Original subtitles

(birds cawing)

(dramatic music)

(Sam) Push.

Push.

Push.

Push.

That's right.

Right.

Push, push.

Nice. Nice rhythm.

(faintly) Nice...

The roasted duck with a peach sauce

and wild mushroom salad, Mrs Swanson.

(Celia) Thank you, dear.

Excuse me.

This duck's overcooked.

-Get the chef to start again? -(utensils clatter)

Of course, Mrs Swanson.

(scoffs)

Start again.

Already have.

(sizzling)

(Sam) Come on, guys.

Stay in rhyt... Stay in rhythm.

Push.

-Push. -(indistinct chatter)

(Sam) And four of you, you're rushing.

-No need to find a rhythm. -(rowers laughing)

You're losing it.

-(oar clattering) -Pick up the oars.

Pick up the oars.

No. No. No. No. No. No. This is not a day out.

(laughter)

-Here, let me help... -I'm perfectly capable

of walking on my own.

(scoffs)

(indistinct chatter)

(Sam) Careful! Concentrate! Come on!

That is what happens when you let idiots

who've never rowed before on the river.

They're the people that pay our wages, Sam.

(indistinct chatter, laughter)

How many times do I have to complain?

They could at least get the food right.

Are you at that rowing club?

Yes.

Why you chose to invest in it, I've no idea.

You've got no business sense.

Did you get the invitation?

(Celia) What invitation?

To the ceremony.

If you think I'm going to that,

you don't know your own mother, Maria.

Okay.

(sighs)

I suppose these Zoom calls are a good thing,

though it means you don't actually have to visit me so often.

Don't think that hasn't occurred to me.

Goodbye, dear.

(dramatic music)

(indistinct chatter)

There we go.

(Zoe) Thank you.

Yeah.

Uh, rowing's been... a bit elitist in the past,

but what we're trying to do here, at Chelsea Oars, is to...

shake things up, like get a wider demographic involved.

(chuckles)

You mean letting in riff-raff like me?

(laughs) I wouldn't call you riff-raff.

I'm just taking advantage of the free trial period, really.

-(Maria) I'm off home. -Yeah, okay.

Um, I won't be long, darling.

Are you sure...

that you don't want to join as a full member?

Hmm.

Maybe you could persuade me.

All clear?

Oh, I'm so, so sorry. Oh...

can, can, can, can you tell me the way to the cinema room?

I'm a bit lost.

It's just around the corner on the left, Mr Swift.

Hmm.

-Thank you so much. -You're welcome.

He should be in a home.

-He is in a home. -No, he isn't.

He's in a high-end lifestyle choice for discerning seniors,

who've got shitloads of money.

(suspenseful music)

(suspenseful music intensifies)

(door opens)

-(footsteps) -(door closes)

(Freddie) Hi.

You've been a while.

(cap clatters)

(theme music)

(book thuds)

(sighs)

(sighs)

I didn't want to make any decisions without talking to you first, Asti.

Maybe your clubbing days aren't over.

I think you know the answer to that, Max.

Huh. The Ting Tings' Greatest Hits.

(in mouth-filled voice) I could get it valued

at that antiques emporium on Lots Road.

(Astrid) Haven't you got to get to work, Max?

I tell you what, I'll drop them off

-later at the gallery... -No!

I don't want to clutter up my gallery with old CDs.

But you don't mind cluttering up my boat?

Max!

-(phone vibrates) -Oh...

I gotta go!

(sighs)

Layla.

Where?

I'm coming.

(suspenseful music)

(indistinct radio chatter)

Thank you.

-Morning, Max. -(Max) Morning.

Welcome to Greyfriars West.

Where your golden years are truly golden.

-I can't wait. -(chuckles)

An 80-year-old female was found deceased in her bed this morning.

Her name's Celia Swanson.

The duty doctors alerted us to the possibility of foul play.

Hello, uh, I'm Gillian Compton, I'm the general manager here.

DI Max Arnold.

I'm DS Layla Walsh.

Hello.

You will keep this as quiet as possible, won't you?

We'll do our best.

A purple bruise on the anterior side

-of the right deltoid. -(camera whirs)

Evidence of subcutaneous haemorrhage.

On the inside of the arm, further bruising.

Morning!

Hold on.

Give us a minute.

The duty doctor did well.

The deceased had a progressive neurological disorder

and appeared to have died in her sleep.

The key, however, is the right upper arm.

Bruising and bleeding under the skin.

Older people get this pretty easily from an intramuscular injection.

But assuming her medical records are up to date,

she hasn't had an injection for days.

And then there are these...

bruises on the inner arm.

Unusual, unless somebody was holding her down.

So you're saying she's been forcibly injected?

That's right.

(indistinct chatter)

(Gillian) Oh, hello, Mr Swift!

Good morning ladies.

Do you mind if we just go back to your rooms

-for a moment? -(woman) Oh, ah, it's...

Alright. Yeah, thank you.

(Hannah) She ate early.

She always did, she didn't finish her food.

-Who else was in here? -Nobody, as far as I remember.

I offered to help her back to her apartment,

but she wanted to walk on her own.

It was painful to watch, to be honest.

What time was that?

(Hannah) About seven.

(clicks tongue) And how about you?

Did you work the rest of the evening shift?

Yeah, but it was pretty quiet.

It can get busy at lunchtime,

that's when the relatives come to visit

but it's never very full in the evening.

So you left at about...

9:30? I guess.

-Together? -(Josh) Yeah.

We live in Fulham.

(Josh) Allibone Gardens.

(Connor) Nice menu.

Josh copied it from that place in Knightsbridge,

-Hartnell's. -Yeah, all right.

I added a few personal touches.

Uh, what did you think of Celia Swanson, Hannah?

Well, we all made fun of her a bit.

Dressing up like she was dining at Claridge's,

and she was quite fussy about her food, but...

-You know... -Translation.

She was a poisonous old cow and nobody liked her.

-Josh! -Come on.

It doesn't matter what she was like.

(Hannah) She was eating in here last night and now...

she's dead.

It's sad.

Do come in.

-Um... -Mrs Compton,

perhaps you could explain

how access to the building is regulated.

Uh, well, the staff and residents have fobs.

What about visitors?

Well, we like to keep it as informal as possible,

it's really important that Greyfriars doesn't have

that "institutional" feel.

Um, Stephanie's very clear on that.

-Stephanie? -(Gillian) Oh, the owner.

Stephanie Lang.

What can you tell us of Mrs Swanson's movements last night?

Well, from what I understand,

she went back to her apartment after eating in the restaurant.

She didn't have any visitors after that.

One of our residents, Maurice Swift,

found her body this morning.

And is Mr Swift available to talk to us?

Yeah, of course.

You might find that he gets a bit confused.

There is no sign of forced entry.

Which makes it more likely that the attack was carried out

by somebody with access to the building.

Oh, I can't believe that could happen.

We'll need to see a list of who was on duty last night.

And Mrs Swanson's next of kin.

Uh, yes, of course.

Um, she has a daughter,

Um, Maria. I'll, I'll give you her details.

What about your own movements?

(Layla) What time did you leave last night?

Um, usual time.

I'm generally on my way by six o'clock.

Oh, here's...

Hi. Stephanie Lang.

Morning. I'm DI Arnold. This is DS Walsh.

Chelsea CID.

I do hope you're being looked after properly.

Have you been offered tea or coffee?

(stammers)

We're fine.

So, you believe there's something untoward

about Mrs Swanson's death?

We do.

How shocking.

I assume you have evidence?

We're here to gather the evidence.

And all these police in the building?

Strictly necessary?

They are.

(pensive music)

Oh, wow. Look at this.

You'd think she went to a different party every night.

She's got so many.

The old hoarding instinct.

When my dad died,

-I went round... -(phone camera clicks)

...to clear out his house.

-Apart from his books... -(phone camera clicks)

...and a few paintings,

everything else was just junk.

-(phone camera clicks) -(distant sirens blaring)

(bin thuds)

"Dearest... M."?

"I've come to a..."

(Max) "...firm decision at last."

How'd you work that out?

Sometimes, dyslexia helps you see things more clearly.

So, the start of a letter that was never finished.

"Dearest M, I've come to a firm decision at last..."

Why did you tell the police that we live together?

-I mean, in your dreams. -I was protecting you.

-Okay? -Suppose so.

-And actually, in your dreams. -(Hannah scoffs)

Piss off. (chuckles)

Mr Swift, we understand you found Celia Swanson's body.

Hmm, yes.

It was such a shock.

We, we, we played...

cards on Tuesday mornings, you see,

and she was late.

So I-I... I went round to her apartment.

It wasn't locked, so I went in.

And there she was.

(Layla) Were you with her yesterday evening?

Yesterday? Let me think.

No. No.

(Layla) Are you sure?

Monday evening, no.

No.

That's film club.

(inhales, sighs)

I liked Celia.

We used to make each other laugh.

I like her daughter, too.

She had such a nice smile.

Um, the Moretti's have been waiting for a while.

-Net worth? -About 40 million.

Um, then there's Lord Aldiss, he was widowed last year.

Does he still live on that huge estate in Devon?

Yeah. I believe so, yes.

I heard he's not well.

A Lord would be good for the brand.

(ship horn honking)

(Max) So what do you think?

I'm thinking, what a way to finish your days.

In Greyfriars West.

-(Max) Got to end up somewhere. -(Layla chuckles)

You're looking puzzled.

Well, if Celia Swanson was ill anyway

-and didn't have long to live... -Mm-hmm.

...why would somebody kill her now?

No! (Max groans)

Digging up the embankment again!

Be quicker on a bike.

-(Layla chuckles) -(Max) It would.

Ms Swanson,

can you think of anyone who might've wanted

to harm your mother?

Anyone at all?

I...

I honestly can't.

We found a letter, or rather, the beginnings of a letter,

which may have been to you?

"Dearest M..."

"I've..."

"I've come to a firm decision at last..."

Could you confirm that that's your mother's writing?

Yes.

Mum liked to write letters in the old-fashioned way.

I never got this one, but I'm guessing

it would have been about her diamonds.

She'd been talking about selling them for ages.

They're just rotting in a bank vault somewhere.

she never dared take them out.

You don't think it was something more personal?

-(footsteps) -(door closes)

Mum didn't do personal.

Oh, my god, darling, are you all right?

Oh, it's okay, it's okay.

Hi, I'm Freddie Mercer I'm Maria's partner.

Are you allowed to just turn up here without warning?

Maria suffers from anxiety.

-I'm sure you're aware... -No, I know.

I'll go and get your meds.

Thanks.

What do you do professionally, Ms Swanson?

I'm a translator.

Uh, documents, textbooks, boring stuff.

I speak Afrikaans.

Here we go.

(pills rattle)

(Freddie) Uh, look, if there's anything else I can do.

What were your movements last night, Mr Mercer?

I was at the club, entertaining clients.

Oh, I run Chelsea Oars.

Well, we'll know where to find you.

Have these bruises changed colour?

The body doesn't stand still when you die, Max.

Decomposition, autolysis, self digestion.

All sorts of excitement to look forward to.

-Eventually worms. -Can't wait.

So what do we know?

She was injected with Dialorphine.

It's a morphine derivative.

A healthy person in the prime of life

might have survived the dose.

Whoever planned this knew what they were doing.

Which fits with the insider theory.

I've, I've checked with Greyfriars,

they don't keep any Dialorphine on site.

It's a pretty obscure drug.

Has the advantage of passing through the body quickly.

What about time of death?

Not earlier than 9pm, not later than 11.

She may have had one last crazy trip,

or died soon after the injection.

We'll never know.

(pensive music)

(Layla) So...

Our victim is...

Celia Swanson, widow of Cory Swanson,

a well-known South African businessman.

We don't have too much on her,

but he was quite the figure in the 1980s.

Mines, property, pharmaceuticals.

It looks like the whole South African establishment

went to his funeral.

Celia and her daughter Maria came to live in London

soon afterwards and they've been here ever since.

She had a flat in Eaton Square

but sold it in 2019 when Greyfriars opened.

Well, here's what we know about Greyfriars.

It's high-end living for people with money to burn.

-Owned and run by Stephanie Lang. -(Layla) We've met her.

So who visited Celia Swanson? Did she have enemies?

Was anyone suspicious

hanging around Greyfriars yesterday evening?

All the usual angles.

The late 80s was the era of the anti-apartheid demonstrations

in Trafalgar Square. I remember them well.

Did you police them?

I was on them.

Right, this afternoon,

we are gonna concentrate on synchronised rowing.

You're not eight individuals doing your best,

you are one unit pulling together.

A rowing crew is only as good as its weakest link.

We are missing someone. Who's that?

(Zoe) It's me! Sorry!

Well, get a move on!

You'll, uh, you'll jump in and save me if we drown, won't you?

(Freddie) I wouldn't have thought so, no.

(scoffs) Oh, sorry.

I was mistaking you for somebody I was talking to

in the bar last night.

I thought you should know...

I just hope she didn't suffer...

I've got to go now.

Sorry I didn't make it last night, by the way.

You shouldn't be doing that.

I've got to finish it. They want it in the morning.

Maria...

take some time.

Look,

I'll be done here in a little while,

why don't we go for a walk or something?

Okay.

I'm so glad you're here for me.

Always.

(pensive music)

-Hi. -(Astrid) Hi.

Just closing up.

Well, don't worry, I'm not here to buy anything.

(Astrid) You and the rest of the world.

I sometimes wonder whether

Chelsea has got all the art it needs.

I brought your CDs. A few memories in there.

Max, I don't even own a CD player anymore!

Haven't heard of streaming?

(sighs)

(Astrid) There is something I need to talk to you about.

(Max) Go on.

It's my mother.

She's struggling.

She's on her own and she can't get around like she used to.

I'm thinking of going back to Germany to look after her.

What about your sister, could she help?

When did you ever hear about Brigitte doing anything

-for anyone other than herself? -(chuckles lightly)

(Max) Could you bring your mum here?

(Astrid) She wants to be in Germany.

That's where she lives.

But you live in London.

She needs me.

Thought you'd understand.

I do.

I do!

I always thought you hated Leipzig!

It's changed.

I hear they're selling Gucci there now.

The very definition of civilisation.

(pensive music)

Okay, so here's what we know.

There are no cameras

in the residential parts of Greyfriars,

so all we've got is footage from the common areas.

At 21:14, we see Josh Downing and Hannah Loftus

leave the kitchen area, chatting to an elderly resident.

Maurice Swift. They told us that.

Nothing else of interest that we've found yet.

To make matters worse,

some of the cameras they do have aren't working.

Do we get the impression

the Greyfriars' security system was put in on a budget?

Hmm. I'm also trying to source external footage.

People coming and going from the building itself.

Okay.

-I've got this. -Go on.

Found by Max in the bin in Mrs Swanson's room.

(Jess and Connor) Always look in the bins.

(Layla) An invitation. "In memory of the Nelspruit miners,

you are cordially invited... ", et cetera, et cetera,

"to a memorial service."

From Whitewash. Anybody heard of Whitewash?

It's run by Bandile Nkosi.

According to their website,

Whitewash, a campaign run "by relatives of the victim

of apartheid."

Dedicated to the memory of those who have suffered,

and to fight for reparations from those whose fortunes

are tainted by injustice."

Okay, so, similar to the campaign about families

whose ancestors benefitted from the slave trade?

Yeah. And "those whose fortunes are tainted by injustice".

Sounds like a pretty good description of Celia Swanson.

(Stephanie) And Gillian, of course you know.

And this is our Head of Residential Care,

Alistair Walker...

And here is our award-winning chef, Josh Downing.

We offer a range of different cuisines,

all cooked fresh to your exact specifications,

using the finest ingredients.

(Stephanie) Thanks, Josh.

I eat here quite a lot myself.

It's all in the brochure.

And as we...

like to say at Greyfriars,

you're not just another resident to us.

You're a friend.

There seem to be all sorts of gaps in the CCTV coverage, Mrs Compton.

-Why would that be? -(Gillian sighs)

Well, we've been having trouble with the system.

For some reason, it keeps recording over itself.

I have mentioned it to Stephanie but, uh...

Well, there are other priorities.

What sort of person was Celia Swanson?

Well I didn't know her well.

I'm not sure that anyone did.

There's all sorts of activities here, but...

Well, she wasn't the type to join in.

Tell us about Mrs Swanson's daughter.

Did you see much of her?

Hmm...

Relations were strained, I think.

Maria's boyfriend visited more often than she did.

He used to bring her flowers.

Do you mean Freddie Mercer?

That's right. Hm.

So we'll find a record of that in the visitors' book?

Well, not necessarily.

If somebody's familiar to the staff on reception,

they just let them in.

Oh, I did look into whether anybody visited her in her apartment

after she went to bed, but it seems that nobody did.

Apart from whoever murdered her.

Well, yes.

(indistinct chatter)

-(Connor) Hi! -(man) Hi.

Are you Bandile Nkosi?

That's right. Banny.

Can I help?

DC Connor Pollock, DC Jess Lombard.

You look busy.

(Bandile) Getting ready for the ceremony tomorrow.

50 years since the Nelspruit disaster.

You know how many people died?

-Uh, 82, wasn't it? -(Bandile) That's right.

And one of them was my grandfather.

Uh, we do this every year.

They let us use the memorial even though it's dedicated

to the "other side". (chuckles)

So, real-life detectives. Exciting!

What can I do for you?

We're here in relation to the death of an elderly woman,

Celia Swanson.

(Jess) Was she known to you?

Not personally, but I know who you mean.

She died in suspicious circumstances

and we found an invitation to your ceremony in her apartment.

Would that make any sense?

Absolutely.

Uh, Cory Swanson owned Nelspruit.

He sent workers down mines in unimaginable conditions,

and she lived a life of luxury in London.

Do you know how much compensation he paid out

over the years to the families?

I'm guessing nothing.

(Bandile) Well, you got it!

We asked Celia Swanson to the ceremony every year.

We don't expect her to come.

So, what was the purpose of the invitation?

To show contrition.

To share the pain.

If the worst she had to put up with was an annual invitation

that she was perfectly free to refuse, then...

Well, compared to the benefits she enjoyed,

it wasn't that much of an inconvenience.

(Connor) Where were you two nights ago, Mr Nkosi?

Choir practice. The church.

Wait, you're not thinking we might have had

something to do with her death?

(Connor) These are just routine enquiries.

Listen, Whitewash is a law-abiding organisation.

I'm sorry to hear about Celia Swanson.

Probably a bit more sorry than she was

when the people who worked for her husband died.

I'm sorry I can't do dinner tonight, Olivia.

You know how it is.

Oh, don't worry, I'm busy with my painting.

(Olivia) There's an exhibition at Chelsea Town Hall, and...

I've put a few pieces up for it.

Though goodness knows if I'll sell anything.

(sighs)

It's better than playing bridge or...

whatever it is people my age are supposed to do now.

(Max chuckles)

What I really want is to go to parties and get trashed.

(in exaggerated voice) Be young!

Are you working on the Celia Swanson case?

I read about it in the Chelsea Gazette.

I couldn't possibly say.

Do you remember those South African friends of your dad?

The Bekkers?

I remember the Bekkers.

We used to see them on the anti-apartheid marches.

They wouldn't have had much in common with the Swansons.

So you are working on the case.

Anyway, how are you?

Oh...

Go on, what is it?

(sighs)

Astrid has to go back to Germany to look after her mother.

Is she ill?

No.

Just getting older.

I mentioned bringing her mum over here, but...

she didn't seem to think that would work.

If Astrid goes,

who knows when she might come back?

(emotional music)

Would you take some advice from a well-meaning aunt?

Sounds like I'm about to get some.

Don't worry about Astrid going back to Germany.

You're separated, Max.

She's got her own life to live, and...

And besides that... (Olivia huffs)

I think it's good that she's looking after her mother.

One day,

you might have to do the same for me.

Many years in the future.

Many.

(Layla) Max, take a look at this.

Latest financial records for Chelsea Oars.

It's very much in what you'd call the investment phase.

-Meaning they're losing money? -Well, lots of it.

At this rate, I'd give the business

-about two months. -Hmm.

So if Maria stood to inherit from her mother,

and the rowing club's burning through cash,

that would give Freddie Mercer a motive.

-You'd think so? -What about Maria?

She said she was in Cremorne Gardens

at the time of the murder.

We found footage of her there.

There's a printout here somewhere.

Uh... Here it is.

(Layla) Why don't we see if Freddie Mercer is still at the rowing club?

(sobs, sniffles)

(keyboard clacking)

You alright there?

I'm just working my way through the new contract.

It's, um, complicated.

I tell you what,

why don't you get home and I'll finish it?

Look, look... Ho, honestly, I'm fine.

It's always upsetting when one of the residents dies,

but with all this as well, it's...

-I know. -(inhales, sighs deeply)

It's been a difficult couple of days.

Get an early night.

Go on.

What price did we decide on?

It's there in the agreement.

I think we can add a bit to that.

-(mouse clicks) -(sighs)

(keyboard clicking)

-(Connor) That can't be right. -(Jess) I think it is.

-Max. -Yeah?

We've been looking at the set up at Greyfriars.

And?

Turns out you don't actually own your apartment.

You acquire a lease, and when you sell it on,

Greyfriars take a 20 percent commission on the sale

and has the exclusive right to set the price and choose the buyer.

(dramatic music)

So, essentially,

the more often Greyfriars residents die...

The better for the business?

Looks like it.

Is that Lord Aldiss?

Stephanie Lang here, from Greyfriars.

Yes, it is good news.

As long as you're able to move quickly.

(door opens)

(tense music)

I'll follow, you check out the boathouse.

No. Layla, you've no back up!

(yelps)

(shouts) Layla!

(tense music continues)

-Max! -It, it, it, it's fine, it's fine.

It's paint.

Oh, God. (sighs)

(Layla) We came to see you last night

to discuss the state of the club's finances.

(Freddie) Look, I'm the victim of a crime,

The club's being trashed, so...

Do you mind if we deal with this mess first?

(Layla) Okay.

What do you think the words,

"You had it coming", are referring to?

(lowers voice) Could we have a word somewhere more discreet?

This is all a bit... public.

(Layla) Sure.

(clears throat) My job involves a fair amount

of entertaining the younger members.

It's very important for the business.

-And? -Well, I can't be sure but...

(scoffs) It's possible that...

One of them might've misread the signals and...

You know...

I know what?

May have thought it was a good idea to publicly humiliate me.

Oh.

I get it.

-Does this person have a name? -Hmm.

Zoe Stephens.

She was taking part in the free trial period.

(Layla) Well, thanks, Mr Mercer.

If there are any other younger members who might have

also "misread the signals",

perhaps you could let me know.

Of course.

This, uh, business with her mother...

been a terrible shock to Maria.

And I'm sure you're doing all you can

to work out what happened but...

What can I say?

The sooner you get to the bottom of it,

the better.

I'll bear that in mind.

(pensive music)

-(Layla) Morning, Max. -(Max) Morning.

So where are we with Freddie Mercer?

Well, he didn't want to talk about the finances

and he's a rat.

But is he our man?

What does your gut tell you?

Well, he's smooth, good looking.

Appears to have money.

I hate to say it but there are women

who go for that sort of thing.

I've been plagued by them all my life.

(laughs)

He's given us an alibi which seems to add up,

but, I don't know,

keep digging, I'd say.

(phone vibrates)

Connor.

Max, I've managed to find some footage from an external camera

at the back of Greyfriars.

Ah-hah.

Turns out Josh Downing and Hannah Loftus haven't been

completely truthful with us.

(Max) Okay. Bring them in and make sure we keep them apart.

Will do.

Yep.

So, to conclude, ladies and gentlemen,

this is a market that's only going to grow.

I wonder how many of you have heard an elderly parent say,

"Whatever happens, don't put me in a home."

Well, Greyfriars isn't "a home".

It is home.

Our residents can enjoy a fulfilling retirement

before passing on an asset to the next generation

which is almost guaranteed to have risen in value.

Well, that's it from me.

My colleagues will be happy to answer any questions you may have

and do stay for a glass of champagne!

-Thank you. -(crowd clapping)

I see you've already found another resident

for Mrs Swanson's apartment?

Yes, that's right.

Lord Aldiss.

-I'm sure you've heard of him. -That was quick.

Well, we have a long waiting list.

We'd like to know a bit more about the way apartments change hands.

As we understand it,

Greyfriars sets the price and take a commission?

And?

That's a profitable sideline.

I'm running a business here.

You're running a business

that's currently overshadowed by an unsolved murder.

If you want to continue this conversation,

I'll be happy to do so in the presence of a lawyer.

The very same lawyer

who will confirm that our terms of business...

are entirely legal and above board.

(sighs)

-Oh, ah, hello. -Hello, Mr Swift.

I, uh, I thought you should know,

I didn't play cards with Celia this morning.

She didn't turn up.

Right.

Hm, today is normally our cribbage day, you see.

Mr Swift,

Mrs Swanson died three days ago.

Did she?

So she did.

I'm sorry,

I get so confused.

You don't think he could have...

-What? -You know...

A mercy killing.

Out of kindness.

Blimey.

No one's safe when Layla Walsh starts investigating.

Well, I'll double-check the alibi.

(Layla) So...

To recap, you and Josh both left the building and what?

Went to the house you both share in Allibone Gardens?

-That's right. -So how do you explain

the footage we've got

which shows Josh leaving the building on his own?

(stammers) I can't remember.

I forgot something, had to pop back.

What did you forget?

I'm not sure.

Why wouldn't we have footage of you leaving a few minutes later?

Is that because you didn't?

That would put you in the building when the murder took place.

-(Connor) What this shows... -(paper rustles)

is you carrying a box

when you left the kitchen with Hannah,

but left the building alone.

Then you came back to Greyfriars,

carrying something under your coat.

And then you left again,

an hour or so later, without whatever it was.

Anything to say about that?

No.

No?

I've got nothing to say about it.

It's private.

And it's got nothing to do with Celia Swanson.

(scoffs) That woman...

"That woman" what, Josh?

You should have seen the way she treated Hannah.

-It was shocking. -So tell us what you're up to.

This is a murder investigation.

I don't know whether you're protecting Hannah

or if you've got something else to hide,

but whatever it is,

we'll find out.

I'm wondering whether you just didn't like Mrs Swanson, Hannah.

(scoffs) How do you mean?

What was it that Josh called her?

A "poisonous old cow"?

Did you both decide to do something about it?

No! No, I, I don't know what you're talking about.

She was just an old lady.

So why did you lie to us about living in Allibone Gardens?

I didn't! That was Josh.

He was just trying to protect me.

From what?

(sighs sharply)

Okay, okay...

It's the truth. I...

I live at Greyfriars.

There's a staff flat for management

but it never gets used.

I...

I can't afford accommodation of my own so I stay there.

That's why he covered for me saying that

we live in Allibone Gardens.

But, but if Gillian found out and then told Stephanie,

I'd get fired, so...

It's just something we need to keep quiet about.

So when Josh came back into the building,

he was coming to see you?

Yeah.

Why?

(Josh) Okay.

What this is about is this.

The budget for food means

we get the best cuts of meat, the freshest fish, you name it.

Like dining at the Ritz.

But half of it goes to waste,

so I sell it on to a mate of mine,

then I buy the stuff from the local supermarket.

Simple as that.

So you're stealing from your own employer?

I was doing it so that Hannah could put down

a deposit on a flat.

How romantic.

Well, I was trying to help her.

Is there something wrong with that?

There is if it involves theft.

What did you have under your coat, Josh?

It was a bottle of champagne.

To share with Hannah. I know, I know, I shouldn't do it.

But at least somebody in that bloody morgue

-is having some fun. -Hmm.

(Josh) "High-end lifestyle choice for discerning seniors."

It's just God's waiting room.

So, Josh and Hannah's stories add up,

-we're agreed on that? -Mh-hmm.

Stephanie Lang.

Definitely a sharp-elbowed businesswoman.

But is she more than that? Not impossible.

Maurice Swift, long odds on him.

Layla, you were gonna double-check his movements?

I did. He was with half a dozen other residents in the film club.

They were watching "Kind Hearts and Coronets".

-Oh, great film. -Hmmm.

Freddie Mercer.

(Jess) I just spoke to the woman he was entertaining at Chelsea Oars

on the night of the murder, Zoe Stephens.

Apparently, they only had a quick drink.

He lost interest when she refused to sign up for membership.

Hm, so he's lied to us about his alibi

and he's got a strong motive if his business is struggling.

He's a slippery customer, Freddie Mercer.

(sighs)

(Max) We need to catch him off his guard.

You've got another idea altogether, Layla, I can see it on your face.

I keep thinking about the graffiti.

(scoffs) The spurned lover thing is a convenient explanation.

It's certainly not how Zoe Stephens came across to me.

What if the graffiti wasn't about that?

What if it was actually aimed at the Swanson family?

By whom?

(Layla) I don't know.

"You had it coming" could mean anything.

Don't forget Maria co-owns Chelsea Oars.

Aren't the Swansons one of those families

that just about everybody hated?

(doorbell buzzes)

(protesters) # Asimbonanga #

# Asimbonang' uMandela thina #

# Laph'ekhona #

# Laph'ehleli khona #

# Asimbonanga #

# Asimbonang' uMandela thina #

# Laph'ekhona #

# Laph'ehleli khona #

(clapping)

(Bandile) We gather here on this day every year

to remember the 82 miners that died at Nelspruit.

Those who were responsible for the safety of the mine

weren't underground that day.

Nor were the police,

who rounded up the protesters at the riots that followed.

My grandfather was one of those miners,

and he died unmourned by the authorities.

No compensation has ever been offered.

One day, that might change.

But until then,

we're here simply to remember.

I'm now going to hand over to Reverend Akabe

to say a few prayers.

(crowd murmuring and clapping)

Didn't expect to see you here.

Well, thanks for coming.

As you can see all we're trying to do is keep the flame burning.

That's not all you're trying to do, is it, Bandile?

Or should I call you, Trevor?

(doorbell buzzes)

What can I say?

When my parents came to England,

they decided to Anglicise their names.

Why they chose Trevor Jones, I have no idea.

You'd have thought they could have done better.

All I'm doing is reclaiming my African heritage.

A lot of people are doing that.

We appreciate that, but you told us that

Whitewash is an entirely law-abiding organisation.

You've got a bit of a record, haven't you?

An incident

outside the South African embassy.

Assault. ABH.

(Connor) We checked out your alibi on the night of the murder.

Choir practice with the church.

It ended at 6:30,

several hours before Mrs Swanson died.

And then I went straight home, as my family will confirm.

Look, in the past, Whitewash has, on occasion,

chosen direct action as a way of highlighting injustice.

Was that wrong?

Depends on whether you're on the side of those who exploit,

or those who are exploited.

-We're on the side of the law. -(Bandile) Hmm.

That's what the police would have said

when they attacked peaceful protesters in Johannesburg

-with electric batons. -That was 50 years ago.

Yeah, and you're telling me the police are saints now?

I'll tell what you I really think of people like the Swansons.

Bad people.

People who've lived off the hard labour of my ancestors,

our ancestors, for years.

Hey, don't!

Don't do that.

We're talking about murder.

Don't point the finger of suspicion at me.

We're the victims here.

Hi.

I know you'll be wondering why I'm here.

Tell us.

Can I have a glass of water?

(exhales) At the end of last year,

Stephanie brought in a new duty doctor,

Dr Jakovski.

Thank you.

-And? -I thought it was odd at the time.

I mean she wouldn't normally bother herself

with things like that.

Anyway,

that's when the rate of deaths among the residents

started going up.

Four this year alone!

But when Celia Swanson died, Dr Jakowski was on holiday.

So, I called in a locum.

And the locum spotted something was wrong.

Exactly.

Obviously, it could be a coincidence, but, uh...

You will keep this between us, won't you?

I don't want to lose my job.

Let's get Ashley to check

which duty doctor signed the death certificates.

Better go back to the end of last year.

-(phone vibrates) -Sure.

-Oh... -(doorbell buzzes)

-Everything alright? -Uh, I've...

got to go out, I won't be long.

Having your ex round the corner can be a bit complicated.

I keep Jon down in Exeter. Lock him in the cellar.

We see each other for occasional weekends.

(mutters) Oh, that sounds perfect.

(Astrid) Did you have to come straight here? I've got customers!

You said you needed to talk.

On the phone, Max, like normal people.

Shall I go round the corner and phone you from there?

I talked to Mum.

It's all happening quicker than I expected.

She can't look after herself, and...

I can't afford to put her in a private home.

-And Brigitte? -(sighs)

She can't help. Or she won't.

When will you go?

Probably next week.

Could you to keep an eye on the gallery while I'm away?

Yeah. Uh, okay.

-It's my mum. -Yeah, no, I'm... sorry.

I got us tickets to a gig next week.

What gig?

The Ting Tings. Shepherd's Bush Empire.

(laughs)

Max, we're separated.

We can't go on dates like a couple of teenagers.

Well, we can go on dates like a couple of old friends.

When will you be back?

I don't know. Does it matter?

(sighs softly)

Yes, it matters.

Thank you. Thanks for coming.

It matters to me.

-Whoop. This is interesting. -What have you got?

Some footage from Ranleigh Gardens.

Isn't that just round the corner from Chelsea Oars?

It is, watch out Layla, you're starting to sound

like a real Chelsea girl.

Not a chance.

About ten minutes after our graffiti artist got away.

Here's someone behaving as if he's being followed...

Looks like he's been running, quick look over his shoulder.

-(Layla) So, who is it? -There!

-(Layla) Well, well, well... -(door opens)

Don't take your coat off. We're heading back to Chelsea Oars.

I still haven't had lunch.

Uh, if you're looking for Freddie, he's not here.

It's not Freddie we're looking for, Sam.

-(sighs) -(Max) So, it seems,

you were in the vicinity last night.

(Sam scoffs)

And what? I work here.

And shortly before that image was taken,

somebody graffitied the boathouse.

-(Layla) Any idea who did it? -Not a clue.

What do you think the words "you had it coming" meant, Sam?

I don't know.

You'd know if you painted them yourself.

Oh, you have evidence?

Listen, some of the old Putney clubs

have a problem with Freddie.

He keeps undercutting their rates, bringing in special offers,

free trial periods.

So you're suggesting that one of the other rowing clubs

-vandalised Chelsea Oars? -(Sam) Maybe.

How much do you actually know about Freddie, Sam?

He would sell his own grandmother to get membership numbers up,

I can tell you that.

What about Celia Swanson?

Have you heard of her?

(Sam) I read the papers.

Freddie told us that he was in the club bar

entertaining members the night that she died.

"Entertaining members"?

Is that how he describes it?

Did he ever talk to you about

the difference it would make to the business

if Maria inherited her mother's fortune?

No. Look,

I'm not Freddie's keeper, all right?

I don't know what he's up to half the time.

If you're asking would he kill his girlfriend's mother

to get his hands on her money,

I wouldn't put it past him.

(Jess, in mouth-filled voice) How's yours?

(in mouth-filled voice) Disgusting.

(chuckles)

Why did I let Helen persuade me to become a vegan?

To help save the planet?

It's a big sacrifice, just for that.

What I'd give for a decent burger.

Mmm. Mine's delicious.

-Oh. -What?

Oh.. No, nothing.

-You sure? -Hmm.

Yeah, I thought I'd made a connection...

(inhales deeply)

...but maybe not.

(exhales deeply)

(pensive music rises)

(keyboard clacking)

Right.

I'm off.

Got a date.

Oh.

(classical music)

(knocking on door)

(classical music in low volume)

-Olivia! -Bad moment?

Not at all.

What have you got there?

You set me thinking.

You know, your dad was a terrible hoarder.

Hmm. One of his qualities I'm working hard to reject.

And as Eric Bekkers was a journalist,

I think he asked your dad to hang on to some of his old files.

All sorts of odds and ends.

There's even an invitation to his daughter's wedding in there.

Interesting.

And...

there's a piece about Cory Swanson.

Which I thought might come in useful

if you're investigating that murder.

Which I can neither confirm nor deny.

Would you like a drink?

Hmm. If you're forcing me.

I must say...

it's rather depressing.

Eric Bekkers, hmph...

(clattering)

Someone with real integrity...

has nothing more to show for his life,

than a box full of...

(sighs) ...newspaper articles.

Cory Swanson, total bastard.

They practically gave him a state funeral.

Oh, I do love you, Max.

You've been a detective for 25 years,

and you've finally worked out how the world works.

(Max) Oh, here we are...

Is this any good?

(sighs) I've a feeling

I gave that to you a few Christmases ago.

(suspenseful music)

-Hi. -Hey.

Well, this is a nice surprise.

-No time like the present. -(Freddie) Hmm.

Let's get something a little stronger than that, shall we?

(barman) Hello, mate. What can I get you?

(Freddie) Bottle of the house white.

(barman) Okay. No worries.

So, yeah,

we're stealing customers from the sleepy rowing clubs in Putney.

-(chuckles) -(Freddie) Which they hate.

It's a dog eat dog world out there.

Sounds fascinating.

One more tranche of investment and we'll be on our way.

But look, what about you?

We're just talking about me here.

Oh, nothing as interesting as that.

(both chuckle)

Let me guess... (inhales)

You're... a rich heiress,

and you don't even need to work.

Is that your type?

(suspenseful music rises)

(both chuckle)

And what's your type, Jess?

Hmm... I'm not sure I really have a type.

Uh, I like someone with a bit of mystery about them.

Guys with secrets.

(both chuckle)

So, tell me more about the growth plan for Chelsea Oars.

Do you have the investment lined up?

Or are you hoping for an unexpected windfall?

(phone vibrates)

Hi, this is Jess' phone. Please leave a message.

-Who's Connor? -It's just a colleague.

Not your boyfriend?

If I had a boyfriend, why would I be here?

Why are you here?

What do you think?

(chuckles)

That's what I'm trying to work out.

Let's have some more wine, shall we?

Sure!

Didn't you come by scooter?

Did I?

You don't wanna get stopped by the police.

It's... Well, it's okay, I can pick it up in the morning.

Just gonna pop to the loo.

Okay.

(suspenseful music)

Hi, this is Jess' phone. Please leave a message.

(grumbles)

(indistinct chatter, laughter)

(suspenseful music intensifies)

(raises voice) You did what?

His profile came up on a dating website I use.

You'd said we needed to catch him off guard.

it was a mistake, I can see that now.

Please tell me you had nothing to do with this, Connor?

It was entirely my initiative, it was nothing to do with Connor.

I've actually discovered

quite a bit more about Freddie Mercer, Max.

There are procedures to follow, Jess.

-(Max) You know that! -He'd never met me.

He didn't know I was police.

I was just seeing if I could find out something

-we didn't know. -We work as a team!

(door closes)

Sorry, has something happened?

I found Freddie Mercer on a dating website and thought

it would be a good idea to...

-meet for a drink. -(Layla) Smart!

Oh, not smart?

Depends if you think prejudicing the whole investigation

is a good move.

Connor,

tell me what you've found out about Freddie Mercer.

I've tracked a complaint from a woman in Italy

who tried to pursue a case against Mercer in 2016

after she invested more than 80 thousand euros in

his skiing business and he disappeared with the lot.

-Apparently, there wasn't enough... -(phone vibrates)

...evidence for charges

-to be brought against him. -Right.

Bring him in for questioning.

You're gonna have to stay out of this, Jess.

Ashley!

So I looked into the previous deaths at Greyfriars

as you asked me to.

What we're looking for is a pattern.

Ever since Harold Shipman, we're trained to be suspicious

when elderly people die soon after an injection of morphine.

Right.

In this particular case,

there's no pattern.

Different causes of death.

One heart attack, two died after a stroke,

and the fourth after a long battle with cancer.

So Greyfriars are in the clear?

I'm, I'm not saying they didn't kill Celia Swanson,

but they're not systematically killing their elderly residents

for commercial gain.

-Damn. -Max!

Sorry. No, I...

I didn't mean that.

I just mean we're no closer to discovering

who did kill Celia Swanson.

(sighs)

-(doorbell buzzes) -(Jess) Max,

-have you got a minute? -Sure.

Uh, I know the main focus is Freddie Mercer,

but I've got another lead.

I've been looking at Celia Swanson's appointments diary.

The entry for the Monday after she died says "3pm A and B".

We thought it was something Greyfriars-related,

but we've checked and nothing fits.

So I've been looking at other possibilities.

-Jess, slow down. -(Jess) Sorry.

The Swanson's family lawyers are a small firm in Lincoln's Inn,

called Abbott and Blythe.

Could that be A and B?

Okay. Why don't you pay them a visit?

Great.

(sighs)

(Jess) Hi. I'm here to see Patrick Blythe.

Yes. He's been expecting you.

-Straight through there. -Thank you.

Oh, please take a seat.

You understand I'll have to consider lawyer-client privilege,

depending on the nature of your questions.

It's often best to do these things in writing.

Of course.

But I'm here now!

Can I start by confirming,

did Celia Swanson make an appointment to see you

at 3pm on the Monday following her death?

She did.

(Jess) Can you tell us what the purpose of the meeting was?

I can't.

Because you don't know? Or...

because you are citing lawyer-client privilege?

Well, Mrs Swanson would come and see us from time to time.

We've represented the family for decades so we were

always at her disposal.

(inhales deeply)

(raises voice) The Swanson estate is unusually complex.

There's a series of inter-locking trusts

that you'd need a degree of technical knowledge to understand.

More than that, I can't really say.

Are you able to tell me what will happen to the estate

in light of Mrs Swanson's death?

I'm afraid not.

Have you heard of an organisation called Whitewash,

Mr Blythe?

Some sort of... lobbying group?

I seem to remember sending them a letter on Mrs Swanson's behalf.

They were harassing her, but I put a stop to it.

(tense music)

(phone vibrates)

-Jess. -Max, um...

I'm not sure if this is relevant.

Uh... I think

I just saw Maria Swanson in reception at Abbott and Blythe.

(Jess over phone) Are you there?

(stammers) I'm here.

Thanks, Jess.

(door opens)

(Max) Is Freddie in?

We were hoping to have a word.

-(door closes) -I don't know where he is.

He didn't come home last night

and his mobile seems to be switched off.

Is that unusual?

Very.

He's always been so dependable.

When did you and Freddie first meet?

(Maria) About a year ago.

And you decided to invest in his rowing club soon afterwards?

That's right.

Why are you asking?

We've traced allegations from a previous girlfriend.

She reported Freddie after he disappeared with funds

she'd invested in his new business venture.

Right.

Also, there are questions

over his alibi for the evening of the murder.

Which makes him a suspect

in our investigation into the death of your mother.

He may be banking on

you putting your inheritance into Chelsea Oars.

Okay.

You don't seem surprised?

(Maria sighs)

Maybe I was just fooling myself.

I'm 55,

and a handsome younger man falls for me so easily.

My mother always said you're too naive.

Well, well done for working it all out.

If he gets in touch,

it's important you contact us right away.

Of course.

Um...

One more thing.

I believe you had a meeting earlier with your lawyer, Patrick Blythe.

No, I didn't.

I've been here all day.

(Max) Ah.

Maybe a misunderstanding.

(doorbell buzzes)

How was it?

He basically stonewalled me.

Lawyers, eh?

You've gotta love 'em.

I've always thought they were slimy creeps.

-You okay? -(Jess) Yeah.

Fine. Thanks.

(Connor) What?

Freddie's details have disappeared from the dating site.

Hmm.

Another slimy creep.

(sighs, chuckles)

(call alert)

-(Max) Ashley. -Me again, Max.

I've managed to find out a bit more about the Dialorphine.

It's an unusual drug, there aren't many places you can get it.

-Right. -(Ashley) I'm sending a report now.

-(laptop pings) -See what you think.

Might be significant.

(Max) Thanks, Ashley.

(pensive music rising)

(phone vibrates)

Connor.

No sign of Freddie Mercer.

I'm wondering whether we should escalate things,

Say he's the prime suspect in a murder enquiry?

(exhales deeply)

-Max? -I'm thinking.

(Connor) Shall we do that?

No.

(Connor) Because?

Because I don't think he is.

(paper rustles)

(whispers) Of course...

So sorry to disturb you, Mr Swift.

-How are you today? -I'm feeling very well.

Good.

You remember the conversation we had,

when you said you liked Celia Swanson

and used to play cards with her?

Yes, yes, yes, I did.

You also mentioned her daughter.

You said she had a lovely smile.

Did I? Yes.

Could you take a look at this photo, Mr Swift?

Is that who you meant?

Yeah, yes.

Yes, that's her.

(chuckles)

Lovely smile.

In this picture from her apartment,

Celia is holding a baby.

Now Maria was born in 1967, which makes her 55.

But the date on this photo...

is "MCMLXV".

(Max) Anyone?

Hmm, 1965?

Exactly.

So the baby in this photo

must now be 58, not 55.

This is the CCTV image of Maria the night Celia was murdered,

wearing the same distinctive coat

that Jess saw her in at Abbott and Blythe.

But Maria insists that she was at home all day.

Then,

there's the "Dearest M" letter.

What if it wasn't addressed to Maria?

So who was it addressed to?

Maria has a sister,

Marieke.

Brought up at the Ida Cordon Children's Home in Pretoria,

and she was born in 1965.

This isn't about Freddie Mercer, or Stephanie Lang, or Greyfriars.

This is about family.

(doorbell buzzes)

Mr Blythe, can you confirm that the next appointment you had

after our meeting was with Maria Swanson's sister, Marieke?

I'm afraid I can't divulge confidential information.

Look, if you don't want me to slap a warrant on you

and search your offices, please just answer the question.

(groans)

Yes, yes, it was.

What's her address?

(Patrick) Let me look it up for you.

(Jess) Marieke Swanson lives at Tilson Court, Godwin Road, SW11.

Neighbours have reported hearing a disturbance inside her flat.

We're trying to get access.

(intense music)

(Jess) They're on the balcony.

Seventh floor. Flat 48.

-(Max) You stay here. -(Jess) Okay.

-You don't get it do you? -Give it to me!

-Give it to me! -(Maria grunts)

-Stop! -Help me!

-(Marieke grunts) -We don't want anyone to get hurt.

-Let's try and keep calm. -Get her off me!

-(Marieke) Give it to me! -(Maria) Get her off me!

-(Marieke) No, it's mine! -(Maria) Damn it!

-Get her off me! -(shouts) Layla!

-(Marieke) Give it to me! -(Maria) It's mine! It's...

(Max) Just step back from the balcony.

-(Max) Step back! -(Marieke and Maria grunt)

(Maria groans, screams)

(Layla) Police!

Go through there. Just go!

What? No!

She killed my mother!

(Max) Your sister didn't kill your mother, Maria.

You did.

Why?

I finally found a way to do some good in the world,

and then Mum ruined it.

That money is poison.

It's not your fault, it was Mum and Dad.

They destroyed everything they touched.

How could I have known?

They put me in a children's home.

We could have been sisters.

We are sisters.

(Marieke) Not anymore.

You mean nothing to me.

(sombre music)

(Jess) Well done, Layla. You kept your cool.

(chuckles)

I do a lot of abseiling, you know.

(both laugh)

It was about six months ago.

Mum had a daughter before she got married to Dad,

and they gave her up for adoption.

Took Mum years to find her again.

Mum cared about Marieke

more than me.

I never minded that.

But then she decided to change her will.

She said that...

after all the advantages I'd enjoyed,

it was Marieke's turn

and she was going to leave Dad's fortune to her.

(breathes deeply)

But the will was never signed,

so why attack Marieke?

I didn't attack her.

I went to get the completed version of that letter.

"Dearest M."

I needed to get hold of it

so that the lawyers didn't use it as evidence.

So, in essence,

you killed your own mother to prevent her estate

going to your sister?

(Max) And you knew how to do it.

"The Encyclopaedia of Clinical Pharmacology."

In Afrikaans.

It was at your flat.

You trained as a nurse in South Africa, didn't you?

That's where you got the Dialorphine from,

cause it's not available in the UK.

But you'd never have got into Greyfriars unnoticed

that night, without help.

And that's where Gillian Compton came in.

Or should I say Gillian Bekkers?

Cause she's the daughter of the anti-apartheid activist,

Eric Bekkers.

What about the CCTV of you in Cremorne Gardens

at the time of the murder?

I invited Marieke to meet me there.

I knew she'd look like me from a distance.

Gave me my alibi. I'm not stupid, you know.

And Freddie?

I was stupid enough to tell him

that I was gonna give the money away,

and I haven't heard from him since.

I was gonna hand that money straight on to Whitewash.

So, you did all this for Whitewash?

Bandile has got nothing to do with this.

We'll be questioning him.

(raises voice) He's 100 percent innocent.

I did it for him, and the Nelspruit families.

(mutters) Okay.

(sighs)

(Jess) Uniform are on the way in with Freddie Mercer.

(Max) Good.

Let's see if we can find a way to shut him down.

Gillian Compton?

Have we brought her in yet?

(Jess) Yes, she's here now.

Thanks, Jess!

Hello, Astrid.

Uh...

Put that away, uh...

Done and dusted.

I'm leaving for Germany in the morning,

and I wanted you to have a set of keys for the gallery.

Thank you.

I won't be able to come to the concert, I'm afraid.

Oh, don't worry.

I'll, I'll put the tickets on eBay, get a few quid for them.

Why don't you take someone else?

You'll enjoy it!

No, I doubt...

I'll put them on eBay.

So, am I allowed to know what your case was about?

Well, um...

Let's just say, it was about two sisters, and...

the complicated relationship they had with their mother.

Hmm. Sounds familiar.

Well, I'd better be going.

Good luck in Leipzig.

Give my love to your mum.

-I will. -Mh-hmm.

(Astrid) Bye.

Bye.

(sighs heavily)

(That's Not My Name by The Ting Tings plays)

# Four letter word #

# Just to get me along #

(music abruptly stops)

(dramatic music)

(exhales)

(closing theme music)