivers food
for my father-in-law's restaurant.

The Jolly Rajah?

He left the restaurant
just after 11 last night

with his final delivery run,
and never came home.

And how had he been lately?
Anything worrying him?

- She said he'd not been himself.
- In what way?

He had something on his mind,
but couldn't tell her what it was?

So this is
his final list of deliveries?

- Yes.
- Just four addresses?

That's right.

Nobody called to say their
take-away hadn't been delivered?

- No.
- Right.

- Has Mr Aziz been with you long?
- A couple of years.

- Was he a reliable driver?
- Usually.

His wife said he seemed
to have something on his mind.

I wondered, is there anything
that had been troubling him at work?

No.

I mean, he did say that
he might wish to speak with me,

but I'm afraid I just put him off.

Any idea
what that might've been about?

Money.

See, his mother-in-law's coming
to live with him later this month.

And I suppose he thought
he might get a raise out of me.

Hm.

Can I ask who's responsible
for taking these orders?

Would you like to see a menu?

Perhaps a drink
while you're waiting?

Oh, all right. All right.

I'm sorry, my brother is, er...

is not quite as in command
of his faculties as we're used to.

He's overworked.

Ah, I see, I was just...

...trying to find out
how the orders were dispatched.

- How the route is arrived at?
- Oh, right, I see. Um, well...

The orders are all bundled together
and sent out hourly, more or less.

Right... But I mean,
the nearest first, presumably?

I believe so.

This is all organised
by my brother and Mr Aziz.

I just take care of the kitchen.

Good afternoon, sir.

Did you order an Indian takeaway
yesterday evening?

Good afternoon. Detective Sergeant
Morse, Thames Valley.

You ordered a takeaway
from The Jolly Rajah last night?

Hello?

Hello? The police...

Hello?

Doctor. What have we got?

The cause of death
would appear to be a cleaver blow

to the back of the skull.

No defensive wounds.

Blood splatter on the wall,

and what looks to be
a print on the door frame.

That be the weapon?

I can't say exactly

until I see
what comes back from the lab.

That's the bloke
who delivered my curry last night.

- About what time?
- Um... around 11?

Whose place is this?

It's a man called, erm,
Oberon Prince.

He's a cook,
according to the porter.

Yeah. He's off the telly.

He's got
a recipes and reviews column

in the Oxford Mail every Saturday.

So where is he?

Just a few questions.

Do you know Mr Prince in number ten?

We've said "hello" once or twice.
He's friendly enough.

- Have you lived here long?
- 18 months.

It's my dad's place. One of 'em.

I'm going through a divorce.

He doesn't use it much, so I...

So you didn't see or hear
anything unusual last night?

No.

Well, thank you very much,
Miss Trent.

Oberon Prince.

I've only met him a couple of times.

He files his copy by post,

always well in advance
of his deadline.

Turns up at the Christmas party
once in a while.

Family?

Has a wife, I think. Or had been.

Rosemary, possibly.
One of the herbs.

And this is the only address
you have for him?

Far as I know.

There might be a holiday home
in Greece.

I can look into it for you.
Can I get a quote?

All right,
we're keeping an open mind.

We welcome
the chance to speak to him

and urge him to contact us
at the earliest opportunity.

Well, I've an inquest to attend
once I'm done here,

but I'll see
it makes the late edition.

- Anyone we know?
- Farmer out towards Wytham.

Drowned in the pigswill.

You know,
this is the sixth freak accident

I've attended in as many months.

All relatively healthy.
All in their 30s or 40s. All single.

- Hm?
- Half a dozen in half a year?

Hardly what you'd call an epidemic.

Well, you know best, I'm sure.

See you later.

Sir. The food for the third delivery
on his list is still in his car.

- How's that?
- It's, er, 14 Mendip Gardens West.

Nah, there's a Mendip Gardens North
and a Mendip Gardens South,

but no West.
Nor East, for that matter.

Could the restaurant
have taken it down wrong?

Well, it's possible.

The proprietor's
an, erm, Uqbah Sardar.

According to his brother, he's been
a little off his game recently.

You'd have thought
if someone's supper didn't turn up,

they might've rung to complain.

Yeah, that's what I thought,
but apparently not.

I'd better report back
to Mr Bright.

Can you and Jim finish up here?

Get out a ports and airports,

and see that Prince's photograph
is circulated.

Oh, erm, sir,
Miss Frazil's freak accidents,

you don't think
there's anything in that?

Besides a few thousand
on the circulation?

You know what the press is like.

Porter'd clocked
Aziz's car this morning.

He keeps
a list of those cars he sees

that don't have
a right to park here,

as some of the residents
can get quite beady.

And what did he say about him,
Prince?

Lived here about six years.
No trouble.

Last saw him yesterday morning
when he took him up his post.

Very popular with the ladies.

So, Prince orders a take-away
and then kills the delivery driver?

Or maybe he was on a promise
last night and never came home?

Mr Aziz was just in the wrong place
at the wrong time.

Perhaps he stumbled upon
a burglary or something?

Anything's possible, matey.

...death of an employee

of a popular Oxford restaurant,
The Jolly Rajah.

The victim,
who is yet to be identified,

is believed to be
a driver at the restaurant.

A stabbing last night, and now this.

- Connected, do you think?
- Nothing to say so, sir.

Both victims are Pakistani,
aren't they?

Yes, sir.
But that's as far as it goes.

Well, that's far enough.

Division will be monitoring
this situation very carefully.

Was the victim
known to this Prince character?

Not as we've been able
to establish yet, sir.

Morse and me are gonna brace 'em
down the restaurant,

see if there's anything there.

He orders an Indian meal,

and then butchers the man
who delivers it?

What is he? A lunatic of some sort?

Food critic, sir.

Even so.

Taking an axe to someone's head
goes beyond expressing

dissatisfaction with the service,
wouldn't you say?

He's had some sort of
emotional breakdown, maybe?

If it was him.

Well, if it wasn't,
you'd imagine he'd come forward

as soon as he hears his flat's
been turned into a slaughterhouse.

Gary?

Reports of violence
in the city over the last 24 hours,

as police are appealing
for witnesses to the stabbing,

following
a clash between rival gangs.

A young Asian teenager
was rushed to hospital,

having been pursued with friends
by a white gang of youths.

In other news,
well-known television chef

and restaurant critic,
Oberon Prince,

has been reported missing...

Good afternoon, Mrs Sardar.
Might we come in?

Yes, of course.

It's the police. About Mr Aziz.

Detective Chief Inspector Thursday,
Thames Valley.

I believe you met my colleague.

Yes. Yes, of course.
My nephews, Dr Farook Sardar

and his young brother, Salim.

- You found him?
- We did, sir.

And I'm sorry to say
it's not good news, he's deceased.

And it wasn't a natural death.

What? Another attack?

Well, we can't speculate
at this stage, sir.

His car was found
outside a block of flats

called Tiffin Court.
Do you know it?

- No.
- I've never heard of it.

Did Mr Aziz have any enemies,
as far as you know?

No, he was... mildest of men.

No trouble with any
of the customers, nothing like that?

No, he saw nothing of the customers,

only walking through the restaurant
from the kitchen

to do his deliveries.

And we need to speak
to your brother, sir.

Uqbah, is it?

Er, about a couple of orders
he took.

The addresses appear
to have been taken down wrongly.

I'm afraid my father's not well,
Chief Inspector.

Recently, he's been...
having trouble with his memory,

- his reading and writing skills.
- Well, how's that?

Well...
For a few months,

there's been, ah...
discrepancies when cashing up.

He's been charging people twice over
for dishes on their bill,

or... not ringing it up at all.

How long as he been like this?

It has got worse over the last year.

We've been trying to talk to him
about doing less,

retiring, even,
but... he won't hear of it.

It would be helpful if
we could see a list of the customers

- that did come in last night.
- Certainly.

All the information's at The Rajah.

Ah, er, when you're ready,
we might go to the restaurant.

Did you have many bookings?

I suppose three-quarters
of the cover's early in the evening.

Was there any trouble
between Mr Aziz

and any of the other customers?

No. There was quite a rowdy table,
but...

they had nothing to do with Mr Aziz.
Wrestlers, I think.

- Had they booked?
- No, but they've been in before.

Always late.

What time did you close up
last night?

I closed the kitchen at 11.

My brother had a bit of a turn.

So we called Farook
and he took him home.

And then Salim followed on
in his car,

and I... shut up the restaurant
at, er, just after 12.

So you were alone?
Would that be usual?

Oh! First in, last out. Chef's lot.

Ah, the counterfoils,
for the credit card and the cheques.

Which were the addresses
you were having trouble with?

Tiffin Court, it was 10, not 1C.
And, er, Mendip Gardens West.

Maybe my brother
wrote it down wrongly.

Well...
thank you for your assistance.

We'll return these
as soon as possible.

Thank you.

I won't be long.

Sir.

- I'm sorry, who are you?
- I'm his wife.

Well, his first wife.

Rosemary Prince.

I believe
you're looking for my husband.

So I'm sorry,
what is it you're doing here?

Well, I was concerned.

I hoped he might have turned up,
come back,

then all this could be explained.

And when did you see him last,
Mr Prince?

I haven't seen him for a while.

But we speak... on the telephone,
every week.

Do you mind if I...

I know it's a little early,
but to steady my nerves.

Have you any idea where he might be?
There's talk of a place in Greece.

And a suitcase of his
appears to be missing.

Well, he does have a little place
there.

Well, who was he?

He was a delivery man...

from a restaurant
called The Jolly Rajah.

Did he ever mentioned
a man called Aziz? Iqbal Aziz?

No. Never.

Does that seem in keeping to you?

That he would order food
to be delivered.

Indian, certainly.

We never touched it
on the programme.

- Sorry, the programme?
- "Et Voila".

We started together.
On the television.

It was my Johnny to his Fanny.

Oh, it was 15 years ago, nigh on.

The Dark Ages.

Most people had barely heard
of vinaigrette, huh!

Look...

whatever you think he's done,
you're quite wrong.

Only he has his faults,
but this is far beyond his scope.

It's way too grotesque.

If you don't mind me asking,
what happened between you?

Oh, it was my fault.

I never cared for
the sticky side of married life.

We looked at other couples,
they might've had the physical side,

but most of them could barely stand
the sight of each other

half the time.

We had something
they could only dream of...

companionship.

And he was the most tremendous fun.

Right up until
the sixth whisky sour.

Then things could turn
a little... ugly.

So what, he drank?

He drank. He gambled.
But I never stopped loving him.

Was he ever violent?

On occasion.

But I don't believe he's capable
of anything that happened here.

I can't. It's not the best time.

I can't talk now.

I agree, there's a lot to discuss.

I can't help you.

Sorry.

Who was that?

Wrong number.

You don't think
we could've got it wrong, do you?

I know, but...

two murders...

...Molly Andrews, Tony Jakobsson...
on the same stretch of Tow path?

For fear of
sounding like a broken record,

I think
a man getting his throat cut,

is a world apart
from a woman having her neck broken.

We've got who killed
Molly Andrews and Naomi Bedford,

he's on remand in Farley.

Unless you wanted to drop
all charges

and have him back out on the street.

How'd you make out at Prince's flat?

Met his wife. Well, his first wife.

Still seems to carry
something of a torch for him.

- What was she doing there?
- Same as us,

wants to know where Prince is.

- Shed any light?
- No.

But I did turn this up.

- Gambler.
- Mm.

Something of a drinker, too,
and violent with it.

Nothing from Ports and Airports

on flight manifests
or passenger lists.

If he's already gone,
he's done it under a different name.

But he's from the television,
isn't he?

Be difficult for someone like that

to slip out of the country
unnoticed, I'd have thought.

Unless he's changed his appearance?

Anything from Forensics
on the bloody thumb print

found at Tiffin Court?

No match for Oberon Prince.

What about the Greek Inn,
that place he's got out there?

Vrakonisi?

Locals have been up to the villa,
but no sign of life.

- You, ah, seen the latest?
- Oh, yeah.

Still think it wasn't him?

Morse, it's been too long!

I've been wandering
the Mediterranean

with my, how do you say it,
"My cap in my hand"?

My beggar's bowl.

- Begging bowl.
- All in a good cause, I assure you.

Seeking donations for
my family's charitable foundation.

The only relief I got
was that Steve was there,

- making a picture.
- Steve who?

McQueen. Yes, it's funny.

The only real person, out of
any of them, should be an actor.

But I have been
unforgivably neglectful,

and that's why I'm here.

To rectify matters
and deserve your forgiveness.

- There's nothing needs forgiving.
- You're very kind.

But one should keep
the friendships that matter

in good repair, don't you think?

I've never...

I've never really thought about it
that way.

I left messages at your work
before we went away.

Come for supper tomorrow.

Violetta has forsaken me once again.

I'm in need of good company.

- Well, I can't promise that.
- Well, you sell yourself too short.

Now, a drink, I think.

I took the liberty.

What is this we're listening to?

La Cura Per L'Amore. Tregola.

Ah! Well, in that case,
"Due bicchieri".

The police have gone.

There's nobody here... only me.

I miss you.

Why don't you come round
and keep me company?

Miss! Bridget, isn't it?

Come, come out of the rain.

You wanna be careful
walking along at night like this.

- It's not safe.
- I don't have far to go.

Takes me back to my days
on the beat. Well, on Nights.

I used to like Nights.
Especially after a bit of rain.

Oh, Win told me
all about the wrestling.

Yeah! We had a great time.

Oh, I'm all right from here,
Mr Thursday.

Oh, all right, then.
You mind how you go.

Oh... you were in India,
Mrs Bright said.

Yes, yes. Before the war. Hm, yes.

- Whereabouts?
- Oh, here and there.

Calcutta, Pankot, Chandrapore.

- And yourself?
- Oxford, born and bred.

Yes, well...

...I was very sad to go.

We both were.

- Goodnight, sir.
- Ah, goodnight.

Oh... He's very handsome,
don't you think?

Oh, yes. Very handsome, I'm sure.

Are you jealous, Puli?

Desperately.

- He says I'm doing much better.
- Good.

See, I told you.

You have to have... faith.

What's he doing?

Looking for Ammi.

Sleepwalking.

I don't know.

I thought
Farook could give him something.

You were late tonight,
from the restaurant.

Stock take.

- And when did you see him last?
- When he went to bed.

- What time was that?
- About ten o'clock.

We heard him walking about
afterwards.

And how did he seem?

He had been very anxious.
About what happened to Mr Aziz.

What happened? You were
meant to be looking after him.

- I've told him.
- You don't tell me anything.

We will get a description
circulated to all patrol cars

and beat officers.

Try not to worry.

What about
the Oberon Prince case, Morse?

- Anything on the ports and airports?
- Nothing, sir.

Sir...

- He was at the restaurant that night.
- Which restaurant?

- Jolly Rajah.
- Who was? Prince?

Well, that can't be right.

Moniker here on his credit card slip
says different, matey.

But if he'd already eaten
at the restaurant,

why would he order a takeaway?

Oh, yes. Yes, he was here.

In fact, he had words with that
rowdy table I was telling you about.

- Party of eight.
- Mr Nayle, was that?

Yeah, that sounds about right.

- Still no sign of Gary.
- And Prince?

Maybe Stanley Nayles boys
can shed some light.

- How's Mrs Aziz?
- Terrible.

I gave her something
to help her sleep.

Her kids are with her.

This country,
it's not a place for us.

- They don't want us here.
- You shouldn't talk like that.

This is our home now.

You heard there was a stabbing.

One of our young men on the street.
That's our home.

- That's how welcome we are.
- Did you help the police?

I think so. They were asking about
a man called, er, Oberon Prince.

I know him. He's off the television,
he's a chef.

What about him?

That's who Mr Aziz
was delivering to at Tiffin Court.

And they think he did it,
this Prince?

He's gone missing, apparently.

If he tries to turn that
into a Half-Nelson,

you know what to do,
drop it right down...

Stanley Nayle?

Yes, gents.

DCI Thursday, DS Morse,
Thames Valley.

You ate in The Jolly Rajah in Oxford
on Monday night.

Yeah, after we'd finished
at the venue.

We heard you had words
with another patron.

A man called Oberon Prince.

He was taking the mickey.

I told him to knock it off,
but he was drunk, you know.

- He got a bit lippy with us.
- So what did you say?

Don't know.
I suppose I just said,

"Knock it off, mate,"
or summat like that.

You know, nothing heavy.

- So you didn't threaten him?
- No.

That's not Bobby's part,
in the ring or out.

And when you left the restaurant,
where do you go?

Well, it was getting late by then.

Most of us
just went back to our digs.

- Where would that be?
- We're all over.

Ones and twos.
Couple of us here, couple there.

Not everyone's keen on having...

...wrestlers under their roof.

You said "most" of you?
Some of you didn't, presumably?

Well, I think a couple of the lads
went on to a drinker

we sometimes go to.
Adam and the Noble Brothers.

Adam?

Adam, "Dangerman", Sloane.

- And where's he?
- He tops the bill,

so he's not with us tonight.

Stan, our gaffer,
wanted him to rest up.

Well, we'll need addresses
for their lodgings.

Well, I'll have to check
my paperwork.

All right if I phone it through?

Look, there's some B&Bs we use
on a semi-regular,

whenever we're in town,

but I'll have to check and see
who was where.

Some of the lads double up, but...

I will have a look, let you know,
yeah?

- You ever go to the wrestling?
- What do you think?

"Faces and heels."

That's what the Yanks call 'em.

Like the white hats and the black
in the cowboy pictures.

Good guys and villains.

Just like the opera.

It's the "face" in a bout
the punters can root for.

The "heel" gives 'em someone to boo.

Sir. Morse.

Your warrant came through
for Mrs Radowicz's.

He's entitled to his opinion,
the same as anybody else.

They're just not like us.

In what way are they not like us,
Mrs Radowicz?

All ways.

They don't talk the way we do

and they make a noise
till all hours,

coming and going,
and their food smells funny.

- Their food smells funny?
- Well, it does!

But you wouldn't know about that
because people like you

don't have to live
on the same street as them.

Look, do you want to see your Gary
get into even more trouble

and end up in Borstal?

- Shh, stay there!
- Mum?'

- Smoke?
- No.

Before we start,

we've got witnesses
can put you at the scene

at the time in question,

so, before you answer,
you might like to think about that.

I wasn't there.
I don't care what anybody says.

Who else was there, Gary?

I wouldn't know, would I?
Seeing as I wasn't there.

Look, it's easy to follow the pack.

Older boys, men, you wanna fit in,
be one of the lads.

Tell us about Martin Gorman.

What about him?

- Well, you like him.
- I'm not a queer.

I mean... you admire him, then.

- He talks sense.
- About what?

About the foreigners. Immigration.

The blacks. Pakis.

Coming over here,
taking all the jobs

- and the houses and that.
- What, you don't care for them?

I don't care for
people ruining my country, no.

Is that why you stuck a knife
in one of the Asian lads?

I didn't stab anyone.

Gary Rogers.

What's that about?

You wanna go round my school
with a Polish name.

- See what it gets you.
- You were bullied?

Gerwazy Radowicz.

You had that hanging
round your neck,

you'd call yourself Gary Rogers
an' all.

I'm British... not Polish.

How'd your parents feel about that?

What I call myself
is none of her business.

And your father?

Died. When I was five.

- Oh, sorry.
- There's no need.

- He's nothing to me.
- He should be.

- Why?
- He's your father.

You never knew him.
She only took up with him

for the money
she could screw out of him.

Look... I didn't stab anyone.
I wasn't there,

and you can't put a knife
in my hand.

No, we can't.

But we do have
a group of Asian lads,

who can pick you out of a line-up,
and they will pick you out, Gary.

Sir?

But I thought
this boy had been recognised.

Well, no,
the eyewitness who named him

now isn't sure it was Gary
after all.

They've withdrawn
their earlier statement.

Someone put the frighteners on,
you think?

Maybe.

But whatever the cause,
we've had to let him go.

Sarge, the Sardar family
are asking for an update.

I'd better get that.

Never the buggers
that load the gun, is it?

- How's that? - Always the ones
that pull the trigger.

That tripe-hound,
Gorman's every bit as responsible

for the stabbing as the boy was,
filling his head full of rubbish.

But nothing ever sticks
to those bastards.

British Movement.
He's a movement, all right.

May have been Gorman
who put the knife into his hand,

but it was Gary that stuck it
into another human being.

- A boy not so different from himself.
- Different enough.

Boy doesn't know what he is yet.

Whether he's coming or going.

English, Polish, growing up
for the most part without a father.

- Everybody has a choice.
- Do they?

I just hope the lad sees sense
about Gorman and his kind.

Got time for a pint?

Um... No, I can't, not tonight.

- Oh, no? Date, is it?
- Hm.

I'll see you tomorrow, then.

Morse, good to see you!

- Hello.
- Welcome.

Ludo?

Oh, I spoke prematurely.
La bella signora has returned to me.

Perhaps you should think
of flying a flag.

Hello again.

Hello.

To indicate
that she is in residence, yes?

- Like Her Majesty.
- Exactly that.

You've been in Monaco, Ludo says.

Monaco. Antibes.

Right.

Well, look, I've no wish to intrude
upon a happy reunion, so I'll...

Nonsense, we're delighted
to see you, aren't we? Of course.

What would you like to drink?

Whatever's going.

You shoot?

- Birds?
- No. People.

It's a little early for game,
isn't it?

Come. Come.

Pull!

Did you see, darling?

- Did you see that wonderful shot?
- I saw.

How is the world of criminality?

I read in the press about
Oberon Prince. Can that be right?

- Yeah. Do you know him?
- Slightly.

All right, I suppose.
He's no Robert Danvers.

- What's this?
- Someone was murdered.

This Prince fellow is suspect.

Will you catch him?

I expect so. Sooner or later.

What a blood-soaked life you lead.

Pull!

Yeah it's that, all right.

No matter how many cases you solve
or bad people you put away,

there's always another one
standing right behind them.

There speaks a devil sick of sin.

I just wonder if
I've stayed too long at the fair.

Why do it, if you hate it so much?

I suppose because
I'm no good at anything else.

And because
the dead deserve justice.

There's a delivery man's
lost his life

and a... a woman left a widow.

Life, death, rich, poor.

It's all a roll of the dice, Morse.
There's no reason to any of it.

They're not responsible.

Some people are just unlucky.

Pull!

Britain already is part

of the European Trade Association.

- We have applied for membership...
- All right?

Fred?

Yeah, I'm gonna take
a turn round the block.

What's up?

Just, er...

Just work.

I'm here, you know,
if you want to talk about anything.

Whatever it is, you'll put it right.

It's what you do.

I owe you an explanation.

"No questions", wasn't it?

A mere "goodbye"
might have been polite,

but nobody died.

You don't owe me anything.

Can I see you?

I don't think so.

He's a friend.

Affairs with married women?

I'm sorry,
it's just not my... not my scene.

I thought
we'd crack open the Margeaux.

I'll leave you to it.

It'll have to be another time,
I'm afraid. Work.

You approve? Violetta.

Oh, yeah, you're a lucky man.

Yes, I am.
God knows what I did to deserve her.

If I lost her,
I don't know what I'd do.

Then don't.

No. I don't intend to.

We'll go out.

Tannheuser at Covent Garden.

Look, you can't be running around
London getting drunk with me.

Your wife's back now. Take her.

Violetta hates the opera.

Next week!

Let's do it, come on!
Best seats in the house!

Sir?

Mr Sardar?

- We've been looking for you.
- Oh, hello.

I... I must go... home.

Course, you do.

Come on. You're drenched through.

There you are.

You're lucky we got
a report about your wanderings.

Anyway...

I forget things.

Well,
I'm... I'm sure we all do that.

I'll go into a room
and I can't remember

what I've come in for.

Or I'll put my pipe down,

and... damn me if I can remember
where I left it.

It's more than that,
I can't remember...

...words.

I...

You know, conversations
I had five minutes ago.

Well, your eldest son's a doctor,
isn't he?

- Overwork, he says.
- Well, there you are, then.

I feel like I'm...

...fading.

Like there's a darkness
on the edge of sight...

...slowly creeping in.

And the more... you look

out of the corner of your eye...

...the more it slips out of view.

But I know it's there.

Come on, let's get you inside.

He had been taking money, I think.

Who had?

Mr Aziz.

Skimming, you call it now.

Everyone thought
it was me forgetting,

but it was him.

Not enough to stand out, but...

...over a long period of time.

You should've said.

I should've paid him more.

So, all that about
Uqbah coming up short

when they cashed up of an evening
in the restaurant

was likely down to Mr Aziz
having his fingers in the till.

I've run a registration check
on cars parked illegally

- outside Tiffin Court.
- Where's this come from?

The porter, Mr Comer.

We got a few frequent customers.

The most regular, a cream Mercedes.

Saturday and Wednesdays,
roughly the same time.

Any idea who it belongs to?

I really don't know
what I can do for you.

Dr Sardar. You on a house call?

If you forgive me, my private life
is none of your concern.

It is if it has anything to do
with what happened to Mr Aziz

in flat ten the other night.

Why don't you sit down?
And you, Miss Trent.

We really don't know anything
about that. Really, we don't!

So, were you here on Monday night,
Doctor?

We can easily find out
if your car was.

He was gone by 11.

Did you see anyone loitering
about the place?

No. Look, I have not broken the law.

You denied ever having heard
about Tiffin Court.

Why do that,
unless you had something to hide?

What should I have said?

Me and Ilsa know nothing about
what happened to poor Mr Aziz.

OK? Just a coincidence.

So what is it that
you didn't want us to know?

I know Prince.

I've seen him once or twice,

- we play cards together.
- Where?

Here and there.
It's nothing regular.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I really do have patients to see.

There's nothing else
I can tell you right now.

So if I may?

All right.

For now.

We know where to find you.

Where did you two meet?

My father runs
a floating poker game.

High stakes
for local business types.

Who's your father?

Look, my father's got nothing
to do with this.

- I'd as soon as not say.
- We can easily find out.

That's my dad there.

Did Oberon Prince ever play
at your father's poker game?

I think he was a regular, yeah.

Not much of a card player, though,
Dad said.

Which made him the perfect addition.

What you do.

The people you meet,
they've done bad things.

Mm, some.

You forgive them?

I'm not very good at forgiveness.

Would you forgive me
if I did something bad?

That depends what it was.

And if there was contrition.

Genuine contrition.

How would you know
if it was genuine?

Do you want
to get something off your chest?

Because if you wanna confess,

I'm sure there's 100 churches
in this city.

139, I counted them.

I don't want to confess.

I just want to know
that you'd forgive me.

Morse? It's me.

Morse?

- Whoa!
- Mind out!

A police murder
investigation is continuing

into the death
of a Pakistani delivery driver

who was found dead
in the home of television chef

and renowned food critic
Oberon Prince.

The chef has not been seen
since the night of the murder.

In other news, the victim

of what is believed to be
a racist attack

is still critically ill in hospital

The teenager was with
a group of friends in the city

when they were...

You came.

- Where does he think you are?
- Seeing a girlfriend.

The lies come easy once they start,
don't they?

They do when it matters.

What was it that couldn't wait?
You said it was important.

- I needed to see you. Alone.
- Why?

To see if I still felt the same.

Look...

...if you're unhappy...

...you should just make
a clean break of it.

I'm not unhappy.

I'm afraid.

Of what?

Letting something slip
through my fingers.

Something good.

Venice was Venice.

You...

You stepped out of your life
for a minute

and found yourself in mine.
And it was wonderful.

But it wasn't real.

It was for me.

Tell me you don't want me.

I don't want you.

Tell me again.

I can't save you.

Then no-one can.

♪ Nothing at all

- ♪ Without love... ♪
- You started smoking?

It's a dirty habit.

I married who you wanted me
to marry, look how that worked out.

I'm not gonna live like a nun.

You're not gonna live like a slut
neither!

I hear things, Ilsa.

- I don't care what you hear.
- I can see that.

Look, I've got
a reputation to maintain.

What with the election
and everything.

Don't you think about that?

How'd you think it's gonna look
if you're carrying on

with all and sundry?

If you've just come round to bawl
at me, I'm going to bed.

You can let yourself out.

♪ Nothing at all. ♪

No, here!

It was a private game
between friends.

- Was Oberon Prince amongst them?
- From time to time.

Oberon's a heavy roller,
he'll bet on anything,

anywhere, any time.

He'll bet on
two flies crawling up the wall.

Chaps like him, it's a disease.

You play with the Sardar family,
I believe.

Pakistanis.

So, your prejudice ends
at the poker table.

I'll take cash off
anybody who's got it.

Black, brown, yellow.

There's an old saying...
"money has no smell".

What, everyone's equal
before the cards?

Well, that's the nature of chance.

Still, not something I imagine
you'd want widely known, is it?

Well, it's not your place to blab,
is it?

When did you see him last? Prince.

Well, we were supposed to play
last Saturday,

but what with... this...
the game got bumped.

The previous week,
he'd hosted the game at his place,

but I was busy
with the election campaign,

so I missed it.

Although I heard from
a friend of friend that he won big.

Cleaned out one of our tinted types.

- Who?
- I don't know.

Like I said, I wasn't there.

I want
a list of your regular players.

I'm sure you do!

Look...
these are wealthy individuals.

- They buy and sell people like you.
- Really?

I can't imagine it would do
your election campaign much good

if it got out that
in your private life,

you enjoy play cards
with Pakistanis.

You're bluffing. You're a copper.

- It's beyond your remit.
- Boss?

Indiscretion is second nature to me,
Mr Gorman.

Especially when speaking to members
of the Fourth Estate, I assure you.

- I don't believe you.
- You should, Mr Gorman.

We're the police, we don't bluff.

He'd better come up with
that list of names and addresses.

While we're waiting,
we might get something

from the poker chips
and playing cards in Prince's flat.

Well, there's more than one way
to skin a donkey.

Gorman's daughter? You must be mad.

- Or in love.
- Oh, please! Love?

You think love'll save you
from her father's thugs?

Wake up, Farook!

This place is finished
for the likes of us.

- Yeah, not for me.
- No. No. Of course not for you

You're the Great British doctor.

- Come on.
- Don't kid yourself.

They tolerate you.
Because you're useful.

That's what... that's what they mean
by "tolerance", right?

Putting up with something
they'd sooner not.

I don't want to be tolerated.
I want to belong.

- Salim...
- I'm getting out.

Going home.

Home?

To Bengal?

And you call ME mad?!

- I've been talking to Cousin Arik.
- Oh, Cousin Arik the Nationalist?

We could be part of something.
All of us.

Something good. Something new.

What does Nuha think about this?

She'll follow her husband,
in all things.

- You mean you haven't told her.
- No. He hasn't.

Is that's what these
late-night calls have been about?

We're not talking about this now.

I won't go back.

This is my home now
and I won't be driven out.

- Should tell him, not me.
- He's YOUR brother!

And he's your husband.

Is this all?

Enough, isn't it?

An elegant sufficiency, thank you.

Insofar as we appear
to have one torso,

together with both legs and arms,

but we are deficient
to the tune of one head.

And the mountain range
one might expect to find,

as the old geographers' joke has it,

at the end of a cockney's wristies.

His 'andies, Sergeant.

I'll know better
once I've got him laid out.

But in the inside compartment
in the suitcase,

there's a BEA airline ticket
and a passport.

In the name of Oberon Prince.

If there's nothing else, Doctor,

I think we'll leave you
to your jigsaw and move upwind.

By all means.
Shall we say two o'clock?

How can someone do that
to another human being?

He's already done the worst thing.

That might turn our stomachs,
but the victim's long past caring.

So what do we imagine
has taken place?

Delivery man stumbles up
on something,

then whoever killed Oberon Prince
had to silence him? Possibly, sir.

I don't think
he stumbled on anything, sir.

- I think Mr Aziz was sent there.
- How's that?

Well, I suspect someone sent him
on a wild goose chase

on his third delivery.

- Mendip Gardens West?
- Yeah. - Why?

Well, if I was killing two people,

it would be easier to deal with them
separately. Don't you think?

So, whoever it is kills Prince,
waits for Aziz to arrive,

then does for him?

Assuming whoever it was
wanted both of them dead.

Two birds?

In the flat, I asked you
if he'd ever mentioned a Mr Aziz.

Now, in light
of these recent developments,

I'd like to know
if he knew anyone of that name.

No.

If he did,
he never mentioned anything to me.

Did your husband have any enemies
that you are aware of, Mrs Prince?

I mean, he might've given
the odd bad review

that some restauranteur
took exception to.

He could be quite difficult,
if the mood took him.

But nothing to warrant
something like this.

You're definitely sure
it's Oberon you've found?

You couldn't be mistaken?

Well, we've strong reason
to believe it is.

Did he have any distinguishing
features, Mrs Prince?

He had a... a port-wine birthmark
on his left thigh.

Is it that bad?

I'm very sorry.

No. Thank you.

Somehow I always knew
he'd come back to me in the end.

One way or another.

Not so much dismembered
as butchered and jointed.

With a rudimentary proficiency
and no small amount of luck.

- Where?
- At the flat, presumably.

Place would've looked like
a slaughterhouse, wouldn't it?

- The bathroom?
- Well, of course,

that's the traditional locus,

for obvious reasons.

I'd be very surprised
if Scene Of Crime

didn't get a result
from the U-bend of the bath.

- How long would it take?
- Oh, not that long.

Provided you've a decent knife
and a passable bone-saw.

Yes?

Duxbury's. The undertakers.
Here about a car crash.

Female. Whittaker.

Ah, yes, drawer six.

I'll show you. Excuse me.

Hey, can I have a word?

The court's been in touch.
About Molly. The trial.

Early in the new year
they're saying?

Yeah, that sounds about right.

Will they want me to testify?

Only as to what you know.

Look, I don't know what's going on,

but your guvnor's
following me around.

- No, you're imagining things.
- I was at the picture house, Monday.

He was there.
I've seen him watching my work too.

I've spoken to a solicitor.
It's harassment.

I don't want to make any trouble...

...but unless he lays off,
I'll have to talk to his superiors.

Make a complaint.

Oi, love!
Why don't you go home?!

Police investigating
the stabbing of an Oxford teenager

have now launched
a murder investigation

following the death of the boy
in hospital.

He had been admitted
after a racist attack...

- I don't believe it!
- He's done it again!

Another win.

Gary! What are you doing here?
Come 'ere.

Make yourself useful.
I'm out of smokes.

Nip along and get me
a packet of Guardsmen

and some Slim Panatellas.

I'll give you the money
when you get back.

He's a good lad.

Drinks!

Oh, no, no, no!

No, thanks.

So, you were made by Carl Sturgis
at the picture house on Monday.

I fancied an evening at the flicks.

X-rated smut?

Since when did you become
part of the plastic mac brigade?

What's going on?

I just wanna be sure.

Sure of what?

That we were right
about Molly Andrews.

Well... Sturgis is threatening
to make a complaint.

- He won't.
- What if he does? Let him.

I know you wanted it to be him...

...but you're obsessing
about the wrong man.

- You've gotta let it drop.
- Who do you think you're talking to?

No, wait!

Mrs Radowicz?

What is it now?
More lies about my Gary?

He's... he's cold...

Why is he so cold?

You... you need to warm him up.

Fetch him a blanket!

Why... why don't you give him
a blanket?

He'll wake up.

Wake up! Wake up, wake up!

- Mrs Radowicz...
- No!

You did this.

You did this! You killed him!

Who did this?

Who hurt my boy?

I hate them!

I hate them all.
I hope they die screaming!

WPC Jarvis will see you home.
My sincere condolences.

Jim?

Thought you'd want to know
soon as...

There's a match come through
on the thumbprint

at Oberon Prince's flat.

So you were at the Town Hall,

you did your wrestling,

then you went out
for something to eat.

- Remember?
- Yeah, I remember.

- An Indian restaurant.
- Yeah. I said I remember.

There was a bit of an argument
with one of the other diners.

You remember that?
Vaguely.

Man called Oberon Prince?

If you say so.
Where do you go after the restaurant?

Back to my digs.
Anyone vouch for you?

Yeah.
I were bunking in with Johnny Simba.

Right, that's interesting,
because according to this,

Mr Simba was sharing
with the Singh brothers,

and you had a single occupancy.

Right, well, it changes.

We stay in so many places,
it's hard to keep track.

But you just went straight back
to your digs.

Yeah, that's right.

Well, I wonder if you can tell us,
then, how your bloody thumb print

left an impression on a door frame

in a block of flats
called Tiffin Court.

A flat where we found a man dead,
murdered.

- I don't know anything about it.
- Well, we know that you were there.

So why don't you just tell us?

All right.

Well...

...Oberon were drunk,

and he'd been hassling the lads,
but...

...I could see it were a front.

You got somewhere?

- Just like that?
- Why not?

I knew him from off the telly.
My mum likes his programmes.

He gave me his address
and I said I'd drop by later.

Your mates, the other wrestlers,
they know about your... preference?

Some.

Nobody cares.

I don't know about
the last time you looked,

but we get paid to roll about with
blokes wearing only our underpants.

Wrestling's just another part
of show business,

that's all I'm saying.
So long as you bring the crowds in,

nobody cares what you get up to
in your private life.

So what happened?

Right, well, me and a couple
of the lads went to the drinker

for an hour or so.

I got to his flat about one-ish.

Only, I couldn't get a reply
out his flat.

So, I buzzed a few more
until somebody answered the door.

He said there'd be a key
under the mat if I were late,

and that I should let myself in.

There was somebody there.
I could hear 'em.

Sounded like... I don't know...
..somebody sawing wood.

But you didn't see anyone?

Apart from the dead guy
on the floor, no.

I wasn't gonna hang around
and make introductions.

- So what happened to the knife?
- I got rid of it.

- Where?
- I stuck it down a drain.

It's where Sloan said it was.

It's the killer's, then.

That was the telephone exchange.

They've run down numbers
that called the restaurant.

And two came from
the same telephone.

Order two takeaways
from The Jolly Rajah...

only 20 yards from the phone box?

Why two calls?

Well, the first is to the bogus
address at Mendip Gardens West.

The second to Oberon Prince's flat
at Tiffin Court.

Which means whoever made the calls
needed to buy themselves time.

Yeah, they needed to keep
Mr Aziz distracted

while they got
to Tiffin Court first.

We'll get forensics out.

Needle in a haystack
after four days,

but we might get lucky.

Having a take-away
delivered to Tiffin Court, but...

it's not much of a plan
given that Prince

- had already dined at the restaurant.
- You're right,

but our killer didn't know
he HAD dined at the restaurant.

- How come?
- Because the chief stoker

never leaves the engine room.

Rafiq.

Evening, Mr Sardar.
Could you come with us, please?

I can't leave the restaurant
in the middle of service.

I'm afraid you're gonna have to,
sir.

You were the only person
on the staff who didn't realise

that Mr Prince had already been
in the restaurant that evening.

You ordered Mr Aziz
to deliver a take-away to a man

who'd already eaten with you.

We've also recovered
the knife you killed Prince with.

How much were you into him for?

£13,000.

I tried to keep away...

...but the cards get into your skin.

- I broke the golden rule...
- Don't chase your losses.

Next time, the hand will be better.

You always think
your luck will turn.

And there's nobody in your family
that could've loaned that to you?

Loaned?

That was mine by right.

My half of the business.
What should have been my half.

The profits.

If my brother had remembered
our agreement.

All I wanted was my fair share,
50-50, that is what we agreed.

But your brother went back
on his word.

He said, "Don't worry yourself
with overheads and loans

"and credit and debit and...

"Just concentrate on the cooking,
leave the worrying to me."

You felt cheated?

I WAS cheated.

He said he couldn't remember
our arrangement.

He said, "Don't worry,
you will be sorted out,

"you will be looked after."

My nephews?

Taking care of their uncle?

Like I am some beggar man?

So you began stealing
from the restaurant

in order to pay your debt
to Oberon Prince.

It wasn't that your brother
was losing his faculties

and getting the sums wrong,
you were stealing from him.

What was it, Mr Aziz discovered you?

He saw me.

Did he blackmail you?

No.

He gave me a chance to come clean
and tell Uqbah, or he would.

So you came up with a plan
to solve all your problems.

Two birds with one stone.

You kill Oberon Prince,
which eradicates your debt,

and you frame him for killing Aziz.

So your brother never discovers
that you were stealing from him.

You think it's going to be easy
to do this... to someone.

It is easy in your head.

But with another human being...

...it is not easy.

No.

One minute, they are
a living, breathing creature...

and... and then
they're just meat and bones.

It's a bad thing I have done.

A wicked thing.

And I feel ashamed for it.

It is one thing to know yourself
to be weak...

I am a gambler. I am a thief.

...but it is another thing
when the people you love...

know what you are.

I gave in to temptation.

How could I ever look them
in the eye again?

I had no choice.

What could I do?

Look...

- What you said earlier...
- I was speaking out of turn.

No, no.

Maybe you're right.

All this with Carl Sturgis.

You just get obsessed sometimes.

I'll let it go.

All well, is it?

With you?

Always.

See you tomorrow.

For a better
Oxford and a better Britain...

vote Archibald-Lake.
Vote Conservative.

A vote for the Conservative Party
is a vote for a better tomorrow.

Whatever the result tonight,

you can see what happens
when you mix their culture and ours.

Not 24 hours since,
we lost a foot soldier.

A good patriate.

- Young Gary Rogers.
- Radowicz!

Gerwazy Radowicz.

Mrs Radowicz...

He was my boy.

You killed him.
Just as much as they did.

Filling his head with all this.

We all did.

My only brother stealing from me.

And killing... poor Mr Aziz.

- If only I had...
- It'll be all right, Baba.

It'll be all right.

I'll make sure he's looked after.
He can come and live with us.

Us?

Me and Ilsa. We're getting married.

So, when you leave...
We're staying.

All this anger, all the violence,
and all this hatred?

In the end, it defeats only itself.

And burns itself out
like a stubble fire.

We'll see Baba's looked after
between the both of us,

and Salim will take over
the restaurant.

With my help.

A good husband always listens
to his wife.

As you'll find out.

Ten o'clock.

The polling stations
have just closed,

and if the exit polls
are to be believed,

we are in for a very tight night,
and a remarkably close contest...

Synced and corrected by nkate