Original subtitles

Hey, you men watch QI last night? Yeah, bro, that Stephen Fry's a bad man.

Nah, I studied for my harpsichord lesson, innit?

Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Go away.

I said go away.

Nobody home.

All right! I'm coming!

'This is Maniac FM, the number one station for psychopaths

'tenderly stroking potential murder weapons in dimly lit lairs, nationwide.'

'And now to get you in the mood,

'here's the new single from JLS.'

All right, Grandad? What's in the bag?

Hey, what's in the bag, Grandad?

Come on, battyboy, tell us about World War II.

What would you know about World War II?

Hey, bruv, I seen the film.

Tom Hanks done more than you, bruv. He'd shank you in your eye.

And he done Forrest Gump. Hanks makes you look like a pussy.

An old pussy. Two old pussies.

- Nah, nah, I got it. - Three old pussies!

Three old pussies with a shopping bag.

Pussy. I'm gonna call the police when I get in.

You do that and you're dead, yeah? Dead, you stupid old man!

Dead... like this...

Grandad.

Heh-heh.

You're dead, Granddad!

The silly old man got a cat!

Yes, King, I... I've got your dinner.

Now, don't you worry.

Come on. Come on, there's a good boy.

Who's there?

Oh, God. God, no.

No!

Subtitles by MemoryOnSmells http://UKsubtitles.ru. Support Us and Donate.

Inspector Jack Cloth?

Who wants to know? Anne Oldman.

So, where is he?

Anne Oldman, your new DC.

My new DC's not an old man.

It's some top-of-her-class Hendon graduate,

all tits and ambition,

from what I've heard. I'm DC Anne Oldman.

Here's a close-up of my credentials.

Boys down the station gave me your address.

Come in.

Why are you here, Oldman?

Old-man, sir. What?

It's pronounced, "Old man". Why are you here, Oldman?

Murder on the Rundowne Estate. Victim was a decorated war hero.

Dunkirk, apparently.

An old man? Yes.

Why didn't you just ring?

We did, but your phone must have been...

off.

So, the ACC sent you?

ACC and the DAC, SO's OS so they need us ASAP.

CCTV? DNA?

N-O. VSU's gone AWOL.

OMFG.

SH1T.

I hear our beloved Assistant Chief Constable Tom Boss

has been grooming you for some time.

Never trust anyone you meet on the Internet.

He sounded impatient. Said he'd meet us at the scene.

Then let's just cut to you driving a car.

Preventable killing, over. Repeat, preventable killing, over.

This guy looks uncompromising, innit?

Yeah, troubled, yeah. All haunted and shit.

Looks like the type of guy don't trust his new partner yet.

Bet he does a little skip in a minute. Yeah!

Victim's an Albert Thomas Stafford, World War II veteran.

85 years old. Not been seen all week. Lived alone. One cat.

Liked On Golden Pond. Partial to Soreen malt loaf, lightly toasted with butter.

Collected autographed photos

of former Daily Mirror editor and CNN irritant Piers Morgan.

Rarely used public transport.

Preferred to get around by walking, which he did by placing one foot on the ground

before transferring his weight to the opposing leg.

Kept himself to himself. Never been found dead before, so this is out of character.

Eurgh. Oh, God.

Useful tip, keep your hands in your pockets.

Reduces the temptation to touch things.

Glove, sir.

Someone turn that off!

He'd been out shopping.

Receipts indicate several purchases at the local pet shop.

Any leads? No.

Just catnip and a flea collar.

And several... of these. Ten for the price of five at Ryman's.

Where's the body?

In the living room.

Sir?

You'll need a strong stomach.

It's like a crime scene in there.

Oh! Mary, mother-of-pearl.

- Over here, Oldmun. - Oldman.

Not any more.

What happened to you, Albert Stafford?

He can't tell you. He's dead, sir.

ARGH!

Oh! Oh! Oh!

What have we got, Natasha?

Between us? Yeah.

An implied but never openly referenced sexual history

and the suggestion of unfinished business.

And him?

Not my type. I like my men like my coffee.

Bitter.

And not half-eaten by cats.

Albert's had been feasting on him for at least a week.

A hungry pussy with an insatiable appetite for the older man.

You've come across one of those before, haven't you, Jack?

Boys down the station just rang. Chief's on his way.

Who's the talking shape?

DC Oldmun. Oldman.

Natasha Sachet, Forensics and Hair. Hi.

Thanks, but I don't shake.

I'll be out here if you need me, Jack.

First name terms?

I remember when you used to call me Jack, Jack.

Did Albert Stafford die quickly?

Eventually, yeah. By the looks of those streaks,

it was a sustained and frenzied attack without mercy or toilet breaks.

Weapon? ..Yes. But you'll know more when you get him to the mortuary.

Of course. But I can tell you one thing right away.

Only a maniac could carry this out.

Let's find a maniac to carry this out!

Any prints?

Only Purple Rain and Lovesexy.

That the girl who found him? Granddaughter.

Attractive, but devastated.

Hairihan? Go check the neighbours, see if they heard anything.

Yes, guv.

Albert would have put up one hell of a fight.

He was quite the soldier, by the looks of it.

He did his bit during World War II. It's a tragedy how it ended.

The Nuremberg trials.

Eking out his final days as a prisoner in his own home,

just cat litter and memories for company.

And that singing fish.

Well, let's hope its song brought him solace in his final days.

Touching, Cloth.

Don't you have a pen to push, Boss? Assistant Chief Constable Tom Boss.

And while we're talking numbers, congratulations.

This is the 100th murder this year on the Rundowne Estate.

The stats match your attitude. Negative.

Or what the Danish call "negativ".

Thanks to you, the entire department is losing face, Cloth.

If you want neat results, get a Ladyshave for Christmas.

If you want police work, let me do my job.

What I don't want is words.

I've heard all the words there are to hear, from dyspepsia to lemonade,

and they're just sounds you make with your lips, inconsequential mouth farts.

I need results, Cloth.

What the French call resulte. Is that the granddaughter?

Yes, sir.

I'm sorry for your loss, Miss.

If it's any consolation, you really are extremely attractive.

Guv, got a witness statement.

Woman next door saw some lads giving Albert shit-mouth

the night he was last seen.

Says the ringleader's a right bum-rat.

Does this bum-rat have a name?

Darren Crossway. Goes by the street name Crossbo.

We'd better catch this Crossbo before he bolts.

It's all about targets for you, huh?

I want Crossway's arrest report on my table by 2pm.

But... On my table, Cloth.

Hey. We're looking for Crossbo. You know him?

A'ight?

Where does he hang out?

Datdere Yute Club.

Right.

Crossbo? Me no Crossbo. You dreamin'?

Where can we find him?

That's some chung gyal you got with you, man.

You ever go nup on that ting?

Bare peng!

You feelin' me?

Your feedback is noted. Now, where is Crossbo?

You making a friend? Dizzy wasteman!

Fix sumting I done a bit?

Crossbo bloodren tight.

Me no chat to no roz clat bomb clat beesfed gel dem!

What?

Guv?

You Crossbo?

No, not me.

Why look when I call his name? You in love with him or something?

Watch your mouth, bruv.

Why don't you watch it for me? Down the station?

Oi!

Oi!

Oi!

You're nicked.

All right, all right. Flippin' hell, man.

Ough!

Interview Room B4. Friday 22nd June, 12.20 pm.

Present are myself, DI Jack Cloth, DC Anne Oldman, WPC Cardboard Cutout.

Suspect Darren Crossway.

And Noodles P Hound.

Later we'll have music from Jessie J and The Wanted.

But we start by asking Darren Crossway why he murdered a defenceless old man.

No comment. For the benefit of the tape, the suspect has confessed all.

I'm innocent.

Does The Guildford Four mean anything to you? Because that's what he said.

I never even saw no Albert Stafford, man.

Then let me refresh your memory.

That is Albert Stafford on his 85th birthday last year.

Here's a picture from this morning.

Jesus. I don't need to see that, man.

That's one of the last things Albert Stafford saw before he died.

And here's what we saw of Albert Stafford.

That's disgusting.

You think so? Have another.

Huh? Not a pretty sight, is it?

Take him away, please! Do you not want to have a closer look?

Huh? There you go!

Here's a jar of Albert Stafford's blood.

Go on, smell it! Smell it! Sir!

For the purposes of the tape, he is sniffing blood like a jackal!

You're crazy, man! Do you wanna drink some?

Here, have a drink.

What about dunking one of his fingers into it?

Sir, that's enough!

You disgust me!

You taunted Albert Stafford, he said he'd call the police!

So you got rid of him, hacked him to bits like a marmalade bus!

I dunno what you're talking about! Neither do I! That's enough!

For the benefit of the tape, Noodles P Hound is licking blood off his bollocks.

Impressive fireworks, Cloth.

But why haven't we charged him yet? The boy's not our man.

He's just a kid.

Even a burn-out like you knows he's as guilty as Derek Bentley.

Supposing he did do it. What if he didn't?

Well, charge him anyway.

You know it'll never stand up in court.

I said charge him, Cloth.

And then I walked out of the room.

Hello.

Hello.

Hello.

Hello.

Boys down the station said I'd find you here.

Yeah, I always come here when we lock up an innocent man.

Helps me forget everything.

You're in here a lot, then?

No idea. Your post, Jack.

Don't just stand there. Get the lady a drink, Gerry.

The lady's on duty. An orange juice.

Sorry.

'Hey, hon, great news.'

The meeting with the adoption agency's been confirmed.

We'd better start decorating that spare room.

Great. That's great.

Oh, and the wedding invites

are ready to go. They look fab.

Brilliant,

fantastic.

Tell me you love me.

'Come on, just say it, Oldman.' I do.

'Just say it. Say, "I love you." Nobody's listening.'

Me too.

Fiancee. Good luck holding on to him.

I'm doing my best.

This job doesn't respect relationships. It vandalises them.

We're the thin blue line helping the public sleep soundly in their beds.

We wind up sleeping alone.

Public gets a good-night kiss from their beloved.

We sit bathed in the cold light of a laptop,

masturbating to online pornography and wiping our hands...

You had a wife, didn't you, guv? Says who?

Boys down the station. They say she was your life... I mean wife.

They say she was your wife. Do they?

Jack? Don't "Jack" me.

You don't know me. Eat your orange juice.

OK! I did it! Ow! I did it!

No-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o...!

They want to fix that mirror.

What is it? Message from Boss. There's been another murder.

Wants us to head over there during the ad break.

What? Nah, I didn't understand it either.

Victim's name is Aiden Matthew Hawkchurch.

Successful chef. 39 years old.

Six foot, 180 pounds.

Got his own TV show now in its fourth season.

Been married for 13 years - all in a row.

Lives in this house. Estimated resale value 1.9 million.

Desirable catchment area.

Would suit professional couple or recently murdered man.

Black front door. Entrance hallway.

Orla Kiely stem-print doormat, recommended retail price 29.99.

Six-peg coat at price unknown.

Walnut frame mirror, purchased 2006.

Grieving widow Clare Hawkchurch.

37. GSOH.

Sagittarius. 34C.

Where's the body?

Upstairs in the bedroom.

Christ and Londis!

From high-flying chef to bed-bound human casserole.

What happened to you, Aiden Hawkchurch?

He can't hear you, Jack. His eardrums are full of blood.

They handcuffed him to the bed and hacked him to bits.

Some kind of sex game?

Maybe later when I finish pointing at blood.

The quantity of spray suggests his heart was still pumping

when his carotid was severed.

What, he was alive when they cut him up?

Until he died, yeah.

You see those spatters? He was moving.

Lying there, horrified, writhing on the bed

watching his own life fluids splash against the wall.

Usually best to try and catch it in a sock.

What kind of animal would do this?

Wielding the weapon required opposable thumbs, so almost certainly Homo sapiens.

An athletic one, too.

Those streaks show our killer has one hell of a back swing.

And no respect for plasterwork.

Anything else?

Well, it's not relevant but it's interesting.

A bloodstain resembling Ross Kemp in silhouette.

I'd say Ian Hislop.

And I'd say Kemp. Guv?

I think you might want to see this.

Keep looking.

Let's talk to the wife, see if she can... light some shed.

I can't believe it.

Aiden is...

was...

everything to me.

Can you tell us what happened?

We are... were...

having roast lamb tonight.

Aiden was preparing it, naturally.

He asked me to pop out to the shops to buy some herbs.

Time? Coriander.

When did you return? Just before one, I think.

'Aiden, I'm back.

'It's just before one, I think.

'Aiden?'

He didn't respond when I said Aiden, which struck me as odd, because...

that is... was...

his name.

I climbed the stairs saying...

'Aiden?'

a few more times...

'Aiden?'

Like that.

Then I asked if he was playing a trick on me.

'Are you playing a joke on me?'

My mistake.

I said joke.

Then I pushed open the bedroom door.

There's a knack to it. You have to lift the handle as you turn it.

'There you go. Thanks.'

'Aiden! Aiden!

'Aiden! Aiden!'

Oh, Aiden! Oh!

Oh, no!

Would you like a cup of tea, Mrs Hawkchurch?

Clare, can you think of anyone

who might have wanted your husband to come to harm?

Have you seen his TV show?

It's easier to list the people who didn't.

Go on.

Henry Kelly.

The DJ? Yes.

That's it.

Sorry. Er...

Where are the mugs? They are...

were in the corner cupboard.

So, Aiden wasn't a popular man, then?

You can't build a restaurant empire without breaking a few eggs, Inspector.

Aiden is...

was driven

in everything he does. Done. Did.

Here we are.

We will need to ask you a few more questions

when you think you're up to it, Clare.

I understand.

Something's not right there. I know. Coriander doesn't go with lamb.

Tell me you've got a lead.

Aiden Hawkchurch made friends like a dog flies a helicopter...

badly and not for long.

He's half as popular as piss-flavoured birthday cake with Mussolini icing.

The world hated him. It could have been anyone! Checked his contacts?

Anyone he stiffed on a deal, snubbed with a recipe?

Don't you need to be somewhere - teaching your granny to suck eggs?

Mock me if you must, but the bodies keep washing up.

Whatever. Washing up, Cloth!

Oldman.

Keep an eye on him for me,

tell me if he bends any corners, cuts any rules.

You want me to tell tales on him, Boss?

I'm just saying Cloth is frayed around the edges.

Hm? You've got the makings of a good DI, Anne Oldman.

Don't let an old man jeopardise that. Yeah?

I want you to keep me in the loop.

What the Germans call Das Loopenclampf. I'm counting on you.

"Hello, Tom?"

Yes, hello, Grandma. Yeah.

Yeah, I won't be long. About half an hour.

Don't let them hard-boil.

A man as unpopular as Aiden Hawkchurch,

must be a million suspects.

'Now I'm delighted to say

'we've just heard that the celebrity chef Aiden Hawkchurch

'has been murdered!'

A million and one.

Go the back way. Guv.

'Day 306 in the Pan Academy, and Aiden isn't happy

'when Amy drops a spatula.'

'Pick it up... with your teeth. Put it in your mouth!

'(BEEP) stand up! That's it!'

Whatever happened to chivalry? She got voted out in week three.

'Do you want some? Do you want some?

'(BEEP) Come here! Come here!'

Wait, the best bit's coming up.

He blinds a pregnant woman with a corkscrew.

'I do not forgive! I do not (BEEP) forgive!'

We won't find our motive in there. He's frightening people.

Exactly. Fear isn't a motive.

Sex. That's a motive.

Put a corpse in front of me, the first thing I do is consider sex.

This job's damaged you, hasn't it?

Guv? Natasha rang from the mortuary. Says it's big.

I know it is. I've been there. Well, she wants us there again.

When? Now.

Natasha?

Cloth?

I see your trainee's still with you. How sweet.

How professional.

Kemp. Hislop. Cow. Bitch.

What have you found out?

It's worse than I thought, Jack.

Hawkchurch didn't die of blood loss. He died of fright.

And blood loss.

You've reassembled him.

Simplest way to find out what's missing.

I've been disappointed in the past,

finding out a man hasn't quite got everything you'd hoped.

Like a penis? Hell, yeah.

Hawkchurch had one? Yes.

Where is it? Being analysed.

Analysed where? In a place.

The way he was handcuffed, any sign of sexual activity?

According to facial swabs, he'd recently performed cunnilingus.

Where's the tongue? Yeah, it does. Doesn't it, Jack?

Anything else of note? Mm, yeah.

His stomach contained a laminated pear.

There's only one restaurant that serves laminated pear,

and Adrian Hawkchurch owns it.

I'll call them.

Well, surely with him in this state, it's closed.

I mean, look, he couldn't hold a ladle.

Guv?

I think you might want to see this.

Get a sketch drawn up.

What did the restaurant say? Nothing. It's a building. No larynx.

But the staff were helpful.

They biked the last 48 hours of CCTV over to the tech lab.

Qureshi's running it through the computer.

Ah, I don't believe in computers. They do exist.

Did you read that on the Internet, whatever that is?

You're a relic, do you know that?

An antique of a bygone era like MySpace or The News Of The World.

I've got a MySpace page like everybody else.

No-one's had a MySpace page since '78.

You live in the past, guv. It's affecting your work.

Answer that. They're irritating!

Hello?

The adoption woman's here. 'Shit.'

Can you talk to her on your own?

We're meant to be a couple, like any other couple.

We are.

Slightly more interesting than a standard couple, granted, but a couple.

But there's three of us, aren't there?

Me, you and that bloody job.

Gemma, I'm sorry. It's not good enough, Oldman!

Aiden?

Back for more, like a bad boy?

The water's getting cold.

Aiden?

You're not Aiden.

'Segue FM with a news update.

'The body of a woman has been discovered in St Pope's Forest.

'Police have appealed for witnesses

'and asked the public not to turn up at the scene,

'and stand around staring like ghoulish meerkats

'hoping for a glimpse of a dead leg.'

Victim's a Gavina Duntish, female, 32.

Body was found near a quickset hedgerow by an elderly couple walking their dog.

Distinguishing features? Four legs, tail, mottled hindquarters.

Plays well with children. Vaccinations up to date.

Answers to the name Poppy.

Where's the crime scene? Through here.

Time of death has yet to be firmly established.

She was found unclothed.

Natasha's had her team working on the body for the past hour.

Great Susan of Nazareth!

Natasha?

Jack.

If I'd known you were coming, I'd have dressed for the occasion.

That's enough for now.

Brought your pet, then?

This is the body that you wanted us to see?

Clear signs of neglect. Funny.

I'd heard you appreciate the female form.

Prick. Shithead.

Where's Gavina? Over here.

She was snatched from her bath, attacked with a bladed weapon, probably a sword, and dumped here.

Thrown away like so much rubbish.

Even sorted for recycling. Torso.

Extremities. Mushy bits.

Found this in her stomach.

It's a bill from the restaurant of Aiden Hawkchurch.

First laminated pear and now this.

What sort of mad crap did they serve there?

That's great, Des, thanks.

Hairihan rang in some exposition.

They're bringing in Clare Hawkchurch.

OK, great. Excuse me! Can I help you?

They said something had happened to Gavina.

I'm her father. I came as soon as I heard.

It's a condition I've got. Sudden shock induces orgasm.

I mopped myself down and drove straight over. Is she all right?

I'm afraid your daughter is dead.

Ooh... Ah... Mmm...

Come again? Yeah.

Let's get a sock over here! Clean him up, take him to the mortuary.

He's not dead, guv.

To identify the body!

Come on. Sock, quick!

Couple of 999s. Sure.

Can I have a little nap now? Of course you can.

I've seen every reaction in the book, and that was my favourite.

We don't have time to congratulate the grieving,

not when there's a Clare Hawkchurch to question.

I've been thinking. No, you haven't. I think I should question her alone.

An arsehole says what?

The last time you questioned a suspect, you lost control, Jack.

I can't trust you in there. You might do something crazy.

Like rip her eye out and eat it?

Like raise your voice.

Let me handle her, Jack, please.

Come on, Clare, stop playing games.

Cutout, step out for a minute, will you?

Aiden and Gavina were having an affair.

You suspected as much and, by God, it made you angry.

Ridiculous.

This is a bill from the opening night of Aiden's restaurant,

stuffed in Gavina's mouth. You fed it to her and then killed her.

I didn't.

All those nights he stayed late at the restaurant

while you sat alone imagining them together.

No. Her unbuttoning his shirt.

His strong hand hitching up her skirt, revealing a vulnerable thigh.

A flurry of undressing, and he's naked on his back.

Her topless astride him,

grinding her silk-clad sex against his stiffening manhood.

She leans forward, her breasts teasing him,

his tongue greedily circling the nipple.

Go away.

His hand down her back, slipping his fingertips into the hem of her knickers,

pulling them down as he turns her onto her back, easing open her soft...

Sorry, guv. Can I have a word?

Go on.

CCTV showing Clare leaving Gavina's place four days ago.

Yes!

I could kiss you, Asap. You're all right, sir.

And in and out and in and out.

And in and out and in and out!

And in and out, and in and out.

And in and out! And in and out, and in and out.

You made a good fist of it but you can't pull this off.

Something's up, and everyone in this room can see what it is.

What are you talking about?

What were you doing at Gavina's house?

I was always going round there. She was my friend too.

We all met at the same time.

All 12 of us.

All 12?

On the jury.

What jury? When was this?

Well, it was years ago.

But I still remember the details as if it were yesterday.

'It was 1996.

'- 1996? - 'Yes.

'You're absolutely sure it was... It was 1996.

'Those TV nostalgia programmes were all the rage.

'I spent all my time at home watching them.

'Until the letter arrived.

'Jury service.

'A murder trial.'

Because of the condition of the body...

'Aiden and I hit it off straight away.'

The victim had been repeatedly stabbed with a jagged blade,

possibly a hunting knife,

causing extensive serration trauma to the kidneys and what was left of the spleen.

Brain matter was also retrieved from the stomach of the Alsatian,

which was found shot next to the victim.

And both bodies... both bodies exhibited advanced putrefaction.

The eyeballs were entirely liquefied and had been consumed by maggots.

That doesn't sound very... appropriate, Mrs Hawkchurch.

Yes, well, we had to put up with plenty of disapproval in the jury room too.

'I mean, Davina didn't care.

'But there was this old guy always tutting.

'Even when we weren't having full sex.'

But the point is he'd been shot.

People in courtrooms can be so judgmental.

But the killer...

What's his name, that old man?

Let's get back to where you were... Albert.

That's it.

Albert Stafford.

Albert Stafford.

Our martyred war hero.

Albert Stafford.

Davina.

Aiden Hawkchurch.

All members of the same jury.

Murdered.

Who was the defendant? What? In the trial in '96.

Oh.

Um...

Bradstock!

That was his surname. His first name was, um...

Burton! Burton and Bradstock.

Burton Bradstock.

Clare Hawkchurch is in the clear

but someone's killing former jurors on the Bradstock case.

I'll speak to the boys down the station, see what the boys down the station are saying.

Yeah, good. Des, we need everything on Burton Bradstock. Case, files, trial reports. Sound, guv.

And pull the names and addresses of every juror on that case.

We need to get them into a safe house. Clare Hawkchurch too. Asap.

Yes, guv. Asap, get me some kind of a sandwich.

Cheese and pickle? Yeah. No, cast the net wider.

Coronation chicken. Ciabatta, if you have to. Let's think on your feet.

I'm on it, guv.

Yeah, the boys down the station.

So there's a link between our three victims. No, thanks.

Three victims? That's right.

Would you explain it like I'm some sort of viewer, guv?

It's simple, Des.

Albert Stafford served on the Bradstock jury. Someone's bumping them off.

I say we're dealing with a serial killer.

What we need is...

proof.

Starts with? Oldmun?

Oldman. Albert Stafford.

Served on a jury with Aiden and Clare Hawkchurch.

And Gavina Duntish. Burton Bradstock case.

What do we have on Bradstock?

Er... Burton Bradstock. Jailed '96 for killing his wife.

Released three weeks ago for not doing it since.

Albert Stafford was murdered two weeks and six days ago.

So Bradstock is our prime suspect. Where's that list of jurors?

Boys down the station say it's not on the system.

It's in the paperwork somewhere but there's a lot of it.

Oh!

Do a lot of late nights?

Nothing much to rush home for.

I told you I'm working.

Yes, it's important.

Yeah, fine, whatever. Gemma?

No, Gemma...

Gemma? Short for Jeremy?

No.

Gemathon? No.

Gemadict? No.

It's Gemma as in... Gemma.

So, you're gay? Bi, Jack.

No, don't go. It's none of my business.

I'm bisexual, Jack. I'm not ashamed.

I just thought you'd be...

I don't know.

Shocked. Nothing shocks me.

A female detective that swings both ways.

An AC/DC DC. See?

It's the sort of thing the boys down the station joke about.

I'm not laughing. I haven't laughed since my wife died.

Why did you laugh when your wife died?

Oh, I didn't. I made a sound, I think, but it wasn't laughter.

It was...

something else.

Like a bassoon?

I lost my mind that night.

I can see it.

I can still see it.

Jack?

Jack!

No-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o...!

Jack. Jack. Jack.

Jack? I've found a list. A list of jurors. A list of jurors from the Bradstock trial.

It's written in some kind of a... code.

Upside-down writing. We learnt it at the academy. Here.

All these people are in danger. Start dispatching officers.

Wherever these people are, whatever they're doing these days,

we round them up now.

Yes? Andrew Preacherman?

DC Qureshi. Can you come with me, please?

What for?

I'll explain on the way to the station.

Guv? It's me.

Des. Yeah, yeah.

Jurors are in the safe house.

Yeah, WPC Cutout's gonna be keeping an eye on them.

Oh. And, guv, Natasha rang.

She's run some tests. Turns out Albert Stafford was killed with a sword.

Same murder weapon used on Aiden and Gavina.

Yeah. Yeah, she did tell you earlier but that scene got cut.

So, just to clarify,

the key thing is all the victims were killed with the same weapon,

which was a sword.

Apparently, that's important.

All victims, same weapon, sword.

Just so you know.

Good work, Des. Bye, love you.

Well, they're out of harm's way for now.

Bradstock's still out there just walking around like a man.

We're gonna have to find him somehow.

Public appeal? Not to me.

So, if anyone has any information regarding Burton Bradstock's whereabouts,

they can call our incident room in total confidence.

OK, I'll take your questions now.

Judith Chandler, The Independent.

Do you have a personal message for Burton Bradstock himself?

If I had one thing to say to him it's, "Stop killing people." OK, next?

Robin Stork, Birdwatching Now. Were there any birds found at the scene?

No.

Woman with the hair? Jemima Symes, Rhyming Times.

Were the victims gored with a type of sword?

Well, that's one line of enquiry.

Which you can... put in your diary.

Right, well, I think that's enough for now.

Dick Hasty, The Interrupter. Why are you trying to wrap up this press conference?

That's really all I have to say. Mark Down, Market Trader.

Do you want to buy this Dictaphone? No.

Conor Tinuity, Lexington Inquisitor. Where are you going now?

To see a retired former detective raking leaves in his garden.

Is that enough for you? Will he have gloves on?

Yes. What colour? Blue!

Satisfied?

Cloth? Detective Inspector Cloth, these days.

They made you a DI?

Wonders never cease.

Good to see you, DCI Ball. Oh, call me Bill now, Jack.

I didn't have you down as the gardening type.

Oh, compared to the old days it's genteel.

I like that.

Still, I caution the odd starling now and again for old times' sake.

Heh. But mainly I tend the plants.

But I guess you haven't come here for gardening tips, have you, Jack?

What do you remember about the Burton Bradstock case, Bill?

That's a name I hoped I'd never hear again.

You didn't see my appeal on the news, then?

No. Or the one on Crimewatch?

No.

Or Paul O'Grady? No.

Or Made In Chelsea? No.

Or Total Wipeout? I don't have a television, Jack.

Bradstock's out, Bill. We need to know where he is.

Oh, forget about it, Jack.

Some things are best left in the past.

Like smallpox, and the Macarena.

You ran the investigation, Bill.

Anything that you can tell us might help.

It was high profile.

A young woman was killed in Coldblood.

At the time, Coldblood was a quiet little village.

Everyone was up in Arms. Arms was the town where they were based.

We needed a result fast.

Burton Bradstock was the fall guy.

Lee Majors was The Fall Guy. Not this time.

We embellished a few witness statements, lost some evidence.

Mimicked the DNA sequence with a nucleotide fabricator.

Burton Bradstock went down. Everyone was happy.

Oh, Jesus, Bill! Don't judge me, Jack.

It was 1996, for God's sake.

Babylon Zoo were number one for five weeks.

People needed hope. We gave it to them.

By framing an innocent man?

No wonder Bradstock's out for vengeance.

You'd better watch out for yourself, Bill.

Don't you worry about me, Jack.

I always keep my eyes open.

Bradstock's out for revenge. Killing jurors is just the start of it.

Oldmun? Oldman. Yes, guv.

You and Hairihan check the cheap hotels, the flophouses, the shit caves,

anywhere he used to hang out.

Use a montage if you have to. Just find 'im.

You seen this man?

Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!

Yes! Yes!

Yes! Yes! Yes!

No!

Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!

All right, girls? Have any of you seen this bloke?

No. OK.

Anne.

This is the hardest thing I've ever had to say.

I've tried so hard to make things work but I can't go on.

You live for the job.

It's like I don't exist.

Even now as I'm saying this, you're not even listening,

You're just standing there staring at a sheet of paper,

thinking about the boys down the station.

Did this note come from the boys down the station?

I can't do this any more.

Pick up suitcases?

Carry on with this relationship.

You'll have to do it alone from now on.

I'll always love you, Oldman.

Gemma, wait.

Have you seen this man?

Jack, where are you?

Listen, we've got a lead on Bradstock. You'd better get over here. I'm on my way.

Seems the appeal worked. Anonymous tip-off.

A man in a distinctive red hoodie matching Bradstock's description

was seen hanging around here over the last couple of days.

Do it.

Des, stop that.

Put that torch on silent.

Oh, sorry, guv.

Guv?

I think you might want to see this.

Keep looking.

Looks like some kind of...

shrine.

What sort of sick mind creates a shrine to Todd Carty?

What are you doing in my lockup?

This is your lockup?

Yeah, I store chains. Art.

My scrapbook here.

I think there's been some kind of mistake.

Boys down the station say someone matching Bradstock's description

has just been spotted down the Eastridge Mall.

Let's go.

Des? Yeah, just coming.

Oldman, anything?

Nothing, guv.

Asap?

Negative.

Dick?

Got him, sir. Distinctive red hoodie heading north on the main entrance.

Julie, he's coming to you. Pick him up.

Got him, guv. Following.

Distinctive red hoodie. He's heading down the escalator to the lower level.

Not too close, Julie. Will do, guv.

Todd, try to pick him up downstairs.

Got him. Red hoodie coming down the escalator to the lower level.

Des, have you got him?

Des?

Mm?

All right, Todd, where is he?

Heading towards the caff on the far side. I think he's on to us.

OK, back off, back off.

Pete, see if you can pick him up.

Following, sir.

Stick with him, Pete, but be discreet. Yeah, roger that, guv.

He's going under the limbo pole, sir. What do you want me to do?

Follow him. Follow him.

OK.

Oi! Oi!

Damn it! All teams, go, go, go! Pick him up!

That's enough, Todd! Enough!

Todd! Hey, hey, hey, hey!

Burton Bradstock, I arrest you on suspicion of...

not being you.

Damn it!

This is where you got the hoodie? Yeah.

Where, exactly?

Bradstock.

Heroin export. Looks like he drank himself to death.

Qureshi, get this sealed off. Guv.

Carty, call Natasha in Forensics. We need to establish a time of death.

Yes, sir.

Pete, go and inform the next of kin. Yes, sir.

More sterling police work, Cloth?

It seems the only way you can catch a suspect

is when he stops running in favour of a nice lie-down and a rot.

By the look of Bradstock, he didn't kill Gavina Duntish.

She's been dead at least 48 hours.

Well, then, I suggest you find out who did kill her

before you're left completely in the dust.

But... The dust, Cloth.

Yes, Boss.

I'm recommending him for suspension.

I trust I can count on your support? He's a good man, sir.

Like I said, I trust I can count on your support?

Have a relative identify Bradstock's body.

And don't breathe in for a moment. I've just been eating Scotch eggs.

If it wasn't Bradstock, it was someone else.

Let's go back through what we know, starting with the jury. Albert Stafford.

We think he's been knifed. Turns out to be a sword.

Aiden Hawkchurch was handcuffed and hacked apart with the same weapon. Ditto, Gavina Duntish.

All of them swiped at, apparently at random, by someone wielding a sword.

Who swipes at people randomly with a sword?

George Alagiah?

Lady Justice, sword in one hand, scales in the other.

And a blindfold. Blindfold?

Our killer's administering blind justice.

Bullshit.

Yeah, but it's more specific than that.

Must have been planned for some time.

That receipt in Gavina's mouth was two years old.

So, he's trying to send us a message?

Why don't they just text? Out of credit?

The apostles. They're killing the apostles.

Albert's middle name is Thomas. Aiden's is Matthew. Gavina is...

Not an apostle. Not yet.

It makes no sense. It's not the apostles. Anyway, that's been done.

Wait.

Hawkchurch's stomach contained laminated pear, right?

Yeah.

On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...

a partridge in a pear tree. Mm-hm.

On the second day of Christmas, two turtle doves. Doves are the symbol of peace.

Aiden Hawkchurch was found in pieces!

Yeah, but how can they... Three French hens!

What if Gavina Duntish went on a day trip to Calais?

I say give it up.

So, any other theories?

Mega hits of the '80s?

What about favourite Mr Men?

Work it up.

Jack.

Yes? Jack.

Jack.

Kate! Jack.

Kate. Jack.

Kate. Jack?

Kate, where are you? I'm in your mind.

And this toilet.

But you're dead.

When you stand in the beyond, you see many things, Jack.

To unlock the answer, you must heed the words of an old man.

Which old man?

Oh, you always take me so literally.

I'd forgotten what a pain in the arse you can be. Just tell me...

It's like that time we were at Jacqui's wedding

and I said I wanted to strangle her brother-in-law

and you got the arse with me.

Which old man?

Anne Oldman.

Your partner.

Aiden Hawkchurch, famous chef. So, he's got to be Mr Greedy, right?

Albert Stafford, mithering old sod-box, by all accounts.

So, he's Mr Grumpy.

Or Uppity. Or Uppity.

Or Bump. What's it got to do with Bump?

He went in the night.

OK. We'll go with Mr Bump.

Bump's safe. We're keeping Bump.

I'm sorry, Kate.

What for?

For failing you. I never found your killer.

The answer is closer than you think, Jack.

It's closer than you think.

Oh, can you please do something about the bathroom cabinet?

I will.

You promised me for months. It's a mess. You can't fit anything in.

I know. I promise.

Good.

Bye, love.

That leaves Gavina Duntish as...

Little Miss... Murdered.

OK, I've got it! Aiden Hawkchurch was found in handcuffs, correct?

OK, Anne, what did you say about the receipt in Gavina Duntish's mouth?

Two years old.

It was an old bill. Old bills. Handcuffs.

The killer is talking directly to us, to the police.

What about Albert Stafford?

There's nothing police-related there. Not so.

I took the amusing precaution of dissecting the cat.

It had swallowed this, a police-issue whistle.

Don't look so shocked.

It's not the first time I've stood in this room clutching a dripping pussy, is it, Jack?

So, the killer is taunting us over the Bradstock case?

Mocking the boys down the station.

Bumping off jurors, leaving whistles and cuffs at the scene.

Oh, my god. What if they've got access to police records?

Like Roxanne? Like the address of the safe house.

Crosby, Stills and Nash.

We'd better call an ambulance.

We don't need an ambulance.

We need a hearse.

And an ambulance.

Let's get an ambulance here!

Preacherman's still alive, just.

When he comes round, he might be able to tell us who did this.

How's Cardboard Cutout doing?

Still no pulse, still not breathing.

Hairihan's talking to her family now.

No. Jack?

No. No!

No! It's not your fault, Jack!

No. It's not your fault!

There was nothing that we could do.

If we hadn't stopped at Nando's on the way here...

Apart from that.

An entire building full of innocent people dead because of me!

For the fifth time this year!

I can't live with that!

Jack, no!

No! No!

No! Don't blame yourself, Jack!

Blame whoever did this!

Blame the five minute wait for my peri-peri halloumi.

Or blame the rain, if you have to!

Why the rain?

Because it's cold and senseless, Jack!

Like these murders!

Because it lashes us mercilessly like this damn job!

Because in Spain it falls mainly on the plain!

And here it falls on all of us!

Oh! Even you, Jack!

Oh! Even you!

Fuck the rain!

Fuck the rain!

Fuck the rain!

Fuck the rain!

Oh!

Kate.

Kate.

Jack?

I'm coming to be with you, Kate.

Jack. I'm coming.

- I'm coming. - Jack?

I'm coming, Kate.

Oh, Kate! I'm coming, Kate!

Aah! I'm coming!

What in God's tit are you playing at?

You're coming apart at the seams, Cloth.

Incompetence is one thing.

Now there's so much blood on his hands, he's got scabs for fingernails.

Cloth can wrap this up, sir. I know it.

You don't know Jack, sir.

I know he's receiving these dismissal papers tomorrow morning.

You can't hang Cloth out to dry.

I will see you in my office at 8am.

And don't keep me waiting, Oldmun. Oldman.

Don't keep me waiting, Oldman.

Oh, piss.

Dr Bernardi to the Almost Dead Jurors Ward.

Dr Bernardi to the Almost Dead Jurors Ward.

You're through to Cloth's hand.

Jack, it's me. Where are you?

I'm with the boys down the station. Jack, there's not a lot of time to wrap this up.

Boss is on the warpath and the credits run in ten minutes.

Let them roll.

I'm here to see Andy Preacherman. You can't go in there.

Yes, I can. I'm telling you it's impossible.

And I'm telling you it's a murder enquiry.

Mr Preacherman's through here.

Thank you.

How is he?

He can't take much strain so go easy on him.

Mr Preacherman.

I want to ask you some questions, if that's OK?

OK.

Do you remember who did this to you?

Yeah... yes.

Who was it?

For Christ's sake, be careful.

Guh...

God? Do you blame God? Gah...

Geh...

Gethin Jones. Find and kill Gethin Jones!

Get... off...

my... pipe.

It was the policeman.

What?

The policeman put on a blindfold and got me with a sword.

Which policeman?

The one we laughed at in court when we were jurors.

Years ago.

I remember it like it was happening now.

But in flashback.

He was giving evidence.

And the way he spoke, it was...

We absolutely fell about!

Just thinking about it, honestly!

You... you probably had to be there.

Who is he, the policeman?

It w... wa...

It... it w-w-w-w-weu-eurgh...

What's wrong with him now? He's having an implausible relapse.

Leave. Leave now or he'll die.

Go now!

Now! Go!

Get out! Go!

Now! Go! Go!

Leave! Go!

Get out!

Go!

Go away! Go!

Get out! Go away!

Go!

To the corridor outside!

It's not about taunting the cops. It's about a cop being taunted.

All this time, it was one of the boys down the station.

Who was on that case? It's got to be in the records.

Hm.

Hm.

Ah. Ah.

Guv? You might want to see this.

Bookmark it. Keep looking.

Eh?

My God.

Stop him!

Der Weisse Engel! Der Weisse Engel!

Der Weisse Engel!

Got it. Bradstock, '96.

Officer in charge of investigation...

It's your old guv, guv. Bill Ball.

Bill Ball? No, it can't be.

No, wait.

Ball didn't actually give evidence at the trial. The only officer that did was...

Now it all makes sense.

So, you want me to tell tales on him, Boss?

Just keep me in the loop.

Like I said, I trust I can count on your support.

Would you write the address of the safe house on this envelope for me?

Don't just stand there, Oldman. Help me lick the blood off this sword.

Yes, what I'm doing, I'm murdering jurors that laughed at me.

Yeah, here, let me write it on your hand.

I just didn't put it together until now.

So, here we are, Mr Preacherman.

It would seem that arse Cloth

has finally stumbled upon the link between 12 men and women good and true.

Except it's true... that you weren't very good, were you?

And I appear to have picked up my wife's gloves again.

No matter.

Well.

So amusing, wasn't it, Mr Preacherman?

So funny.

Responding to the call, I quickly entered from the rear.

Er... almost immediately, I came across

a female lying face down on the sofa.

Um... I then pulled out and decided not to re-enter

without taking precautions.

Um... as I did not want to contaminate the lady's front garden.

Er... when the forensic officer arrived...

I took her up the back passage...

which had been recently evacuated.

Er... she performed a physical exam...

and remarked that, er... while it was not as stiff as she had anticipated,

er... there was significant swelling around the head,

which was purple and shiny and had only one eye...

one eye which was leaking a milky white...

Not funny.

If you had seen it, big...

shiny purple head,

dribbling milky white fluid from its one dark hollow eye...

Stop laughing, eh? Stop laughing at me, please!

Stop! I had nightmares!

Stop laughing at me!

I'm a police officer! I'll kill you!

I'll kill you all!

Just a young officer trying to do his job.

Well.

I have one more job to do.

Yes, one more job...

before I retire.

Time for sentencing, Mr Preacherman.

Guilty! Oh!

Oh. It's over, Tom. Give it up.

Switching places with my intended victim so that I would murder you in his place?

Huh. It's a clever move, Cloth.

But I can still outsmart you by running away.

Oh! Oh, my god!

He's headed for Denouement Heights!

Funny to think,

not so long ago we were just over there in Albert Stafford's flat,

with his attractive granddaughter.

Happier times, Jack.

Why did you do it, Tom?

That day in court...

the laughter.

The humiliation.

Do you have any idea what that did to my confidence, my career?

You made Assistant Chief Constable at 38.

You were the fastest-promoted officer this force has ever had.

Exactly. It drove me on.

"I'll show them," I said to myself.

I worked like a dog tied to a horse, day in, day out.

Promotions, commendations.

I hated myself for it but I just couldn't stop.

Those bastards made my career.

Well, it's over now.

It's over for you.

You're finished, Cloth.

What the Finnish call...

fee-neeshed.

Shoot me, and I'll bleed in your face.

Oh, always have to play the hero, don't you, Jack?

Couldn't save your Kate, though, could you?

What?

Yes, that's right.

It was me.

I lured her to that eerie stock footage and prop warehouse.

Hello?

I lured her there on the night of the officers' ball.

And I shot her.

Tom? I shot her with a gun.

A gun full of bullets, bullets that kill.

Tom!

And I killed her.

Do you know what she said as the bullet went in?

Ouch.

Ouch. That's what she said. Kate's final word.

Why did you do it? Why kill Kate?

Isn't it obvious? You were shit-hot, Jack. You'd have been promoted above me.

I knew I had to break you.

So I killed her.

No!

I saw you at the funeral.

You were crying.

Did you feel nothing? Only my cheeks getting damp.

But... Damp, Cloth!

But while those crocodile tears fibbed down my face, I was laughing inside.

Like this. Ha-ha-ha-ha.

Dead wife? Ha-ha-ha. Bastard.

No, Jack, don't! He wants you to rush him.

He'll shoot you. That's what guns are for.

And he's clearly got one.

That's what's in his hand!

So what? I've got nothing to live for.

You have! Look at my life, Oldmun.

Oldman. Oldman, look at my life.

I'm a lot like you were!

Idealistic.

Committed. Sanctimonious.

You can be all those things again.

We make a lot of sacrifices in this job, don't we?

Don't make another.

Is this going to take much longer? I've got a man to shoot.

Think of Kate.

Think of me.

Think of the boys down the station. Oh, stop going on about them!

No, Jack!

Oh! Jack?

Jack, I'm here!

Goodbye, Cloth.

Goodbye, Oldmun. Oldman!

Whatever.

Jack.

Oh! Oh, Jack!

Uh.

I wondered why I put that in there.

Come on, Jack. Oh!

Ow!

He asked for a result. And we gave him one.

Top work. Well done.

Mm, yeah.

Jack, where are you going?

Home.

Jack, wait.

You live that way.

Jack, wait!

I've been fooled before, Oldmun.

Oldman.

I've been fooled before, Oldman. I won't be fooled a second time.

I'm not trying to fool you, Jack.

You've got a fiancee.

Not any more.

You're gay.

Bi, Jack.

Jack, wait.

Fucking hell.

Let me walk with you.

Murdered by a killer. Arthur Killer.

This is the work of Arthur Killer.

Find Arthur Killer! I'm on it, guv.

Guv.

Admit it, Killer! It was me.

Tell the truth! I did it! Liar!

Tell the truth!

You're facing the sack!

But... The sack, Cloth!

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