Original subtitles

S'?

S'?

(girls shouting, talking indistinctly)

S'?

(cart rumbling, wheels squeaking)

Next one, please, thank you.

That's lovely.

S'?

That's beautiful.

S'?

Big smile

S'?

S'?

S'?

(school bell ringing)

S'?

(girls talking indistinctly)

S'?

PRINCE CHARLES (on radio): I, Charles, Prince of Wales,

do become your liege man of life and limb

and of earthly worship...

S'?

(brakes release)

(bus rumbling)

S'?

Hello, Pat, it's Karen.

Is Ann with you?

No, I just wondered if she'd come back with Jeanette

after school.

S'?

("Vissi d'Arte" by Puccini playing)

(typewriter keys clacking)

("Vissi d'Arte" continues on speakers)

rings) Shop!

("Vissi d'Arte" continues on speakers)

This is where you've been keeping yourself, is it?

I was passing.

People tend to.

Look, I, uh...

come bearing gifts.

MORSE: C.l.D. closed

month after I arrived in Woodstock.

Budget.

It was uniform or nothing.

What about you?

You know me, I'm doing all right.

There was a piece in the Gazette,

um... "lnter-Departmental"

something or other.

The "lnter-Departmental

Forward-Planning Steering Committee."

Steering what, exactly?

Resources, manpower.

It's a sort of quasi-managerial anticipatory role.

Is it.

Just shuffling paperwork, mostly.

Hmm.

Seen the old man?

I've called the house a few times.

Left messages.

I'd have told 'em where to stick it.

Would you?

Division don't like to lose police officers.

Full disciplinary, though?

Busted down a rank?

It wasn't right.

And we're still no nearer to finding who did for George.

Ilvve u?

I'm here,

you're there,

Thursday's at Castle Gate,

Bright's at Traffic.

I mean... there is no "we,"

nor is there likely to be.

We said... No, you said.

Heat of the moment.

I meant it.

Yes, I'm sure.

But it's not how it's turned out, is it?

It's never how these things turn out.

We are launching a fresh appeal to the public

to be on the lookout for Ann Kirby,

who went missing on the first of July

on her way home from school,

and who hasn't been seen since.

Now, obviously, as the days pass by,

we're becoming more and more concerned

for her safety and well-being.

To that end,

I would urge anyone

who as any information about her disappearance

to come forward and to contact the police.

Your call will be treated with the strictest confidence

and may be made anonymously.

If you have any information, any at all,

no matter how slight or trivial it may appear.

And please do contact us as soon as possible.

Now I, uh,

I will take just one or two questions from the press...

REPORTERS: Chief Inspector...

Yes,

Miss Frazil?

Is there any suggestion she might have been kidnapped?

No, no,

there's no indication that such is the case.

DOROTHEA: How are the family?

Well, as you can imagine,

they're worried about their little girl.

REPORTER: Chief Inspector...

BOTTOMS: One at a time, please.

All right, settle down, settle down.

S'?

Well, then, matey.

Look, let me know next time, and I'll bake a cake.

(chuckles)

Oh, I saw Joanie.

Said to say hello if I ran into you.

Started in as a trainee with the Welfare.

So I suppose it all works out in the end.

(keys jingling, car door opening)

We shouldn't let it go,

what happened to George.

Well, don't you care?

Would it make a difference?

S'?

(engine starting, car rumbling)

S'?

(birds chirping)

ANCHOR (on radio): Police have made a fresh appeal to the public

for information concerning the whereabouts

of missing schoolgirl Ann Kirby,

aged ten. (tapping razor, water splashing)

BOTTOMS (on radio): Obviously, as the days pass by,

we're becoming more and more concerned

for her safety and well-being.

To that end, I would urge anyone who as any information

about her disappearance to come forward...

(birds chirping)

(door closes)

S'?

There's been a young man hanging around.

I think he's been sleeping in the porch.

This was in the nave.

(Morse clearing throat)

(brakes squeaking)

(door opens, closes)

Good morning.

Sergeant Morse.

Mr... Tingwell, is it? Yes, that's right.

Well, how can I help you?

Information Room said something about a missing horse?

Skynner here was due

to collect a Connemara from me this morning,

only it's not in the field. Right.

Well, when was the last time that you saw it?

Yesterday afternoon.

15 hands, grey.

Well, I can pass the description on to neighboring stations,

and I'll keep an eye out for it when I'm on my rounds.

S'?

S'?

JOAN: I've got night class.

It's important.

Got to do something for me, I can't sit by the window

and wait for someone to tell me my life can start.

I can't do it anymore.

I can't do this anymore.

(indistinct talking on radio)

SHERIDAN: I suppose I should have shut the window

upon retiring to bed,

but it was really rather hot.

And one just

doesn't expect that sort of thing out this way.

So... (clears throat)

it's seven snuffboxes

and a couple of lighters, all silver,

is that right?

Dr. Sheridan?

Uh, yes.

Yes, that's right.

But it's only the snuffboxes that have any real value.

Right. Most of them are Victorian,

two of them Georgian.

(chuckles): They're something of a passion with me.

I see.

I can let you have a photograph

if you give me a moment.

Hello.

Hello.

Was it the boy that did it?

What boy would that be?

There was a boy watching the house

from across the road yesterday evening.

9h. yes?

And what did he look like?

Like he could do with a good wash.

(both chuckling)

SHERIDAN: Yes, I knew I had a picture...

I'll be with you in a moment, Sophie, dear.

Oh, I just came in for my book.

Yes, well, as you can see,

the officer is busy.

I'll bring it to you.

The terrible teens.

I'm afraid the Police Training Manual is silent

on that subject.

(chuckles softly)

(brakes squeak, engine idles, stops)

S'?

(crow cawing)

S'?

(horse whinnying distantly)

S'?

(horse whinnying, Morse shushing)

S'?

(shushing)

(grunting!)

S'?

S'?

(crow cawing distantly)

MORSE: No sign of her satchel.

Well, We'll find it.

What do you think to the flowers in her hair?

Well, it's probably best we leave it

to them that gets paid to ask those questions, eh?

All right, mate, thanks for your help, we'll take it from here.

Now, if you could do something about the nag?

There's a horsebox on its way.

Well, we've got a tea-urn coming out.

If you could find a spot for that.

Don't you want my report?

When the Gaffer gets here.

She's not going anywhere, is she?

S'?

Well, you do get about.

I thought I hadn't seen you.

What's the, uh...?

Dead about 24 hours.

Sizeable bruise on the skull, same to her hip too.

But nothing to say how she died at first glance.

And... No.

Okay. No obvious sign.

(Max clears throat)

DS Jago says you found the body?

Sir.

Sergeant Morse, sir.

Aformer colleague from Cowley.

I remember.

Didn't recognize you.

So?

I had a report of a horse stolen from Tingwell's Farm last night.

I was on my rounds,

I saw an animal matching that description.

I came into the field,

I... found her,

and I called it in.

Right.

Fair enough, that's you done, then.

S'?

Well, it's... standard practice

in such cases

to ask if anybody unusual has been reported in the area.

Have they? Yes.

There's a young man's been seen hanging around the church.

A rough sleeper.

The offertory box was forced last night.

Right.

Mmm, possibly drug use.

I've a syringe recovered from the church.

You might... Stick it in your report.

Make sure it's on my desk by tea.

And next time, try to remember we put a cordon down

so uniform don't go trampling all over the scene of crime

with their size nines.

Standard practice,

in a case like this.

S'?

(quietly): Right.

Fred.

Guv.

(birds chirping)

BOX: Pervert?

Opium.

What're they doing here?

All hands to pumps, I thought.

We've got Sheridan in custody.

This is our show, not Banbury's.

The uniform wants to make himself useful,

he can get back on his own ground

and search for the girl.

S'?

That upstairs.

It don't mean anything, it's... just his way.

Well, there's a daughter, Sophie.

You should get Welfare

over there. Right.

Oh, I went through the items

at 13 Jubilee Row. You did what?

You can't keep your fingers out,

can you?

So's his boy.

Bad stock.

We don't know he did it.

We never know.

It's a balance of probabilities.

You go with your gut.

What's important is types like that get put away.

And if we've got to nudge the jukebox

to get the penny to fall?

What are you saying, Fred?

Not sure I'm saying anything.

We're just talking.

Something coming in to Traffic now.

S'?

S'?

THURSDAY: He was picked up at one of the road blocks.

Been teaching here for ten years apparently.

Thought I recognized his name from your report.

Brush salesman, wasn't he? Stanley's father.

Door to door. So?

So I was thinking he should have a sample case, shouldn't he?

Of brushes.

The past is the past.

Dead and buried.

Done.

S'?

THURSDAY: A man answering description,

wearing a Panama hat, was seen with Rosie at the fair.

SHERIDAN: Well, there must have been 50 men there

wearing Panama hats.

We found your photographs.

Children.

Young girls in not much more than the altogether.

That's... art.

I'm interested in photography.

You're interested in something.

Those are historical images.

They were taken by the Reverend Charles Dodgson.

Lewis Carroll?

The man who wrote Alice in Wonderland?

(scoffs): Prince Albert and Queen Victoria were great collectors

of child nudes. BOX: I doubt they were in the habit

of abducting young girls from country fetes.

No more am l.

Look,

there was a young man watching my daughter

at our house the night before that, um,

that Kirby girl was found.

That's the man you should be looking for.

Where were you on the afternoon of July the first?

July the first... oh, I'd need to consult

my diary.

The day of the investiture, if that helps.

Tuesday last.

Oh.

Yes, well, in that case, I was in my rooms.

I watched the ceremony on television.

Anyone who can vouch for you?

Yes.

The bursar at Crozier.

S'?

(exhales)

Bursar confirms he spoke to Sheridan.

They talked about the investiture mostly,

what the queen was wearing.

Call was made at 1623.

Line was in use for 26 minutes.

If he was at home talking to the bursar,

he can't've been out picking up Ann Kirby.

Stand down the warrant for his gaff now.

THURSDAY: What about the opium?

Can't prove it's his.

I can't see a jury buying it, can you?

I'm sorry, Fred.

I know you wanted it to be him, but it's Clemence.

It's always been Clemence.

We've just got to find the little bastard.

(door closes)

Governor.

There is a known pervert seen back in the area.

Maybe he knows where the boy is.

Maybe.

Look.

This ain't going to be Geneva Convention.

So if you've got reservations,

now would be the time to say.

Whatever it takes.

I mean it.

Can I count on you?

Always.

(shouting indistinctly)

(camera clicks)

Been on your holidays, Gilbert?

We've been looking for you.

(breathing nervously)

You've got known associates, Gilbert.

God knows how you freaks find each other,

but I know you do.

Swapping your nature studies like cigarette cards.

We're looking for him.

I don't know him.

(Gilbert breathing nervously)

(groaning) Atta boy!

(Gilbert groaning, breathing with difficulty)

("Reach for the Sky" playing on TV)

(door opens)

(horse whinnying on TV)

Do you want tea?

You're back, are you?

Yeah.

I'm making tea.

Not for me.

Rig ht-0.

Gunsmoke, is it?

I don't know.

Something.

What've you done to your hand?

Oh, I don't remember, um...

Caught in a door, probably.

Doesn't hurt.

I'll put the kettle on.

(water flowing from tap)

S'?

("Spem in Alium" by Thomas Tallis playing)

(typewriter keys clacking)

("Spem in Alium" continues)

("Spem in Alium" ends)

S'?

(hood rustling)

S'?

I didn't do it!

I'm innocent! Thursday!

(trapdoor releases, rope snaps)

("Miserere Mei Deus" by Mozart playing)

Miserere mei, Deus

J" Secundum magnum misericordia

TINGWELL: Phil Clemence and me were choirboys together

at St. Christopher's.

Shared our first cigarette up in the organ loft there.

I bet if I went back today,

I'd find our old pack of Woodbines

still behind the pipework.

("Miserere mei, Deus" continues)

(door creaks, closes)

(objects shifting)

S'?

MAX: That's the sixth this year.

THURS DAY: Overdose?

He was an habitual user, but... no.

If he's anything like the others,

it's what the heroin's being adulterated with

to make it go further that's the problem.

Quinine.

Not a happy combination.

And is someone doesn't cut off the supply,

he won't be the last.

(police siren blaring distantly)

I'm sorry.

I let him down.

His father too.

Arthur Lott fitted Phil Clemence up,

and I sent an innocent man to the gallows.

Are you asking if there's evidence of sexual assault?

Is there?

Not at first glance, no.

Be able to tell you more after the postmortem.

Shall we say 4:00?

You can say what you like.

I'm not one for seeing kiddies carved up.

Liaise with D.l. Thursday.

(birds chirping)

I'll brief upstairs.

Can you take the parents?

If that's what you want.

See you back at the factory.

(word catching in throat)

Not my Ann.

(voice breaking): Not my Annie.

It's a mistake.

Love...

They've made a mistake.

You, you have made a mistake.

It's got to be

some other girl.

Tell him, Joe.

Tell him it's got to be some other girl.

Come on, love...

THURSDAY: My sincere condolences.

S'?

(elevator dings)

(indistinct talking, phone ringing)

S'?

My report.

Syringe is in the bag.

I'll see the guv'nor gets it.

Anything?

Early days.

You know how it is.

Mind how you go.

You're looking at the Emily Bayard case, presumably?

Um... Berkshire case.

Disappeared on her way home from school.

July 1966.

Very, very similar circumstances.

Only she was never found.

The DCl's ruled it out.

Is he up to it? Box?

A sergeant doesn't question

a detective chief inspector's fitness to lead an inquiry.

"Robbery? I've shit 'em,"

wasn't it?

Things change.

I'm sorry about your disciplinary.

You deserved better.

I don't know about that.

I was in charge.

Well, if you fancy getting a drink sometime?

Yeah.

Yeah, we, uh... we must do that.

Give my regards to Mrs. Thursday.

It won't be any stroke of genius that finds him.

Long hours and shoe leather'll see this one right.

No obscure motive to be uncovered.

Just depravity.

Some... nobody.

On file already, like as not.

Initial reports said she was wearing an Alice band

in her hair when she left school.

It wasn't at the scene.

Could be in the field.

Why there?

He could have left her body anywhere.

In a ditch, in the middle of the field somewhere,

she wouldn't have been found until harvest time.

Why leave her at the foot of a pylon?

Showing off, maybe?

No, it matters.

Same as the flowers, it's important.

(footsteps approaching)

Sergeant Morse delivering his report, sir.

BOX: Nicked your little thief yet?

Not quite.

Well, don't let us keep you.

(phone ringing distantly)

Sir.

S'?

(rustling)

S'?

(footsteps approaching)

S'?

Hey!

S'?

(both groan)

S'?

(catching breath)

S'?

(flashbulb popping)

Stanley Clemence, date of birth, October 4, 1951.

Of no fixed abode. What about family?

He hasn't asked for anyone to be informed.

JAGO: We've got a string of juvenile previous on him.

Been in trouble on and off since he was about ten.

Next of kin's

an aunt in Torquay.

You want to brace him now, or when the dew's still on him?

Let him sweat it a minute.

I haven't had my tea yet.

See your report's here first thing.

I can do it now if I could take a loan of a typewriter.

(clears throat): The pool's gone home.

I kept my old machine.

It's all right, isn't it?

So long as he keeps his beak out of anything else.

Hard to see

how he could've kept Ann Kirby holed up all this time

if he's been living in a squat.

BOX: Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Wait a minute.

He's your collar, sergeant.

This goes the distance, could be your ticket back to Big School.

Unless you want to stay counting cabbages out in the sticks.

THURSDAY: Sergeant Morse's got a point, sir.

Thief and drug addict's one thing,

a child murderer's something else.

If he's not involved, how's he come by her satchel?

MORSE: Oh, I was just asking.

What if he didn't do it?

It's the court's business, not ours.

We just get them up the steps.

You think he did it?

I'm uniform, I don't get paid to think.

(paper rustling)

I might know him.

How?

(thunder rumbling, rain pattering)

(car door closing)

S'?

(baby Stanley crying distantly)

S'?

(baby Stanley crying distantly)

So who killed his mother?

His father.

Philip Clemence, commercial traveler.

Knocked out brushes, door to door.

And did he go down for it?

S'?

13 Jubilee Row.

Funny how some things stick.

His maternal aunt and uncle took him on.

Decent people, as I recall.

(inhales): Well.

Mind how you go.

S'?

THURSDAY: Tell me about Ann Kirby.

(sniffling): I don't know her.

Then what're you doing with her satchel?

I found it.

Look, man, can you help me out?

I don't feel good.

Found it where?

(sniffling): I don't remember.

On the road, maybe.

(sniffling)

I'm serious.

I'm sick.

I need something.

What do you mean, you need something?

A doctor.

I need to see a doctor.

Come on, man.

You can see I'm not right.

BOX: We know all about you, Stanley.

You're bad blood.

I'm not blaming you.

It's not your fault.

(sniffling)

But you help us out with Ann,

we'll see about a doctor.

Help you out how?

Just put your hands up to it.

(sniffling)

I can't.

I can't say I did something I didn't do.

S'?

S'?

What was she like?

THURSDAY (quietly): Who?

My mum.

Did you know her?

Yeah.

Yeah, I knew her.

She was a good 'un.

(sniffling)

And him?

(suppressed laughing)

(bicycle bell ringing, bell tolling)

VIV: Don't give me that old bollocks.

He's still a minor, he's got rights.

Uh-huh.

Oh, is that right?

Well, you tell him Viv Wall is coming.

Wall, as in Berlin. As in bricks.

As in about to come down on your round head

like a ton of.

Want me to spell it for you?

(phone slamming down) Prick!

Uh, the...

psychiatric assessment for the Pendleton hearing.

Oh, don't worry about that, now. Fetch your coat.

Why? Where are we going?

To war.

No, wait for it, wait for it.

And remember,

"if the Pelican can, then so can you."

(laughter)

There he goes.

Right, then. (clicks switch)

Back to work.

Fred.

MORSE: And tell me,

is this the young man you found sleeping in the porch?

That's him.

I did feel for the poor boy.

Nowhere to live, he said.

No family, no money.

I told him to try some of the farms

hereabouts.

Skynner, the slaughter man,

sometimes takes on casual labor.

You think

he robbed the offertory?

I shall pray for him. Well,

I've kept you from your flock long enough.

Thank you.

Very pretty.

All from the vicarage garden.

Friday, a funeral,

Saturday, a bride,

Sunday, a christening.

The lot of a country parson.

VIV: Stanley Clemence is 17. A minor.

We should've been notified.

You have been. At once.

Not the best part of 12 hours later.

Now, according to the custody record

he's not been examined by the police surgeon.

BOX: What's this?

JAGO: Welfare.

About Clemence.

DCI BOX.

VIV: You've interviewed him.

Of course we have.

He's facing a serious charge.

I don't care what he's facing.

There should have been a solicitor present. He declined.

He's an addict,

I doubt he was in a fit state to decline anything.

I want him independently assessed,

and I want the duty brief notified.

We'll look into it.

You'll do it.

Or I'll know why.

In the absence of family,

we stand in loco parentis.

Word to the wise.

Little girls who squeak out of turn

are liable to find themselves over my knee.

It's all right, Viv.

Like to see you try.

Would you?

So who're you, then?

The Sorcerer's Apprentice?

My daughter, sir.

Joan.

Well, there's a thing.

Railroading a kid into the dock?

I expect better of you, Fred.

I want to see him.

We want to see Stanley Clemence now.

Dad.

(footsteps retreating)

Small world.

Sorry, I wish I could help you,

I've not seen him.

It's to do with this kiddie, is it?

Oh, no, I'm just trying to locate his whereabouts

for the past few days.

Where you two off to, then?

MAGGIE: Take her books back.

Library's in Bladon.

What's this, then?

Well, the sergeant, he's asking after some lad.

Sorry, um, this is my wife.

Mags, Sergeant Morse.

MAGGIE: Didn't he do a couple of days last year?

SKYNNER: What, that's the same lad?

Stan?

Yeh, that's him all right.

My, uh,

my wife wasn't too keen. Oh, why's that?

MAGGIE: He just had a weird way about him.

Didn't sit right with me.

Thought we'd seen the last of him,

but I saw him last week hanging round the church.

You should talk to the Reverend.

(car door closing)

(engine starting, catching)

Oh. Oh sorry,

I haven't got round to taking the plates off yet.

It's not an offense, is it?

Well, I won't say anything if you don't.

She only passed last week.

It's... it's third time lucky.

It'll be a godsend to be honest with, um, with Laurel.

It's muscular dystrophy. Mmm.

Taking her into town for check-ups and that.

You know, it's...

Up to now, it's either been the bus or me, so...

usually means taking a day off work.

You got kids?

Sorry, it's none of my business.

No, no; need a wife first.

Not in this day and age, you don't.

Hmm.

Look, um...

I don't think there was anything in it,

what Mag's was saying about the boy.

To be honest with you, I felt bad about letting him go.

Put him Tingwell's way.

Right.

Well, thank you for your help.

TINGWELL: Yes, Stan helped out here.

But it was just for a few weeks.

Come autumn, he just lit out.

Not seen him since.

He wasn't a great worker, if I'm honest.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

How do you mean?

Takes after his old man.

Oh, you knew his father?

Oh, yes.

Phil Clemence and me were choirboys together

at St. Christopher's.

Shared our first cigarette

up in the organ loft there.

I bet if I went back today,

I'd find our old pack of Woodbines

still behind the pipework.

No.

It was a bad business.

(birds chirping)

(rock music playing on speakers)

(lighter clicking

("Lip Service" continues playing on speakers)

The door was open.

It's always open.

What do you want?

Some information on Stanley Clemence.

I'm told he's been living here.

Who wants to know?

Police. Sergeant Morse.

When did you see him last?

Couple of days, he came and went.

Well, I'd like to see his room.

(flustered): You...

you need a warrant or something, don't you?

You've got a couple skinning up on the mattress over there,

and the place reeks of Red Leb.

Do you want me to call the drugs squad

or do you want to just show me his room?

S'?

S'?

S'?

(bell tolling)

S'?

(projector carousel clicking)

S'?

(projector carousel clicking)

(clicking continues)

S'?

(Coughing, wheezing)

(groaning)

(murmuring, rasping)

S'?

S'?

("Symphony No. 9, Movement ll" by Beethoven playing)

ANNOUNCER: Go!

("Symphony No. 9" continues playing)

(laughing, children shouting)

("Symphony No. 9" continues playing)

("Symphony No. 9" continues playing)

Oh!

(door opening)

S'?

(children laughing, shouting)

(bell rings)

S'?

I don't know what you've got to come back for.

How do you mean?

There was another copper came by.

What other copper?

(floorboards creaking)

S'?

(children shouting faintly)

So what's all this?

What's all what?

All that.

Incognflo.

(chuckling): In disguise or hiding from someone?

You don't look like you.

What does me look like?

Not like this.

Well, there you go.

Maybe I'm not me.

Not anymore.

Things change. (bell ringing distantly)

Well, that's too bad.

That's just how it goes.

YOU?

I'm still me.

Well. Good for you.

Morse...

MRS. JOHNSTON: Help! Police!

Somebody help me!

Please.

I can't find my little girl. Excuse me.

Excuse me please.

Sorry.

Thank you.

Hello, what is it? What is her name?

Um, um, Rosie.

Rosie. What is she wearing?

Pink dress Right, right.

S'?

(sounds blending together)

BOTTOMS: All right.

As you were.

Ronnie?

Rosie Johnston, sir. From Cowley.

JAGO: We've got a sighting

of a man with a little girl that sounds like Rosie stood

by a vehicle in the car park. BOTTOMS: Do we have a description?

JAGO: Witness didn't see his face.

Only that he was wearing a Panama hat.

Doesn't sound like Stanley Clemence.

MORSE: I've a photograph of Rosie Johnston

for circulation.

You took your time.

BOTTOMS: What about a registration?

JAGO: Uh, just the, the make.

Van Den Plus, two tone.

I've ordered roadblocks, sir.

15-mile perimeter.

Well, that's something, I suppose.

Though I suspect he'll be long past any cordon by now.

Unless he's pulled off the road.

Ronnie, I can leave you to liaise

with Chief Superintendent Bright?

Of course, sir.

Very glad of Traffic's assistance.

BOTTOMS: Hourly dispatches, yes?

For good or ill.

Find Clemence, find the child.

We don't know it is Clemence, sir.

Our chief suspect

for the abduction and murder of a little girl skips hospital,

and hours later another girl goes missing.

Yeah, but it could be coincidence, couldn't it?

What're you saying?

We've got two perverts on the ground?

Well, it is possibility.

Unless, Clemence had nothing to do with Ann Kirby.

I mean, I don't suppose anybody's considered

the locus of the body

or the flowers in her hair. BOX: Listen,

this kiddie was taken out from under the nose

of you and Johnny Morris here,

so I'll have no lectures.

If you'll excuse me, I have a child to find.

There's strong evidence Clemence had Ann Kirby

at his place. What evidence?

The blue Alice band she was wearing.

DI Thursday turned it out

not three hours since. Where?

At his place. Now, be told.

But where at his place?

In his room, under a loose floorboard.

Along with drug paraphernalia

and a notebook.

Fred.

I hate to admit it.

S'?

(flipping pages)

(shuts book, places it down)

Anything from Traffic? Not yet.

If there was a blue Alice band under the floorboards,

it wasn't there when I looked.

You've been there? When?

Well, before you, clearly.

You think I did it? Well, somebody did.

Whoever it is,

somebody is trying to frame Stanley. Well...

You keep it to yourself.

Gets back to Box you've been poking around

in business that's none of your concern...

But it is my concern.

He's not going to get to the bottom of it,

you know that. He's senior officer.

He's a fist with a warrant card.

He's going to pin Ann Kirby on the first passing suspect.

Your boy Stanley. Is that what you want?

You get caught with your tit in the wringer on this one,

I won't be able to help you.

I'm not looking for your help.

How can you stand it?

"Yes sir, no sir," to a man like that?

It's called the chain of command.

Well, you're worth a hundred of his sort.

Don't forget it.

Because I won't.

S'?

(door opens)

Your license, sir?

We've enough to nail Clemence, then.

Just a question of picking him up.

(sniffing): If it's hers.

Course it's hers. Why wouldn't it be?

Handy, it turning up when it did.

(chuckling)

You turned it up, Fred.

Credit where it's due.

You know, it's funny,

we had trouble making it stick against Stanley's father.

That right?

Couldn't crack him, love nor money.

In the end, it was a young DC--

my old bagman, Arthur L0tt--

found the hammer he'd used

concealed in the cistern of the outside lav at his address.

Lucky break. Yeah.

Miraculous.

Given it wasn't there when I had a feel around

two days previous.

People miss things.

Even you. That's what I told myself.

It's what did for him, though.

Even so, he went to the gallows swearing his innocence.

But he wasn't,

was he?

He was a wrong 'un.

He's come from Robbery.

Not the Lucy Clayton?

Still,

it's nice to see you, Inspector.

And Morse, of course.

One might have known if anyone was going to find her,

it would be him.

(birds chirping)

I've read the case files.

There's something you should see.

Clemence's sample case.

He'd hidden it in Saint Christopher's.

So Arthur Lott may have planted the evidence

that got him convicted, but you were right.

He was guilty.

That's not how they'll see it upstairs.

Or in the papers.

You know how it works.

If I fitted up Phil Clemence,

who else have I fitted up over the years?

But you didn't.

You think that'll matter?

They'll look at every single case I ever made.

We ever made.

Well, as it stands, nobody knows.

We know.

(latching case)

Bury it now, we're no better than Arthur Lott.

An Alice band, a hammer.

It's corruption.

S'?

No.

Tell the truth and shame the Devil.

I'll turn it in.

S'?

Well, if you want to do things by the book,

it's actually in my custody.

So I'll take the responsibility for it.

Any news on Rosie Johnston?

(dog barking distantly)

We're still looking.

If Stanley took her...

She's still alive.

Stanley didn't take her anymore than he killed Ann Kirby.

You know that, and I know that.

I'd better get back to the nick.

("Miserere Mei, Deus" playing)

(engine starting)

S'?

S'?

(chair creaking)

("Miserere Mei, Deus" ends)

MORSE: Mr. Croglin?

That's right, yeah.

Sergeant Morse, Thames Valley.

Ah.

You had a stall at the Blenheim fete.

Yeah, that's right yeah.

What's this about?

Do you ever do any work in Berkshire?

No, I've all I can manage here.

Hmm.

But you took this.

Uh... yeah.

Yeah.

And do you remember this little girl?

On the photo you took here last week.

That's the girl that was killed, isn't it?

My little bookworm.

How's that?

Hmm?

Well, I'd had to change a roll see.

So I had a couple more minutes with her.

Mm-hmm

She was telling me that she was reading, um, Black Beauty.

I said, "Oh, yes, that's nice."

You know, just to make conversation.

She said, "Yeah."

(breathing deeply)

Only she was worried.

About what?

As it's... quite a long book, you see.

She wouldn't be able to get it finished

before it had to be back to the library.

I said, "You'll have to buy a copy."

She said, "I'm not made of money."

Just like that.

(chuckles): "I'm not made of money."

We rolled up.

Anyway...

That was... my little bookworm.

(birds chirping)

(brakes squealing, engine stops)

MORSE: The last time you would have been here was when?

Was it the first of July? That's right.

Can you tell me if this girl came by

on that day.

Her name's Ann Kirby.

If you give me a minute.

Do you stop in Deddington?

No, that's not on the rota.

Weeping Cross is the nearest we come.

Yes,

here we are, Ann Kirby.

Returned four books

and took out four more. Four?

Mm-hmm.

Caring for your Pony, Ride Like the Wind,

The Blue Ribbon for Binky, and Gypsy Wins Through.

Four books every visit.

Like clockwork.

S'?

(motor humming)

S'?

S'?

(engine stops, parking brake engaging)

(door opens)

(crows cawing, insects buzzing)

I carried a little boy out of a bloodbath.

That's got to mean something.

Guilty or innocent, I can't give up on him.

So you returned to the scene of the crime.

Hoping for what?

That the killer would return?

Sometimes they come back. Sometimes they do.

But this isn't the scene of the crime.

You were right, I was wrong.

There is no obscure motive.

No stroke of genius.

Just shoe-leather.

Little girl goes missing, turns up dead,

one thought springs to mind.

Yeah, 99 times out of 100, it's the right one.

But not this time?

(birds chirping)

Mr. Skynner?

Detective Inspector Thursday, Thames Valley.

I believe you know Sergeant Morse.

It's about the girl found in the pylon field.

Oh, yes.

The day that Anne Kirby disappeared,

she got off the bus a few stops early

to return books to the mobile library,

where she collected four more.

S'?

I checked to see

which would be the best shortcut

from Weeping Cross to her home.

There's a field with a lane

with a very nasty blind bend.

("Tiburon" playing on speakers)

S'?

(radio losing reception)

(crash, gasping)

S'?

(breathing shakily)

S'?

I recovered a piece of an L-Plate there,

broken off in the collision.

Alfie? It's all right, Mags, go home.

See to Laurel. THURSDAY: Actually,

Mrs. Skynner, it's probably best if you stay here.

Please...

I'm sorry, Mr. Skynner.

What's going on, Alf?

They know who was driving.

It was an accident.

She was just there.

I wasn't going fast.

There was nothing I could do. She panicked,

that's all it was. MAGGIE: I thought

if I brought her back, Alf could do something.

Make her right.

Only she never came to.

We thought that she'd come round.

Then the longer it went on...

MAGGIE: She just slipped away.

I went to get her a cold flannel.

I... couldn't've been gone a minute.

(voice breaking): She just slipped away.

SKYNNER: I knew the maintenance gang

were going to be out seeing to the pylons.

(quietly): I thought they'd find her.

(voice breaking): They skipped over

to the next valley.

So, you put the horse in the field,

knowing that Mr. Tingwell would report it stolen.

I didn't want her lying out there.

With animals and all sorts.

I didn't... want her messing with.

For her parents.

And you put the flowers in her hair?

S'?

MAGGIE: I thought I'd get in trouble.

Laurel-- our daughter...

with Alf working,

I'm all she's got.

S'?

(object rattling)

S'?

Well.

Who's a clever bastard?

They're nothing to do with Rosie Johnston.

Well, seeing as Stanley is cooling in the fridge,

we've still got some work to do to find her.

Fred.

(door closes)

What's this?

Well, I wouldn't swear to it,

as one looks much like another,

but... I'd say that's Ann Kirby's Alice band.

It was under the driver's seat.

Must have fallen off when they...

...got her out of the car.

We didn't have the best of starts.

(bottle clinking)

I hope we can straighten that out.

Bury the hatchet.

(unscrewing cap)

You got a raw deal over George Fancy.

Everybody knows that.

It's you should be sitting here, and me standing there.

How it goes.

Maybe.

But it doesn't make my job any easier.

You're Fred Thursday.

That means something to these blokes.

I don't know about that.

I do.

Look...

My manners aren't all they should be,

but everything I've got in this game

has come through this... and hard graft.

And I reckon you're the same.

We can do something here.

You and me.

Sort this place out.

Make it somewhere decent.

Kids can grow up safe.

But I need your help.

You in... or out?

(phone ringing distantly)

S'?

(indistinct talking)

Oh. Sir? Morse?

It's her. Who?

Emily Bayard.

The missing schoolgirl.

He's using her as a model

and period photographic techniques

to pass the images off

as vintage photographs. Who is?

Dr. Sheridan. That photograph's a fake.

Looks like a photograph to me.

MORSE: No. I mean it's inauthentic.

If you look at the sculpture

on the plinth, it's by Degas.

Couldn't have being cast until the early 20th century.

That's not a Victorian photograph,

that was made about three years ago.

How do you know?

Because the girl in the picture is Emily Bayard.

Sophie,

Sheridan's so-called daughter.

"So-called"?

Yeah, it's the same girl.

S'?

MORSE: Emily?

Emily?

Emily, it's the police.

You're safe now.

It was here. What was?

The statue.

He must have taken it with him. Where?

Well, wherever he takes the photographs.

Presumably where he stashed Rosie

after he took her from the fete.

Trapped in an upstairs room.

She's a bit...

THURSDAY: It's all right.

You're all right.

Nobody's going to hurt you.

You're safe now.

Where is he, Emily?

S'?

What is this place? (door closing)

Badgett Manor.

Former church land.

Sheridan was a local history buff.

He knew all about the place.

JAGO: He knew it would be empty.

S'?

S'?

Rosie.

(bottle clinking)

Uh... she, she's perfectly all right.

She'd better be. Morse?

Laudanum.

A sedative.

(stammering): I can assure you, she's quite unharmed.

And Emily?

Three years your captive and God knows what else?

How harmed is she?

It's, it's just photographs.

You take the photographs and what?

You sell them on to other freaks?

Freaks?

No, no, hobbyists.

Men of a, a like aesthetic bent.

Men?

You're not a man. You're not a man's arse.

I've never laid a finger. MORSE: Perhaps.

But what did you intend to do with her?

Just sell her off to the highest bidder?

And that's why you took Rosie,

because you needed a new model.

Because Emily had grown up.

She was... perfect.

Sugar, and spice...

and all...

things nice.

(groans)

Whoa, whoa, whoa, that's enough! That's enough, that's enough!

S'?

All right, Rosie.

Now then, hand you over

to this lady here.

And she's going to take you home, all right?

I expect he lied to Rosie, the same way he lied to Emily.

He told her that her parents were dead,

and she was coming to live with him,

and wouldn't have to go to school anymore.

Sick bastard.

She'll be all right.

They both will.

Like Stanley?

(engine starting)

I'll see you around.

S'?

(car driving off)

S'?

Transfer I asked about, sir.

If I could trouble you for a signature.

"E. Morse."

He's, uh...?

Oh, yes, sir.

One of the College Lodges, lbefieve.

Thank you, sir.

BOTTOMS: Dear Mr. E. Morse,

Please find herewith notification

that you're being reassigned from your current station

to take up the position of Detective Sergeant

with the Criminal Investigation Department

at Castle Gate Police station.

S'?

Report for duty at 0900 hours,

Thursday, July 17, to DC! Box

to receive your first assignment.

S'?

(engine starting)

(gear shifting)

S'?

S'?

S'?

S'?

S'?

S'?