Original subtitles

Going to congratulate me?

- What for? - The appointment.

- So it's official? - Hendon told me yesterday.

- You, a judge? - Afraid so.

It does have a ring to it.

- Mr. Justice... - Chadwick!

God... Nicholas! Nicholas!

Hold on. Hold on! Nicholas, please! Nicholas, please, hold on. Hold on!

Nicholas.

How did I end up lying there, dying in a pool of my own blood?

I suppose it all had a certain inevitability.

Looking back, you could say I should have known at any time in the past 13 weeks.

Even seven days ago, my fate was clear to anyone who looked.

That was when the Jackson case began. The second of Jackson's trials, that is.

The one for murder.

- What time's the car coming? - I said half past.

Are they usually reliable? You all right?

Yeah, yeah. Why?

You didn't sleep last night.

- I was worrying about the case. - That's not like you. Would you?

Sure.

Maybe I've been at it too long. I just don't like coming second.

- Are you going to? - Almost certainly.

Fingerprints were found on the murder weapon and on the bedroom door.

Jackson's DNA was found on cigarette ends near the body, and to complete the happy picture,

they found cocaine traces in the bathroom. He's a known user.

That doesn't sound good.

If he'd left a full confession signed in lipstick on the bedcovers, it couldn't be much worse.

I'm sure you can get him off again.

There's a hell of a difference between murder and drug possession.

- Cheer up. Paul's very confident you'll win. - Oh, is he? How do you know that?

- I spoke to him last week on the phone. - Did you?

There it is!

You're not still working on this book?

Yep. Marketing conference. Then Peter again this afternoon.

- What's it for this time? - To persuade him about my title.

- "Death Tree." - It'll sell a million copies.

- Make Peter even richer. - And even more objectionable.

Dr. Hussein, as we can see, Miss Stephenson was a very beautiful woman.

- Do you have any doubt as to the weapon? - No.

Now, the indented skull fractures, here, here and here,

match exactly with the dimensions of the ashtray I understand the police found by the body?

Yes.

- It must have been a very frenzied attack. - It was, yes.

The killer struck Miss Stephenson's head several times, smashing through the skull.

I would imagine with blows of such ferocity, there would be a great deal of blood all around.

- Yes. - Blood would have gone everywhere.

There was a great deal of blood, yes.

- On the walls? On the floor? - Of course.

And yet, Dr. Hussein, you examined the clothes worn by the defendant

on the day Miss Stephenson was killed.

I did, yes.

And you found no traces of blood on anything he was wearing.

That's true.

Not a single spot, despite all the blood in the sitting-room, on the walls, the floor...

I think you've made your point, Mr. Chadwick.

Very well, my lord.

Well, don't you find it strange that if my client, Mr. Jackson,

had carried out this terrible, messy crime,

that you would not have found a drop of blood on anything he was wearing?

Well... no. He could have changed.

Judge?

Er... Judge?

- Nicholas! - Not now, Paul.

James?

I saw you leaving.

I'm on my way to the Flag. I need something to revive me.

- You've got the Cartwright case? - Numbingly dull.

- VAT fraud. Enough to put anyone to sleep. - I can imagine.

- I want to tell you... - You've been floored by the science woman, eh?

- News travels fast. - This place is full of lawyers.

- They never talk about anything else. - Yes... Can I buy you a drink?

No, I never take a drink off a man who's in the middle of a case at lunchtime.

- OK, so what's your problem? - I'm going to fall down heavily on this one.

Oh, yes, you are. I know that, so does everyone else.

- Do they? Look, I was just wondering... - You ever heard of "Regina v Abercrombie"?

- Child-killer. You remember? - Oh, yes. He got off.

Next month, he killed three more.

Yes, well, I was the prosecuting counsel.

I couldn't have cocked it up more comprehensively if I'd tried.

That's when they made me a judge.

We all make mistakes. Even you.

But it won't affect your chances, unless they find some terrible skeleton in your cupboard.

I see.

Don't worry, he'll probably get off on appeal anyhow. Goodbye.

DNA typing isn't an exact science, is it, Dr. Filbin?

It's as exact as we can make it.

But you have testified that you have no doubt at all, and these are your words,

that you have no doubt at all that the saliva found on cigarette stubs

in Angela Stephenson's flat came from my client.

That's right. The DNA evidence is conclusive.

I'm sorry, Dr. Filbin,

but don't you see that the two statements you made are completely incompatible?

No.

Can you tell this court that it is absolutely, 100 per cent certain

that the saliva on the cigarette stubs came from Stuart Jackson?

I've already explained, Mr. Chadwick,

the chances of the sample that I tested coming from somebody else

are 200 million to one.

I am not a gambling man, Dr. Filbin. All I'm asking for is a simple yes or no.

Now, can you be absolutely 100 per cent certain

that the DNA from the saliva came from the defendant?

I can't be 100 per cent certain, no.

Thank you.

Sometimes I really don't understand you, Nicholas.

First you let that forensic woman walk all over you,

and then you try cross-examining Filbin

with a piece of nonsense they wouldn't let you get away with at a university mock trial.

- I just don't understand what you're doing. - My best.

Forgive me, I don't think you are. Anyone would think you were trying to get him convicted.

Paul, look at the evidence.

There's hardly a word anyone could say that won't get him convicted.

Question that evidence!

Look, what if he has been framed?

The truth is he didn't even know Angela Stephenson.

Says he. The truth is the man has a record for importuning and assault, or had you forgotten?

- The prosecution can't use it, as well you know. - Of course I do.

All right. Let's think for a minute, huh?

Let's go with the idea that the police had tried to frame him.

I mean, how would they or anyone else know that on that particular night,

Stuart Jackson would be at home on his own, without an alibi?

- Who knew that? - His wife. Us.

- His wife - They're a perfectly happily married couple!

That's another thing.

You've met Louise. There's no reason why Jackson would need to pay a high-class hooker!

Need? Wake up.

Men don't go to hookers because they need to. They go because they want to.

I don't mean to be difficult. It's just that I don't understand your strategy.

The ashtray, for example. It was brand-new.

- So? - It's a bit of a coincidence, isn't it?

A new ashtray happens to be the one that kills Angela Stephenson.

- Meaning? - The killer could have brought it with him.

I wanted to win this. We both wanted to win this.

I just thought I could find some rabbit to pull out of a hat.

You know what? There is no rabbit. There isn't even a bloody hat.

Paul, I might have said I was good. I didn't say I was invincible.

So what do we do now?

- Put him on the stand? - The prosecution'll tear him to shreds.

Probably. But if you're right, and I can protect him, maybe his sincerity will come through.

It convinced you.

Maybe it'll convince the jury.

Mr. Jackson.

You didn't know the deceased, Angela Stephenson.

No.

And you've never been to her flat?

No.

Until the police came bursting into your house, you hadn't even heard her name?

That's right.

We have heard how Angela Stephenson worked as a high-class escort,

earning upwards of �300 an hour for her company.

Mr. Jackson... were you a client of Angela Stephenson?

No. Never.

I don't have to pay for it. I'm a happily married man.

Did you kill her, Mr. Jackson?

Did you take an ashtray and bludgeon the back of her head?

I told you, I never even knew her.

Have you any idea, then, how your fingerprints were found on the ashtray used to kill her,

and how cigarette ends that you had smoked were found in her flat?

Yes, I do.

I was framed! I'm telling you, it was the police.

They couldn't get me before, so they fitted me up with this one.

I mean, how come this young girl gets whacked one minute

and five minutes later they're round to mine, trying to say it was me?

Oh. Computer records, they said. Matched my fingerprints, they said.

That's rubbish! They never even checked.

It... it was as if they planned this all along.

You are not in the witness box to make speeches,

but to answer questions put to you by counsel.

But that's what I'm trying to explain. I was never there!

So how could my fingerprints be found on the ashtray, eh? Or on the door?

- Mr. Jackson, I'm asking you... - Oh, shut up!

You're as bad as the rest of 'em! Why won't anyone listen to me?

I never even knew her! This is the police, because they couldn't get me any other way.

I never even knew her!

This is a travesty, it's... it's a joke! It's a... it's a pack of lies!

Stuart Edward Jackson, you have been found guilty

of the brutal, sadistic murder of a woman in the prime of her life.

Despite the evidence against you, you have shown no remorse

and given no indication that you regret your actions on that fateful night.

The sentence of this court is life imprisonment.

- Take him down. - I didn't do it.

I didn't do it!

How many times have I gotta tell you? It wasn't me! I never even knew her!

You bastard, I never knew her! I didn't do it! I didn't do it! It wasn't me!

- What else can I say? - I just don't think he did it.

- Well, I don't. - Then we'll appeal.

- We? - If you want me.

- Will you be available - What do you mean?

- Well, aren't you moving on to higher things? - Oh. Yes.

Did Helen tell you that?

- No. Why? - Nothing.

Look, you win some, you lose some.

I'll buy you a drink.

- I think I'll try Kimpleton. It's his sort of thing. - Your call.

Going to congratulate me?

- What for? - The appointment.

- So it's official. - Hendon told me yesterday.

- You, a judge? - Afraid so.

It does have a ring to it.

- Mr. Justice... - Chadwick!

All right!

All right, hold on!

- Who is it? - Mrs. Jackson?

- Yes. Who are you? - Police. Is your husband in?

Yes, he's in the pool... Oi!

What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?

- Dad! Dad! - Yeah, what is it, mate?

- Stuart Edward Jackson! I've got you this time. - Oh, no, not you again! What is it this time?

I'm arresting you for the murder of Angela Stephenson.

It may harm your defence if you fail to mention any facts.

- What are you talking about? What is this?! - Murder.

- Angela who? - Stephenson!

Now get out of the pool and get dressed!

- Who the hell is she? Stuart! - I've never heard of her!

I haven't murdered anybody!

What is it with you?

You come round my house, keep accusing me of all things I haven't done!

I'll have you, Stetford. I'm going to have you one day!

- Evening, George. - Good evening, sir.

Thank you.

- Bye, darling. See you later. - Bye.

Isn't that, erm... What's his name? The property man?

Stuart Jackson. Yes. He's just been arrested.

- What's he done this time? More drugs? - Murder.

- Goodness. Are you going to be involved? - It's a bit early to say.

Why don't you talk to Paul? Jackson's bound to go to him.

I'll give him a ring in the morning.

- Give him my love. - Of course.

You're looking very glamorous for a business dinner.

He's a very important writer.

- You going to be all right? - Oh, I'll be fine.

- I'll probably walk to the club later. - Good.

Well, I'll see you later. Don't wait up.

I called you this morning.

I didn't get in to the office till 10.30. Bit of a late night last night.

I had to go and see a client.

- Not Jackson, by any chance? - You heard.

Yeah, well, I saw it in the paper last night. I wondered if you'd get a call.

- Looks like it's pretty much done and dusted. - Yeah. Looks that way.

Yet... somehow...

...I don't think he did it.

I know he's a bit of a wide boy, but I... I just don't see him doing murder.

- Any idea what they've got on him? - Full house, really.

Fingerprints everywhere, the murder weapon, DNA. Everything but his bloody signature.

- Sounds a bit careless. Witness? - Well, none so far.

Jackson says he's been framed, and do you know what?

Just this once, he might be telling the truth.

As I recall, doesn't he have some past experience with a call-girl?

Yeah. That was 20 years ago.

All sounds a bit of a challenge. Any chance of an alibi?

Not a thing.

Says he spent the night all alone at home.

- That's helpful Where was Louise? - With the son, David.

In a Manchester hospital, by her mum's bedside.

Oh. Brilliant

Jackson says he spent the evening watching television.

- At least he remembers the programmes. - Well, juries love a television defence.

So what are you going to do?

All my gut instincts tell me he's telling the truth.

So that's what I'm going to do.

- I'll say he didn't do it. - Is that wise?

- What? - A guilty verdict might damage your reputation.

Best to claim mitigating circumstances, then plead guilty.

No, I won't. If I can find a decent QC who agrees with me, I'm going to fight this all the way.

- There's always me. - What?

Why not? I've defended him before. Let's do it again.

- I thought you were busy. - Who said that?

- Your clerk said you were unavailable. - Did he? I could always return a few things.

You'll take it on?

Send the papers to my chambers. I'll look at them and give you a call.

By the way, Helen asked me to send you her love.

Did she? How kind. Give her mine.

Perhaps we can get together again soon. Another opera?

Why not?

Give me a call.

- Murder brief from Mr. Asher for you, sir. - Just put it there, would you?

- Oh, Duncan? - Sir?

Next time an offer of a brief like this comes through, speak to me before you turn it down.

Yes, sir. Right, sir.

- Here's to you, darling. - Cheers. You're looking rather good.

- Well, we aim to please. - Indeed you do.

- Hang on, don't be in such a rush. - I'm not in a rush.

An hour isn't a long time, and you're a very expensive girl.

- Are you complaining? - Not at all.

I'm worth every penny. Anyway, I bet your hourly rate is more than mine.

Mm. But I have years of training and I have some very special skills.

So do I.

Paul? Yes.

Good news. You're on.

Come in.

- I'll be off now, sir. You're the last one here. - Fine. I shall be an hour or so.

- Er... will you lock up, sir? - Of course. Night.

Goodnight, sir.

- Nicholas? - Darling.

- Don't tell me you're going to be late. - I'm afraid I am, yes.

- What is it this time? - It's the Liebermann case.

Can't you just bring it and do it over the weekend?

I promised them I'd have it by tomorrow morning. Have dinner without me. I'll see you there.

- Oh, fine - I'm sorry, darling, I...

Thanks very much.

You look great.

- Where's Nick? - Oh, don't ask.

Something about the Liebermann case?

Maurice Liebermann? I thought he packed that in.

He probably means Melissa, Mandy, Marnie...

- God, sometimes I wish he would just... - Sh. It'll be all right. Don't worry.

- Would you like a drink? - Yes, please.

- So... it's just the two of us, then. - Er... no. He said he'd see us at the theatre.

Oh. Good.

- Nicholas. - Hello, darling.

You're late. I didn't think you were going to turn up.

Sorry. Traffic.

What on earth are you wearing? It's not you at all.

- I rather thought it suited me. - I think suits suit you.

Sorry if I've lowered the class of clientele.

- I promise no one saw me arrive. - I should hope not.

I bought you this. To have one last drink for old times' sake.

- Aw. - We've had so many good times.

- It'd be a shame not to part as friends. - We'll always be friends, Nicholas.

Mm...

Have you got something for me?

Yes, of course. Look, you do the honours while I write this out.

OK.

I couldn't persuade you to change your mind?

Not a chance. I had the new tenants in this morning, as a matter of fact.

- They're Japanese. - Japanese? Ah so.

- Here. It's for you. - This is for you.

See? Wasn't that painful, was it?

We've still got a while. I just thought... maybe old times' sake.

Could do.

Are you going to give me another one of these? Or... was it going to be cash?

I was rather hoping for a freebie.

OK.

Seeing as it's you.

Let me just put this away.

Taxi! Taxi!

Bitch. Bitch.

Royal Opera House, please.

Bitch!

May I draw the jury's attention to the blood splattering

and the skull fractures

which match exactly with the dimensions of the ashtray.

DNA is not an exact science,

is it, Mr. Whatever Your Name Is?

Haven't missed anything, have I?

- Where the hell have you been? It's started! - Sorry. Traffic.

# Un bel d�, vedremo

# Levarsi un fil di fumo

# Sull'estremo confin del mare... #

- What are you doing? - Helen.

Nothing. I was just thinking.

- What about? - Nothing.

Look, I'm sorry I was late, really I am.

- What are you burning? - Some notes on the Liebermann case.

Morning.

- Coffee? - Lovely.

OK.

You're guilty, aren't you?

- What? - You're guilty as hell.

Why not admit it, stop wasting everybody's time?

What are you talking about?

In the book. Peter has the judge saying that to the accused.

- You'd never say that, would you? - No, of course not. It's rubbish.

Can you get away with it?

Yes.

Probably.

Mr. Asher's here, sir. With Mr. Jackson.

About his drugs case? You know? Cocaine?

Oh, yes. I'll be right there. One moment.

Mr. Jackson, sorry to have kept you.

- Good morning. - Morning. Paul, good morning.

- Er... do you mind if I, erm...? - Not at all. Please, sit down.

Kind of you to drop in. A few things I want to go through before court.

- Coffee? - Oh, yes, please.

Paul?

I can't promise anything, but I might have found a way out of this.

Told you, Paul. Illegal entry. They never even had a bloody search warrant.

- It's nothing to do with that, I'm afraid. - Well, what?

- Have you found an escape hatch? - I rather think I have.

You see, the prosecution have to demonstrate that the substance they found in your house

was the same substance they found to be hydrochloride in salt form.

- What's that? - Cocaine.

- Well, that's it, isn't it? - Possibly, yes.

Whether it is or isn't doesn't really much matter.

You see, it turns out that one of the evidence bags was mislabelled.

A clerical error. A fault on their part.

Well, that's fantastic.

I'm in the clear! I can't wait to phone Louise.

Don't raise her hopes too much.

It's only a few digits, but if we're lucky, it might be enough to collapse their case.

- Won't they go for an adjournment? - Possibly, but you could block it.

- Well, could we do this before the 13th? - Why the 13th?

Louise's mother's having her cancer operation. I'd love to give her some good news before then.

Tell her not to worry too much. The case will go to court, but I'm reasonably hopeful.

Well, it's not as if I'm some drug dealer or big user.

Who you are and what you may or may not have done is none of my concern.

My job is to make sure the procedure has been followed correctly. In this case, it hasn't.

Well, that's great. Thank you very much, Mr. Chadwick.

A pleasure.

If there's anything I can ever do for you...

- That's very kind. - Thank you very much once again.

Oh.

Once again, thank you.

- I don't want to be disturbed. All right? - Very good, sir.

- All set? - 50 quid says he'll chuck it out by lunchtime.

Quite frankly, nobody in the CPS seems to have applied their minds to this particular case.

I need hardly say that the burden of proof is on the Crown,

but the fact of the matter is that there is no evidence to prove

that the substance that was found in the defendant's possession

was indeed a controlled drug.

It could have been sugar for all we know.

Accordingly, I shall direct that a verdict of not guilty be entered.

- Mr. Jackson, you are free to go. - Thank you.

Mr. Chadwick, you were fantastic.

The way you floored 'em, left-left-right, I loved it.

- Anything I can do for you? - How about a new car?

- He means it. We've been worried sick... - That's why we're here. Glad we could help.

- By the way, how's your mother? - Not too bad.

She's going in for her operation in Manchester. 13th.

- Me and David'll go stay with her... - Let's hope it's lucky 13.

- You going, Mr. Jackson? - Nah. I can't stand hospitals.

- I'll stay home and watch golf on the satellite. - Too right. You keep out of it.

Mr. Chadwick. There you are. Do you have a moment? A word.

Yes, yes, come in.

Chadwick.

- Well done out there. Very impressive. - Thank you, Judge.

If a bit smug.

It's a bad thing to look too, er... pleased with yourself.

Well, I'm sorry, I, er... I didn't mean to.

That's all right. Just be careful. Showboating doesn't go down too well with some of us.

And, er...

- 50 quid, I hear? - Nothing serious. Bit of a joke.

Quite so. Used to be a tenner in my day.

All done by one, weren't we?

I was planning on finishing after lunch, but then the usher told me,

so I thought maybe I'd help you out and get in a round of golf this afternoon.

- I reckon you can buy me a lunch next week. - I'd be glad to.

In the meantime, it looks like you'll get your place on the High Court bench.

- That is very good news. Thank you, Judge. - Don't count your chickens just yet.

It's not official until it's been announced by the Lord Chancellor's Department.

They'll be running a check on you first.

Make sure there's nothing murky in your woodshed.

I've told them I approve. They'll let you know in a couple of weeks. Keep your nose clean.

And no more 50-quid capers.

That was beautiful.

You are a very good bad girl, aren't you?

- Am I? - Yes.

- Remember me, will you? - Remember you? Of course. Why?

Well, I'm going to be leaving soon.

- What do you mean? So am I. - No, leaving leaving.

- What? - I'm going to sell up, move to France.

- When? - Soon.

- What for? - Well, I'm retiring.

Quitting while I'm ahead. Too many more years of this and you won't fancy me anyway.

- That's not true. - You can find someone else.

- Trade me in for a younger model. - I don't want one.

No, I... I've decided, Nicky. I'm going to buy a place in Nice.

A little house with a shop underneath selling tourist knick-knacks.

I don't know, I... I just want a rest. And I want some sun.

- Nice? - Yes.

I could come and see you for long weekends.

I don't want to see you.

- You're taking someone else? - I'm going on my own.

I mean it, I've had enough. I want to go.

Nice, for God's sake.

Have you been saving up?

Well... that's what I'm trying to tell you.

- I was hoping... you'd make a contribution. - A what?

I'm asking you and just a few of my regulars. It's not that much.

How much is "not much"?

- Well, that's up to you. - No.

Give us a ballpark figure.

100,000.

- You're not serious? - Why not? You can afford it.

That's not the point. I've just paid 300 quid for an hour.

Well, this is one final payment.

And it means you never see me or hear from me again.

- I can't go to the bank... What about Helen? - Well, you lie to her.

You've been lying to her for six years.

- A contribution. - Yes.

A voluntary contribution

What if I decide not to contribute to your little retirement fund?

I suppose I'll have to try and find it from somewhere else.

- Such as? - Oh, I don't know. The tabloids.

- The tabloids? - Yes.

- That would be blackmail. - It's not a lot of money, Nicky.

You're going to be a judge, and... I'm worth it, after all.

I could ask for a lot more.

How do I know you won't?

You can trust me.

It's one payment, and you'll never see me again.

I promise.

Bitch. Bitch!

Bitch.

Oh!

Hello, darling. How was the judge?

Oh, you know... boring. Talked about golf all the time.

It's what you've got to do, though. Price of admission.

That's what Paul says.

- Where did he take you? - The usual.

Mm-hm.

You're back late.

- How was Peter? - Difficult. I gave him your comments.

I think I'll charge him for technical advice.

Yes, well, he said he wasn't writing a documentary.

Why are you looking at our bank statements?

- Just making sure everything's OK. - You're not worrying about money again?

If you're made a judge, you'll earn a fortune.

Less than I am now, actually, and not nearly as much as you.

- That really annoys you, doesn't it? - Not at all. You know that.

So... how much have we got?

- What, ready cash? - Mm-hm.

150.

Good. Then we can buy that house in France, can't we?

My client here, Mr. Jackson, has been charged with possession of a class A drug.

Cocaine. Less than half a gram.

- And the drugs were in your possession? - It was personal. Just a couple of lines.

And the police had no right being in my house in the first place.

- Go on. - They turn up on my doorstep about ten at night.

My boy opens the door. He's only 10. They just barge straight in on him.

Any idea why they were there?

A neighbour complained about the noise But Louise was just watching telly, eh, babe?

- They just came trampling in. - Yeah. And no warrant, either.

They went to my desk and found the stuff. I reckon someone told 'em it was there.

I understand you've been in trouble with the police before.

Yeah, but that was just kids' stuff.

- Like what? - Well, a couple of TDAs in me teens.

- And an ABH. - Yeah, but that was 20 years ago.

Two years, wasn't it?

- Yeah. - You want to tell me about it?

Well, it was before I met my Louise.

I came back to the flat one day and the girlfriend was in bed with a bloke.

So I hit him. With an 'ammer.

I know I shouldn't have used the hammer, but...

Anything else?

Well, yeah.

Well? I mean, I'm afraid I do have to know.

Importuning.

- With a...? - Yeah. But that was a fit-up as well.

She happened to be Vice Squad. You should have seen what she was wearing.

There I was, minding me own business, and whack!

Prostitutes and assault.

Well, on the face of it, they seem to have a strong case, but I'll see what I can do.

- It wouldn't be custodial, would it? - It's far too soon to say, but, erm...

Don't worry. I'll talk it over with Paul, and get back to you.

If there is a way out of this, I'll find it.

Trust me.

It'll be OK. Really it will.

Here.

Angela, it's me. Yes, I've been thinking about what you said and I think I can make it work.

I'll need a couple of days, make a few arrangements.

Will a cheque be all right?

No, it won't bounce. Right, I'll speak to you later, then. Goodbye.

Chadwick. He said yes.

- He said yes? - Mm-hm.

- How much? - �100,000.

A hundred grand? Oh, Ange!

Oh! Oh, you're so clever.

You're amazing.

- He will pay, though, won't he? - Of course.

Are you sure? How do you know he's got the money?

Well, he can afford it. He's going to be a judge.

They're the worst.

All stuck-up in their wigs and gowns, talking like they bloody own you.

No. Chadwick's all right.

Don't be so sure.

As long as he's not like the guy that did me.

"You, Miss Rebecca Harvey, are the scum of society."

Well, that was two years ago.

They're all the same at the end of it, though, aren't they?

If it hadn't been for you, I'd never have got off.

I hate them. I hate 'em all.

I hate what they do to you.

Well, it's over now. It's just you and me.

Yeah.

I'd be lost without you, you know.

It's going to be all right. I promise.

At least I won't have to watch 'em any more... sneaking in and out.

Seeing them using you.

God. You know, sometimes I just want to...

- If they ever hurt you... - They won't.

- Put that out. - It's only a fag, Ange.

Even so, I... I don't like seeing you like this.

All worked-up and worried like before.

Christ. You're like my mum.

I am clean, you know.

- Are you? - Yes.

You know I am. 'Cause of you.

I love you, you know?

I love you too.

- Have you finished? - Just about. It's a total fantasy, you know that?

Oh... I didn't ask if you liked it. I asked you to check for technical mistakes.

- It's a work of fiction! - Oh, it's that all right

You just listen to this. "Dropping the knife into the swollen gorge,

"Ricky smiled to himself and thought, yes, this had been a really good murder."

- Good murder? What the hell is a good murder? - One that sells.

Oh. And you think this Ricky Remington is the man, do you?

He's a buffoon. He couldn't get away with stealing cigarettes, let alone murder.

- So who do you suggest? - Well, I don't know.

What about a criminal barrister of 25 years' experience?

I'll tell Peter. I'm sure he'll be deeply grateful

- What time are you going to get back? - Not till late.

1.30, 2.00? Peter's at the theatre. I'm meeting him afterwards.

- Well, good luck. - You'll be all right?

Oh, I'll be fine, I've got plenty of work.

- Bye. - Bye.

Angela? Hello, darling.

I know it's late, but...

- There you are. - I haven't kept you?

Not at all. Come on in.

Darling.

- How long have you got? - Long enough.

I told him it was Peter. He's very hard going.

Oh, thank God for tricky writers.

- Here's to you, darling. - Cheers. You're looking rather good.

- Well, we aim to please. - Indeed you do.

- Hang on, don't be in such a rush. - I'm not in a rush.

An hour isn't a very long time, and you're a very expensive girl.

- Are you complaining? - Not at all.

Besides, I bet your hourly rate is more than mine.

I've had years of training and I have some very special skills.

So do I.

Chadwick!

It would have been all so perfect if only I'd known.

But, then, there is no perfect murder.

There's always that little "if only" that gets in the way.

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