All language subtitles for Endeavour.S07E02.Raga.1080p.BluRay.x264-OFT

ANNOUNCER:
At the Jolly Rajah,

we use only the freshest
spices, the choicest meat,

and the highest-quality
vegetables

to bring you the very best
of Indian cuisine.

From a romantic dinner
to a full wedding reception,

the Jolly Rajah,

only two minutes' walk
from this cinema.

(speakers hissing)

♪ ♪

(bell tolling)

MAN (on loudspeaker):
For a better Oxford
and a better Britain,

this Thursday,
the 18th of June,

vote Conservative,

because a vote
for the Conservative Party

is a vote
for a better tomorrow.

♪ ♪

(crowd cheering)

(crowd shouting)

(bell dings,
crowd cheers and applauds)

STAN:
Adam "Danger Man" Sloane!

Oh, yeah!

(crowd cheers and applauds)

And,

all the way from Africa,

it's Johnny Simba!

(crowd cheering, jeering)

♪ ♪

BRIGHT:
How is she, Doctor?

Perhaps better
than one might expect.

There will be good days.

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

(people chuckling)

Because it contains
the word "Asian"!

(audience laughing)

Since the war,

we have been literally swamped

with a tidal wave
of people

from our former territories
and colonies.

CROWD:
Yes.

We left!

We gave them
their countries back!

If the British Movement
is about one thing,

it's about British jobs
for British workers!

(audience cheering, applauding)

British homes
for British families.
(cheering)

And British hospitals
for British patients!

(cheering, applauding)

It's not the color
of your passport

that makes you British.

It's the color of your skin!

(audience cheers and applauds)

(speaking indistinctly)

Don't let the food
get cold, huh?

(people talking in background)

RAFIO:
(speaks foreign language)
(bell dings)

(engine starts)
PRINCE (on TV):
Et voilà.

Tournedos Rossini finished
in a madeira demi-glace sauce.

Together with a glass
of rosè,

very sexy.

This is Oberon Prince
wishing you

bon appétit.

(man speaking foreign language
in distance)

♪ ♪

(crowd cheering)

(grunting)

(crowd cheering, shouting)

(speaking foreign language)

Where are you going?
Hey!

(speaks foreign language)

Where are you going?

Eh?

Come on.
(laughs)

(door closes)

(panting)

♪ ♪

(woman singing in Italian
on recording)

(exhales)

(singing continues)

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

Do you believe in sin?

No.

Damnation?

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

(chuckles)

LUDO:
Morse.

Come and meet
my wife.

(singing continues)

VIOLETTA:
Some things are unforgivable,
though,

don't you think?

LUDO:
Honestly,

if I wasn't such
a trusting soul,

I'd think she'd taken
a lover.

But you wouldn't do that to me.

Would you, darling?
(phone ringing)

(grunts)

Morse.

♪ ♪

(man speaking
indistinctly)

MORSE:
Well, we'll be in touch.

Thank you.
Thank you.

♪ ♪

(instrumental music playing
in background)

Sod it.
(exhales)

(phone rings,
people talking in background)

Jolly Rajah.

Silver service.

A chicken vindaloo,

pilau rice...

So, uh, one lamb bhuna.

(groans):
I'm, I'm sorry.

Chicken, um, jalfrezi, yeah.

No?

Oh, oh, um...

(talking loudly)

MAN:
That'll do, lads.

All-star
wrestling.

(cheering, chuckling)

Dad-- Dad.

Let me.
I, I've got it.

No, no, it's all right,
you just, um...

Just take a minute.

Yeah?

Yes, yes.
Yes, sir.

WOMAN (in film):
He'll be at it for most
of the afternoon.

MAN:
He won't be the only one.

WOMAN:
Oh, you sore little beggar.

(woman and man laugh)

(woman giggling)

(porn groove playing,
woman whoops)

How is he?

Confused, Uncle.

He keeps laying and re-laying
table four.

I left a message for Farook.

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

Your brother Farook
will know.

Aziz,

that's the last
of the night.

Five drops
and then home.

(speaks foreign language)

(people talking loudly
in background)

MAN:
Yes, he did.

Oh, my God.

Thank you, mate.

PRINCE:
Excuse me, boys.

Boys.
MAN:
Yeah?

It's my wine,
you buffoons.

(chortles)
(gasping)

Hey.

How is he?

(sniffs)

You all right, Dad?

It's Farook.

Yes, I know who you are.

What do you want?

(sighs)

(speaking foreign language)

"Mendip Gardens West."

(people talking in background)

(exhales)

(yelps)

(Sloane cheers)

He's more pissed than you,
Simba.

(cheering)

(car brakes squeak)

(engine stops)

♪ ♪

Delivery!

Hello?

Hello?

♪ ♪

(bells tolling)

(dog barking in distance)

WIN:
Joan, um,

said to send her best.

Her secondment's going well?

Very well.

There is talk

of her staying there
permanently.

They all fly the nest.

We had a letter
from Sam.
Mm.

Belfast,
he's off to.

Seeing the world.

Morse.

Ah, morning, sir.

Anything in?

(door opens)

(door closes)

THURSDAY:
Mrs. Radowicz?

Detective Chief
Inspector Thursday.

My sergeant, DS Morse.

We'd met before, I believe,
couple of years ago.

You run
a hairdresser's.

Salon.

I still do.

What's all this about?

It's about your son Gary--
is he home?

No, no, he's not--
he's at school.

What do you want him for?

Can you account
for his movements last night?

He was here.

Home, with me.

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

We have an eyewitness
placing him

at the scene
of an assault last night.

Like to have a look at his room,
if you don't mind.

I do mind.

You want to poke
about in my house,

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

And until you've got one,

you know what you can do.

(crowd applauding)

This is our country!
AUDIENCE:
Yes.

Yours and mine.
Yes.

Let's take it back.
Yes!

(cheering, applauding)

Mr. Gorman?

And you are?
THURSDAY:
Police.

GORMAN:
It's all right, Nige.

I'm always happy
to help

Her Majesty's constabulary.

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

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

Young man called
Gary Radowicz.

Also calls himself
Rogers.

Doesn't ring
a bell.

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

Was he?
Mm.

I really couldn't say.

I don't know
each and every one

of those sympathetic
to the cause, you understand.

There was a lot
of people there.

A lot of people
are very concerned

about the state
of our country.

Well, we're
very concerned

about young Pakistani lads
getting knifed on the street.

Terrible.

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

You cram all of these
incompatible cultures together

on one small island,

of course
it's gonna lead to blood.

And worse.

Sounds like a threat,
Mr. Gorman.

It's just an observation.

If the police
can't keep the streets safe

and defend the indigenous
population against outsiders,

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

Now, if you'll excuse me,

I've got a seat to win.

(people talking in background)

BRIGHT:
Ah, Thursday.

THURSDAY:
Morning, sir.
BRIGHT: Morse.

Sir.

BRIGHT:
Division have been asking
about this Jakobssen case,

the cook
at the working men's club.

Mm-hmm.
We've got two women

who positively identified him

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

But beyond that...

A random attack,
as far as we can make out.

Robbery doesn't appear
to have been a motive.

What about last night's
stabbing?

We got a name.

Juvenile,
15 years old.

Gerwazy Radowicz.

What's that?
Polish, is it?

On his father's side,
A.K.A. Gary Rogers.

He runs with this
racialist crowd.

You're bringing him in,
presumably.

If we can find him.

At school, according
to his mother.

Though if he was involved
last night,

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

But we'll take a look.

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

The last thing we need
is a public order issue

in election week.

Sorry to
interrupt, sir.

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

I've got court in an hour.

What's this?
More about last night?

No, sir, something else.

A missing person,
according to uniform.

I see.

Very well, carry on.

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

Sir.

Good afternoon, Mrs., uh...?

Uh, her name is Aziz.

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

Mrs. Sardar,
Nuha Sardar.

Detective Sergeant Morse.

A missing person's case,
my colleague said.

Mrs. Aziz's husband--
he delivers food

for my father-in-law's
restaurant.

Right.
The Jolly Rajah?

He left the restaurant
just after 11:00 last night

with his final delivery run,
and never came home.

And how had he been lately?
Anything worrying him?

She said
he had not been himself.
In what way?

He had something on his mind,

but couldn't tell her
what it was.

MORSE:
So, this is his final list
of deliveries?

Yes.
Just four addresses.

That's right.

And nobody called
to say their takeaway

hadn't been delivered?
No.

Right.

Has Mr. Aziz been
with you long?

A couple of years.

Was he a reliable driver?

Usually.

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

I wondered, is there anything
that'd been troubling him

at work?
No.

I mean, he did say

that he might wish
to speak with me,

but I'm afraid
I just put him off.

Any idea what that
might have been about?

Money.

See, his mother-in-law

is coming to live with him
later this month,

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

Mmm.

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

Would you like to see a menu?

Perhaps a drink
while you're waiting?
Oh, Uqbah.

All right, all right.
Huh?

(both murmuring)

I'm sorry,
my brother is, uh,

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

It's overwork.

Ah, I see, I was just...

trying to find out
how the orders were dispatched.

How the route
is arrived at.

Oh, right, I see,
um, well,

the orders are all
bundled together

and sent out hourly,
more or less.

Right, but, I mean,
the nearest first, presumably.

I believe so.

Yeah, this is all organized
by my brother and Mr. Aziz.

I just take care
of the kitchen.

MORSE:
Good afternoon, sir.

Did you order an Indian
takeaway yesterday evening?

Good afternoon,
Detective Sergeant Morse,

Thames Valley.

You ordered a takeaway
from the Jolly Rajah last night.

♪ ♪

(car door closes)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

Hello?

Hello?

The police.

Hello?

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(engine stops)

Doctor.

What have we got?
MAX:
The cause of death

would appear to be
a cleaver blow

to the back of the skull.

No defensive wounds.

Blood spatter on the wall

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

THURSDAY:
That'd be the weapon?

MAX:
I can't say exactly

until I see what comes
back from the lab.

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

About what time?
Uh...

Around 11:00?

Whose place is this?

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

He's a cook,
according to the porter.

Yeah, he's off the telly.

He's got a recipes
and reviews column

in the Oxford Mail
every Saturday.

So, where is he?

MORSE:
Just a few questions.

Do you know Mr. Prince
in number ten?

We've said hello once or
twice-- he's friendly enough.

Have you lived here long?

13 months.

It's my dad's place--
one of 'em.

I'm going through
a divorce.

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

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

No.
Well...

Thank you very much, Miss Trent.

DOROTHEA:
Oberon Prince.

I've only met him
a couple of times.

He files his copy by post,

always well in advance
of his deadline.

Turns up at the Christmas party
once in a while.

Family?

Has a wife, I think.

Or had been.

Rosemary, possibly.

One of the herbs.

And this is the only address
you have for him?

Far as I know.

There might be
a holiday home in Greece.

I can look into it for you.

Can I get a quote?

All right--
we're keeping an open mind.

We welcome the chance
to speak to him

and urge him to contact us
at the earliest opportunity.

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

but I'll see it makes
the late edition.

Anyone we know?

Farmer
out towards Wytham.

Drowned
in the pig swill.

You know, this is the sixth
freak accident I've attended

in as many months.

All relatively healthy.

All in their
30s or 40s.

All single, huh?

Half a dozen
in half a year?

Hardly what you'd
call an epidemic.

Well, you know best,
I'm sure.

(exhales)

See you later.
(car door closes)

(police radio running
in background)

Sir.

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

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

No, there's a Mendip
Gardens North,

Mendip Gardens South,
but no West.

Nor East, for that matter.

Could the restaurant
have taken it down wrong?

Well, it's possible.

The proprietor's
an, um, Uqbah Sardar.

According to his brother,

he's been a little
off his game recently.

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

they might've
rung to complain.

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

Well, I better report
back to Mr. Bright.

Can you and Jim finish up here?
Get out to ports and airports

and see that Prince's
photograph is circulated.
Sir.

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

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

Besides a few thousand
on the circulation?

You know what the press
is like.

Porter clocked
Aziz's car this morning.

He keeps a list
of those cars he sees

that don't have
a right to park here,

as some of the residents
can get quite beady.

And what did he say
about him-- Prince?

Lived here about six years,
no trouble.

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

Very popular with the ladies.

So, Prince orders
a takeaway

and then kills
the delivery driver.

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

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

Perhaps he stumbled upon
a burglary or something.

Anything's possible, matey.

MAN (on radio):
...the death of an employee

of a popular Oxford restaurant,
the Jolly Rajah.

The victim,
who is yet to be identified,

is believed to be a driver
of the restaurant.

A stabbing last night
and now this.

Connected,
do you think?

Nothing to say so, sir.

Both victims are
Pakistani, aren't they?

Yes, sir, but that's
as far as it goes.
Well, that's far enough.

Division will be monitoring
this situation very carefully.

Was the victim known
to this Prince character?

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

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

see if there's
anything there.

He orders an Indian meal

and then butchers the man
who delivers it.

What is he,
a lunatic of some sort?

Food critic, sir.

Well, even so.

Taking an ax
to someone's head

goes beyond
expressing dissatisfaction

with the service,
wouldn't you say?

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

If it was him.

Well, if it wasn't,

you'd imagine he'd come forward
as soon as he hears

his flat's been turned
into a slaughterhouse.

Gary?

MAN (on radio):
...violence in the city
within the last 24 hours,

as police are appealing
for witnesses to the stabbing

following a clash
between rival gangs.

A young Asian teenager
was rushed to hospital

having been pursued
with friends

by a white gang of youths.

In other news,

well-known television chef and
restaurant critic Oberon Prince

has been reported missing...

♪ ♪

(knock at door)

MORSE:
Good afternoon, Mrs. Sardar.

Might we come in?

Yes, of course.

It's the police.

About Mr. Aziz.

THURSDAY:
Detective Chief
Inspector Thursday,

Thames Valley.

I believe you met my colleague
earlier.

RAFIO:
Yes, yes, of course.

My nephews, Dr. Farook Sardar

and his young brother,
Salim.

You found him?

We did, sir,
but I'm sorry to say

it's not good news--
he's deceased.

And it wasn't
a natural death.

SALIM:
What?

Another attack?

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

His car was found
outside a block of flats

called Tiffin Court--
do you know it?

No.
I've never heard of it.

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

No, he was the
mildest of men.

No trouble with any
of the customers?

Nothing like that?

No, he saw nothing
of the customers.

Only walking through the
restaurant from the kitchen

to do his deliveries.

And we need to speak
to your brother, sir.

Uqbah, is it?

Uh, about a couple
of orders he took.

The addresses appear
to have been taken down wrongly.

I'm afraid my father's
not well,

Chief Inspector.

Recently he's been
having trouble with his memory,

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

Well...
For a few months,

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

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

or not ringing it up
at all.

How long has he been like this?

It has got worse
over the last year.

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

retiring even, but...

He won't hear of it.

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

that did come in last night.
Certainly.

All the information's
at the Rajah.

Oh, uh, when you're ready,
we might go to the restaurant.

MORSE:
Did you have many bookings?

I suppose three-quarters of the
covers early in the evening.

Was there any trouble
between Mr. Aziz

and any of
the other customers?

No.

There was quite
a rowdy table,

but they had nothing
to do with Mr. Aziz.

Wrestlers, I think.

Had they booked?
No.

But they'd been in before,
always late.

What time did you close up
last night?

RAFIO:
I closed the kitchen
at 11:00.

My brother had a,
a bit of a turn.

So we called Farook,
and he took him home.

And then Salim followed on
in his car,

and I shut up the restaurant
at, uh...

Just after 12:00.

So you were alone?
(clears throat)

Would that be usual?

Oh, first in, last out--
chef's lot.

The counterfoils, for the
credit card and the checks.

Which were the addresses
you were having trouble with?

Tiffin Court--
it was ten, not 1 C,

and, uh, Mendip Gardens West.

Maybe my brother
wrote it down wrongly?

Well, thank you
for your assistance.

We'll return these
as soon as possible.

Thank you.
Thank you.

♪ ♪

MORSE:
I won't be long.

Thank you.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

MAN:
Sir...

Sorry, who are you?
I'm his wife.

Well, his first wife.

Rosemary Prince.

I believe you're looking
for my husband.

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

Well, I was concerned.

I hoped he might have
turned up, come back.

Then all this
could be explained.

And when did you see him last--
Mr. Prince?

I haven't seen him
for a while,

but we speak.

On the telephone, every week.

Do you mind if I...?

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

Have you any idea
where he might be?

There's talk
of a place in Greece.

And a suitcase of his
appears to be missing.

Well, he does have
a little place there.

Well, who was he?

He was a delivery man

from a restaurant
called the Jolly Rajah.

Did he ever mention
a man called Aziz?

Iqbal Aziz?

No, never.

Does that seem in keeping
to you?

That he would order food
to be delivered?

Indian, certainly.

We never touched it
on the program.
Sorry, the program?

Et Voilà!

We started together
on the television.

It was my Johnnie to his Fanny.

Oh, it was 15 years ago,
nigh on.

The dark ages.

Most people had barely heard
of vinaigrette.

(laughs)

Look, whatever you think
he's done,

you're quite wrong.

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

It's way too grotesque.

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

Oh, it was my fault.

I never cared for
the sticky side of married life.

We looked
at other couples.

They might have had
the physical side,

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

half the time--
we had something

they could only dream of,
companionship.

And he was
the most tremendous fun.

Right up
until the sixth whisky sour.

Then things could turn
a little ugly.

So, what, he drank?

He drank, he gambled.

But I never stopped
loving him.
Was he ever violent?

On occasion,
but I don't believe

he's capable of anything
that happened here.

(softly):
I can't, it's not the best time.

I can't talk now.

I agree, there's
a lot to discuss.

(out loud):
I can't help you--
sorry.

(hangs up)
Who was that?

Wrong number.

You don't think we could have
got it wrong,

do you?

I know, but...

Two murders.

Molly Andrews,
Tony Jakobssen.

On the same stretch
of towpath.

For fear of sounding
like a broken record,

I think a man
getting his throat cut

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

We've got who killed
Molly Andrews and Naomi Benford.

He's on remand at Farley.

Unless you wanted
to drop all charges

and have him
back out on the street.

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

Met his wife--
well, his first wife.

Still seems to carry
something of a torch for him.

What was she doing there?

Same as us-- wants to know
where Prince is.

Shed any light?
No.

But I did turn this up.

Gambler.

Mm, something of a drinker,
too.

And violent with it.

Nothing from ports and
airports

on flight manifests
or passenger lists.

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

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

It'd be difficult
for someone like that

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

Unless he's changed
his appearance, maybe.

THURSDAY:
Anything from Forensics

on the bloody thumbprint
found at Tiffin Court?

No match
for Oberon Prince.

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

Vrakonisi? Locals have been
up to the villa,

but no sign of life.

You, uh, seen the latest?

Oh, yeah.

Still think it wasn't him?

(Mrs. Aziz murmurs)

(sobbing softly)

(woman singing in Italian
on recording)

(doorbell rings)

LUDO:
Morse, it's been too long.

I've been wandering
the Mediterranean

with my, how do you say it,

my cap in my hand,
my beggar's bowl?

Begging bowl?

All in a good cause,
I assure you.

Seeking donations for my
family's charitable foundation.

The only relief I got
was that Steve was there

making a picture.

Steve who?
McQueen.

Yes, it's funny.

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

But I have been
unforgivably neglectful,

and that's why I'm here.

To rectify matters

and deserve
your forgiveness.

There's nothing
needs forgiving.

You're very kind.

But one should keep
the friendships that matter

in good repair,
don't you think?

I've never...

Haven't really thought about it
that way.

I left messages at your work
before we went away.

Come for supper tomorrow.

Violetta has forsaken me
once again.

I'm in need
of good company.

Well, I can't promise that.

Oh, you sell yourself
too short.

Now, a drink, I think.

I took the liberty.

What is this we're listening to?

"La cura per l'amore"--
Tregola.

Ah, in that case,

due bicchieri.

♪ ♪

The police have gone.

There's nobody here.

Only me.

I miss you.

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

(people laughing inside)

♪ ♪

(rain falling steadily)

(person whistling loudly)

(whistling continues)

(whistling stops)

♪ ♪

Miss?

Bridget, isn't it?

Come, come out of the rain.

(thunder rumbling)

THURSDAY:
You want to be careful walking
alone at night like this.

It's not safe.

BRIDGET:
I don't have far to go.

Takes me back to my days
on the beat.

Well, nights.

I used to like nights.

Especially after a bit of rain.

Oh, Win told me
all about the wrestling.

BRIDGET:
Yeah, we had a great time.

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

Oh, all right, then.

You mind how you go.

(engine idling)

(Bridget and man
talking softly)

(person whistling loudly)

(vehicle approaches)

♪ ♪

Oh.

You were in India,
Mrs. Bright said.

Yes, yes, before the war.

Yeah, yeah.

Whereabouts?

Oh, here and there.

Calcutta, Pankot, Chandrapore.

And yourself?

(laughs softly):
Oxford, born and bred.

Yes, well...

I was very sad to go--
we both were.

Good night, sir.
Well, good night.

♪ ♪

(door closes)

(chuckles,
exhales deeply)

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

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

Are you jealous, Puli?

Desperately.

(chuckles)

He says I'm doing much better.

Good.

See?

I told you.

You have to have faith.

(chuckles softly)

(Uqbah murmuring indistinctly)

(door closes,
Uqbah murmuring)

What's he doing?

NUHA:
Looking for Ammu?

Sleepwalking?

I don't know.

I thought Farook
could give him something.

(door opens and closes)

You were late tonight,
from the restaurant.

Stock take.

♪ ♪

(breathing heavily)

(murmuring in foreign language)

(rattling door)

♪ ♪

(talking indistinctly)

And when did you see him last?

When he went to bed.

What time was that?

About 10:00.

We heard him
walking about.

Afterwards.
And how did he seem?

He had been very anxious,
about what happened to Mr. Aziz.
(door closes)

What happened?

You were meant to be
looking after him.

Told him.
SALIM:
You don't tell me
anything.

We will get a description
circulated

to all patrol cars
and beat officers.

Try not to worry.

THURSDAY:
What about the Oberon Prince
case, Morse?

Anything on the ports
and airports?

Nothing, sir.

Sir?

He was at the restaurant
that night.

Which restaurant?
Jolly Rajah.

Who was? Prince?
Well, that can't be right.

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

But if he'd already eaten
at the restaurant,

why would he order a takeaway?

SALIM:
Oh, yes.

Yes, he was here.

In fact, he had words
with that rowdy table

I was telling you about.

Party of eight.

Mr. Nayle, was that?

Yeah, that sounds
about right.

(inhales deeply)

(exhales)

MORSE:
Still no sign of Gary.

THURSDAY:
And Prince?

MORSE:
Maybe Stanley Nayle's boys
can shed some light.

♪ ♪

How's Mrs. Aziz?
NUHA:
Terrible.

I gave her something
to help her sleep.

Her kids are with her.

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

They don't want us here.

You shouldn't talk like that--
this is our home now.

You heard there was a stabbing.

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

That's how welcome
we are.

Did you help the police?

(shuffling paper)

I think so.

They were asking about a man
called, uh, Oberon Prince.

I know him.

He's off the television--
he's a chef.

What about him?

That's who Mr. Aziz
was delivering to

at Tiffin Court.

And they think he did it?
This Prince?

He's gone missing, apparently.

STAN:
If he tries to turn that
into a half nelson,

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

THURSDAY:
Stanley Nayle?

Yes, gents.

THURSDAY:
DCI Thursday, DS Morse,
Thames Valley.

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

Yeah, after we'd finished
at the venue.

We heard you had words
with another patron,

a man called Oberon Prince.

BOBBY:
He was taking the mickey.

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

You know?

He got a bit lippy
with us.

So what did you say?

I don't know.

I suppose I just said,
"Knock it off, mate,"

or summat like that.

You know,
nothing heavy.

So you didn't threaten him?

No-- that's not Bobby's part,

in the ring or out.

And when you left
the restaurant, where'd you go?

BOBBY:
Well, it was
getting late by then.

Most of us just went
back to our digs.

Where would
that be?

Oh, we're all over,
uh, ones and twos.

Couple of us here,
couple there.

Not everyone's keen on having...

wrestlers under their roof.

MORSE:
You said most of you.

Some of you didn't,
presumably.

Well, I think
a couple of the lads

went to a drinker
we sometimes go to.

Adam and the Noble brothers.

Adam...?

Adam "Danger Man" Sloane.

And where's he?

BOBBY:
He tops the bill,

so he's not with us tonight.

Stan, our gaffer,
wanted him to rest up.

MORSE:
Well, we'll need addresses

for their lodgings.

Well, I'll have to check
me paperwork.

All right
if I phone it through?

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

whenever we're in town,

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

Some of the lads double up.

But I will have a look,
let you know.

(siren blaring in distance)

You ever go to the wrestling?

What do you think?

Faces and heels.

That's what the Yanks call them.

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

Good guys and villains.

Just like the opera.

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

The heel gives them
someone to boo.

Sir, Morse.

Your warrant came through
for Mrs. Radowicz's.

♪ ♪

RADOWICZ:
He's entitled
to his opinion,

the same as anybody else.

They're just not like us.

THURSDAY:
In what way
are they not like us,

Mrs. Radowicz?
All ways.

They don't talk
the way we do,

and they make a noise till
all hours, coming and going,

and, and their food
smells funny.

Their food smells funny?

RADOWICZ:
Well, it does.

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

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

THURSDAY:
Look, do you want
to see your Gary

get into even more trouble
and end up in Borstal?

(front door closes)

(shushes):
Stay there.

GARY (in distance):
Mum?

♪ ♪

Smoke?

No.

Before we start,
we've got witnesses

can put you at the scene
at the time in question.

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

I wasn't there.

I don't care
what anybody says.
Who else was there, Gary?

I wouldn't know, would I,
seeing as I wasn't there.

Look, it's easy
to follow the pack--

Older boys, men-- you want
to fit in, be one of the lads.

Tell us about Martin Gorman.

What about him?

Well, you like him.

I'm not a queer.
I mean...

You admire him, then.

GARY:
He talks sense.

About what?

About the foreigners,
immigration.

The blacks, pakis,

coming over here,
taking all the jobs

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

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

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

I didn't stab anyone.

"Gary Rogers."

What's that about?

You want to go around my school
with a Polish name?

See what it gets you.

You were bullied.

"Gerwazy Radowicz."

You had that hanging
round your neck,

you'd call yourself Gary Rogers
and all.

I'm British,

not Polish.

How do your parents
feel about that?

What I call myself
is none of her business.

And your father?

Died, when I was five.

Oh, sorry.

There's no need.

He's nothing to me.

He should be.
Why?

He's your father.

You never knew him.

She only took up with him
for the money

she could screw
out of him.

Look.

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

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

No, we can't.

But we do have a group
of Asian lads

who can pick you
out of a lineup,

and they will
pick you out, Gary.

(knocking on door)

Sir.

(whispering indistinctly)

♪ ♪

But I thought this boy
had been recognized.

Well, no, the eyewitness
who named him

now isn't sure
it was Gary after all.

They've withdrawn
their earlier statement.

Someone put the frighteners on,
do you think?

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

OFFICER:
Sarge, the Sardar family are
asking for an update.

I better get that.

THURSDAY:
Never the buggers
that load the gun, is it?

How's that?

Always the ones
that pull the trigger.

That tripehound Gorman's
every bit

as responsible for the stabbing
as the boy was.

Filling his head
full of rubbish.

But nothing ever sticks
to those bastards.

"British Movement"--
he's a movement, all right.

It may have been Gorman
put the knife into his hand,

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

You know, a boy
not so different from himself.

Different enough.

Boy doesn't know
what he is yet.

Whether he's coming or going.

English, Polish.

Growing up for the most part
without a father.

Well, everybody
has a choice.

Do they?

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

Got time for a pint?

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

Oh, no?
Date, is it?
(chuckles)

I'll see you tomorrow, then.

♪ ♪

LUDO:
Morse!

Good to see you.

Hello.
Welcome.

VIOLETTA:
Ludo.
(door closes)

LUDO:
Oh, I spoke prematurely.

La Bella Signora
has returned to me.

♪ ♪

Perhaps you should think
of flying the flag.

Hello again.

Hello.

To indicate that
she is in residence, yes?

Like Her Majesty.
Exactly that.

(chuckles)

You've been in Monaco,
Ludo says.

Monaco, Antibes.

Right.

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

so I'll...
LUDO:
Nonsense.

We're delighted
to see you, aren't we?

VIOLETTA:
Of course.

What would you like to drink?

Whatever's going.

LUDO:
You shoot?

Birds?

No-- people.

(both chuckle)

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

Come-- come.

Pull!
(gun fires)

(disc shatters)

Did you see, darling?

Did you see
that wonderful shot?

I saw.

LUDO:
So how's the world
of criminality?

I read something in the press
about Oberon Prince.

Can that be right?

Yeah, do you know him?
Slightly.

All right, I suppose.

He's no Robert Danvers.

What's this?

Someone was murdered.

This Prince fellow
is suspect.

Will you catch him?

I expect so,
sooner or later.

(chuckles):
What a blood-soaked life
you lead.

Pull!
(gun fires)

MORSE:
Yeah, it's that,
all right.

No matter how many cases
you solve

or bad people you put away,

there's always another one
standing right behind him.

There speaks a devil
sick of sin.

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

Why do it,
if you hate it so much?

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

And because the dead
deserve justice.

There's a delivery man's
lost his life

and a,
a woman left a widow.

LUDO:
Life, death, rich, poor.

It's all a roll
of the dice, Morse.

There's no reason
to any of it.

You're not responsible.

Some people
are just unlucky.

Pull!

(gun firing)

(TV playing in background,
canary chirping)

All right?

Fred?

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

What's up?

Uh, it's, uh...

Just work.

I'm here, you know,

if you want to talk
about anything.

Whatever it is,
you'll put it right.

It's what you do.

♪ ♪

I owe you
an explanation.

(chuckling)

"No questions,"

wasn't it?

I mean, a goodbye
might have been polite,

but nobody died.

You don't owe me
anything.

Can I see you?

I don't think so.

He's a friend.

Affairs with married women,

I'm sorry, it's just,

it's not my, not my scene.

LUDO:
I thought we'd crack open
the Margaux.

VIOLETTA:
I'll leave you to it.

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

Work.

You approve?

Violetta.

Oh, yeah, you're a lucky man.

Yes, I am.

God knows what I did
to deserve her.

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

Then don't.
No.

I don't intend to.

(clears throat)

We'll go out.

Tannhäuser
at Covent Garden.

Look, you can't be running
around London

getting drunk with me.

Your wife's back now-- take her.

LUDO:
Violetta hates the opera.

Next week.

Let's do it, come on.

Best seats in the house.

(engine starts)

♪ ♪

OFFICER:
Sir?

(rain falling,
thunder rumbling)

(man whimpering faintly)

♪ ♪

(crying)
Mr. Sardar?

We've been looking
for you.

Oh, thank heaven.

I want to go home.

Of course you do.

Come on--
you're drenched through.

There you are.

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

Anyway...

I forget things.

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

I...

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

what I come in for.

Or I'll put me pipe down,

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

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

Words.

You know, conversations
I had five minutes ago.

Your eldest son's
a doctor, isn't he?

Overwork, he says.

Well, there you are,
then.

I feel like I'm...

fading.

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

slowly creeping in.

And the more you look

out of the corner
of your eye...

The more it slips
out of view.

But I know it's there.

Come on,
let's get you inside.

He had been taking money,
I think.

Who had?

Mr. Aziz.

Skimming, you call it now.

Everyone thought
it was me forgetting,

but it was him.

Not enough to stand out,
but...

Over a long period
of time...

You should have said.

I should have
paid him more.

♪ ♪

So, all that about Uqbah
coming up short

when they cashed out
of an evening in the restaurant,

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

I've run a registration check
on cars parked illegally

outside Tiffin Court.
MORSE: Yeah, where's this
come from?

STRANGE:
The porter, Mr. Comer.

We got a few frequent customers.

The most regular
a cream Mercedes.

Saturdays and Wednesdays,
roughly the same time.

Any idea
who it belongs to?

(car doors open and close)

♪ ♪

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

Dr. Sardar.

You on a house call?

If you forgive me,

my private life
is none of your concern.

It is if it has
anything to do

with what happened to Mr. Aziz
in flat ten the other night.

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

ILSA:
We really don't know
anything about that.

Really, we don't.

So, were you here on
Monday night, Doctor?

We can easily find out
if your car was.

He was gone by 11:00.

Did you see anyone loitering
about the place?

No.

Look, I have not
broken the law.

MORSE:
You denied ever having heard
about Tiffin Court.

Why would you do that, unless
you had something to hide?

What should I have said?

Me and Ilsa know nothing

about what happened
to poor Mr. Aziz, okay?

Just a coincidence.

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

I know Prince.

I've seen him
once or twice,

we play cards together.
THURSDAY:
Where?

Here and there.

It's nothing regular.

Now, if you'll excuse me,

I really do have patients
to see,

and there's nothing else
I can tell you right now.

So if I may?

All right.

For now.

We know where to find you.

(door opens)

MORSE:
Where did you two meet?

My father runs
a floating poker game.

High stakes, for
local business types.

Who's your father?

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

I'd as soon as not say.

We can easily find out.

That's my dad there.

THURSDAY:
Did Oberon Prince ever play

at your father's poker game?

ILSA:
I think he was
a regular, yeah.

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

(chuckles):
Which made him
the perfect addition.

♪ ♪

(woman singing in Italian)

VIOLETTA:
What you do.

The people you meet.

They've done bad things?
MORSE:
Hmm, some.

And you forgive them it?

I'm not very good
at forgiveness.

Would you forgive me
if I did something bad?

That depends what it was.
Mm.

And if there was contrition.

Genuine contrition.

How would you know
if it was genuine?

(whispers): Do you want to get
something off your chest?
(laughs)

Because if you want
to confess,

I'm sure there's a hundred
churches in the city.

139-- I counted them.

I don't want to confess.

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

(woman continues singing)

(phone ringing,
opera continues playing)

(man singing in Italian)

(phone continues ringing)

VIOLETTA:
Morse, it's me.

Morse?

♪ ♪

(bicycle bell rings)

Whoa!
Watch out.

(ducks quacking)

MAN (on TV):
A police murder investigation
is continuing

into the death of a Pakistani
delivery driver

who was found dead in the home

of television chef and renowned
food critic Oberon Prince.

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

In other news, the victim

of what is believed to be
a racist attack

is still critically ill
in hospital.

The teenager was with a group
of friends in the city when...

♪ ♪

(engine stops)

(car door opens and closes)

You came.

Where does he think you are?

Seeing a girlfriend.

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

They do when it matters.

What was it that couldn't wait?

You said it was important.

I needed to see you.

Alone.
Why?

To see if I still felt the same.

Look...

If you are unhappy,

you should just make
a clean break of it.

I'm not unhappy.

I'm afraid.

Of what?

Letting something slip
through my fingers.

Something good.

(sighs)

Venice was Venice.

You stepped out
of your life for a minute,

and then you found yourself
in mine.

And it was wonderful.

But it wasn't real.

It was for me.

(chuckles)

Tell me you don't want me.

I don't want you.

Tell me again.

I can't save you.

♪ ♪

Then no one can.

(breathes deeply)

(car engine starts)

♪ ♪

(pop music playing inside)

GORMAN:
You started smoking?

It's a dirty habit.

I married who you
wanted me to marry.

Look how that worked out.

I'm not gonna live
like a nun.

You're not gonna live
like a slut, neither.

I hear things, Ilsa.

I don't care what you hear.

I can see that.

Look, I've got a reputation
to maintain,

what with the election
and everything.

Don't you think about that?

How do you think
it's gonna look

if you're carrying on
with all and sundry?

If you've just come
to bawl at me,

I'm going to bed.

You can let yourself out.

(door closes)

(kids calling)

♪ ♪

(girl exclaims)

♪ ♪

(latch unsnaps)

(flies buzzing)

(bells ringing in distance)

GORMAN:
It was a private game
between friends.

Was Oberon Prince
amongst them?

From time to time.

Oberon's a heavy
roller.

He'll bet on anything,
anywhere, anytime.

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

Chaps like him,
it's a disease.

You play with the
Sardar family, I believe.

Pakistanis.

THURSDAY:
So your prejudice ends
at the poker table.

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

Black, brown, yellow.

There's an old saying:
Money has no smell.

What, everyone's equal
before the cards?

Well, that's the nature
of chance.

Still, not something
I imagine

you'd want widely known,
is it?

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

When did you see him last?
Prince.

Well, we were supposed to play
last Saturday,

but what with this,
the game got bumped.

The previous week, he had
hosted the game at his place,

but I was busy with
the election campaign,

so I missed it.

Although I heard
from a friend of a friend

that he won big.

Cleaned out
one of our tinted types.

Who?

I don't know.

Like I said,
I wasn't there.

I want a list of
your regular players.

I'm sure you do.

Look.

These are
wealthy individuals.

They buy and sell
people like you.
Really?

Can't imagine it would do
your election campaign much good

if it got out
that in your private life,

you enjoyed playing cards
with Pakistanis.

You're bluffing.

You're a copper--
it's beyond your remit.

MAN: Boss.
Indiscretion is second nature
to me,

Mr. Gorman.

Especially when speaking to
members of the Fourth Estate,

I assure you.

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

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

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

Well, while we're waiting,
we might get something

from the poker chips
and playing cards

in Prince's flat.

There's more than one way
to skin a donkey.

Gorman's daughter?
You must be mad.

Or in love.

Oh, please. Love?

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

Wake up, Farook.

This place is finished
for the likes of us.

Yeah, not for me.

No, no, of course not for you.

You're the great
British doctor.

(chuckles, mutters)

Don't kid yourself.

They tolerate you
because you're useful.

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

Putting up with something
they'd sooner not.

I don't want to be tolerated.

I want to belong.

Salim...
I'm getting out.

I'm going home.

Home?

To Bengal?

And you call me mad?

I've been talking
to Cousin Arik.

Oh, Cousin Arik
the nationalist.

We could be part of something,
all of us.

Something good,
something new.

What does Nuha think
about this?

SALIM:
She'll follow her
husband, in all things.

You mean you haven't
told her.

No.

He hasn't.

Is that what all these
late-night calls

have been about?

We're not talking
about this now.

(exhales sharply)

I won't go back.

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

You should tell him,
not me.

He's your brother.

And he's your husband.

♪ ♪

MAX:
Is this all?

Enough, isn't it?

An elegant sufficiency,
thank you.

Insofar as we appear
to have one torso,

together with both
legs and arms.

But we are deficient

to the tune of one head

and the mountain range
one might expect to find,

as the old geographer's
joke has it,

at the end of
a Cockney's wristies.

His Andes, Sergeant.

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

But in the inside compartment
in the suitcase,

there's a B.E.A. airline ticket
and a passport

in the name of Oberon Prince.

BRIGHT:
If there's nothing else,
Doctor,

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

By all means.

Shall we say 2:00?

How can someone do that
to another human being?

He's already done
the worst thing.

That might turn our stomachs,

but the victim's
long past caring.

BRIGHT:
So what do we imagine
has taken place?

Delivery man stumbles
upon something,

and then whoever killed Oberon
Prince had to silence him?

STRANGE:
Possibly, sir.

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

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

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

on his third delivery.

Mendip Gardens West?

Yeah.
Why?

Well, if I was killing
two people,

it would be easier

to deal with them separately,
don't you think?

So, whoever it is
kills Prince,

waits for Aziz to arrive,
then does for him?

Assuming whoever it was
wanted both of them dead.

Two birds.

♪ ♪

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

Now, in light of
these recent developments,

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

No.

If he did, he never
mentioned anything to me.

Did your husband have any
enemies that you were aware of,

Mrs. Prince?

I mean, he might have given
the odd bad review

that some restaurateur
took exception to.

He could be quite difficult
if the mood took him.

But nothing to warrant
something like this.

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

You couldn't
be mistaken?

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

Did he have any distinguishing
features, Mrs. Prince?

He had a, a port-wine
birthmark

on his left thigh.

Is it that bad?

I'm very sorry.

No, thank you.

(breathes deeply)

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

One way or another.

Not so much dismembered
as butchered and jointed.

With a rudimentary proficiency
and no small amount of luck.

Where?

At the flat, presumably.

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

Well, the bathroom.
Well, of course,

that's the traditional locus,
for obvious reasons.

I'd be very surprised
if Scene of Crime

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

How long would it take?

Oh, not that long.

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

Yes?

Duxbury's.

The undertakers.

Here about a car crash?

Female-- Whittaker.

Ah, yes, drawer six.

I'll show you--
excuse me.

♪ ♪

CARL:
Hey, can I have a word?

The court's been in touch.

About Molly,
uh, the trial.

Early in the new year,
they're saying.

Yeah, that sounds
about right.

Will they want me to testify,
you think?

Only as to what you know.

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

but your guvnor's
following me around.

No, you're imagining things.

I was at the picture house
Monday.

He was there.

I've seen him watching
my work, too.

I've spoken to a solicitor.

It's harassment.

I don't want
to make any trouble,

but unless he lays off,

I'll have to talk
to his superiors.

Make a complaint.

♪ ♪

Oi, love, why don't you
go home?

MAN (on radio):
Police investigating the
stabbing of an Oxford teenager

have now launched
a murder investigation

following the death of the boy
in hospital.

He had been admitted
after a racist attack.

GORMAN:
Oh, I don't believe it!

He's done it again!

(laughing)

Another win.

(others talking in background)

GORMAN:
Gary! What are you
doing here?

Come here.

Make yourself useful.

I'm out of smokes.

Nip along and get me
a packet of Guardsmen

and some Slim Panatellas,
will you?

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

(men talking in background)

He's a good lad.

Drinks!

(men talking in background)

(knocks softly)

No, thanks.
(door closes)

So, you were made

by Carl Sturgis.

At the picture house
on Monday.

I fancied an evening
at the flicks.

X-rated smut?

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

What's going on?

I just want to be sure.

Sure of what?

That we were right
about Molly Andrews.

Well, Sturgis is threatening
to make a complaint.

He won't.
What if he does?

Let him.

I know you wanted it to be him.

But you're obsessing
about the wrong man.

You've got to let it drop.

Who do you think
you're talking to?

♪ ♪

(door closes)

(birds singing)

No, wait.
(grunts)

(panting)

♪ ♪

Mrs. Radowicz.

What is it now?
More lies about my Gary?

♪ ♪

(whimpers)

(crying)

He's... he's cold.

Why is he so cold?

You, you need
to warm him up.

Fetch him a blanket.

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

He'll wake up.

Wake up.

Wake up, wake up!

Mrs. Radowicz...
No!

(crying)

You did this!

You did this!
You killed him!

Who did this?

(sobbing)

Who hurt my boy?

(sobbing)

I hate them.

I hate them all.

I hope they die screaming!

THURSDAY:
WPC Jarvis
will see you home.

My sincere condolences.

(continues sobbing)

♪ ♪

THURSDAY:
Jim.

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

There's a match come through
on the thumbprint

at Oberon Prince's flat.

So you were
at the town hall,

you did your wrestling,

then you went out
for something to eat.

Remember?
Yeah, I remember.

An Indian restaurant.

Yeah.

I said I remember.

THURSDAY:
There was a bit of an argument

with one of the other diners.

You remember that?

SLOANE:
Vaguely.

MORSE:
A man called Oberon Prince.

If you say so.

Where'd you go
after the restaurant?

Back to me digs.

Anyone vouch for you?
Yeah.

I were bunking
with Johnny Simba.

Right.

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

Mr. Simba was sharing
with the Singh brothers.

And you had
a single occupancy.

(sighs):
Right, well, it changes.

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

But you just went
straight back to your digs.

Yeah, that's right.

Well, I wonder
if you can tell us, then,

how your bloody thumbprint
left an impression

on a door frame in a block
of flats called Tiffin Court.

A flat where we found a man
dead, murdered.

I don't know anything about it.

Well, we know
that you were there.

So why don't you just tell us?

(softly):
All right.

Well...

Oberon were drunk,

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

(wrestlers laugh, whoop)

I could see it were a front.

(footsteps approaching)

♪ ♪

You got somewhere?

Just like that?

Why not?

I knew him
from off the telly.

My mum likes his programs.

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

Your mates, the other wrestlers,

they know
about your preference?

Some.

Nobody cares.

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

but we get paid
to roll about with blokes

wearing only
our underpants.

Wrestling's just another part
of show business,

that's all I'm saying.

So long
as you bring the crowds in,

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

So what happened?

Right, well...

Me and a couple of the lads

went to the drinker
for an hour or so.

I got to his flat
about 1:00-ish.

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

So I buzzed a few more
till somebody answered the door.

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

and I should let myself in.

♪ ♪

(saw cutting)

There was somebody there,
I could hear 'em.

Sounded like, I don't know,

somebody sawing wood.

But you didn't see anyone.

SLOANE:
Apart from the dead guy
on the floor, no.

I wasn't gonna hang around
and make introductions.

So, what happened
to the knife?

SLOANE:
I got rid of it.
Where?

I stuck it down a drain.

It's where Sloane said it was.

It's the killer's, then?

That was the
telephone exchange.

They've run down the numbers
that called the restaurant,

and two came from
the same telephone.

♪ ♪

(phone booth door creaks)

Order two takeaways
from the Jolly Rajah

only 20 yards
from the phone box?

STRANGE:
Why two calls?

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

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

Which means
that whoever made the calls

needed to buy themselves time.

Yeah, they needed to keep
Mr. Aziz distracted

while they got to
Tiffin Court first.

We'll get forensics out.

Needle in a haystack
after four days,

but we might get lucky.

Having a takeaway delivered
to Tiffin Court,

well, it's not much of a plan,

given that Prince had already
dined at the restaurant.

No, you're right,
it's not much of a plan,

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

How come?

Because the chief stoker
never leaves the engine room.

(speaking foreign language,
pan sizzling)

UOBAH:
Rafiq.

Evening, Mr. Sardar.

Could you come with us, please?

I can't just leave
the restaurant

in the middle of service.

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

(speaking foreign language,
man responds)

♪ ♪

MORSE:
You were the only person
on the staff

who didn't realize
that Mr. Prince

had already been in the
restaurant that evening.

You ordered Mr. Aziz
to deliver a takeaway

to a man who'd already
eaten with you.

We also recovered the knife
you killed Prince with.

How much were you
into him for?

13,000 pounds.

I try to keep away.

But the cards
get under your skin.

I broke
the golden rule.

Don't chase your losses.

"Next time,
the hand will be better."

You always think
your luck will turn.

And there was nobody
in your family

that could have
loaned that to you?

Loaned?

That was mine by right.

My half of the business,
what should have been my half.

The profits.

If my brother had
remembered our agreement.

All I wanted
was my fair share.

50/50,
that is what we agreed.

But your brother
went back on his word.

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

"and credit and debit and...

"Just concentrate
on the cooking,

leave the worrying to me."

You felt cheated?

I was cheated.

He said he couldn't
remember our arrangement.

He said, "Don't worry.

You will be sorted out,
you will be looked after."

My nephews,
taking care of their uncle?

Like I am some beggar man?

So you began stealing
from the restaurant

in order to pay your debt
to Oberon Prince.

THURSDAY:
It wasn't that your brother
was losing his faculties

and getting the sums wrong.

You were stealing from him.

What was it, Mr. Aziz
discovered you?

He saw me.

THURSDAY:
Did he blackmail you?

No.

He gave me a chance
to come clean and tell Uqbah,

or he would.

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

Two birds with one stone.

MORSE:
You kill Oberon Prince,
which eradicates your debt,

and you frame him
for killing Aziz,

so your brother never discovers

that you were
stealing from him.

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

It, it is easy, in your head.

But with another human being...

It is not easy.

No.

One minute, they are
a living, breathing creature,

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

It's a bad thing I've done.

A wicked thing.

And I feel a shame
for it.

It is one thing
to know yourself to be weak.

I am a gambler, I am a thief.

But it is another thing
when the people you love

know what you are.

I gave in to temptation.

How could I ever
look them in the eye again?

I had no choice.

What could I do?

Look, uh...

What you said earlier.

Oh, I was speaking
out of turn.

No, no.

Maybe you're right.

All this with Carl Sturgis.

You just get obsessed.

Sometimes.

I'll let it go.

All well, is it?

With you?

Always.

See you tomorrow.

♪ ♪

MAN (on loudspeaker):
For a better Oxford
and a better Britain,

vote Archibald-Lake,
vote Conservative.

'Cause a vote
for the Conservative Party

is a vote
for a better tomorrow.

GORMAN:
Whatever the result tonight,

you can see what happens

when you mix their culture
and ours.
(audience murmurs in agreement)

Not 24 hours since,
we lost a foot soldier,

a good patriot--

Young Gary Rogers.

RADOWICZ:
Radowicz.

Gerwazy Radowicz.

Mrs. Radowicz.

(audience members gasp)

(crying):
He was my boy.

You killed him
just as much as they did.

Filling his head
with all this.

We all did.

♪ ♪

My only brother
stealing from me.

And killing
poor Mr. Aziz.

If only I had...

SALIM:
It'll be all right, Baba.

It'll be all right.

I'll make sure
he's looked after.

He can come and live with us.

"Us"?

Me and Ilsa.

We're getting married.

So, when you leave...

We're staying.

All this anger,

all this violence,
and all this hatred?

In the end,
it defeats only itself.

It burns itself out
like a stubble fire.

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

and Salim will take over
the restaurant, with my help.

A good husband always
listens to his wife.

As you'll find out.

(woman singing in Italian
on recording)

(doorbell rings)

(exhales)

(clicks pen)

(singing continues)

(singing continues)

(singing continues)

(person whistling in distance)

(object clatters)

MAN (on TV):
It's 10:00,

the polling stations
have just closed,

and if the exit polls
are to be believed,

we are in
for a very tight night

and a remarkably close contest.

(whistling continues)

(screams)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪