All language subtitles for endeavour.s07e03.hdtv.h264-mtb

♪ Concerto No.4 in F Minor,
'L'inverno', by Antonio Vivaldi

Admit men into our women's college,

you would invite the wolf inside the
citadel.

We cannot underestimate this.

The barbarian is at the gate!

Within this college we are safe,
we are free.

Beyond the pale,
we are neither of these things.

We are prey.

Broken neck.

There are wounds adjacent to the
jugular.

Bruising at the trauma site

suggests the attacker sucked,

or attempted to suck, her blood.

Still think we got him?

It doesn't mean...

It means maybe you're not as smart
as you like to give out.

We've got a passer-by
who heard someone whistling

along the towpath last night.

Antonio, would that be?

♪ Oh, oh, Antonio
He's gone away... ♪

That's right. Why?

In here! Carl Sturgis...

I'm arresting you for the murder
of Bridget Mulcahy.

Examination of the ladder
upon which he stood

shows that it was old and in poor
repair.

There are no suspicious
circumstances pertaining.

And accordingly, I record a verdict

of death by misadventure.

♪ Ave Maria

♪ Gratia plena

♪ Maria, gratia plena... ♪

It's not helpful to reopen
the debate.

They're just requesting
that we speak to the student body.

I just don't understand
why they're asking us again.

Of the nearly 40 colleges in Oxford,

only five are open to women.

Five!

And yet, the faculty are once again
entertaining the idea

that Lady Matilda's should open its
doors to men.

I say, no!

- No, no.
- Maggie...

No! I'm sorry, Warden...

this is a place of women.

And its precincts should remain
inviolate.

It's just a straw poll, Mags,
of the student body.

- Advisory at best.
- Advisory?

Well, this is my advice.
Drop the idea.

Because, I promise you,

I will fight any attempt
to make this college coeducational.

I will fight it to my last breath!

♪ Ave Maria. ♪

There were grounds to believe

that the person responsible
for the murder at Corax House

also killed the barmaid, Molly
Andrews, on the towpath at New Year,

as both women were known to that
individual.

It was the flasher
that threw us off the scent.

Tony Jakobssen.

He had his throat cut.
Completely different MO.

Of course, it's now clear
that Jakobssen was got rid of

because he'd strayed
on to the killer's hunting ground.

It's all very well the Yard picking
over our work

with the benefit of hindsight.

The important thing is Carl Sturgis
is on remand

at Farnleigh Prison,
awaiting trial.

He can do no further harm.
That's what matters.

We got him in the end.

We would have got him a deal sooner
if we'd been listened to.

Morse meant well, of course,
and his record speaks for itself.

I'm not suggesting
any repercussions for him.

Not for a moment, no. But...

we invested too much faith in his
abilities.

Backed his instincts too
wholeheartedly.

We gave him his head.
Overindulged him.

And he was wrong.

And it was a week before he
was due to walk me down the aisle.

The past year,
it's all he talked about.

It was no-one's fault.

That's what the inquest said.

But I can't help but blame myself.

How's that?
- Money.

We've never been well-off,
but he did want to make it nice.

The wedding.

He was working all the hours.

Sold his big car
for something smaller.

He even cashed in
a couple of life policies he had.

He was alone when the accident
happened, is that right?

Yeah. The pulley went
on the block and tackle.

Dad had been saying
it needed replacing, but...

...just never got around to it.

These, er... freak accidents
of yours.

I've taken a look. There's
nothing there, as far as I can see.

No grounds for opening an
investigation, leastways.

Really?

None of the deceased
were known to each another.

And there's nothing that links them.
- Well, I'd like to keep at it.

Not really our place to go looking
for work, is it?

Not when there's real cases
going begging.

Well, I think these are
real cases.

Then we'll have to disagree.

We all make mistakes sometimes,
get things wrong.

Even you.
- Is that right?

There's no shame in it.

It just makes us be double sure
of a thing next time.

How did you know about the song
Antonio?

How did you know that's what the
passer-by would have heard?

Because that's what I heard
when I followed Sturgis.

- That's what he was whistling?
- That's what I heard.

That's not the same thing.

I lost sight of him,
I heard the whistling.

- So, it could have been someone else.
- No, it couldn't.

We have four people
who can stand him alibi

the night his girlfriend was killed.

Four people can put him
at that New Year's Eve party

- until the early hours of the morning.
- They said they did.

Not to mention the taxi driver
that dropped him off

and picked him out of a line-up.

It's past debate now.
- Is it?

Then, how could he be in two places
at once?

It was him.
- Why, because you say so?

That's right. All right.
Well, what about evidence?

What about Molly Andrews' crucifix,
for example?

We've turned his place upside down
and we couldn't find a thing.

Not a thing!

It's Sturgis. He's been charged.
And there's an end of it.

Well, I hope you're right.
Really, I do.

But I think a jury are gonna
want more than your gut

when it comes to court.

And I'm not wrong. These freak
accidents, they are connected.

♪ Growing stronger

♪ Warm and wilder

- ♪ Getting better everyday...
- ♪

Ah-ha! About time.

♪ I don't feel all turned on and
starry-eyed

♪ I just feel a sweet contentment
Deep inside... ♪

I don't think I'll ever quite get
used to this place.

It's not as if I can come
to your house. He might drop by.

Five months. She should be back
soon, shouldn't she, your friend?

New Year sometime.

- What does she do again?
- She's a dancer.

Where?

Some discotheque in Beirut. Why?

Does it matter?

No. I don't suppose so.

Come in, number 23, your time is up.

What's that?
- Oh, nothing.

It's something they say
on the boating lake

when you've had your hour.

You know how it works.
- Yeah...

Ludo and I might be away.

Did I say?

For Christmas.

Cortina d'Ampezzo.

Skiing...

Nice.

It won't always be this way.

Well, we will have to tell him
sooner or later.

The longer it goes on...

It would kill him.

We're all adults.

These things happen.

It's nobody's fault.

It's funny.

I think it's you he'd mind losing...

far more than me.

I'm sure you'll have made plans of
your own,

but you're very welcome to have
Christmas lunch here with us.

Oh, you're here, are you?
I didn't hear you come in.

Joan should be home.

Thursday.

'There's another body.'
- When?

You know, it's nothing
extravagant.

- Where?
- Just enough food for everybody.

And the children get out a game
or two for after the Queen,

and Fred has a doze
in front of the big film.

Right.

- We've got to go.
- I haven't done your sandwiches.

They'll have to keep.
- Mrs Thursday.

There's been another one
along the towpath.

Sir. Morse.

A cyclist found her
about an hour and a half ago.

Undergrad from Lady Matilda's
it looks to be.

Name of Petra Cornwell.

19.

Her digs are a quarter of a mile
up the towpath.

Anything from witnesses
or passers-by?

Nobody's come forward as yet.

Nobody heard the whistling or...?

As I say, it's too early.

Doctor...

Time of death between eight to
12 hours.

At first glance, cause of death
would appear to be asphyxia

by means of manual strangulation.

Not like the last one, then?

- Well...
- No blood, no blood drinking.

That's something, isn't it?
I mean, that's something.

- Let's not.
- How's that? Let's not what?

- Oh, it doesn't matter.
- No, no.

Let's not what?

Let's not clutch at straws
to save our blushes.

Three women, one man.

It's the same killer for all.

Whoever killed Molly Andrews
killed this young woman.

Oh, yeah?

You'd like that to be true,
wouldn't you?

Show me up.

"The old man's losing his touch."
Is that it?

- I didn't... I didn't say that.
- You don't need to.

But before you get all
high and mighty,

let's not forget you had all
this down for Naomi Kane's killer.

Yes, I know.

But if we're being honest about it,

when it comes to something
like this,

you've never really had
that much touch to lose, have you?

Morse...
- Well, it's true.

This is what I get, is it?

I've stuck my neck out for you
more than you know.

Yes, of course you have.
Who wouldn't?

I mean, bank robberies, car thieves,
yeah, there's no-one better.

But if it's something that demands

a bit of intellect or finesse,
then...

You arrogant, conceited...

Gentlemen!

You will conduct yourselves with
decorum and the solemnity

appropriate to this situation

or you will find some other place
to stand!

If you want to carry on like that,

you find yourself another
pathologist.

Am I understood?
- Max, I'm sorry, I...

Am I understood?!

Then we shall say two o'clock.

That's the face we want to
show the world now, is it?

Washing out our dirty smalls

in front of respected friends
and colleagues.

God almighty,
what's the matter with you?

Well...

I hope you're both pleased
with yourselves.

I'll put in for a transfer
as soon as this is over.

Banbury or Kidlington.

I think we've taken it
as far as we can, you and I.

Yeah, I think that's about right.
For the best.

McNutt's at Kidlington.

Maybe you could put in
a good word for me.

Oh, my word's good enough for that,
then?

If you want to be on your way,
don't stay on my account.

I'm not. I'm staying for her.
And for the rest of them.

But don't worry, as soon
as this is over, I'll be gone.

Fair enough.

I'll get a patrol car back
to the nick, report to Mr Bright.

You can talk to her college.
Right?

- Dr Byrne?
- Yes?

Detective Sergeant Morse,
Thames Valley.

I have it from
the Admissions Officer

that you are tutor to a
Petra Cornwell.

I am.

What? What is it?

- I am sorry.
- Are you?

Then why can't you stop it?

- Well, we try.
- Well, try harder!

These are your friends doing this.

Your brothers, fathers.

She was just lovely.

Beautiful and clever...

and kind. Just...

Just lovely. I...

- I don't know what to say.
- Maggie?

Love, what's wrong?

Hey...

What's going on?

It's the police, there's...

I'm sorry, I can't say it.
- It's all right.

I'm afraid an undergrad
has been found on the towpath

beneath the Port Meadow bridge.

It's Petra.

Petra Cornwell?

Wait a minute, I thought you'd
caught the Towpath Killer.

He's in prison, isn't he?

Four victims across the last
11 months.

The first, Molly Andrews,
was found here on New Year's Eve.

The second, whom we now believe
to have been killed

because he was queering
the Towpath Killer's pitch,

was Tony Jakobssen,
a cook from the working men's club.

Third...

was Bridget Mulcahy
at the end of June.

She was killed here,

on the way home from her
boyfriend's.

So far, she's the only one
with this blood drinking business.

Now we've got this undergraduate
from Lady Matilda's, Petra Cornwell.

- No blood business there?
- No, sir.

Untouched, in that regard.

- She lived in digs?
- Yes.

With two other girls, I think.

What's this?

The faculty has decided to hold
a referendum.

Whether Lady Matilda's
should admit men to college.

- Will it pass?
- Over my dead body.

Sorry, that was a dreadful choice
of words.

I will need to speak to her
flatmates.

Of course.

Did she have any enemies?
Any that you know of?

She was a pretty 19-year-old woman
with a happy disposition

and not a malicious thought
in her head.

Does that invite enemies?

It certainly invites attention of a
kind that isn't necessarily welcome.

Sorry, how's that?

Petra made a formal complaint last
month about a Fellow at Corax House.

It's a scientific department
attached to Cardinal College.

Yes, I know it. What was the nature
of the complaint?

And about whom?

I was just helping her down
from a ladder.

She said you grabbed her breast
and made a lude comment.

It was just a misunderstanding.

She had big knockers, you know,
proper Hindenburgs.

Anyway, she span around
on this ladder

and one of those things
collided with my hand.

And all I said was,
so as not to embarrass her,

I just made light of it, I said,

"Well, you don't get many of those
to the pound, do you, love?"

And that didn't improve
the situation?

Oh, did it buggery.

It was a joke, man.

Only, she didn't see the funny side,
did she,

and made a mountain
out of a molehill?

But what do you expect?
These bloody Matildabeests!

The stuff they fill their heads with
these days,

card-carrying members of the comfy
shoe brigade, that's what they are.

And where were you last night,
for the record?

Well, I wasn't on the towpath giving
Petra Cornwell what for,

I can tell you that.

It's awful what happened to her.
Truly.

I wouldn't wish it on my worst
enemy. But...

...nothing to do with me.

Sir...

Sturgis' lawyers have called
for the case to be dismissed

and for his immediate release.

Neither Division nor the Crown
will oppose the request.

Huh, today...

...of all days.

Sir?

My wife returns
from the United States.

Any news on how the treatment went,
sir?

Well, it was experimental, but,
er...

...we're hopeful.

It is him, sir.

That's not how Division sees it.

We have to face the facts, Thursday.
We got it wrong.

Desperately, hideously so.

We got it wrong, and the
Towpath Killer remains at large.

I've lost my job, my livelihood.

My name's been dragged through
the mud.

The police knew I hadn't done it,
but went through with this charade.

You'll take action against them?

I've spoken to my solicitor,
Mr Vholes.

He's advised me
that I am reserving my position.

And what makes me sick is that,

while they had me locked up
in prison,

the real Towpath Killer
has been free to strike again.

And that's unforgivable.

I just hope they catch him
this time.

Thank you.

- He's not wrong.
- But you were.

The boyfriend of the first victim?

- He always seemed too obvious to me.
- Mm, and he had an alibi.

So, I've been told, your freak
accidents, it's a no-go, I'm afraid.

That people have accidents,
people die.

What do you want me to say? I don't
know, that I'm not going mad.

That there's something to my story.
That you haven't given up.

Have you...

given up?

Well, I don't think you're
going mad.

Well, that's a relief.
Because I think I've found more.

So, I started to wonder

if it was something just happening
here in Oxford,

or if there was something
further afield.

And?

And I turned up nearly a dozen
fatal accidents

in Dover and Uttoxeter
in the past year.

Off your patch. But I thought
it might be worth a look.

This is Oxford, though.

I was at the inquest.
A Mr and Mrs Jones.

They'd only had the balcony painted
a week or two before.

- Did anybody see him fall?
- The wife.

She was crossing to the car,
just below.

He came out onto the balcony
to wave her off.

It gave way.

Insurance found the bolts had rusted
through.

But they had no reason
to think it wasn't an accident?

Well, I can't imagine
they would have paid out otherwise.

- Oh, why? Did she get much?
- He left her looked after.

But it'd be a different story
if it had been her who fell.

How's that?

Their son had got into debt,

so she sold her life policy
without telling her husband.

Right.
And if she'd gone off the balcony,

then Mr Jones wouldn't have earnt
a thing?

Not a sou.

Right.

Miss Tate?

I wondered if I might talk to you
for a moment?

I went to the working men's club.

- They said you were no longer there.
- I couldn't.

Not after everything.

You were very brave.

I'm bad luck.
- No, I'm sure that's not the case.

I wondered if I might have a word
with you.

Yeah.

I just wanted to ask you

about what happened with Molly
Andrews on the towpath at New Year.

- You didn't see anything...
- No.

...with Tony?

No.

I said.

I just want to put all that behind
me. What about the second girl?

Bridget Mulcahy.
Did you see anything?

- Anything at all?
- I just...

I just want to be left alone.

Please.

Another girl was killed on the
towpath last night.

- Did you see something?
- There's nothing I can tell you.

All right.

OK, I'm sorry to have troubled you.

- What's in there?
- Nothing.

Nothing.

Please, don't!
Don't go in there, please!

Please, don't...
- It's all right. It's all right.

What is it?
Is that what you see?

I thought, if I get it out...

...out of my head, it would stop.

But it hasn't.

And what's the tinfoil for?

To keep it trapped.

It?

Him.

Who is he?

He comes when I'm not looking.

I can smell him first.

Like a...

...a burning smell.

Then I catch him
out of the corner of my eye.

But if you turn too quick,
he disappears.

I know he's not there.

He can't be.

But he must be, mustn't he,
if I can see him?

- Why, can you see him now?
- Mm.

Miss Tate, there's nobody there.

It's all right, it's OK.
Shh, come on, there's nobody there.

There's nobody there.

There's nobody there.

I'm really concerned about your
wellbeing.

I don't think you should be here
alone. Is there anybody I can call?

A family member or...?

No, no, no.

No, there's nobody.

Please, don't tell anyone
about this.

I don't want doctors.

They've put me away before. And
I know what those places are like.

Please...

There, now. There.

Get out of it!
Before you get my toe up your arse.

Gertcha!

All right, all right.

It's all right.

I grew up in a big pub. Huge.

On the corner of the street.
Four floors.

On Sundays, in the afternoons,
after closing...

...cousin Kevin would have us all
play hide and seek.

Only, I like necks, he called it.

Cos if he got you,

he'd hold you down and pin a big,
fat, wet raspberry on your neck.

Making out it was all a big joke
and a game.

I don't think it was altogether.

A game.

Not to him.

He'd count to 100 and we'd all run
off and find somewhere to hide.

I hid in my aunt's wardrobe once
and it was all fur coats and that.

Stoles, you call them?

Things made out to look like foxes
or some other animal.

Their paws hanging down
and glass eyes on wire.

There was this handbag smell,
all stale.

Perfume and lipstick and old sweets,

all mixed up with mints
and cigarettes.

Hello?

Let me out!

Somebody must have shut the door
and turned the key.

I couldn't...

And I screamed and screamed
and screamed, till I was gasping.

I must have inhaled a feather
or some fur, cos...

...I sucked it in gasping.

I couldn't breathe.

The next thing, I...

...I wake up in my bed
and it's gone teatime.

I could hear them in the bar
downstairs opening up.

I must have fainted or...

...had one of my turns that I have.

And where is he now?

Kevin.

Dead.

They all died.

There was a fire.

I was the only one to get out.

A fireman found me, but...

...everyone else died.

There...

There now.

Oh...

Oh, I'm happy to be home!

I have missed you, Puli...

so much.

And I you, my dear.
And I you.

Was it very bloody?

Desperately.

But Dr Schneider says
the indications are good.

The X-rays show shrinkage
in both lungs.

He's hopeful the treatment
may have triggered...

...some kind of remission.

That's wonderful news, my dear.

Just... Just wonderful.

Fred...

I warned her.

That's the thing of it.
I warned her.

Warned who?

Bridget.

A day or two before it happened,
I was, er...

down the towpath.

She was gonna meet her boyfriend.

I got talking to her.

I told her she shouldn't be walking
on her own down there.

I should've stuck to my guns
from the off.

Well, why didn't you?

People thought different.

What people?

Sorry, I should have called.

Not at all, not at all.
Is everything all right?

Yes.

Do you have something to drink?
- Of course.

- Wine or...?
- Whisky, if you've got it.

Yes.

What's all this?

Oh, erm..

That's work.

It looks very gruesome.

A catalogue of bizarre accidents?

Well, maybe, maybe not.

If they're not accidents, then we've
something sinister on our hands.

So, what is it, what's wrong?

Oh...

You're my friend, aren't you?

I mean, I like to think so.

I need your help.

Advice.

About what?

My wife.

It's mad, I know.

But she's...

These past few months...

I think she's seeing someone.

Someone else.

What gives you reason to think that?

She's been...

I don't know.

But since we got back from Monte,
something's changed.

But you were in Antibes
over the summer. How was that?

Twin beds.

She says I snore. I don't snore.

Well, have you spoken to her
about it?

I'm afraid.

What does one say?

Oh, I'm afraid I'm...

I'm the last person
you should ask about this.

I'm sure it'll be all right.

Give her some time
to think about things.

You know, give her some space.

Yes. Yes, perhaps you're right.

Thank you.

You're a good friend, Morse.

Carry on, girls.

A few more laps.

Aye aye.

It looks like I might've got you out
on a wild goose chase, matey.

Accident, right, Doc?

It looks that way.

She's come up the library ladder

for something
to the top of the bookcase.

She's reached for whatever
she's reached for.

The ladder's slipped.

And she's fallen
and struck her head on the bust.

Just a freak accident.

I noticed the brake on the
casters...

...appeared somewhat unreliable.

Right.

Time of death?

About midnight.

And everything was
just as you found it, was it?

- Exactly as you found it?
- Yeah.

Why?

Does she have any family
that we can inform?

Both her parents are gone,
and, erm...

...she was an only child. Unmarried.

So, I believe she'd made provision

for her estate to come
to the college.

There won't be much.

Her house is heavily mortgaged,

and whatever insurance and savings
she had went on the deposit.

How's that?

She redeemed a couple of policies,

life and annuity,

to make what she had to put down
on the house.

Is there any news on Petra?

Oh, I'm afraid not.

Well, whoever he is,
he's taken his last Matildabeest.

If you can't keep us safe,
the village will defend itself.

Er, I wouldn't advise taking matters
into your own hands.

We'll do whatever we have to.
But I swear, no more of us will die!

Morse!

What's all this?

There's, erm...
There's been an accident.

Er, a fatal accident.

What are you doing here?

We have an appointment
with the Bursar

to discuss a charity concert
for Ludo's foundation.

Ah. But perhaps
this isn't the best time.

Sir. This is
Detective Chief Inspector Thursday.

- This is Mr and Mrs Talenti.
- Ludo, please.

Ludo?

- That's right.
- What, like the game?

It's short for Ludovico.
But, yes, exactly that.

And what are they to do with here?
- Er...

Nothing, sir. Mr and Mrs Talenti
are just friends of mine.

They're here to see the Bursar.

Well, if you'll excuse us.

Detective Chief Inspector. Morse.

- It was lovely to meet you.
- Madam.

Well?

An accident, apparently.

She fell from a ladder
whilst reaching for a book.

So, where does "apparently" come in?
- The lights were off.

Hard to find a book in the dark,
I would have thought.

You think someone turned them off
after she'd fallen?

No, I think it's one of
Dorothea Frazil's freak accidents.

We've been through that.
There's nothing there.

Just as likely,
whoever found the body,

or whichever uniform was first
on scene.

Not that you'd get them to admit it.
But it happens.

- Well, it shouldn't.
- Well, it does.

You can't build a case
that someone's going round Oxford

killing random strangers out of
one light switch not being on.

Anything from the towpath?

No.

Matter of fact, I think we've
probably got enough bodies on that.

I spoke to McNutt.

He's got a spot on his firm
that comes free after Christmas.

Wait...

You're taking me off
the towpath case?

Yeah.

Well...

Well, there we are.
- Right, well, you can't.

If you want to catch him,
then you need me.

I need someone I can stand on.

I'm a bagman, not a yes man.

I'm here to keep you on the straight
and narrow, and tell you

when I think you're barking
up the wrong tree. That's my job.

Not any more.
I'm appointing Siddle bagman.

You're off, I need to get
someone else housebroken.

No time like the present.
- Right.

Misanthrope.

30 across, 11 letters.

"Like Scrooge he rouses
phantom's ire."

I was saving that.

No, you weren't. You were stuck.

Anything more from the bundle
I gave you?

Well, I've been going through
Dover and Uttoxeter.

But I've just come from
Lady Matilda's.

I think we've got another one.

Dr Nancy Deveen,
fallen from a ladder.

That pub fire I called you about.

Did you get anything? Er, nothing
that mentioned a Jenny Tate.

I did find a report from 1949.

The Wolf's Head in Watlington.

Three children, two girls and a boy,

orphans, living with an aunt,
an uncle and a cousin.

And what happened? All killed,
bar one of the little girls.

Phyllis Linden.

Suspicion was that she had set the
fire. Charges were never brought.

But she was found to be severely
disturbed and put away.

Well, she could have changed
her name, I suppose.

Wouldn't you?

Anyway, it's all in there.
Everything I could find.

Now, if you'll excuse me...

...I'd better get over to Lady M's.

- Right.
- Keep me posted.

I will. Thank you for this.

Urgh!

- Come on!
- Come on, ladies!

Murderer!
- Bastard!

Don't let him get away!

Who is he?

A man called Clemens, sir.
David Clemens.

He works at the Morris plant.
A keep fit fanatic.

Clemens...
Why does that name seem familiar?

He found the first body.
Or so he claims.

Molly Andrews, the barmaid.

His flat is a virtual museum
to the crime.

Newspaper cuttings
all over the place.

How is he?

In a coma.

Are you all right?

Yes.

No. I don't know.

It's all just...

I was fine and then...

That whistle.

It must have been the last thing
Petra heard.

♪ Now a ghost wheels her barrow... ♪

It's just horrible.

Well, we did it, matey.

I think "we" is stretching it.

Whoever did it, it's done.

"In Dublin's fair city."

That's what Clemens was whistling,
according to Dr Byrne.

Molly Malone, not Antonio.
Why do you think that is?

Oh, no, no.
Oh, no, you bloody don't!

If he was whistling something else,
it's because he changed his tune.

Just go home and get some sleep,
all right?

Morse.

'It's Ludo.

'I need your help.'

Why, what is it? What's wrong?

'I've booked a table at Augusto's
for one tomorrow.

'I'll see you there.'

Right.

Right.

See you tomorrow.

I see you were on
the George Fontayne case.

A boy went missing from Pierton
in 1949.

Oh, yeah.

We did a review of it for County
ten years on in '59.

Kidnapping, it was assumed,

though no note ever came
and the kid was never found.

Anyone suspect?

The usual.
Child molesters and the like.

We pulled them in again during the
review, but it didn't go anywhere.

What do you think happened?

Somebody took him, most likely.

Or he drowned.
Lots of waterways round there.

And he liked to play out.

The canals and rivers were dragged
at the time, but without success.

What's your interest?
- Just something I'm looking at.

I thought you'd be down the pub
with the rest.

Lukewarm draught and a handful
of backside from the typing pool?

- No, thanks.
- Let them enjoy themselves.

We got our man.
- WE didn't get him.

I don't think there's anything
to celebrate.

But I'm sure they'll be rutting in
the streets by daybreak.

They don't need any encouragement
from me.

Maybe the way they let off steam
is a bit loud, a bit vulgar,

but at least you can tell
they're alive.

You stand there and you
look down your nose at everyone.

You're no better than any of them.
- I didn't say that I was.

You don't have to.
It's the way you carry yourself.

Nobody's good enough.

No, there was one person.

But he lost his way.

You've leave outstanding.

Upstairs would like you to take it
before you go.

You don't have to come back in.

- You should've appointed Strange bagman.
- You think I didn't ask?

What a very smart man I married.

- You look terribly dashing.
- My dear, you were never lovelier.

Oh, I think I was.

Not to me.

And I should know.

Shall you be long?

Just trot up to Division.

A statement to the press.

Back in time for the six o'clock
news, and a lime juice and gin.

I'm very proud of you, Puli.

I thought I might buy a tree and
get our Christmas decorations up.

- I don't want you going up into the attic.
- There's no need.

- I had Robin do it for me.
- Robin?

That nice young man
with the faith healers.

He even tested the lights,
and they're working.

Oh, well, if Robin thinks so.

Then I shall nip out to Richardson's

and fetch you something special
for your supper.

Now, you're not to go to any fuss
on my account.

You've taken care of me so well
this past year,

these past years.

You've always looked after me.

And I always shall.

Good afternoon.

Thank you.

What is it? What's wrong?

Morse.

Darling.

I ordered champagne.

I hope that's all right.

A toast, I think.

What shall we drink to? Friendship?

Love?

Fidelity?

- Ludo...
- Quite right.

How remiss of me.

Of course, we should drink to you.

A rose between two thorns.

My darling wife.

You're not drinking.

What's, erm...?

What's going on?

There's no getting anything
past you, is there?

I was visiting a friend
at the Swedish embassy.

He had to take a meeting
with the Minister of Meatballs,

or whatever it might be,

so I thought, as I had time to kill,
I would call you.

I wanted to thank you
for your recent advice.

But I'm afraid I told a white lie.

- Oh, yes?
- I told the officer at Castle Gate

that I was a Swedish policeman

who needed to speak to you
as a matter of some urgency.

They gave me a number
where I could reach you.

Only, I was puzzled...

...because it was a number
I recognised.

Pronto? Hello?

Who is this?

What...

was my wife doing
at the end of a telephone number

where I believed I could find you...

...and at an address known to me?

What was it you said?

"I'm sure it'll be all right.

"Just give her space."

So thoughtful.

Such concern.

What a friend.

What a pal.

We didn't mean to hurt you.

Oh, well, that's all right, then.

I mean, if you'd meant it,
that would be different, but...

- These things, they happen.
- Not to me.

The heart decides.

Does it?

I am sorry.

No.

You're not.

He knows now.

It's over.

You can come with me.

It's finished.

She is used to the finest, Morse.

A policeman?

Please...

I don't love you.

I don't feel anything for you.
I never did.

It was a mistake.

And there we are.

It's for the best, my love.

Detective Chief Inspector Thursday,
please.

Dorothea Frazil of the Oxford Mail.

Fred?

It's Dorothea.

Look, erm, if this has
come through to you already,

you know what I'm calling about.

If not...

...I thought you'd want to hear it
from me first.

Right.

A wonderful, marvellous spectacle,

the elephant covered in paint.

My wife holding its tether,

absolutely drenched from head to toe
with water from its trunk, you see?

If I might speak to you a moment,
sir?

Yes, of course.

In your office, perhaps.

Really?

Well, yes. Yes.

Yes, of course, if you, er...
if you think that's best.

Excuse me.

Drink, hm?

Why not?

You know, I always took a dim view

of officers who took a drink
during the working day.

But the older I get,

- I can see it's a practice not without...
- It's your wife, sir.

Hm?

Dorothea Frazil
just telephoned my office.

There's been an accident.

- What?
- Your wife, sir.

Yes, I know, my wife, Mrs Bright.
What? What are you saying?

I'm very sorry, sir.

She seems to have been hanging
Christmas decorations.

She, er...

...looks to have taken a shock, sir.

An electric shock.

It's fatal, sir.

But...

But...

No, you see, I was only...

with her at home not an hour since.

- There must be some sort of...
- I'm very sorry, sir.

No, she'll be at home, you see.
She'll...

I can soon straighten this out.

It just takes her a while
to get to the phone, you see.

- Sir...
- It's quite a way from, er...

from one part of the house
to the hall.

That's where we keep the, erm...

the instrument.

Of course, she may have gone
upstairs. Yes, well, I'll call back.

That's it.

I'll call back.

I wouldn't want her to, er...

I'll try her again in a few moments.
She'll be there then.

She's not near the phone, you see.
That's...

That's what it is.

He's in a terrible state.

Oh, I'm not surprised.

What happened?

You've heard.

Some fault with the wiring,
so far as we can make out.

Just a...
- What, a freak accident?

Don't start that nonsense again.
Have some respect.

- It's not nonsense.
- I've looked at it.

It's nothing.
There was nothing there.

There was only nothing there because
we didn't know the why of it.

I didn't know the why of it.

But now I do.
At least, I think I do.

You're not dragging Mrs Bright
into it.

I'm telling you.

If you want to run with this
rubbish, do it on McNutt's meter.

You're done here. Go home.

So...

What's the caper?

Right.

Let's say you have an insurance
policy worth, I don't know, £10,000,

which they'll pay to your nearest
and dearest upon your decease.

Yeah, yeah, I've got one.

Well, you have to in this game,
don't you?

Never know what's going to happen.
Cover your funeral, what have you.

So, you pay off the policy over so
many weeks, over so many years,

- and then when you...
- Bingo!

Break out the best bitter
and the ham sandwiches.

But let's say you wanted
a smaller sum in a rush.

£3,000, say.

All you've paid in to the policy
so far isn't gonna come near.

So, my company comes along,
gives you the £3,000,

which is more than you'd get if you
were to simply redeem the policy.

I give you the money,
you give me the policy,

I continue paying the premiums,

- and then, when you die...
- You get the £10,000.

- Yep.
- It sounds harmless.

It is, if I'm willing to let you
live out your three score and ten.

But what if I want a quicker return?

Let's say I buy for 3,000, and then,
a year later, I cash in for ten.

But you can't cash in.

Unless the original holder
of the policy...

can be persuaded to die.

Or helped on their way.

What do we usually ask
in these situations?

Who benefits?
Who gets the money?

Exactly. The husband kills the wife,
claims the insurance.

Or the wife kills the husband.

But what if they're
complete strangers?

They've had the barest of contact.

So, someone's going around
buying life insurance policies

and collecting on them by
making sure the sellers die in what,

to all intents and purposes,
look like freak accidents?

Mm-hm.

So, who's behind it?

Well, I don't know. Not yet.

How do you want to play it?

Well, I have to take a run out to
Watlington on another matter.

But I have a bundle of these
case files in my car.

And it's been happening elsewhere.

There was a cluster in, erm,
in Leicester over the summer.

You want to split?
- Yeah.

What we're trying to establish

is if the deceased has sold
a life insurance policy.

Then we can work our way backwards.

I'll meet you at the end of the day
at a place called Aspen Park Drive.

It's the closest location
of these freak accidents.

Oh, and, Strange...

Thank you.

Oh, I remember Joe and Bess.

They had the tenancy of the Wolf
just before me.

Died in that terrible fire.

I did the odd stint behind the bar
for them when I was young.

And what about the children
that were here, orphans?

Bess' sister's kids, the Lindens?

Sweet, they were.

The little girls, Phyllis and Doris.

I were never too keen on the boy,
mind.

- Johnny, would that be?
- That's right.

I didn't shed any tears over him.
- Really? How come?

Oh, I don't know. Some kids...

I don't know, you can't put
your finger on it, but...

he had a nasty streak.

Did he? In what way?

Cruel to animals.

Pets.

He blinded Joe's dog with lye.

Nobody could prove anything,
but that was the talk.

I always thought it was the Sturgis
side coming through.

- Sturgis?
- Their maternal grandfather.

Old Noah Sturgis. A bargee.

About as nasty a piece of work
as you could wish to meet.

And Johnny was every inch
his grandson.

Hello?

Anybody home?

Yes. What do you think you're doing
coming into my house?

- Well, the door was open.
- So what?

That doesn't give you the right
to go prowling round. Who are you?

Mr Sturgis, isn't it?

Detective Sergeant Strange.
Thames Valley.

What do you want?

I'm clear of the towpath killings.
Hadn't you heard?

- This is harassment.
- I'm not here about that.

This is, er... another matter.

I'd no thought to find you here.

You've, er... moved, then?

- Is this your place, is it?
- I'm looking after it.

For who?

A family friend.

The kettle's on.

Can I offer you a drink?
Tea or...?

- If you're having one.
- I never drink tea.

Coffee man, are you?

After my own heart.

- Milk and two, if there's one going.
- Sure.

I won't be a minute.

So, what's this about?

There was a fella that lived here.

Fell off the roof.

Freak accident.

We're, er...

...looking into it.

Trying to trace any members
of his family.

I don't know about that.

Funny that it should be you
living here.

Just, er...

Just you, is it...

- ...on the premises?
- Yeah.

Just me.

Here you go.

It's all right. You're safe now.

Jim!

Jim!

- Are you all right?
- Get after him.

- Where is he? Which way?
- Downstairs.

It's all right, miss.

He'll get him.

Urgh!

- How is he?
- He'll come through, sir.

Doctor.

Don't do anything by halves,
your boys, do they?

If a thing's worth doing...

But I'd sooner he was alive.

- Morse?
- With the girl.

How is she?

Physically,
she's lost a little blood.

There are bite marks
to her inner forearm.

But thankfully, he'd not much there
to get his teeth into.

Mentally...

...I don't think she had far to fall.

He said he was hungry.
- I know.

But that's finished now.

The ambulance men
will look after you.

What, a hospital?
I don't want to go to a hospital!

No, no, come on.
It's not that kind of hospital.

He's gone. It's done.

You're going to be all right.

You found her.
- Strange found her.

But you put him on to the place.
- No, it was blind luck.

What was Sturgis doing here?

- The undertakers that he works for.
- Duxbury's?

Mm. The man who owns the place,
a man called Aspen.

Duxbury's looked after
the funeral arrangements.

I imagine he died intestate

and the solicitors are trying
to trace any living relatives.

So, Sturgis found himself
a cosy little bolthole.

Well, not so cosy.

Remember those cats going missing
from the start of the year...

...and turning up disembowelled?

So, that was him.

Then he moved on to people.

Molly Andrews.

Tony Jakobssen.

Bridget Mulcahy.

Yes?

Yeah, it was him.

That could be Molly's crucifix...
- Yeah, it could be.

It's like she was
the practice piece.

He got bolder with Tony and...

...and more depraved with Bridget.

But he didn't kill them all.
Not the last one. Not Petra.

So, that fella in a coma
in the hospital,

the one that attacked Dr Byrne...

Clemens.

A copycat?

Maybe finding Molly Andrews' body...

sparked something latent in him.

I don't know.

So, who was he, Carl Sturgis?

I think he was Jenny's brother
Johnny Linden.

There was a fire in the pub
when they were children

in which Johnny supposedly perished.

Jenny, or Phyllis as she was then,
got the blame.

But I think the real culprit
was Johnny.

Why?

Well, they seem to have been
tormented

by their older cousin Kevin.

But to be honest, I think
Johnny was already pretty damaged.

He seemed to have a taste
for cruelty to animals,

which I think graduated
to other prey.

George Fontayne.

I think he killed him, then set fire
to the pub to cover his tracks.

And these visions Jenny
had of what happened on the towpath,

how do they fit in?
- I don't know.

Maybe she had a mental connection
with her brother.

Hello, Phyl.

You don't remember me.

I'd know you anywhere.

I looked for you so long.

Who are you?

Have I changed so much?

It's me, sis.

It's Johnny.

Maybe it was a way
of manifesting bad memories.

She may have seen more than she
realised as a little girl.

Yeah, she may.

But it's all theory, isn't it?

Plus gut feeling and a hunch.

What was it that brought you here?

You don't want to know.
Strange'll tell you.

When do you start at Kidlington?

The New Year, 4th of Jan.

Like you said, it's for the best.

Siddle.

The inquest into the death
of Pippa Tetbury, aged 23,

of 15 Stamboul Lane, Witney, today
recorded a verdict of misadventure.

The coroner reached the conclusion
that somehow Miss Tetbury,

a dancer lately returned
from Beirut,

had pulled down a wall-mounted
electrical heater into the bath...

She should be back soon,
shouldn't she, your friend?

The New Year sometime.

What does she do again?

She's a dancer.

Where?

Some discotheque in Beirut. Why?

What does it matter?

"The sum of £2,500

"was transferred today
into your bank account,

"being the full settlement
hitherto agreed

"for the acquisition
of your life policy."

- I need to talk to you, sir.
- About what?

- Mrs Bright.
- What about her?

It's about these freak accidents
of Dorothea Frazil's.

Not that again! I think
I've got to the bottom of it.

- I think it's to do with life insurance.
- What?!

Ah, Morse, good heavens.

Sir.

We're losing you to Kidlington,
I understand.

Yes, sir.

Yes, sir. Yes.

My... My deepest condolences, sir.

Yes, well...

Thank you.

Thank you very much.

That's tremendously...

...kind of you.
I was only saying to DCI Thursday

how awfully kind everyone has been.
I, er...

...I really didn't expect...

Yeah. I don't
think it was an accident, sir.

What's this?
What wasn't an accident?

Nothing, sir.

Did your wife get rid of any
of her financial assets lately,

specifically her life insurance?

Because if she did...

...I fear whoever bought it from her
may have had a hand in her death.

What?

What do you mean? What...?

What does he mean, Thursday?
Do you know what he's talking about?

Not exactly, sir.

Morse...
- I think she may have been killed.

I think she may have been murdered,
sir.

Er...

How dare you?

What is this?

How dare you? You come in here...

He's wrong, sir. Of course he is.

Are you gone mad?

Why would you say
such a cruel and wicked thing?

Because I believe it to be true,
sir.

Get out.

Get out of my station.
You've no business here.

Go on, get out!

I don't want you here. Murdered...

It was an accident.

An accident!

I never heard anything so grotesque.

- Thursday, get him out!
- Sir.

You have to be in the right, don't
you? Have to have the last word.

What's the matter with you?
You want to take a look at yourself.

- I want to take a look at myself?
- If you had your mind on the job

and not this flighty piece,
you might not be in such a mess.

- Sorry, what flighty piece?
- I saw you together in the summer.

Parked down by the canal.

I ran the registration.

The car's in her husband's name.
Talenti.

Well...

you had no right to do that.

Maybe not. But nor had you.

They come easy, don't they,
the lies, once they start?

I'm afraid.

I can't save you.

Then no-one can.

The results are in.

The barbarian is denied the citadel.

- You kept them out, Maggie.
- We kept them out.

But for how long?

One day at a time.

I'll see you in the New Year.

Why don't you call him?

Well...

He'll be with his people, I expect.

Well, good heavens.

This is a surprise.

Well, I just thought
I'd see how you were, sir.

- Christmas and all.
- Oh...

I've...

never gone in for it much, myself.

Carrie did.

Mrs Bright. But, erm...

You should've come to us, sir.
You'd be more than welcome.

Yes, you did offer. And, er...

And it was very kind of you,
but I couldn't...

face people, I suppose.

Drink?

- Please.
- Yeah.

I, er, went by Morse's.

Oh, doing your rounds? How is he?

No reply.
The place in darkness.

Well, if you do see him...

Well, you'll know what to say.

I wasn't at my best
when I last saw him.

Understandable, sir.

Even so.

He's been very good with me the past
five years, one way and another.

We didn't get off to the best of
starts, but I like to think I've...

...I've unbent somewhat.

He was right, you know?

We did redeem our life insurance
policies, both of us,

so we could afford the trip
to America.

I won't have any of the rest of it,
but, erm...

No, he was right about that.

What's this?

It's for our Joan. Forwarded.

But I've opened them,
in case they're important.

It's from Morse.

There's a letter.

Go on, then.

"Dear Miss Thursday...

"..contained herein are materials

"that I ask you bring to the
attention of your father.

"All he needs to understand
is here enclosed.

"To my lasting regret
we parted on poor terms.

"The fault was mine entirely.

"He has ever been..."

I can't.

"He has ever been the best
and wisest of men...

"..and a better friend to me than
I could have wished for or deserved.

"I let him down.

"I am sorry to presume upon you...

"..but I've burnt all my
bridges...

"..and you are the last and only
person I can think of

"who might extend to me
the benefit of the doubt.

"Please forgive my brevity,

"I have to make the boat train
to Venice.

"There's never the time to say
all that one would wish.

"As you will no doubt hear,

"I have made an appalling mess
of things.

"Much of it I can't put right.

"But I should have failed
even further

"were I not to try to retrieve
what I can

"from a situation
wholly of my own making.

"Should I fall short...

"..and things end badly...

"..please believe me to have been...

"..yours, always.

"Morse."

My father took me there
when I was a girl.

And I go back every New Year's Eve
to remember him.

It is my pilgrimage.

Do you believe in sin?
- No.

Damnation?

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

Violetta...

Come on.

What do you want?
- What do I want?

I want an explanation,
Senora Talenti.

If that's even your name.

I mean,
I know your presence wasn't required

to stand up all of these freak
accidents in every particular.

What do you want me to say?
- I want you to say...

that you're sorry.

- That's what I want you to say.
- Of course I'm sorry.

I tried to tell you so many times.
I told you I was afraid.

You remember, in the car, when you
met me that first time in Oxford?

No, you didn't say that. You didn't.

You said that you were scared
of losing something good.

I was frightened to tell you
the truth.

How could I?
The terrible things he made me do.

- Oh, come on, spare me.
- You don't understand, I had to!

He would have killed me
if I hadn't gone along with it.

Morse...
- No, don't. Don't do that.

It's done.

That's finished. That's over.

If it was ever even true
to begin with.

Anyway, I'm here
to take you both in.

It's Ludo you want.

I can give him to you.

And I will.

But if I do that,
you have to give me 24 hours

before you come after me.

If we ever meant anything
to one another.

Well, well.
What a pleasant surprise.

How was it to be Morse?
Was she to betray me with a kiss?

24 hours, wasn't that
your squalid little bargain?

Her price for selling me out.

- What have you done to her?
- Oh, please. Such drama.

Fear not, she'll be along.

We wouldn't want her to miss
the end.

This is the end.
I'm here to take you in.

Aren't you forgetting something?

We are beyond your jurisdiction.

Well, you can tell that
to the Italian police

while I'm organising
your extradition.

Tell them what, exactly?
- About the people that you've killed.

I've killed no-one.
My hands are innocent of blood.

Spotless.

Just like my conscience.

Buying the life insurance policies
was my little wheeze, certainly.

But it was fate that spun
the wheel...

with a little help
from my glamorous assistant.

We all have our entrances
and our exits, Morse.

Our parts to play.

Even you.

- Why, what was my part?
- You were my useful idiot.

My pet policeman.
- Right, enough, enough!

Do you want to see her alive again,
or don't you?

I gave them a chance. All of them.

If the glazier had maintained
his pulley.

If Aspen had taken better care of
his ladder. And Mrs Bright?

As a matter of fact,
I quite liked her.

- You knew her?
- Of course.

I had to be on the inside
to gain access to their decorations.

Oh...

Thank you.

Rest.

It's 50-50, Morse.

Always.

Oh, they're closing the cemetery.

And there we are, right on cue.

Violetta?

You really don't have a clue,
do you?

She's a fraud, Morse.

Every word she's ever told you
was a lie.

When I found her, she was 15,

living barefoot
on the backstreets of Naples.

I've given her the world.

You don't even know her real name.

Put the gun down, Morse.
On the floor.

Put it down.

You won't do it. Once, perhaps,
you would have been right.

You were meant to be my creature,
not hers.

And then you went and spoiled
it all, didn't you, my darling?

Put the gun down.

Please...

All right.

All right.

Just let her go.

Come on, if we're going to get
the last boat.

I should have done for you in
England,

but she convinced me that
a dead policeman

wasn't in our best interests.

You said we were going to
let him go. It was just a warning.

That was the promise,
that was the plan.

Plans change.

No!

Violetta...

I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry...

Shh, shh.

Drop it.

I've done terrible things.

It doesn't matter.

Nothing matters.

It was true.

Us.

Always.

Ti amo.