All language subtitles for Endeavour.S05E01.HDTV.x264-ORGANiC-HI

(Choral music)

(Choral music)

In the spring of 1918,

Nicholas II, deposed Tsar of all the
Russias,

was brought, together with his wife
and five children...

..to the city of Ekaterinburg...

..where they were executed
by their Bolshevik captors.

(Choral music continues)

(Bell dings, heckling)

Jab!

When the dead were examined,

it was found that the women had concealed
about their bodies gold and jewels.

Go ahead, caller.

Commissioned as a 16th birthday
present

for the Grand Duchess Anastasia,

I give you...

Innocence.

Or Nastya's Egg.

(Bell dings)

(Music continues)

(Beeps horn)

(Single long beep)

(Choral music continues)

Oh, good Lord. Look. You! Up on the
roof!

ALL: Five, four, three, two, one.

(Cheering)

Thus, after almost 100 years,

the long and distinguished history
of Oxford City Police...

..is ended.

The motto of the new constabulary is
"sit pax in valle tamesis".

For the benefit of the
non-classicists amongst us,

Detective Sergeant Morse has kindly
provided a translation. Morse?

He's on a shout, sir. Handbag
snatch.

Oh.

(Psychedelic music)

(Two gunshots)

(Heavy rain shower)

(Slurping)

(Telephone rings)

(Ringing continues)

Found by the beat man just after six.

No ID on him. Car's leased.

Waiting on the firm's offices opening
before we can say who to.

That's Joey Sikes.
Do you know him, sir?

We've had dealings.

Ex-boxer. Decent right but slow on
his feet.

I saw him at the undercard at White City
when Bruce Woodcock beat Freddie Mills.

He lost that night too.

Who lives here?
STRANGE: No reply.

Still working door-to-door.

Doctor.

Gentlemen.

Shot. Three times.

Twice in the chest and once in the
back.

From close range.

Somewhere between midnight and four
o'clock.

Someone inside the car, then?

Can't say if those were lethal
until I've had a gander.

STRANGE: Not likely to be anything
else, is it?

Unlikely he'd survive a metal spike
being driven into his ear.

Whether that was insult to injury
remains to be seen.

.38 calibre in the glove compartment.

Recently discharged.

Nobody saw or heard anything?

There was a party in the warehouse
down the end.

Loud music.
Between that and the thunderstorm...

He's had a woman in the car at some
point too.

Cocktail cigarettes ringed with
lipstick. Right.

You press on here with the
door-to-door. I'll brief Mr Bright.

Joey Sikes, sir.

Gunned down on Holywell Lane.

A falling-out amongst the criminal
fraternity?

Certainly looks that way, sir.

I don't want people thinking our reorganisation
is an opportunity for them to make hay.

I'll make that clear, sir.

There was one more thing.

About the Morse situation.

We've got a number at Lonsdale,
looks like.

What kind of number? Attempted
burglary from the sounds of it.

Shirl's on the scene. She'll fill
you in. I can finish up here.

Morning. Intruder spotted on the roof
by the master and one of the dons last night.

Why didn't they call it in then?
Thought it might be a drunken undergrad.

But this morning a scout found this.
Appears he left empty-handed.

I've had a look topside. This was the
only thing up there.

An unusual spot for an auction.
It's an unusual bequest.

Not every day a college is left an
object of virtue.

"Innocence. Also known as Nastya's
Egg."

Faberge's last great masterpiece.

It was lost for 50 years.

And now bequeathed to us by a late
graduate.

Its value to be realised to the
benefit of the college.

DS Morse. Thames Valley CID.
What's it expected to fetch?

A reserve is set at 30,000.

If the provenance is to be believed.

It's reliable. Robin Grey.

Dr Grey is a great authority on
Russian Imperial jewellery.

He's been instrumental in establishing
the veracity of the original designs.

Any news on this burglar?

We found this.

But that's The Shadow's calling
card, isn't it?

The what?
An international art thief.

He leaves a rose at the scene of his
crimes. If he exists.

That's all a bit Simon Templar, don't
you think?

He's real enough to Interpol.

The Lugash Diamond, the Golden
Dagger of Sultan Mahmud.

Or are you saying none of these
things were stolen?

I'm sure they were stolen, but whether or not by
the same person is another matter entirely.

Well, we'll step up the beat patrol
until the auction is concluded.

In the meantime, keep it under lock
and key and not just on display.

Unless you want it lost for another
50 years.

Detective Sergeant Morse.

I never knew you cared. So what was
he after?

The Faberge? Who?

The Shadow!

I think, given the date, we're
looking at something less criminal altogether.

April Fool's.

For a cracksman of international
renown,

it was hardly a case of "now you see
me, now you don't".

What's this other business on
Holywell Lane?

I heard something on the police
band. It sounded serious.

Murder usually is. But before you ask me more,
a full statement will be released in time.

Simon Lake. Art dealer.

He's handling the sale of the
Faberge on behalf of the owners.

So, murder, cat burglary - you're
earning those stripes.

I've earned these stripes many times.
Seriously, how are you finding it?

Just another tick in the box.

I thought there'd be... I don't
know...

Something more. Hm.

How'd you make out at Lonsdale?
Something and nothing.

April Fool, by the look of it.

Hello?

Is this your desk? Sorry.

Um...I was told to come up and wait.

Fancy, is it?

George Fancy. Detective Constable.

DCI Thursday.

Sergeant Strange. DS Morse'll be
showing you around.

He's a good man, so watch, listen and
learn.

We'll find you a desk, don't worry
about that.

Anything more on this door-to-door?

A neighbour said she saw a woman in
a white raincoat getting out the car

and heading up the mews to the
party.

Looks like you had it right, matey.

Blonde or brunette? Couldn't say.

She had a scarf on.

But I have got a last-known residence for
Joey off his parole officer. The Alhambra.

There we are. Your first job,
Constable.

You can keep Morse company.

Do your work, mind your Ps and Qs
and you won't go far wrong.

I'm used to working alone, sir.

He'd learn more from you.

I expect he would.

But you've got rank now. That brings
responsibilities.

Show him the ropes. Get to know him
a bit. It'll do him good.

Mr Bright had a word about your
situation.

I wasn't aware I had one.

Two Detective Sergeants would,
ordinarily, be surplus in a nick of this size.

But right now, Division's got other
fish to fry.

Thought you'd be pleased.
A reprieve's not a pardon.

I'd as soon not wait another six
months for the other shoe to drop.

Beggars can't.

Look, none of us know how the chips
are gonna land till this reorganisation's done.

Just take it one day at a time.

Want me to drive? No.

Anything? Quiet as the proverbial.

Detective Constable Fancy. WPC
Trewlove.

George. Pleased to meet you.

What's a pretty girl like you doing
in a place like this?

My job.

Hard to get, eh?

Oh, you've no idea.

I like a challenge.

Idiot.

Blimey! She's a bit of all right!

Don't you reckon? Who, Constable
Trewlove?

She's a very capable officer. Doesn't
suffer fools.

So...this is Sikes's place, is it?

Good nick, is it? Decent mates?
If you go in for that sort of thing.

Don't you, then?

It's why I joined the job - the
social life.

And the er...crumpet.

Of course.

Got any hobbies?

Do you like sport? I don't go in for
small talk, Constable.

George. Or first names.

Let's just keep it to work and we'll
get along fine.

Very good.

That's very nice.

Very nice.

(Max grunts)

What a good boy am I?

Three bullets, .38 calibre.

Any of which would have proved fatal.

Why bother with the ear business?

Some sort of underworld message?

Hear no evil, perhaps?

Something from the building trade?

Whatever it is, it would have needed
a hammer to drive it into the skull.

Anything else?

A smooch of lipstick.

Rain and the cobbles had got rid of
most of it.

Good afternoon. This is the message
service for 938126. Go ahead, caller.

Good afternoon. It's Dr Grey here.

I'd like to leave a message, please.

OPERATOR: So that's eight o'clock at
the club with Dr Grey.

♪♪

Get that lot dusted for prints and
the contents logged and booked in.

Leaving us already, George?

Joey Sikes' worldly possessions.

Mainly prophylactics and contact
mags.

Got a lead on his motor. Registered
to Magdalen Cabs.

Isn't that a front for Eddie Nero's
criminal activities?

One of 'em.

Easy, easy. Hello, Eddie.

Take a breather. Ah, what's this,
then, Fred?

You've come to go a few rounds, have
you?

Maybe later. You know the boys.

Yeah. Looks like you're a man short.

Joey Sikes.

When did you see him last? Joey?

Couldn't say.

But everything was just jake between
you?

Oh, yeah. Are you sure about that?

He was found this morning with three
bullets in him and a spike in his shell-like.

Any idea what he was doing parked up
on Holywell Lane?

Search me.
He was in one of your cars.

I'd give him the lend of a set of
wheels from time to time.

What about lady friends?

Anything like that?

Nah, he was off the birds.

I know you and Joey were tight with
each other but don't get any ideas, Eddie.

Like what? Taking the law.

There's only one law that counts,
Fred.

An eye for an eye.

You're a third division shake-down
artist and fourth-rate ponce.

Always were, always will be. Any
comeback over Joey,

I'll have your cobblers for a key
fob.

Mind how you go.

We'll need to find this woman in the
white raincoat.

I'll see where I can get with this
lipstick. Girlfriend, you think?

Witness, potentially. She's the last
person to have seen him alive.

How did you make out with George?
George?

Fancy.

Hm. Trying.

Oh, well, that's good.

I'm looking for a particular shade
of lipstick.

This is the...

I think we can rule out the new
Revlon unlipstick range.

And it's not gonna be the Max Factor
Frosterinos.

Could be Scarlet Billows or Violent
Crimson.

Excuse me. Can I just...?

Hello, stranger.

So, are you back or are you just
visiting?

Dad didn't say?

I'm back!

Couple of weeks now. But not home.

They must be pleased, all the same,
your parents.

I think so.

Mum definitely.
I'm sure they both are.

It's not the same.

No. No, I imagine not.

Mr Booth, my neighbour in Leamington,
said he called you.

Yes.

A fall, the hospital said.

I slipped.

What about you?

Your sergeant's... I meant to ask last time.
Yes, it came through in the end.

Congratulations.

Detective Sergeant Morse.

Things change. Yes.

Yes, I'm this way.

Are you all right?

I mean...really all right?

Something happens.

You have to look a bad thing in the
eye.

Break the spell.

I'll see you around.

It's a small town.

I know where you buy your lipstick
now.

Tomorrow's world, Thursday.

Sir.

A new divisional HQ for Thames
Valley, Kidlington.

Very smart, sir.

Clean, modern, spacious. Computers.

And an information room that will be
the envy of any constabulary.

And us, sir?

No final decision has yet been reached
on whether Cowley will remain open.

Or if we'll be absorbed into the new
station on Oxford Road.

Wouldn't have thought there'd be room
for us all in there, sir.

No, well, there we are. Ours is not
to reason why.

George seems a nice lad, don't you
think? He's a cocky little sod.

Course he is. He's young.

Full of piss and vinegar. You were
young once.

I'm still young!

Say so. Some shepherd's pie in the
oven I've left you to warm.

Beans in the pan. I'll get the
cribbage board out once Hughie Green's done.

(TV in background)

(Sighs)

(Footsteps)

(Cigarette lighter clicks)

(Bell rings)

Joan's got a new flat over in
Parktown.

Ever so nice, she says.

Be needing a lick of paint, I should
think, but...

I'm hoping her dad's gonna do it for
her.

But she's happy. That's the main
thing.

Good.

Sir. I'll go and fetch your
sandwiches.

Much in?

Fancy. Morning, sir.

Body's through there.

Doctor.

Aye-aye.

Right first, then left.

Sometime between eight and midnight.

Any defensive wounds?

He didn't see it coming.

Quite literally.

Who was he? His name is Robin Grey.

He's a history don here. I met him
yesterday.

The attempted break-in.

Last seen by the porter going out
around six o'clock last night.

No-one saw him come back.

Lipstick. Same as Joey Sikes.

I know you're out of practice,
but most women wear it.

Uniform are fetching his wife in.
There is evidence of coitus.

Who found him? Spencer Bell, one of
his students.

I went across just before eight
o'clock.

Knocked. There was no reply.

I checked my watch, knocked again,
then went in.

I thought he might have nipped out
for a moment.

In my day, students didn't just
wander into a don's bedroom.

I thought he might have overslept so
I knocked. I don't know why I went in.

I just did.

What was he like?

I saw him for two hours once a week.

I'm afraid I hardly knew him at all.

Where were you last night?

In my room right up there.
Anyone vouch for you?

You'd have had a good view from there.
You didn't see him come back last night?

Mr Bell. I'm not sure it was him.

But I think I recognised her.

Who?

I'm not even sure it was her.

But this woman had on the same coat
she wears - a white raincoat.

But you don't know her name?
No. She's a life model.

I think she knows the tutor Gerard Pickman.
At least that's the idea I got.

I thought all the way over in the car
that there must be some mistake.

What happened?

Was it his heart? An accident?

I'm sorry to have to tell you, Mrs Grey,
but your husband died by violence.

Perhaps you should sit down. Here.

Trewlove.

(Mrs Grey sobs)
Here.

OK.

When did you last see your husband?

Er...yesterday morning.

Did Dr Grey often stay in college?

Once or twice a week if he had an
early tutorial.

I'm sorry.

(She sobs)

We will need statements from all
staff and undergrads

as to their whereabouts yesterday.

I don't like to ask but what will
happen about the auction?

It can't go ahead now, surely, out
of respect for Robin?

Exactly why it should proceed. He put
so much work into it.

I'll discuss the situation with the
bursar and Mr Lake...

This Mr Lake. He have much to do with
Grey?

Certainly. They were great friends.

He's an art dealer. He's acting for
the estate.

Did their National Service together,
I believe.

We'll need to speak to him if you let
us know where to find him.

Anything to do with the egg, do you
think?

Wasn't it him and the master saw
The Shadow Sunday night?

So they say.

Is there any doubt about that?
They saw someone.

But that it was this cat burglar, I'm
less convinced.

How come? Nobody sees The Shadow,
that's the point.

He comes and goes and no-one's any
the wiser till after he's struck.

So?

So he doesn't go clattering around
the rooftops drawing attention to himself.

They saw somebody up there.

And now Grey's dead.

The undergrad who found his body
says he saw a man and woman

turning onto Grey's stair around
seven o'clock.

Was it Grey? He's not sure.

But he thinks she's a life model
from a private art class he attends.

He's given me an address to the place.
A bit on the side, do you think?

If it was Grey.

See who else lives on his stair,
start taking statements.

THURSDAY: All right.

I'll report back to Mr Bright. Pursue
enquiries as you see fit.

I must say, we were all positively
chartreuse at Robin's good luck,

bagging a Matilda beast.

And a rowing blue to boot.

Nothing in the world quite compares
to a sporty girl.

Strong in the wrist and firm in the
hams.

Do you think that talk's appropriate
about a woman widowed not an hour since?

She'd have to have been a very Messalina
to keep Robin down on the farm.

Is that right?
Quite a dog in his day.

Wet his nib in any ink pot.

Take my word. They'll be queuing
halfway up the High to offer their "condolences".

♪♪

The Master called me. It's bloody
awful news. Poor Robin.

You knew him well? Nearly 20 years.

He was a good friend. We did our
National Service together.

Place called Altdorf, right on the
Eastern border.

Can you think of anyone who would
wish him any harm?

Robin? Not a soul.

He was helping to establish a chain of
provenance with this egg of yours, I believe.

Strictly speaking, it's not mine.
I'm acting for the estate of the previous owner.

But, yes. Robin had done a lot of the
legwork. Who is the owner?

Someone who in life valued their
privacy.

The estate wishes to respect that.
I'm sure you understand.

No, I don't understand. Not at all.

First someone tries to steal the
Faberge,

then someone intimately connected
with its sale is murdered.

There's nothing to say the egg is
anything to do with Robin.

I think we'll determine that.

And knowing who the owner is will
help us form an opinion.

I think if my friend had been brutally murdered,
I might be a little more forthcoming.

I'd like to say more, believe me.

Where were you last night?
Out of town.

To say more would risk revealing the
identity of the owner.

Convenient. Not for me.

Did he have a mistress, Dr Grey?

With Lucy at home? Would you?

He never mentioned anyone called
Delilah? No.

I would love to stay and chit-chat but I've got
to collect the egg and get it to Lonsdale.

Since the attempted burglary I'm only allowing it
to be displayed for a couple of hours each day.

The rest of the time, it's in a safe
in my flat.

Of course, I'll be glad to answer anything you
can think of once the auction's out of theway.

(Child squeals)

Hello.

I'm Detective Sergeant Morse, Thames
Valley CID.

I'm looking for a Gerard Pickman.

One of his students gave me this
address.

He's gone into town. I'm his wife
Cassie.

What time are you expecting him
back?

When his pockets are empty.

You're welcome to wait.

Don't eat that, Alec.

He's an artist, I understand.

That must be interesting work.

Oh, yes.

He's just finished designing the new labels
for Richardson's own-brand vegetables.

(Motorbike approaches)

(Engine backfires)

Hello, little bastard.
Don't call him that, please!

(Thudding)

(Door closes, footsteps approach)

Sorry to have kept you.

A bigger slash.

Still life? There's a phrase.

It's for the cover of a Kent Finn
paperback - Just For Jolly.

Dreadful hack but if it goes over well, his
publisher's promising the whole back catalogue.

Thus the rent man doth make cowards
of us all.

The .38. Is that a prop?

No, no, it's real enough. I use it
for foxes, other vermin.

No policemen so far.

I don't suppose you know about art.
I know what I like.

It's after Manet, isn't it? Olympia.

The canvas that scandalised the Paris
salon.

Is that the model that sits at your
life class?

That's right.

Does she have a name? Evie.

With the beautiful red hair.

Eve Thorne.

Have you seen her recently?

Yesterday afternoon. I had a class
here.

What about Sunday night?

A car picked her up about midnight.

Taxi, I think. Right.

Have you got an address for her?

Just a telephone number.
It's a messaging service.

She's er... She's not in any
trouble, is she?

It's just a routine enquiry.

She's a good kid.

Are you sleeping with her?

No.

Not for the want of trying.

I don't think she likes men.

Maybe it's just you she doesn't like.

(Buzz of conversation)

What happened, do you think?

I don't think, Tancred.

And you shouldn't either.

STRANGE: How you finding Oxford,
then, George?

Got your digs sorted?
Section House at the moment.

But I'm looking for a place of my
own.

What about you?

Yeah. Morse is shacked up with me at
the minute.

Hopefully we'll come out of it after a year with
enough saved to put down for a flat each.

Provided we don't kill one another
first.

Well, the cause was as expected.

Sharp object through the orbit of the
right eye and on into the brain.

Death would have been pretty
instantaneous.

What about the weapon?
Ah. Steak knife.

Traditional hump blade with serrated
edge.

Stag-horn handle. Sheffield steel.
Silver-plated.

Engraving dates it to about 1920.

SC. One of the colleges, maybe?
Something college?

Possibly.
Would it have taken much force?

No great strength required. Nerve,
though.

You're thinking of the lipstick.

The closest match I found was
Violent Crimson.

From the Kiss of Death range,
presumably.

How does it compare to what you
found on Joey Sikes?

Not enough of a trace left to say.

A Lonsdale don and a beat-up
ex-boxer.

Hard to see what they had in common.

A woman in a white raincoat,
presumably.

Cherchez la femme.

THURSDAY: Parson's Prime.

MORSE: It's from a brewery outside
Watlington.

According to the foreman, they
supply just one pub in Oxford.

The Cordwangler's Arms. Delilah.
Did you try the number?

Unobtainable. But there's a Delilah
performing there this afternoon.

I've also got a number for Eve
Thorne,

the life model that Spencer Bell was
talking about.

Pickman said she got a taxi from his
place late on Sunday night.

I've left a message on her answer
service to call me back.

Good.

How's the luncheon meat?
Adjourned.

Win says you ran into Joan.

You knew she was back, then?

Yeah. Well, I would have mentioned it
but...what with one thing and another...

Seem all right, did she?

Why, haven't you seen her?

No. No, not yet.

She's been by the house,
but I've been at work.

Sergeant Strange said you'd probably
be here.

How'd it go at Lonsdale this morning?

Um...there's nothing much to report.

Most of them are alibi'd. Except the
Master,

Dr Adrian Croxley and Tancred Howlett.
He lives on the same stair as Dr Grey.

Go on. Go back to the station and
finish writing them up.

I haven't had lunch yet.

I thought I'd just grab a pint, if
it's all the same.

You're not on piecework.
He's time for a beer.

FANCY: Do you want topping up? No.

Well, just a half, then, George.
Thanks very much.

Certainly never seen it at home.

Is that what it was done with?

Is that how he died?

How long had you been married?

It would have been a year come April
21st.

All was well between you?
Perfectly well.

That's Simon Lake, isn't it?
He was Robin's best man.

They're very old friends.

How did you meet Dr Grey?

At a drinks party...last February.

Two months later we were married.

You had no reason to doubt his
fidelity?

With his body being found the way it
was, well, we're bound to ask.

How was it found?

There was lipstick around his mouth.

And signs that physical intimacy had
taken place shortly before his death.

I always knew Robin had lived...
a full life.

But from the moment we were married,

he never once gave me any cause to think
of him as anything other than devoted.

She wouldn't be the first wife to not
know her husband was deceiving her.

Unless she did, of course. Just keep
your wits about you.

What does that mean?

Good-looking girl? Tears? Not every
damsel in distress wants saving.

What she looks like's nothing to do
with it.

I wonder if she knew Joey Sikes.

Sikes is gangland. He's no
connection with Dr Grey.

They were both killed by particularly
gruesome means.

Both last seen with a woman wearing
a white raincoat

and both had been kissed by someone
in red lipstick.

That's more than a coincidence.

# Big Spender

(Whistling and cheering)

(Whistling)

(Ribald cheering)

(Wolf-whistle)

You can't come in here. I'm
Detective Sergeant Morse,

Thames Valley CID. Miss...? Ellis.

Paula Ellis.

Not Delilah, then?

That's just for the stage.

I would've thought Salome would be more fitting.
The Dance Of The Seven Veils.

Salome's already taken. There was a
Jezebel.

And a Bathsheba but she got glassed.

Be a love and hand us my dressing
gown, would you?

So...

What do you want, then? Do you know
a Robin Grey?

No. Who is he? He's a don at
Lonsdale College.

Found this beer mat with your name on
it.

Any idea how he'd come by that? No.

That is your phone number on the
back?

No. I don't know whose that is.

I can't be the only Delilah on the circuit.
The faces change, the names stay the same.

Has he had an accident? He was found
dead this morning.

Do they ever ask for your telephone
number, the...customers?

They can ask, but ask don't get.

I've got two kids. That's who I do
this for.

I wouldn't let any of those blokes
come within a million miles.

How do you get the work?

THURSDAY: Lefty Townsend?

I'm surprised he's still going.
You know him?

Oh, yeah. I know Lefty.

ENSA during the war.

Office boy with Lew and Leslie for
a bit.

All right, Left?

Fred! I'm just going to lunch.

Late lunch.

Spare five minutes? Always.

Got your book?

I just came to offer my condolences.

If there's anything I can do...
Thank you.

That's very kind. Do the police have
any further idea?

They suggested he may have been with
another woman last night.

You lived across the stair. You
didn't see?

I was out.

I'm sure they're mistaken.

Was I a fool, Tancred? Never.

Fooled, then.

There's only one fool here.

And it was never you.

Delilah. Paula?

Lovely little mover.

Just come off a very successful
"Dick" at Eastbourne.

Is that right?

I'm hoping to get her a summer season
with Engelbert at Blackpool.

What about the stripping?
Exotic dancing.

It's all very tasteful. Nothing
smutty. I've seen it.

Doesn't leave much to the
imagination.

That rather depends on your
imagination, doesn't it?

Why all the Biblical names?
Adds mystery.

The girls are hardly likely to use their own,
are they? And the punters like it.

So Paula Ellis isn't the only
Delilah you've had on your books?

Oh, no. I've had quite a few over the
years.

I wouldn't know where they all are
now.

MORSE: Do you have an address for
her?

Eve Thorne?

Police.

♪♪

EVE: Someone invited me to a party.

I don't remember who. I got a cab to
pick me up from Gerry's place.

Do you know the driver?
No. Why would I?

And then what happened? What usually
happens at a party.

You have a drink. Dance. Talk to
people.

When did you leave? Two, maybe.

MORSE: Alone? Yes.

Where were you Monday night?

What's this about?

I got a call. Out of the blue.

A guy called and asked if I wanted
to go for a drink.

Robin Grey?

How do you know him?

He'd seen me dancing.

Stripping?

So you went for a drink and then
what?

We went back to his place.
At Lonsdale College.

Did you sleep with him?

It's a free country last time
I looked.

You know he had a wife?
Never came up, funnily enough.

What time did you leave?

Just after nine.

When I left him, he was sleeping
like a baby.

Look, what's this about?

Both the driver of the taxi and Robin
Grey are dead, Miss Thorne.

So far, you're the only link we've
got between them.

I don't know what happened after I
went but Robin was fine when I left him.

As for the taxi driver, I can't help
you. I'd like to go home now.

We'll need to take a set of your
fingerprints. Why?

For the process of elimination.

You'll be here for a while yet.

What's going on?

The art dealer Lake hasn't shown up,
neither him nor the egg.

I've telephoned but there's no
reply.

I assumed he must be on his way.
Do you have an address for him?

Send a patrol car. Certainly.
It's 15 Holywell Lane.

Holywell Lane?

Yes. Why?

Ohh!

There's nothing to report.

MORSE: He can't have been dead long.

I saw him this morning at the
airfield.

THURSDAY: Anything, Doc? Well...

his head's in this room and his
body's in that room.

So that might have something to do
with it.

Anything as to a time, say?

Within the last three to four hours.

Looks to have had his throat cut
first, right to left.

Then decapitation post mortem.

Small mercies.

Lipstick again.

What's this?

Dr Grey at Lonsdale had lipstick
round his mouth.

As did Joey Sikes.

I thought that was gangland.
So did we, sir.

But his car was found just outside
here.

Oh, Ballistics have come back with
a match.

The bullets I dug out were from Joey
Sikes' pistol.

He was shot with his own gun?
Looks like it.

Constable. Doctor.

Detective Constable Fancy, sir. Just
over from County, as was.

Chief Superintendent Bright. Sir.

Neighbour over the road said she
heard a shot around 3.45.

Saw this woman in the white mac coming out
at around...half four, quarter to five.

Well, he wasn't shot.

Three men slaughtered with such
violence.

You're surely not suggesting a woman
could have done it?

Two of the victims were found in bed,
sir. And with lipstick.

So Joey Sikes was shot, then a skewer
was driven into his ear.

Dr Grey was stabbed in both eyes and
now Lake has been decapitated.

That means something, doesn't it?

The method, do you think?

Oh, SC. Same as was found on the
knife that killed Dr Grey.

And the egg?

There was a single red rose been
left, sir. The Shadow's signature.

How come door-to-door never picked
up Lake was living here?

Not his property, sir.

Looks like he was only staying for
the duration of the auction.

Owner's listed as one Bertram Povey.
Deceased.

THURSDAY: Knew each other, didn't
they, Lake and Dr Grey?

Both connected to this egg.

That's the key, isn't it?

What have you got there?
A menu. 1st April last year.

"On the occasion of the passing of
the Mock Turtle."

You were seen leaving Simon Lake's
flat earlier this afternoon.

We can put you in a line-up, have
our witness pick you out.

He'd asked me round for four.

I got held up. In the end I didn't
make it till quarter past, maybe.

The door was open so I went in.

I went into the bedroom.

Next thing I remember, I was on the
bus.

And on Sunday night, when the taxi
dropped you off at the party,

that's who you were seeing...Simon
Lake.

And on Monday morning, you were
inside the flat with Lake

when the driver's body was found.

Yeah. We heard you knocking but Simon
didn't want to answer the door.

Mr Bright would like a word, sir.
In a minute.

Did you notice whether the safe was
open or closed?

No. I don't remember.

And the driver of the taxi, Joey
Sikes.

Do you know him? No.

I advise you to cooperate, Miss
Thorne, in your own best interests.

So...you sleep with Lake on Sunday,
Grey on Monday.

Then come back for another round
with Lake today.

And...?
Your fingerprints have turned up

your previous convictions.

Soliciting. You're a common
prostitute.

You've seen where I live.

There's nothing common about me.

What's your type?

Blonde? Brunette? Redhead?

Do you go for the mousy sort? Butter wouldn't melt
but get their glasses off and, "Oh, Daddy."

That's quite enough.
Maybe you want a goddess.

Someone you can put on a pedestal.

Unobtainable. Or perhaps you like to
be mothered.

Have someone wash your tinkle.
Take her back to her cell.

You haven't taken your eyes off me.

I've got your number. I know where
you are. You like to watch, right?

Look but don't touch. I know your
kind.

What's that book? The Spy In The
House Of Love, that's you.

Outside looking in at what you want
but daren't ask for.

Take her down.

You think she killed him?
MORSE: She knew all three victims.

Had slept with two of them, both are
connected to this Faberge egg.

For all we know, Lake was still alive when she
arrived. Now he's dead and the egg's gone.

I've known clients get possessive to
the point of obsession in some cases.

The only reason I can think of for her to
lie is if she saw someone she recognised

by Lake's flat, going in or coming out,
someone she was afraid of, maybe.

If she saw him, it's very likely he
saw her.

Which offers the possibility that
whoever it is will try and get to her.

Morse? Reservations?

I think the only thing she's scared
of, sir, is us.

You reckon it's her?

She's lying through her teeth.
There's two options.

She did it or she knows who did.

Either way, I want her under
observation.

♪♪

Stockings are in the shoes.

You'll find the soles are blood-stained.
You've been there. You know what it was like.

This is all you were wearing when
you went to Lake's?

That's all.

Was he a regular customer?

When he was in town.
How often was that?

Till this last week I hadn't seen him
for a year, maybe.

Does he know what you do? Pickman?

He knows what he needs to. Why?

Olympia. The painting he's working
on, the Manet knock-off.

Olympia was a common name used by
Parisian prostitutes.

Except she wasn't a tart, was she?

The model. Her name was Victorine Meurent.
She was an artist in her own right.

Her work was selected for exhibition,
Manet's wasn't.

Pickman tell you that?
I read it. In a book.

Do you think he's any good?

Not particularly.

He can't shake off the draughtsman's
training.

That's what they put him to in the
Army.

He doesn't seem the Army kind.

National Service, wasn't it?

I think that's how he knew Simon.

Simon Lake?

I saw him out at the windmill last
week.

That's when we picked up again.

What was his business with Pickman?

No idea.

First thing you learn in my game...

..you don't open your mouth.

Unless they ask you to.

Right.

(Rock music plays on radio)

(Music off)

Is this your idea of discreet
observation?

It's an unmarked car, not a concert
hall.

Yeah. All right.

Just keep your mind on the job and
make sure she doesn't try to leave.

Is she likely to?

When you're relieved, get these
booked into Forensics at the station.

Did you get the contents of Joey
Sikes's suitcase booked in?

Ohh.

Is this what I've got to look
forward to?

If I want something doing, I've got
to do it myself?

I forgot. Well, don't.

You're not paid to forget. You're
paid to remember.

Was it Miss Thorne? That's right.

Call received today from a Mr Lake
at 13.54.

"If Miss Thorne would care to call
round to Holywell Lane at 16:00."

Can you confirm when that was picked
up, and if so by whom?

Miss Astor?

This call from Mr Lake for Miss Thorne.
Has Miss Thorne picked it up yet?

I believe so.

I'll need the address for that
account.

I'm afraid the manager's gone home
for the evening.

He's the only one with access to
that information.

But from memory it's a temporary
agency, I think.

Thank you, Miss Astor.

Temporary agency?

Yeah. I can imagine what sort.

Home?

I'll walk, if it's all the same,
get a bit of clean air in my lungs.

I had three years on Vice, never
agreed with me.

Bodies bought and sold, lives ruined.
Not much more than kids, half of them - runaways.

You could see the sharks, the pimps
and the ponces,

queued up waiting for them at all
the big stations.

"Stand you a coffee, love?"

Straight off the train, straight on
the game.

The worst of human nature
right there.

It's no work for a family man.

One for the road?

Yes.

Oh, er...no, I can't.

I want to get Joey Sikes's personal
possessions logged into Evidence.

Haven't you done that yet?

No, it slipped my mind. That's not
the example you wanna set Fancy.

You're a sergeant now. You gotta
look sharp.

Yeah.

Night, then.

Good night, sir.

Dad?

Fred?

You've been back ages.

Fred?

Joan's all right, in't she?

Happy?

She says.

I spoke to her earlier.

She rang.

I don't know what it is with you
pair.

she got back.

You've barely spoken to her since
she got back.

I know you were cross with her
going off.

I'd do anything for her.

I know you would.

If anything ever happened...

if she was in a spot...

..you'd say?

Come to bed.

# VERDI: La Traviata Act I

So Lake was The Shadow?

Looks that way. Just off him having
a balaclava?

Roses are sold by the dozen,
traditionally. Yes. Why?

Ten in the vase, one in the safe...
And the 12th on the roof of Lonsdale.

He was trying to pinch his own
jewel?

Or get it in the papers and drive the
price up.

He knew Pickman, or had business
with him, according to Eve Thorne.

There's a student might be able to
shed some light. I'll talk to him.

Word through on Lake's flat, sir.

Gas and electric go through to
a Tancred Howlett.

FANCY: That's one of the dons at
Lonsdale. I had a statement off him.

He lives on the same stair as Grey.

Where have you been?

With her, I suppose.

An hour, you said.

That was two o'clock yesterday
afternoon.

Is this the woman you saw in the
quad with Grey?

I don't know. She was wearing a headscarf.
It was the white coat I recognised.

But that is Pickman's model?
Yeah. It's her.

And it's life studies she sits for?

Mostly.

Pickman's had us do her as
Botticelli's Venus.

The girl from Dejeuner Sur L'Herbe,
and any number of Gentileschi copies:

Giuditta Con La Sua Ancella, Susanna
E Vecchioni.

Do you ever see her outside of
class?

No.

But you want to.

She's a model. If she smiles at you
in class, she's being paid for it.
It's art.

Not real life.

Some of us can tell the difference.
Can Pickman?

Is he a good tutor?
Best I can afford.

How was it you know Simon Lake,
Dr Howlett?

We were up together...

..at St Alfredus.

But he got sent down.

For what? Conduct unbecoming.

Fleecing tourists at Find the Lady.

Seems a bit stiff.

He also got one of the cleaners
in trouble.

He said it wasn't his but someone had
to carry the can.

We stayed in touch and...

as he was in town...

But you don't live there yourself?

No, no. Er...I inherited the place
a couple of years ago from an uncle.

I wonder if you could shed any light
on this.

It's er... It looks like a menu.

I know what it looks like. I want to
know what it means.

Who's the Mock Turtle?

I wouldn't know.
Are you sure about that?

It was found in the pocket of a tailcoat hanging
in the wardrobe in your flat on HolywellLane.

My colleague found an identical
waistcoat in Dr Grey's room.

He said it looks like the order of
service for a dining club.

It was Robin's stag.

Robin was the Mock Turtle, hence...

The passing of the Mock Turtle, so...
What's this club?

The Berserkers.

Why so cagey? Why deny it?

I don't want to get involved in this.
Two people known to me have been murdered.

We know that.
Where was it held, the stag?

I don't know where.

I wasn't there. Adrian was there but
I was ill. I didn't go.

You've got the menu!

Robin saved one for me.

A souvenir.

What was your business with Simon
Lake?

Just that. Business.

He liked my work. I sold him the odd
piece.

You were in the Army together,
weren't you?

Altdorf. What is this?

We've got a Faberge gone missing

and two men connected with its sale
found dead.

Two men that you did National
Service with.

That's more than a coincidence.

I wouldn't know about that.

"He liked my work.

I sold him a few pieces."

Past tense. You knew he was dead
before I told you.

Now, look... A neighbour on Holywell
Lane heard a shot.

But I actually think it was your bike backfiring.
I heard it the first time I came here.

You were at Simon Lake's flat yesterday.
Did you kill him and take the egg?

Or was he dead when you arrived? I
didn't kill Simon or steal the egg!

I've seen the Cyrillic writing in
your barn.

Tell them, Gerry.

Cass! You tell them or I will.

Cass! She doesn't know what she's
talking about.

It was a con.

That's the kind of artist my husband
is.

You think I didn't know you were up
to something?

Think I didn't notice?

Your old Army mates just dropping by
out the blue?

Cass, please! I'm looking out for
the kids, Gerry.

He's an idiot. Easily led.

But he's not a killer.

If someone killed Robin and Simon
over the egg...

I don't want them coming for him
next.

So Lake never meant to go through
with the sale?

No, sir. It was intended as an
insurance fraud all along.

Lake planned to give the egg to Pickman
that afternoon and say it had been stolen.

When Pickman arrived to collect the
egg, it had already gone.

And he found Simon Lake murdered.
Three of them were involved in the fraud.

Lake paid Pickman to draft a design,
supposedly by Faberge,

in order to create false provenance.

Grey, the authority on Russian
Imperial jewellery, signed off on it.

How did they come by it in the first
place? THURSDAY: Pickman explained.

They were soldiers at a camp for
displaced persons on the East German border.

They transported some refugees to the
West in exchange for the egg.

But without the provenance it's
worthless.

They bided their time until they
could do something with it.

So where does that leave us? Could
Pickman have killed Lake and the rest,

taken the egg for himself?

If that had been his intention, why leave the
papers supporting its provenance behind?

The materials used in its making notwithstanding,
without them it's worthless.

If he's not got it, who has?

The killer presumably, sir.

We have got a further lead.

Very well. Carry on.

So, you are a Berserker, Dr Croxley?

Just a bunch of like-minded fellows,
making merry.

We've got two of your number dead.
Not much to be merry about.

All dons, is it?

In the main, though not exclusively.

The sole proviso of membership is one
must be a gentleman of quality.

You were at Dr Grey's stag party
last year.

Alas, a young man married.

I take it from that you're a single
man yourself.

Absolutely.

"What passing bells...?" They don't
call it a morning suit for nothing.

Why didn't Tancred Howlett attend?

It's no great secret, not around
college.

He'd entertained hopes of Lucy
himself.

Was Robin Grey aware of that?

Oh, yes.

So...Dr Grey was there, Simon Lake.
Who else?

It's a secret society.

As an officer of rank, I'm sure
that's something you can respect.

Middle-aged academics, prancing
around in waistcoats,

calling each other daft names? I've
more time for the Tufty Club.

I beg your pardon?
You can beg my fat arse!

Grow up, Dr Croxley. You're too old
for the dressing-up box.

There are no secrets as far as the
law's concerned.

Well. Since you put it like that...

..I can give you a list of those
I remember.

Was Joey Sikes there?

Doesn't ring a bell, I'm afraid. Who
is he?

Where was the party held?

I don't recall.

Wouldn't be the Shiplake Chase
Hotel, by any chance?

Really? Was that it?

Shiplake Chase? Pulled that one out
the bag, didn't you?

There was a bundle of bar bills in
Joey Sikes' suitcase. SC.

Same as engraved on the knife that killed Grey.
And the silverware at Lake's.

Go ahead, caller.

Good afternoon. I'd like to leave
a message for Miss Thorne.

♪♪

MAN: They said they were a rugby club
up from Cambridge.

I've been in the pub and hotel trade
for 30 years.

And I've never seen anything like it.
Played up, did they?

They looked very respectable in their
evening suits and waistcoats.

But once the wine was in...they went
berserk.

Everything smashed to pieces.

What they did to the pig's head
centrepiece...

I told them, "If I'd known you would
carry on like that, I'd have put straw down."

In the end, I threatened them with the police.
They asked to see the owner.

Gave him a cheque, did they?

I couldn't say, sir.

I refused to serve them.

And threatened to give notice if the
owner insisted.

The rest of the staff did the same.

We closed the bar at 10.30 and left
them to it.

Have you had any thefts lately?

We had some agency staff in for a
wedding about a month ago. Things went missing.

We did ask them to look into it,
but haven't heard back.

So two of the victims were members
of this disgusting dining club?

The... What is it?

The Berserkers, sir.
The Berserkers.

Sounds like a collection of
Philistines.

STRANGE: Joey Sikes wasn't a member,
sir.

The Philistines...put Samson's eyes
out after he was betrayed by Delilah.

The name on Grey's beer mat.
He was stabbed in the eyes.

And the rest?

I don't know.

That still leaves Eve Thorne as being
the only link between all three of them.

Anything from her answering service?

They're still compiling a list of messages.
Her bills go to 24 Tobacco Yard.

Tobacco Yard? That's the address of
Magdalen Cabs.

Call girls. That's what Joey Sikes
was running for you.

That's what he was doing in Holywell
Lane the night he got the hard word.

I don't know what you're talking
about.

I'll spell it out for you. The
client gets the girl's name and
number from a contactbook.

Same kind of contact book I found in
Joey Sikes' flat.

He calls and leaves a message for
Eve or Jezebel

or whichever belle de jour takes his
fancy with an answering service.

The girls ring in as often as needs
be to pick up their messages.

But if it's particularly urgent and can't wait,
the messages relay to Magdalen Cabs.

But you know that because you're
paying the bills.

THURSDAY: Anything you'd like to say?
Can't help you.

Let's see if a night in the cells
can't jog your memory.

On what charge?

Procurement, conspiracy to corrupt
public morals. Take your pick.

Either way, you're nicked.

Afternoon, sir. How may I be of
service?

A few things my wife asked me to pick
up.

I've er...got a list here, if that's
a help.

Your mum said you were back.

All right, are you?

I'm fine.

New flat?

That's right.

Just me and two girlfriends. No men,
if that's what you're wondering.

I just wanted to see how you were.
Checking up on me? No.

I can let you have my flatmates'
names if you want to run them past Records.

I just want things to be right.

Right?

How they were. We always got on.

You can't fix it.

I've seen what happens when you try
to fix things.

There are bad things in the world,
Joanie, bad people, wickedness.

I've only tried to keep you safe
from that. Nobody asked you to.

You, your mum and Sam. If I've come
up short...

It's 1968.

I'm not your little girl any more.
People have to make their own mistakes.

Say hello to Mum for me.

Anything?

Residents in and out. Florist dropped
off some flowers. That's about it.

She hasn't been in or out?
Not since I've been here.

Fancy said the same.

You think she did it?
I think she's a dangerous woman.

I've got a list of temps that worked
the wedding at Shiplake Chase.

That was quick. You asked for it.

You're a good sergeant, Jim.

Good man too.

I don't know about that, sir.

There's not many'd take Morse in.

He'd do the same for me.

Would he?

He's a prickly bugger at the best of
times... just how he is.

You wanna come in?

♪♪

From an admirer? I do have them.

So it seems.

Flowers, chocolates... You should see
the lingerie they send.

"Eve Thorne, RA."

Well...the Royal Academy would be
thrilled.

Judgmental prick, aren't you?

Who did you see when you left
Holywell Lane?

Nobody. I've told you.

I don't remember anything from
finding Simon...

To being on the bus. Yes, you said.

You know, if you're in any trouble,
I can't help you unless you tell me the truth.

I don't need your help.

I've been taking care of myself
since I was old enough to know how.

Looks that way.

You gonna ride in on your white
charger and save me? Is that it?

There aren't any heroes. Just men
and I know what they're like.

I'm sure you do. Oh, you bet.

I knew a girl once.

Convent educated.

Wanted to be an artist.

Did a bit of modelling, dancing,
just to make ends.

Got in with the wrong crowd.

One night, at some party somewhere,

they went at her like dogs.

I'm sorry.

I'm sure you are.

You're always sorry after.

I don't need you.

I don't need anyone.

(Radio static)

(Piano music)

So are you any closer to finding out
who did it?

Is that why you invited me in?

Maybe.

You got a girl?

Didn't think so.

When did you last get your leg over?

As a matter of interest.
None of your business.

It's exactly my business.

I just don't see why you get to ask
all the questions, that's all.

You know everything about me.

I know nothing about you.

Save it for your clients, Miss
Thorne.

I'm immune.

You've got needs coming off you like
a junkie gouging for a spike.

But you won't do anything about it.

Why? What happened?

Somebody take your girl?

I can help you forget her.

Or maybe you don't want to.

I can be her, if you like.

Are you expecting somebody?

Bed time.

Are you gonna change your mind?

Why "weibermacht"? What?

The inscription. "Weibermacht...the
power of women."

The hand that rocks the cradle,
right?

It's an artistic theme.

Powerful men brought down by women.

Is that what this is about?

Is that why they've been killed in
such a specific manner?

How would I know?

Unless I killed them.

They don't touch me, if that's what
worries you.

They might think they do. They get
her for an hour or two.

They get exactly what they paid for.
They don't get me.

Is that what you tell yourself?
Listen, tiger.

We all do what we have to, even you.

What I do is honest.
You think so?

How many times have you fitted
someone up, planted evidence,

knocked a confession out of some
poor bastard? Never!

You will. No.

That's what coppers do. I know.

I've seen it, I've lived it,
so don't tell me.

You might think you're above it all but
you're down in the dirt with the rest of us.

Go to bed! Bastard!

Why don't you make me?

(Door closes)

(Doorbell rings)

You're not Miss Evie.

Eve Thorne was at Shiplake Chase, the
entertainment for Robin Grey's stag night.

She wasn't alone. Ruth Astor, the telephonist,
her name came up on a list of agency staff

sent to Shiplake Chase. We should
go. Where? Adrian Croxley's.

I was looking forward to a nice
dolly party.

All girls together.
Evie couldn't come.

I suppose you'll do.

Eve Thorne, RA. I thought the RA
stood for Royal Academy.

Only, it was Ruth Astor.

They must've both been hired to be the
entertainment for Robin Grey's stag.

THURSDAY: And Joey Sikes was the
driver.

Here.

Put some of this on her. She looks
like death warmed up.

Smile.

I can't. Yes, you can.

And you be nice.

You don't remember me, do you?

Something terrible happened at
Shiplake Chase that night.

I don't think I've had the pleasure.

You have.

Very good. We have some
entertainment for you.

(Lewd laughter)

Very pretty. Fantastic wine, this.
Cheers.

What are you doing?
I tried to forget about you.

Believe me, I tried.

Eddie gave her a job at the telephone
message service by way of a pay-off.

He was the one who sent her there
after all.

Make it right, Eddie. You get her
fixed up. You make her right.

Which would leave her perfectly placed
to hunt them all down one by one.

Good afternoon. It's Dr Grey here.

RUTH: It was Grey's voice
I recognised first.

Then yours.

But Lake's was the hardest to find.

I had to... I had to wait.

But I had time.

I'd like to leave a message, please.

So she goes back to Shiplake Chase,
posing as an agency temp.

And steals the silverware she used to
kill Grey and Lake.

I wanted you to know who was coming.

(Two gunshots)

THURSDAY: Why drive a skewer into
Joey's ear when she's already shot him?

MORSE: Many of these scenes of vengeful
women were painted by Artemisia Gentileschi.

She also suffered at the hands of
men, just like Ruth Astor.

Jael, who slew Sisera by driving
a tent peg into his temple.

Samson, undone by Delilah, before being
delivered into the hands of the Philistines

to be blinded.

THURSDAY: Which makes Lake what?

Holofernes, perhaps?

Being beheaded by Judith.

I wanted you to know what it felt
like...

..to feel powerless and afraid.

So what's she got in store for
Adrian Croxley?

You're frightened now, right?

(Grunts)

(He splutters)

Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is
with thee

Blessed art thou among women

And blessed is the fruit of thy womb,
Jesus.

(Mocking laughter echoes)

Leave her go! MAN: Ooh!

You'll pay for this, you bastards.

It was you.

I thought it had to be.

Ruth.

Ruthie.

Darling, you've got to get away from here.
The police are coming, sweetheart.

Let go of the knife, eh?

Ruth! Oh, Ruthie, what have you done
to yourself?

I got them.

I know, baby.

I know.

All of them.

I tried... It was too much.

(Sobs)

Get away. You don't touch her.
Nobody's gonna touch her!

She needs an ambulance.

No. No.

No, she doesn't want an ambulance.

She'll die! Nobody touches her!

Ruth? Come on. Come on.

Ruth... Ruthie? (Sobs)

Ruthie.

BRIGHT: Can we charge her with
anything?

If she knew this girl was the killer?

I don't think she was certain, sir.

Not until the end.

It would be the devil to prove
otherwise.

Who was she, this girl?
Ruth Astor, sir.

No family as far as we can make out.

Eve Thorne seems to have been the
only person to show her any kindness.

She helped her out.

Helped her get back on her feet
after...Shiplake Chase.

She did all that?

They all wanted something they
couldn't have, I suppose.

Doesn't everyone?

RADIO: Police are looking for a young
white man, well dressed, medium build,

driving a white Mustang, who shot and possibly
critically wounded Dr Martin Luther King, Jr

at his hotel room in Memphis,
Tennessee, this evening.

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