All language subtitles for Endeavour.S05E04.1080p.BluRay.X264-iNGOT

And now, returning
to competition

after some years away,

all the way from the Stuart
Hargreaves Dance Studio

in Bicester,

couple number seven,

Frederick and Winifred Thursday.

Here's looking at you.

The motion before this house is,

"This House believes
in an end to immigration"

and the repatriation
of all settled immigrants

"to their ancestral lands."

This motion is not about
the color of one's skin.

It is about national resources

stretched to breaking point

by an influx of immigrants

to this green and pleasant land.

It is well to be careful

who we designate an immigrant.

The black man has been here
a lot longer than the Angle,

the Saxon, the Jute,
the Norman, the Huguenot.

Long before
many of your forefathers

walked this green
and pleasant land,

it was the Nubian

who stood watch
on Hadrian's Wall.

Now, the motion
before this esteemed house

calls for "all settled
immigrants to return"

to their
ancestral lands."

So, that being the case,
I have to say...

"After you."

The Regiment.

The Regiment.

White enough now, eh?

Whoa, whoa, she's with me,
she's with me!

That's what you get.

You are mad.

Do you want to get arrested?

What are you doing?

What am I going to do with you?

What are you gonna do with me?

Regional quarters,

semifinals next, Fred.

Don't put them there.

I won't put them there.

When's that?

September.

And we'll need to "look to"
if we want to make the finals.

Well, it's finding time.

You'll have time, won't you?

You've done your bit, Fred.

And more.

If anyone deserves a rest.

Right, right, left, right.

Ah, Thursday.

Sir.

As you were, as you were.

I want three volunteers
to escort a civilian party

up to High Wood at 1100.

They're from some
fashion magazine, I believe.

I'll do it, sir.
Very well.

Pick two other men
from your section.

Carry on, Corporal Thursday.

Anything?

All quiet on the Western.

The word is out
for Cromwell Ames

from here to Brum
and all points else.

Not a peep,

not a whisper.

What about Eddie Nero?
Lying low.

If there is a turf war,
it's gone underground.

Lull before the storm, maybe?

Hey, what happened
to you this morning?

That's the third day in a row

Strange has brought me in.

Oh, something come up.

Everything all right,
though, is it?

Oh, yeah, fine.

Lunch?

I can't today,
I've got statements to take

from this fracas
outside the debating society.

Oh, right.

Well, fair enough.

Corporal Thursday!

What is that long-haired poof

doing on my parade ground?

He's got a pass, sir.

What bloody pass?

Oh, my eye!

Would you look at that?

At about 3:00
in the afternoon,

the right horn of the Zulu impi

debouched from a dry stream bed

west of
Colonel Stewart's position

and made a sustained attack
upon the laager

lasting the best part
of an hour,

before being repulsed

by Lieutenant Burnaby's
bayonet charge.

Your attention, gentlemen,

if you would.

This is for your benefit.

Now, I've been given
to understand

that some sort of private area
would be desirable,

to serve as a makeshift
dressing room.

Just somewhere
for the girls to get changed,

and do their hair and make-up.

I believe H Three,

one of the buildings we use
for exercises, should suffice.

It's fairly spartan,

but the best we can do,
I'm afraid.

Well, I imagine you're keen

to get on
with your picture taking.

Cool.

Come on, girls,
not here, get back in.

Oh, sorry.

♪ No time
it's too late girl ♪

♪ I'm not hanging
around for you. ♪

Yes, Jean, lovely.

Great, all right.

Give me something more now.

♪ No time trust the way ♪

♪ Work out what you belong. ♪

Canny good skive is this Corps.

Stood watching tarts slip
in and out their clobber.

So, gan on,

which one do you fancy best?

I've got my eye
on that one on the tank.

Jean, her name is.

How do you know that?

She does that perfume ad,

what is it... Vespertine. Oh.

All right! What are you
horrible lot staring at?

You never seen a woman before?

Oh, not like that, Color.

Eyes front.

I know what your lot are like.

What are my lot like, Color?

Just keep your dirty heathen
mind above the equator,

or you'll have my sticky end.

Beautiful.

All right, Jean,
that's great, love.

Next change, please.

Give her a hand?
Yep.

Howay.

Do you always work
with that photographer?

Thankfully, not always.

It must be interesting,
seeing the world

and getting paid for it.

It's no different to you.

Oh, we're off to Germany
in a couple of days.

It's the first time I've been
out of the country.

Well.

It's all shooting, right?

You are sweet, soldier boy.

No.

I know what you want.

But I'm spoken for.

So, Mr. Hutchens.

You were part
of this Reception Committee

that assaulted
Lady Bayswater last night.

Her sort deserve all they get.

Her sort?
She's a fascist.

Isn't that just everybody
who disagrees with you?

Charity Mudford was interned
in Holloway during the war

under Defense Regulation 18B.

You've heard of her old man,
presumably?

The late viscount,
the Lord Bayswater?

Leading light in the
British Union of Fascists.

For Christ's sake, Hitler danced
at their wedding.

I think she qualifies.

Yes, super.

Okay, one more.

Think of Warren Beatty.

Fabulous.

Right, that's us finishing.

Very good, sir.

Got everything you need?
Yes, thanks.

Just pack up and be on our way.

Collier.

Well done, Jean,
you were wonderful.

All right, come on Suki,
make yourself useful.

Le flic.

Move, stupid, you're in the sun.

Is that better?
Uh-huh.

I got lunch.

What have you been doing?

I told you, I got lunch.

What else?
Like what?

Like work?

Some story the Agency
want me to cover.

Some coiffeur.

Oh, I though you
didn't do fashion.

I don't.

Right, girls...

Ready?

Just a minute.

Sorry, Corp.

Call of nature.

Now what?

Everything all right?
Yes.

Sorry, we're just waiting
on Jean.

She forgot something.

I said I'd pick her up here
on the way out.

Maybe she misunderstood
and went back to the village.

Jean?

Jean!

Got something.

Here!

Miss Ward?

Jean?

The body of a young woman

has been discovered
on Ministry of Defense land.

Details are thin,

but she appears
to have been a civilian.

Right, sir.

Whereabouts is this?

The army barracks
up at High Wood.

Your son's there, isn't he?

Yes, sir.
In light of which,

I think, given the potential
delicacy of the situation,

it would be best to confine
your operational involvement

to a more managerial role

here at the station.

Of course, sir.

Morse knows him, doesn't he?

Your son?

But he's not family.

I see no reason to keep him
from the investigation.

It will be all right, I'm sure.

This is Murder Town,
Chief Superintendent.

It's used by the regiment
for exercises.

House-to-house
fighting, sniping,

that kind of thing.

The police, Colonel.

Colonel Champion, C.O.

My 2IC, Major Coward.

Chief Superintendent Bright,
Thames Valley.

Detective Sergeants
Strange and Morse,

and Detective Constable Fancy.

Now, obviously,
this is your show,

but please bear in mind this is
still an operational barracks,

for the next 48 hours at least.

48 hours?

We're readying for deployment.

In two days
we leave for Germany,

and the regiment
as many of us have known

and loved it
will cease to exist.

Now, there are live-firing areas

and final exercises
still in progress,

so your men
should not wander unattended.

Understood.

Excellent, shall we?

Now the girl's body
was found in H5,

the building just down here.

Doctor.

Gentlemen.

Do we have a name for her?

Jean Ward, according
to the photographer.

Died within the last four hours.

So far as I can tell,

we have a single stab wound
through the back.

Most likely
penetrated the heart.

No sign she attempted
to defend herself.

Taken unawares, then?

What had she lost?

Did she say?

A purse.

I found it in the woods.

Whereupon I split
the search party

to cover more ground,

with orders
to rendezvous here at 1630.

Well, we will need to speak
to all of them. Of course.

We've set aside one of the
classrooms in the study block.

Who found the body?

Oh. that was
Lance Corporal Thursday.

What's all this about,
Major Coward?

Police.

What are they doing on the base?

Policing.

Left, right, left, right...

What happened to you last night?

You never came home.

This Frenchie piece, is it?

What's her line, then?

Photojournalist.

Figures.
How's that?

Well, let's face it,

with you, it was never
going to be Doreen

from the corner shop, was it?

Bit of all right, is she?

Yeah, I suppose.

It's just a girl.

Just a girl?

Ought to leave some
for the rest of us.

Claudine?

That blondie one?

Way you've been filling
your dance-card lately,

you'd think rationing
was coming in.

She's good company.

So.

How're we gonna run this
without the old man?

You're senior.

Who would you like to see first?

What's that?

It looks to be a cap badge.

One of the squaddies, then, sir?

After we split up,

I came down to the washhouse.

I thought maybe she might've had
to use the ladies'.

I called for her,
but there was nobody there.

So I made my way
back to Murder Town.

I worked my way back
to the tank park,

thought we could've missed her
in the woods.

They're big enough, like.

She could've gone down
to her original rendezvous.

But I didn't see anything.
Right.

I don't know what else
I can tell you.

I should've been watching her.

You haven't got eyes
in your arse.

All right,
that'll be it for now.

Do you want to whistle up
an escort?

Maybe you could?

Two minutes.

Right, so if there's
anything you've left out,

now will be the time.

She was in my care.

If I'd done my job...
Sam,

things happen.

The only person responsible
for this is whoever did it.

You've been around Dad
too long; it's rubbing off.

All right.

How is he?

Well, how do you think?

Any messages for them?

Just tell them I'm all right.

If that's allowed.

And Joanie, if you see her.

Well, there's not much more

we can do
with the light that's left.

We'll have a full team out
first thing.

Fingertip search.
Sergeant Major Davies?

I need this area secured

until 0430.

Nobody in or out
without my authorization.

Very good, sir.

And had you
photographed her before?

A few times over the years.

Actually, I got her started.

We did a campaign
for the Egg Marketing Board.

She was the soft boiled girl.

Your relationship

was purely professional though?

We saw each other at parties,

gallery openings,
things like that.

What DS Morse is asking is,

were you knocking her off?

No, no.

I mean... not lately.

We had a brief number,
but strictly casual.

What was she like...

in her personality?

Nice.

Crazy.

Mixed up, I suppose.

About what?

Who knows?

What about boyfriends?

She'd a few, but nobody serious.

Any connection to Oxford?

Her stepmother has a place
out this way, I believe.

Stepmother?

It's not something
she liked to talk about.

I mean,

Jean Ward was just
her working name.

She was the Right Honorable
Moira Creighton-Ward.

The daughter of Lord Bayswater
and his first wife.

Charity Mudford
is her stepmother.

Drummer Hawkins.

The boy that saved the colors
at Mboto Gorge.

That's his actual drum.

Victoria Cross.

Posthumous.

Ah...

His parents' pride, I'm sure.

Well, the regiment's, certainly.

You're with the police?

Yes, Detective Sergeant
Morse, Thames Valley.

Dr. Laidlaw.

On secondment from Lonsdale.

I lecture on military history.

I'm also writing a history
of the regiment.

Is there any news?

I'm afraid
I'm not at liberty to say.

But I'm sure you'll hear
about it soon enough.

Her stepmother's Lady Bayswater.

Charity Mudford?
Mm.

I saw her at the
debating society yesterday.

What do you make to her?

Well, she's got guts,
I'll give her that.

When you know
everyone in the room

would like
to have seen you hanged,

it takes a certain amount
of sangfroid to smile back.

Or just a brass neck.

It's a wonder
she can show her face at all.

Well, she seems
pretty unrepentant.

Defiant, even.

Did Hitler really dance
at their wedding, do you think?

Unlikely.

But they did stop off
at Berchtesgaden for a few days

on their way back
from their honeymoon.

Why did she come back
to England?

Who knows?

Maybe we all come home
in the end.

Did you see Sam?

He's going to be fine.

He's in the clear.

Comes to the army,
nobody's ever in the clear.

Only the dead.

He's got you now, Johnny.

Says you, Mungo, says you.

But yon's a canny bugger,
he always has been.

See, Mungo, I do have

a natural advantage.

And what might that be, Colonel?

Billiards is a game
for gentleman.

Oh.

There's fighting talk,
make no mistake.

What did I tell you?

Never trust a bloody Englishman.

Not too late tonight, Mungo, eh?

Heavy day tomorrow,

what with this girl
on top of all.

Right you are, Johnny.

Night, Mac.

Johnny.

You'll take a dram for the road?

I'm done, Mac.

You're poor company, Mungo.

Very poor.

You never used to be
such a dull companion.

Well, go if you're going.

Prisoner and escort, is that it?

Go to your bed, man.

You've not the tits
for a wet-nurse.

I'm for a turn round the square.

Get some air.

Did you see him?

No.

No, it has to be played
by the book.

How d'you mean?

Mr. Bright wants me

to take a back seat,
seeing as it's family.

But Morse saw him.

Said he's doing all right.

I should let Joan know.

Oh, there's no point
in worrying her without cause.

It won't be anything
to do with Sam.

Single stab wound.

From behind.

Through the intercostal region

between the fourth
and fifth rib.

Pierced the posterior heart.

Penetrated to a depth
of six-and-a-quarter inches,

but there's no impression

of a guard on the skin
about the wound,

so it's unlikely
it was driven all the way in.

A bayonet?

That's certainly possible.

But there's nothing else?

No funny business or...

There doesn't appear
to be a sexual element, no.

But these bottles
of Dexedrine and Seconal

were in her handbag.

Non-lethal quantities of both
in her bloodstream.

De rigeur in the modeling
business, I believe.

Amphetamines for weight loss.

And the barbiturates?

Take the edge off the day.

Cumulative effect
is to leave one numb.

To what?

Life.

Where's your other beret,
Private Oswald?

I don't know, sir.

When did you see it last?

I can't remember, sir.

Up at High Wood, I think.

We're searching
the area this morning.

If it's up there, we'll find it.

Lost your cap badge, Corporal.

Yes, sir.

Couple of days ago.

I was going to put in
a chitty to the QM,

but with the deployment,

it slipped my mind.

To what do I owe the pleasure?

I'm afraid
I have some very bad news.

It concerns your stepdaughter,
Moira Creighton-Ward.

Ah, I see.

Drugs, is it?

She does have a problem.

No, madam.

Suicide, then?

Why would you think that?

Well, she'd attempted it before.

It's how her mother went.

No, madam, she was murdered.

How?

She was stabbed.

When did you last see her?

Oh, uh, not for some years.

Things had never been
very good between us,

but she kept up
a pretense of civility

for her father's sake.

But after Paddy died, I,
I didn't really hear from her.

What was she like?

Oh, quite mad.

Like her mother.

She ran up huge debts,
Bixby's club,

Berkeley Square,

expected her father
to cover them,

which he did.

And what about men?

Did she have a boyfriend?

Oh, yes.

Yes, she'd been engaged.

In the manner
of the public convenience

at Victoria Station.

Often, and for short periods.

It was all attention seeking.

She'd pick up with some
wholly unsuitable prospect

for a couple of months,
and then drop him.

Unsuitable in what way?

Ah.

Non-U types.

Jews, blacks, Americans.

Anything to annoy her father.

And you, presumably.

I could hardly care less
what she did.

But I knew

if she carried on, in this way,

she'd come to a bad end.

Right, general search,

moving line abreast
through the wood.

You're to be on the lookout
in particular

for an army beret, like this,

either with or without
a cap badge.

Right?

About your business.

Keep an eye.
Of course.

Thanks.

Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!

Morning.

Matey.

How'd the postmortem go?

Single stab wound.

Bayonet, possibly.

There's a quantity of uppers
and downers in her system,

which is par for the course
in the circles

in which she moved,
according to Dr. DeBryn.

You?

We've a Private Oswald.

Says he lost his beret
up here yesterday.

Right.

So if we find it,
and it doesn't have a cap badge?

Sam Thursday's
lost a cap badge too.

Oi! Oi! You!

In the bloody field!
Yes, you!

Stand still!
Don't move!

What is it?
What is wrong?

He's in a minefield.

He's what?

Fancy, stay still!

What?

Stay completely still!

A soldier will come
and fetch you.

Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!

You can't call me a racialist,

not by any stretch
of the imagination.

I went to see Sammy Davis Jr.
In Golden Boy

at the Palladium
only three months back.

So I think that speaks volumes.

Then why not take the sign down?

If it were up to me, I would.

It's your salon,
Mrs. Radowicz.

It's not as if I have anything
against them personally.

I don't.

I've always gone out of my way
to treat them like equals.

It's my customers.

They won't have it.

What is it they don't like?

Towels, for one.

Towels?

They don't like
using the same towels.

I've told them all the towels
are sent away for a boil wash,

but it cuts very little ice.

Then there's the combs.

I can't send them away
for a boil wash.

Someone said I should
buy a sterilizer,

but this is a hair salon,
not an operating theater.

Well, at least your customers

wouldn't have to worry
about curlers.

No.

Every cloud.

It's all right,

you're perfectly safe.
Nothing to worry about.

Whatever you say.

Just follow on
behind Private Jones.

Watch where he puts his feet,
see you do the same.

Gentlemen.

Thank you.

What do you think you're doing
going out into the field?

Time and a place, matey.
Give the lad a break.

I thought I saw something. What do you
mean, you thought you saw something?

Out in the field.

That's what I went in there for.

There's a name inside.

It's blood.

Right, so tell us
when you last remember

having your beret.

I can't say, sir.

Yesterday afternoon, I reckon.

Right.

You were late for the transport
back to the front gate.

I, uh, got taken short

and went into the woods
to relieve myself.

And did you have
your beret then?

I don't know, sir.
It was hot.

We'd been moving stuff
for the photographer,

rails of clothes.

I must've stuck it
in my pocket for a second.

Maybe it came out of my pocket

on the way back to the vehicle.

With everything that went on,

I didn't miss it till later.

You didn't see Miss Ward
in the woods?

No, sir.

What about anybody else?
No, sir.

There was nobody out there
that I saw.

You were part
of the search party

that went to look for her?

Yes, sir.

Me and Corporal Thursday,

Geordie, Sergeant Major Davies.
And Mister Carmichael.

You didn't see her then?
No, sir.

It was Corporal Thursday
that found her.

Eventually.

Maybe she had got lost,
as everyone thought.

Maybe you found her first.
I didn't.

You sure you didn't
try it on with her?

No, sir.

She wasn't interested, maybe.

That it?

She scream?

Call out?

Everyone out looking for her,

it wouldn't take long
before they found you.

You had to shut her up.

No.

It wasn't like that.

She give you the glad eye?

Lead you up the garden path,
then change her mind?

That how it was?
No.

It was just a kiss.

Just a kiss.

Where was this?

In the woods.

When I went for a jimmy.

She said she was trying
to find Murder Town

and had lost her way.

We had a couple of words,

and I said I'd see her back

once I'd done my business.

She gave me a peck,
and then something spooked her.

What was it, what spooked her?

I don't know, there was a noise,
a twig cracking.

But you couldn't see
anybody else there?

No.

But she was keen
to make the bus.

I pointed her
in the right direction.

She set off, I had a pee,
and I made my way back.

I swear, I never touched her.

Ossie?

As you were, Corporal.

I didn't do it, Corp.

You gotta tell 'em.

Corp, I didn't do it.

It's a bad business, Johnny.

It's bad for morale
on the eve of deployment.

Well, maybe
that's a blessing, Jack.

Germany.

The men'll have more important
things to worry about.

More important than
the honor of the regiment?

This time tomorrow,

there won't be a regiment,
Mungo's right.

We'll be out of here,
and on our way.

A good soldier never looks back,
Jack, you know that.

And the poor wee laddie
with the police?

Private Oswald?

No man left behind, Johnny.

So it's his beret, no question.

Without a cap badge
and bloodied,

as if it'd been used
to wipe the blade clean.

But no sign of
the weapon as yet?

He'd have to be
some kind of idiot

to tie himself
to the crime like that.

Or he panicked.

But say he's telling the truth.

Say he lost his beret
in the woods,

and somebody else picked it up.

All rather fortuitous,
wouldn't you say?

Perhaps, but it's
not impossible, sir.

Look, matey, I know
it's no locked-room mystery,

but sometimes the simplest
answer is the right one.

What've you got
against it being him?

Nothing, I'm just trying
to keep an open mind.

It is the job, isn't it?

You don't think Oswald did it?

Something spooked her
in the woods.

If you're taking
Oswald's word for it.

Of course he's going
to say that.

He's got nothing else, has he?

But what if somebody else
was there?

Who?
I don't know.

But someone that she knew,
or knew her.

Or recognized her at least.

From where?
Pin-up, wasn't she?

A model.

Well, maybe someone
saw her in the papers?

She'd have been
pretty hard to miss.

Outside of her work, she was
well known in society circles,

and always
in the gossip columns.

If anyone on that base knew her,

it's far more likely to have
been someone of her own class.

An officer, then.

That was the base.

There's been a development.

Right, left, right, left...

This was found where?

Stuffed down a drain
in the washhouse.

Shortly after 1400,
by a cleaning party.

Which consisted of whom?

Lance Corporal Thursday
and Private Collier.

Um, right,

and who has access
to the washhouse, generally?

Well, it's designated
for the use of other ranks,

but anyone on the base
could stop off there.

And could anyone have been there

during this photographic shoot?

Unlikely.

Most of the base
is down here at HQ,

preparing for deployment.

Where is it in relation
to Murder Town?

Uh, ten-, 15-minute walk.

A seven-minute run.

You have to pass it
on the way back

from High Wood to barracks.

Right.

Well, we'll take
a run out there later.

But first, I'd like to speak
to this cleaning party.

Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!

Heads up!

As you were.

Private Collier,

I understand it was you
who found the bayonet.

Yes, Colonel.

The water wouldn't drain away,
so Sam and me...

Lance Corporal Thursday,

Colonel... we got the grate up.

I had a rummage, like,
and there it was.

Any questions?

Did either of you
come by the washhouse

the afternoon
Miss Ward went missing?

Private Oswald did, sir, aye.

Only to see if the girl
had gone there, mind.

Me and Ossie split up, sir,

while the Thursday was away
fetching Lt. Carmichael.

I stopped by the washhouse too.

On my way to raise the alarm,
just in case.

Did you see anybody?

No.

I gave the place a quick shufti

and then made my way
back to base.

Any of them
could have put it there.

Including Private Oswald.

He's admitted to snogging her
in the woods,

maybe that's as much
as he can admit to himself.

It's Oswald's beret
we've found covered in blood.

If it turns out this bayonet's
got his dabs on it...?

If.

Short of a signed confession,
what more do you want?

You can't win 'em all, matey.

Look, there's only two people
missing cap badges,

and one of 'em's Sam Thursday.

There's no way it was him.

You didn't think
he was a bit cagey?

Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!

The sign on this door
says, "No Coloureds"!

This is the language

of segregation.

Yes!

Of apartheid.

It is bigotry.

Now the world knows what happens

when one group of human beings

decides another group
is something less.

But make no mistake,
my brothers and sisters,

the road that starts
with exclusion

ends at the crematorium.

I've asked around
if anybody from the barracks

has been out to the washhouse.

They're not putting
their hands up to it.

Right.

Strange's just finishing up
with the C.O.

What's all that?

It's everything I could find
on Moira Creighton-Ward

from the press archive.

Seems a lot of palaver
to go through

to get rid of it.

If it is the murder weapon,

then why not just bury it
in the woods?

Be the devil's own job
to find it out there,

even with a mine-detector.

Place must be alive with
shrapnel and spent rounds.

Hm?

I said it seems a daft place

to hide a murder weapon.

The washhouse.

Unless whoever put it there
wanted it to be found.

That's interesting.
What?

Lady Bayswater said
her step-daughter was engaged

"Often, and for short periods."

Look,
"Announcements."

Hello.

Detective Sergeant Morse,
isn't it?

That's right.

Dr. Laidlaw, this is
Detective Sergeant Strange.

Good afternoon.

Toy soldiers, Doctor?

Wargaming.

It's instructive for officers
to replay famous battles.

I'm sure.

What's today?

The Battle of Cannae.

Second Punic War.

Are you familiar?

He will be, I expect.

It's just a treat.

The regiment moving out.

All feels rather end of term.

We wanted to talk to you

about the girl
that was killed here.

I understood you arrested
one of the privates for it.

He's helping us
with our inquiries.

I'm not sure
what I can tell you.

I didn't see her.

Was Jean something, wasn't it?

No, no, her name was
Moira Creighton-Ward.

I believe you were
engaged to be married.

Ten years ago.

Ah.

Wait a minute, you're...

You're saying the girl
up at High Wood,

That was...
that was Moira?

Good God.

When did you see her last?

Oh, not since
she quit her degree.

You never wondered
what happened to her?

It was one mad term.

We were very young.

In any case, it would never
have worked out.

Why, why not?

Oh, I suppose because

I was always
a rather dull academic,

and Moira was...
wild.

Where were you

between 4:00 and 6:00
yesterday afternoon?

I was here.

Trying to complete
my regimental history

in order to present it
to the C.O.

at the flag lowering
ceremony tomorrow.

Anyone vouch
for your whereabouts?

I saw Col. McDuff
in the Officers' Mess

at around 5:00.

Look.

Really.

I am very happily married
with two children of my own.

So you see,
if I'd married Moira,

I would never have met my wife.

You can't hold onto people.

All done?

For now.

I want to get this bayonet back

so forensics can
take a look at it.

Have another word
with Private Oswald,

see what he's got
to say about it.

Right, well, I'll take
one last look around here.

See if this Colonel McDuff
can confirm Laidlaw's alibi.

I'll see you back
at the station.

Morse.

I thought you had your man.

No, he's not been charged yet.

So what's this?

You're still looking for proof?

Something like that.

You?

What was it
you didn't tell me, Sam?

She kissed me.

When I walked her back
to Murder Town.

Just a kiss
or... something else?

Just a kiss.
But it was my fault.

I should've been watching her.

And now Ossie's in the frame.

He didn't do it, Morse.

Right.

Whatever happened,
I'll get to the bottom of it.

I promise you.

Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!

Integration for the nation!

Whoa, whoa!

Yes?

You'd better come, sir.

I found this bastard creeping
about behind the lines.

Easy, Jack, easy.

There's a good chap.

He's one of ours.

One of ours?

He disnae know the password.

Colonel McDuff!

You will release the prisoner
into my charge, unharmed.

That's an order!

Colonel.

Your dagger, Jack.

Jack!

Major Coward, escort
Colonel McDuff to his quarters.

Yes, Colonel.

Come on, Jack.

If you've ever wondered
what a hero looks like,

you just met one.

Colonel McDuff
is the bravest man I ever saw.

What's the matter with him?

Korea.

Imjin River.

4,000 of ours
against 27,000 of theirs.

It's a night action,

Close quarters, wave after wave.

A third of the battalion
were killed or wounded,

including Mad Jack McDuff,
who took a mortar round.

When the order came
to fall back,

he stayed behind.

Give the rest of us a chance.

Then two years
in a Chinese prison camp.

If he drinks too much
and sleeps with the light on,

then so be it.

He's earned the right.

Yeah, but all the same.
No, Sergeant Morse.

There's no
"all the same" about it.

The regiment takes care
of its own.

♪ Dool for the order
sent our lads to the Border ♪

♪ The English for ance
by guile won the day ♪

♪ The Flowers of the Forest ♪

♪ That fought aye the foremost ♪

♪ The prime of our land... ♪

All right, Bennett,
get yourself a brew.

I'll take it from here.

Sir.

Well.

First things first.

Are you all right?

You sure?

Division are looking for scalps.

They want to make an example.

Everyone there's
going to be charged.

No one meant for it
to get out of hand.

Nobody ever does.

Then the next thing is
to get you out of here.

Aren't you going to charge me?

I was there.

No.

You weren't.

And you haven't been here,
neither.

I've given my name and address.

You let me worry about that.

Come on.

All right?

I couldn't see you before.

I... I wanted to,

but it had to be by the book,

being family.

Your mum's been worried
half out of her mind.

They arrested Ossie Oswald.

I know.

He didn't do it, Dad.

Well, it was him or you, Sam.

And I know it wasn't you.

Ossie's a good bloke.

You want to know how many
good blokes I've nicked?

Good or bad don't come into it.

We just follow the evidence.

He's in my section.

I know him.

If you won't do anything
about it, I will.

No. You're gonna keep your head
down, your nose clean,

and in a couple of days,

you're going to ship
over to Germany

and leave all this behind.

I'm not a kid anymore, Dad.

I know that.
You know...

when I was at school,

I used to get it in
the playground, A.C.A.B.

All Coppers Are Bastards.

"Not my dad," I'd say.

"He's one
of the good ones."

Times I'd get a thumping.

You never said.

No.

You know why?

Because I was frightened
of what you might do to them.

Give Mum my love.

Sam...
One of the good ones.

I really believed that.

Are you one of the good ones?

Thanks for the lift,
there was no need.

Maybe we should go for a drink.

You know,
when you're feeling up for it.

You're persistent, aren't you?

Faint heart never won fair lady.

You don't even know me.

I'd love to, though.

All right.

What?

Really?

Cold feet?
No.

No, no, no, no,

just surprised, is all.

I'd take advantage
if I were you.

Oh, Shirl.

Ow.
Oh, I'm so sorry.

I'm so sorry.

I'll see you at work.

Sure.

Sam's out of the firing line.

He's off the hook,
you don't have to worry.

I knew he'd be right.

He's a good boy.

Not a boy anymore.

He's a man now, his own man.

He's got responsibilities.

You'd be proud of him.

Oh, I'm always proud of him.

They grow up so quick.

One day the biggest decision
in the world

is wafer or cornet,
and the next, it's...

life or death.

Shame we can't all
get together for a nice tea,

you know, all four of us,

before he goes off to Germany.

Well, there's plenty of time
for that when he gets back.

Nine months?

You could always get
the coach down there, see him.

All that way?

Why not?

Else fly.

What would I want with flying?

And anyway, what do you mean
"You could"?

You mean
"We could."

It's not as if
you shan't have time.

What about work?

What about it?

You'll have done with it
by then.

You're not changing
your mind, are you?

No, no, of course not.

Morse'll be all right,

If that's what
you're fretting about.

Yeah, I know he will.

This last go round,
he's doing well.

Well, then.

Remember what we said...

you only get one life.

Love and rain.

How English.

I don't think we can claim it
all for ourselves.

People have been doing this
since there's been people.

Before, even.

Back when we were...
whatever we were.

Quel philosophe.

They probably lay on branches,

wrapped in each other's arms,

staring out at thunderheads
breaking over the savannah.

Safe in that one, brief moment

from the vast
awfulness of it all.

If he was as gloomy as you,

I hope she kicked him out
of the tree.

Gloomy?

Yes, my God, some men...

Some men?
So gloomy after.

Of course,
that's the part you hear.

Seriously, why do you do that?
Like someone died.

In my case, someone usually has.

I don't know.

They say you're never so alive

as when you're close to death.

Well, maybe the reverse
is also true.

Jesus, it's just sex.

It's not love.

I know.

It's good to be clear.

Just one day,
you'll be gone, right?

I suppose I'll miss you,
that's all.

We said no regrets.

How French.

Dégagé!

Again?

Oui.

Left, right, left, right!

Left, right, left, right,
Left, right, left, right!

Left, right, left, right,
Left, right, left, right!

Steady, halt!

Anything further on this
soldier we've got in custody?

Yes, sir.

Strange put it to him
that we've recovered

what looks to be
the murder weapon.

Rattled him, apparently.

Oh, in what way?

He went back
on his original statement,

said that after
the initial kiss,

she suddenly
pulled away from him

and gave him a slap.

Was there anything else, sir?

Actually there...
there was one thing.

I was talking
to Mrs. Bright last night

about Charity Mudford.

She told me she'd heard a rumor

doing the rounds in Mayfair
in the late '30s

Lord Bayswater wasn't Moira
Creighton-Ward's father at all.

She say who was?

The gossip was

some young officer
in the South Oxfordshires.

I'd imagine Lady Bayswater
might have an idea.

All come to her now, I suppose.

What will?

The estate Moira inherited
from her mother,

the first Lady Bayswater.

She was the money, apparently.

No other living relatives.

When probate goes through,

Charity Mudford will be
a very rich widow indeed.

Died between midnight
and 2:00.

Single shot, entering the head

just beneath the orbit
of the right eye

and exiting along
the lambdoid suture.

Nine millimeter.

Cartridge just there.

Automatic pistol
by the look of things.

Who found him?

Sergeant Major Davies
had what's left of C Company

out for a run first thing.

I've ordered an inventory

of all sidearms on the base

to see if there are
any unaccounted for.

Is that likely?

All firearms are kept securely

under lock and key
in the armory,

but any of us would have

to sign for them
in the guard room,

and there's been no withdrawal.

At least not last night,
in any event.

When, then?

Two days ago.

Colonel McDuff
withdrew a sidearm

for a session
on the target range.

A Browning L9A1.

Nine millimeter?

Yes.

And where is it now?

It hasn't yet
been signed back in.

It'll be about
this photographer laddie

up at Murder Town, would it?

More or less.

I wanted to talk to you
about Doctor Laidlaw.

What about him?

He says saw you
in the officers' mess

the afternoon
Jean Ward was killed.

Can you confirm that?

About 5:00, would it be?

Around then.

Aye, that sounds about right.

You remember him.
Aye.

He usually drops in about then.

He thinks I'm a soft touch.

How's that?
Rules of the mess.

Guests can't sign
for their own drinks.

And I'm not one
to see a man go thirsty.

Now if that's all?

No. Not quite.

You signed out a Browning L9A1

from the armory two days ago.
Aye, what of it?

Where is it?
It's back in the armory.

I signed it in
straight after practice.

No, you didn't.

Well, I'm sure I did.

I remember taking it back.

I signed it out, signed it in.

Same as always, swear to God.

Maybe you thought you did.

But if you had,

then it would be there,
wouldn't it?

You can't think

I had anything to do
with that photographer,

or this wee lassie.

You said yourself,
I've an alibi.

Laidlaw saw me.

Maybe he was mistaken.

No.

No, I saw him.

I swear it.

The same way you swore

you put the pistol back
in the armory?

What exactly were you doing

creeping around
the barracks last night?

I don't know.

Gentlemen, if you've a moment?

Sometimes the men
come through the wire,

if they've been out
on a late pass,

missed the last bus,

rather than finding
themselves on a charge.

We repair any breeches we find,

but it's a large perimeter
and pretty porous.

You put a sentry on this,

until we've got forensics out?

Yes, of course.

Looks like it puts
Private Oswald

in the clear, at any rate.

For this, but not
for Moira Creighton-Ward.

You've changed your tune.

I told you, I'm just trying
to keep an open mind.

Two killers on the base?

They're connected, surely.

Maybe, maybe not.

Interesting.

Farridge was at the protest too.

So Farridge was in with these
"Make Love Not War" types?

Hard to see how he'd find anyone

sympathetic to that on the base.

Well, maybe he didn't.

Maybe he found someone
who felt the exact opposite.

Wandering round
that late at night?

Perhaps it was Moira
Creighton-Ward's killer.

Going back to the scene
of the crime?

Could've had unfinished
business up there.

Something he'd forgotten.

Something he'd left behind
could incriminate him.

Okay, if it wasn't
Private Oswald,

- then who?
- That leaves Private Collier,

who found the murder weapon
in the washhouse;

Lieutenant Carmichael, who
ordered the wash-house swabbed;

and Sergeant Major Davies,

who set Collier
and Sam to cleaning.

What about this run-in
you had with McDuff?

Oh, he's a law unto himself,

but he's held in high regard
by the rest of the officers.

Something of a regimental hero,
by all accounts.

Think they're protecting him?

I think that when he had
his knife in my back,

its point was somewhere between
my fourth and fifth ribs.

Same as Moira?

Mm, same as Moira,
but it is textbook.

They taught us that much
in Signals.

And he'd signed out

this Browning nine-mil
that's still missing.

Yes, but Laidlaw can stand alibi

for the time of Moira's killing.

He says he saw him
in the officers' mess.

What if McDuff
didn't kill the girl

but did kill Farridge?

Two murders, two killers,

two different motives.

Division are after an answer
on Private Oswald.

We must charge him
by the end of the day

or release.

It's under review, sir.

What with the killing of this
photographer, Farridge,

it looks like the killer
could still be on the base.

Fresh off the telex.

From Dr. DeBryn
on the bayonet.

Thank you.
Sir.

Ah, Constable Trewlove...

Good heavens,
what happened to you?

Yesterday's
public disorder, sir.

Well, bruised or not,

your ready smile
brightens our drab walls

with much needed vim
and youthful freshness.

Wouldn't you say so, Fancy?

Yes, sir.

There's a blood match

on the weapon used
to kill Moira Creighton-Ward.

But it's not
a regulation army bayonet.

No?
What then?

According to Dr. DeBryn,

it was made for the K98 rifle.

Standard Wehrmacht issue.
German?

Well, her stepmother's certainly
got German connections.

In and out each other's beds,

and at it like knives,
according to Mrs. Bright.

No wonder the upper classes
are obsessed with pedigree.

Lady Bayswater.

We're rather hoping
you can help us.

We've come into
certain information

that raises questions about
your stepdaughter's parentage.

Policeman.

What a grubby trade
you practice.

Were my husband alive,

you wouldn't dare ask
such a thing.

It may have a bearing
on her death.

What utter nonsense.

This is nothing short
of persecution.

Persecution?

Spare me.

You got off light.

Your husband should have hanged

along with Spode and Webley

and the rest of
his fascist shower.

You've got the nerve
to have something like that

on display?

I can't change the past.

If Winston hadn't been
so eager for office,

all the unpleasantness
might have been avoided.

My husband had Hitler's ear.

We could have persuaded him.

Softened his resolve.

He wasn't immune to reason.

Charming conversationalist,
no doubt.

Actually, he was
a very good mimic.

Terribly witty.

Sir, is it time
for that telephone call?

To the station?

I can take it from here.

The unpleasantness,

as you call it,

cost me six years of my life,

and untold millions
a great deal more.

May I?

Hmm.

Now, I understand,
as Moira's sole living relative,

you stand to inherit
the entirety of her estate.

What are you insinuating?

Money is
a very powerful motivator.

To the common vulgarity.

Now, is that all?

Not quite.

It's been suggested
Moira's father

was an officer in
the South Oxfordshire Regiment.

If you know who that was,

I'd like to hear it.

Why should I tell
you people anything?

Another time, another place,

I could have had
both of you shot.

Just like that,
a snap of my fingers.

Well, that was then,
this is now.

If you'd like to see a penny of
your stepdaughter's inheritance,

you will cooperate
with us fully.

Is that clear?

You've been with her long?

20-odd years.

Admirer of her husband,
were you?

No man is a hero
to his valet, sir.

It's a job, like anything else.

What was Moira like?

An unhappy girl.

She suffered terribly
at boarding school.

Over her father.

That was here in Oxfordshire,
funny enough.

There any talk about
who her real father was?

Her "real" father?

I always took it
to be Lord Bayswater, sir.

It's an awful thing.

I was very fond of her.

In my way.

What way was that,
Mr. Barker?

One that knows its place and
proper station, Chief Inspector.

But there was no love lost
between her and her stepmother?

I'm afraid I couldn't speak
to that, sir.

But you could speak

as to her whereabouts

on the afternoon
following her appearance

at the Debating Society.

She was here, sir.

You can vouch for that?

I had some small errands to run
in town for an hour or two,

but she was here when I left,

and upon my return.

Moira's grandfather
was commanding officer

in the South Oxfordshire
Regiment in the '30s.

Two of his favorites were
regular houseguests here...

Mungo Coward
and Johnny Champion.

Major Coward
and Colonel Champion?

She thought it could be
either of them.

Maybe the girl
had heard the rumors

and took it upon herself

to confront the man
she believed to be her father.

But which of them?

The regiment leaves
for Germany this evening.

Now unless we can identify him,

Moira's killer, whoever it is,
leaves with them.

I've been given to understand

that you and Major Coward
were regular guests

at Colonel Proserpine's
family estate,

where his daughter
Eleanor was often staying.

I can imagine
what this is about.

The question you're here to ask,

I can't answer,
as I simply don't know.

You admit to a...
closeness

with Moira Creighton-Ward's
mother, then?

And you, Major?

Mungo was only ever a friend
to Eleanor.

A good friend to her

and a brother officer to me.

But you knew
about their relationship?

Eleanor was a wonderful girl.

We all know what
Paddy Creighton-Ward was.

He took no pains

to hide his adultery
with Charity Mudford.

No pains?

He was brazen about it.

All London knew
what they were up to.

Yes but was he
still sleeping with his wife?

It wasn't something
we discussed.

We had our time,

and then Eleanor said

it might be best
not to see each other again.

So she ended our relationship

Anyway, seven,
eight months later,

I saw it in the papers.

"The Gift of a Daughter."

But did she make contact
with you?

Moira?
No.

So, you'd no idea

it was her
when she came to the base?

No.

I suppose if
she'd used her real name,

I might have thought
something of it.

Moira, you see,
is my mother's name.

Well, surely that was a sign

that she was your daughter.

It could have been.

But it could just as easily've

been Paddy Creighton-Ward's
idea of a joke.

"Let him wonder."

I'll never know.

No surprises
as to cause of death.

But the cartridge is unusual.

If you find anything like it
on the base,

I'd be surprised.

Head stamp gives us date,
lot number,

as well as the case metal code.

44.

1944 to be precise.

German military.

A K98 bayonet and a pistol,
both used by the Wehrmacht.

Yes.

Souvenir, perhaps?

The spoils of war?

It wasn't unknown for soldiers

to relieve prisoners
and the dead of their arms.

Mr. Barker,
what can I do for you?

I didn't say anything
when you came.

It seemed like a betrayal.

But she wrote to me.

Moira.

Had done since she was
at boarding school.

That's the last.

Last few months,
she's been happy.

She met someone.

I don't know if there's
nothing more to it than...

hero worship, I suppose.

But he'd certainly
made an impression on her.

Who had?

Marcus?

Marcus Williams?

Marcus X.

Is that right?

The X represents my true name,

my ancestral African name.

Well, since we're all
on first name terms.

Fred, do you?

This is Morse.

Police?

We'd like to talk to you
about Jean Ward.

What about her?

You were involved.

Politically?

Yes.

She was looking for a cause.

Something to believe in.

Something or someone?

Sometimes it's the same thing.

That's as far as it went.

Where were you

when Miss Ward was
at the barracks?

Here, and later at a protest

outside a hair salon
in East Cowley

that operates a color bar.

I have at least 20 witnesses
can vouch for my movements.

You know a man called Farridge?

A photographer.

Yeah, I know him.

He does pictures.

Chronicles the struggle.

When did you see him last?

After Jean died.

He came by to tell me... why?

Somebody shot him,

last night, up at High Wood.

Well, you...

you can't pin that one on me.

I was in a cell,

at Cowley police station
until first thing.

Any idea why he went back up
to the barracks?

Uh, he'd called

to say that one of you
had arrested a brother for it.

Maybe he had other ideas.

And Jean?

Can you think of anyone
who would wish her harm?

It wasn't easy for her,
being her father's daughter.

But she'd put all that
behind her.

Changed her name
and started over.

Something you had in common.

She was a beautiful soul.

Had she lived, her future
would have been as bright

as her past was...
shadowed.

I'd have seen to it.

What do you make to him?

Could he be right
about Farridge?

"The Convergence
of the Twain."

He goes to find out
what happened to Jean Ward

and gets more
than he bargained for.

Happenstance, then?

Could Champion be lying?

Maybe Jean contacted him,
told him she was coming.

It's hell of a leap from that

to killing someone you believe
to be your own daughter.

It's unlikely, I'd've thought.

Double-check Williams' alibi

for the time of Jean's killing.

And take a run down
to the hairdressers.

See if we can dig
anything else up there.

I'll walk back to the nick,

see what Mr. Bright wants to do
with Private Oswald.

Is this the man
you saw leading the protest?

To tell you the truth, dear,
I couldn't swear to it.

I'm sure their mothers
can tell them apart,

but, uh,

don't ask me, dear,
'cause I'd be at a loss.

Well, thank you.

Oh, yes.

She's very popular.

The face that launched
a thousand snips.

But I'm afraid she's spoken for,

if you had any designs
of your own.

How do you mean?

I've a gentleman buys
all the blow-ups of her

off me when I'm done.

None of the other girls,
just her.

I must've let him have
half a dozen

the last couple of years.

He just comes in
every month or two,

and I put them by for him.

Takes all sorts, I suppose.

When it comes to men, dear,
it doesn't do to judge.

What's his name?

I couldn't tell you, I'm afraid.

He wouldn't wear glasses
by any chance?

I was hoping
to find Dr. Laidlaw.

You and me both.

He must be up at the camp
playing soldiers.

Have you got a permit for that?

I wouldn't have, would I?

Well, then put it down.
It's not mine.

It's his.

He collects this crap.

Got all sorts.

Pistols, rifles,

swords, flags.

He'll buy anything,
as long as it's Third Reich.

I mean, Jesus, look at this.

It's Kriegsmarine.

I mean!

But wait, that is nothing.

He showed me this last week.

SS.

He reckons it came out
of the Führerbunker.

Got it with a couple
of suicide pills.

Cyanide.

Kinky, eh?

He's your tutor?

When he bothers to turn up.

What do you know about him?

Beside his interest
in Nazi regalia?

I mean is he married, single?

Yeah, he's married.

Some model, he says.

How's that?

Got a couple of kids together,
place in North Oxford.

A model?

Yeah, fashion.

Clothes horse,
jet set, apparently.

Why she never turns up
to College do's,

though how a stiff like him

could keep hold
of something like that...

He won't be coming in today.

He might.

He won't... go on, get out,
before I run you in.

Take it easy.

You don't have to come over
all heavy, man.

C.I.D., DS Strange.

Is he in?

He's in with Mr. Bright.

Trying to decide
if we're charging Oswald.

Tell them not to bother.

He didn't do it,
it's a frame up.

Who did then?

Today, as we take leave
of this place,

we remember old comrades.

We remember their faces,

their names,
and their sacrifice.

They were the regiment,

as you are now the regiment.

"The sand of the desert
is sodden red,"

"Red with the wreck
of a square that broke,"

"The Gatling's jammed
and the Colonel's dead,"

"And the regiment blind
with dust and smoke."

"The river of death
has brimmed his banks,"

"And England's far,
and Honour a name,"

"...the voice of a schoolboy
rallies the ranks.

"'Play up!

"'Play up!

And play the game!"'

In our hearts,

we ever remember
the South Oxfordshires motto.

Death before dishonor!

Death before dishonor!

Give it up!

It's finished!

I would have given her
the world.

That she could choose
a man like that.

"Marcus X," a known criminal.

That's what you didn't
like about him?

You could've chosen anyone,

but you chose
to frame Private Oswald.

What does it matter?

They're all the same.

Bloody savages.
Animals.

I saw him kissing her
in the woods.

You saw her kissing him!

I know what I saw!

She was drugged up.

She didn't knew what
she was doing half the time.

Did you see her belt him?

What?

She slapped him.

Same way I think she slapped you
when you confronted her.

She knocked your specs off.

Moira.
Oh, leave me alone.

You came...
Get off me!

Hit you so hard it dislodged
the screw from the arm.

You bodged it together
with a running repair,

but if somebody
found that screw,

it could tie you
to Jean's murder.

You came up here last night
looking to find it,

only you ran into Farridge.

Maybe he recognized you,
so you killed him.

He deserved it.

He's part of that Marxist shower
with Williams.

Well, he won't be pointing
his camera at anyone else.

Persecuting people, ah!

Now, then, Mr. Laidlaw,

what's all this shooting?

Dr. Laidlaw.

Easy, Jack, easy.

Medics on their way.

They'll not take the regiment...

Do ye see them, Mungo?

All my bright boys.

I see them, Jack.

The Colors, man.

Look to the Colors.

Save the Colors.

Oh, my laddie.

My bonnie brave laddie.

Mustn't do it, Corp.

Off, then.

Uh-huh.

You did it.

It was done.

Dad...

Go and join your mates.

And make sure
you write your mother.

Unless they changed King's Regs,

you don't salute NCOs.

I'm not.

Dismiss, son.

That's that, then, Colonel.

Parade's End.

Her regimental
record unblemished.

Honor preserved,
thanks to you and your men.

My boy'll be sorry to see it go.

Ah, it's just a name.

Names change.

That's true enough.

We began the year
as City Police,

and we'll end it
as Thames Valley.

It's people
make something what it is,

not the name it's called by.

And as long as
the Colors remain,

and there's one man left
to see they don't fall to shame,

a regiment never truly dies.

Thank you.

Good-bye.

Over 20 years since
I was on a barrack square.

Could've been yesterday.

Nothing changes,
they all look the same,

Sound the same, smell the same.

"Today we have naming of parts."

"Yesterday
we had daily cleaning."

"And tomorrow morning,"

"we shall have
what to do after firing."

"But today..."

"Today we have
naming of parts."

What do you reckon
to Laidlaw, then?

I think he couldn't let her go.

Yeah.

That'll do it, every time.

How's your head?

Ringing.

If you will
get yourself shot at.

You did all right.

Knew you would.

Do you want to drive?

Come on, then.