All language subtitles for DCI.Banks.S02E03.Dry.Bones.That.Dream.Part.1.1080p.WEB-DL.DD2.0.H.264-squalor_Track03

(KEYS CLANKING IN DISH)

(GASPS)

(PANICKED BREATHING)

(WOMAN SHOUTS)

(PLASTIC TIES TIGHTENING)

(GROANING)

(GUNSHOT)

HELEN: You'll want overshoes,
DCI Banks. It's like
an abattoir in there.

I have frontal
lobe on my instep.

As greetings go, DI Morton,
I've had warmer.

HELEN: Morning.

I'm thinking of
starting a campaign.

Anyone convicted of
a serious crime committed
during anti-social hours

automatically gets
another five years.

I'm sure your
husband would agree.

Victim's
daughter said the shot
was fired around midnight.

Took her four hours
to get to a phone,
so actually, we had a
lie-in.

Who found the body?

Ooh. That bad?

Pretty bad. Morning, boss.

-You'll need...
-Overshoes. Yes, I know.

(SIGHS)

Weapon?

Shotgun. Probably sawn-off.

Definite ID?

Keith Andrew Rothwell.
Freelance accountant.

ALAN:
Why hasn't that been bagged?

We were, uh, waiting.

For?

I like to be sure
every scrap of intel
is extracted on scene

before anything goes
to Forensics, so I don't bag
till the last minute.

Lives here with his wife.

Last night were their 25th
wedding anniversary.

And also the daughter, Hannah.
Sixteen.

We spoke to her briefly.

Happy anniversary.

(SIREN WAILING)

I trust we're circulating a
description of the suspect

or do you prefer to
wait on that, too?

DS Jackman put it
out an hour ago.

What there was of it.
You can call me Win, you know.

He was a big man.
Smelt musty, barely spoke.

Sounds a bit like you, sir.

Techies on their way, Win?

So how much do accountants
earn these days?

No sign of robbery?

Hannah says not,
but we'll have
Mrs Rothwell verify it

-when she gets up.
-Gets up?

Doctor said she wasn't ready
to talk to us.
Requested sedatives.

Well, we'll need a good photo
of Mr Rothwell.

Preferably from when
he still had a head.

I'd wait.

Hannah Rothwell, DCI Banks,

who I thought was resting.

Mum wanted me to
keep an eye on things.

Sorry, Hannah.

Sorry for your loss.

Do you remember what time
the doorbell rang, Hannah?

Tennish?

I thought maybe Dad was
on his phone as usual

and Mum had
forgotten her keys,
so I answered it.

Then he pushed me inside,

tied me up and put
tape on my mouth.

Did he do anything else?

Just sat there.

Waiting.

Then he tied Mum up
and dragged Dad outside

and it went very quiet.

Until...

Hannah,

can you think of
any reason why someone
would want to hurt your dad?

Not really. Although I
didn't
know him that well.

I mean, we weren't exactly...

He works a lot.

Worked.

You'd better talk to Mum.
It's usually just
me and her and...

Tom, when he's around.

-Tom?
-My brother?

He's travelling across America

but I'm not exactly sure
where he is at the moment.

-So you'd better...
-Better talk to your mum.

Don't worry, we will.

-Morning, both.
-Morning, Ron.

-Another day...
-Another
decapitated accountant.

Roadblocks have been set up on
approaches to the airport,

mainline stations
and major routes
out of the area.

Extra resources have
been made available,

so anything you need,
you just let me know.

A few more hours in bed
wouldn't go amiss.

Those old bones
starting to creak,
Inspector?

You don't care about my body.
You pay me for my mind.

You joining us for
the briefing, Ron?

No. But I do want to be kept
fully updated on progress,
please.

Aren't you going to
personalise this a bit?

-Why?
-Well...

We should look at getting one
of those interactive
whiteboards now.

-Yeah, great.
-Now?

Well, now we have a resident
intelligence expert

keeping us up-to-date.

-If it ain't broke...
-New day, Alan.

We have to wipe the sleep
from our eyes and embrace it.

Can't afford to
get left behind.
Isn't that right, DI Morton?

Yes, sir.

Where are these
"extra resources"
coming from?

I've learnt not
to look gift horses
in the mouth.

And neither should you.

ALAN: Before and after.

Gut reactions. What does this
look like to you?

Sort of like a Jelly Baby
after its head's
been bitten off.

(ALL CHUCKLING)

WINSOME:A hit.

ALAN:
Now, blowing someone's head
clean off with a shotgun

is not as easy as it
looks.
You need to know
what you're doing.

So the question is
why would someone
take out a contract

on a Yorkshire accountant?

KEN:It depends if
he's any good or not.

ALAN: All right, let's start
with a current client list.

There's not even
a parking ticket
on the system.

He's been freelance
for the last five years,

the twenty before that he was
at Hatchard and Pratt
on the High Street.

Get down there.
We need to find out

who Keith Rothwell was
and who benefits
from his death.

And if he really
bought that house
by filling out tax returns.

We need to look
at the whole family

and we need to
locate Tom Rothwell ASAP.

-Helen?
-Well, I'd like the
Rothwells'

online history for
the last three months,

including what social media
the kids have been using.

A quick result on this,

Superintendent McLaughlin
might even put a few
quid behind the bar.

He should anyway.
We need to
welcome the new arrival.

Oh, no. I don't like pubs.

(MOBILE RINGING)

Banks.

On my way.

SOCO found something.

(REPORTERS CLAMOURING)

This is a very
fast-moving inquiry.

At this stage,
I would simply urge
anyone with any information

to contact
the police immediately.
Thank you.

(REPORTERS CLAMOURING)

That's the only comment
I'm prepared to
make at this stage.

Thank you very much.

If we can just get on.
Thank you.

You see,
I'm one of those weirdos

who only uses his
phone to phone people.

-Right.
-But you do all that, do you?

"Social media"?

Mmm.

You're not
twittering now, are you?

Tweeting. No.

Only when I'm doing something
or I'm with someone
really interesting.

Well, none of
the stuff that I've seen
ever qualifies as
interesting.

Bored people typing
"I'm quite hungry" when they
could be making a sandwich.

It's about connections,
DCI Banks.

And that's what we do,
isn't it? We find them,
we make sense of them.

I mean, that piece
you just did to camera

is already being watched
on various
platforms worldwide.

Well,
can we drop the DCI Banks
from this platform, please?

"Boss" is fine,
or "Alan" in the pub.

-I don't like pubs.
-You don't like pubs.

(POLICE RADIO CHATTER)

SOCO: It's wadding.

Forms part of
the shotgun cartridge.

Obviously you can buy them,
but you can make your own.

And this is not commercial.

Looks like it
might have been made
from a magazine.

So why do it yourself?

To save money or because
you're a gun enthusiast.

You got a magnifying glass?

-Is that a...
-I think it is.

-And that could be a...
-Penis, DCI Banks.

First time I've seen one
through a magnifying glass.
You?

I'm more interested in the
submachine gun
standing next to it.

WOMAN REPORTER ON TV:
...gained entry into the
house

around 11 p.m. last night.

Police have appealed for
potential
witnesses to come forward.

ALAN:This is a very
fast-moving inquiry.

At this stage,
I would simply urge
anyone with any information

to contact
the police immediately.
Thank you.

REPORTER:Do you know anything
about the victim?

That's the only comment
I'm prepared to
make at this stage.

Thank you very much.

If we can just get on.
Thank you.

Boss?

-Anything?
-Deliberately
locked files on this one.

We're taking everything.

-Well, liaise with
DI Morton, please.
-Sure.

I hope you're making a note
of everything you take.

I really don't think
there's anything else.

You can't come up
with a single word
to describe a man

you worked with for
almost two decades?

I've given you one.

Apart from "ordinary".

(SIGHS) Um,
Keith was a bit tight,
truth be told, with money.

But the fact is
there's nothing
to say about him.

He kept himself
to himself and...

Well,

I expect he had
a lot to put up with.

Why?

Have you met Mary?
She's very...particular.

Proud, I suppose you'd say.

Well,
at least she gets adjectives.

Did you socialise
with the Rothwells?

Not really.

Not at all after he,
um, after he left.

Uh, but I've known
Mary most of my life.

Mr Hatchard, our founder,
my uncle's partner,

he was her dad.

Is that how Keith got the
job?
Through Mary?

Nothing wrong
with that, is there?

There you go.
Keith's client file
from the time he left us.

Why did he leave you?

You'll find out anyway,
won't you?

He was asked to go,
in the end.

Sacked, I supposed you'd say.

The restaurant was,
um, average.

It was Keith's choice.

He had, uh, carbonara,
which was unusual, actually,

he always has Bolognese.

I had a lasagne...

We're more interested
in last night's events

after you arrived home,
Mrs Rothwell.

I thought Hannah
had covered that.

Can I ask you then about your
husband's business dealings?

You can.
But I don't know anything.

-Still, I...
-Keith was an accountant.

He didn't...
Well, I didn't
pretend to be interested

and he didn't expect me to.

What about aside
from the accountancy?

Are you aware of any sidelines
that he may have had?

If you're
looking for skeletons,
my husband's cupboard

will prove disappointing.

He had no vices.
He hardly drank,
never even smoked.

We're simply trying...

You're wondering
if all this was
paid for legitimately.

Well,
Keith was good at what he did
and he was always

careful with money.

He'd never even
holiday abroad.
Preferred the Yorkshire Coast.

What about you, Mrs Rothwell?
Were you satisfied with that?

We hadn't been away
together for years.

Do you expect this to make
the newspapers?

Yes. Yes, we hope so.

Given that we're
trying to catch the killer.

You've managed to gather
yourself remarkably quickly,
Mrs Rothwell.

And do you consider yourself
a sensitive reader
of people, Detective?

Only, Hannah said
you first spoke to her

whilst wiping
her father's brain
off your shoe.

Shame you weren't awake to
look after her, then...

DI Morton!

ALAN: Excuse us.

(SIGHS)

It's worth remembering
that irrespective
of anything else,

she has just lost her husband
and Hannah her father.

Why don't you go and make sure

that the local
intelligence-gathering
is being handled properly?

I don't call going
door-to-door

intelligence-gathering,
DCI Banks.

Then make up a name for it
and I'll see you
back at the station.

I'm sorry about that,
Mrs Rothwell.

Is this postcard
from your son? May I?

Yes.

Is this the last
communication
you had from him?

Yes.

And how long's he been away?

Three and a half months.

Eighteen years old, travelling
on his own. You must miss him.

-Of course.
-And your husband?

Well, Keith was never much
at discussing his feelings,

but yes, I imagine so.

So Tom leaving
his father's name
off this, sent 10 days ago,

is what, just an oversight?

You'd have to ask him.

We will, when we find him.

You seem very
protective of your son.

I'm very protective
of both my children,
Inspector,

despite what some may think.

He hated him.
They hated each other,
as far as I could see.

LANDLORD:
Sure you don't want a drink?

No, I'd like to get this
done
as quickly as possible,

for your daughter's sake.
But thanks.

Look,
that's all I know, really.

I only cleaned
there a few months.

But long enough to witness
regular arguments

between Mr
Rothwell and his son.

Hear them, anyway.
You couldn't help it.

And were they about
anything in particular?

Dunno.
It wasn't like I had time
to stand and listen.

I was too scared to
stop for a second.

Everyone up there was scared.

Scared of what?

Of her. Mrs Rothwell.

You felt sorry for him.

It was like he was
trying to keep out
of the way all the while,

in his own house.

Ready for an update?

You're keen.

Anything on
the wadding yet, Ken?

Within the hour, boss.

We're still waiting
on the techies, too.

And I thought the whole point
of computers

was that they were
faster than this.

Right. Keith Rothwell
was notoriously mean

but there had to
be something more.

I strongly
suspect that you'll find
specialist porn

or reference to
it on his machines.

It could well be
that that's where
he was making his real money,

which now all goes
to Mary Rothwell.

If pushed,
I'd say that either she
or the son or both of them

hired our shooter,
who used that wadding
to make some kind of point.

And you really think Rothwell
had it in him to get involved
in something illegal?

-ALAN: Win?
-Well, he was sacked from H&P

for fiddling timesheets.

Could have been struck off,
if Mary hadn't stepped up

and asked Daddy's
firm to keep quiet
and protect his reputation.

So almost certainly domestic,
possibly with
a bit of dirty money?

That's my instinct.

I mean, America's awake now,
so it's just a matter of time

before we find Tom Rothwell.

Could well be a long day but
I reckon we'll have
a result by the end of it.

Excellent work, Inspector.

You go along with
all this, I presume?

Well, we haven't really...
DCI Banks...

A bit formal.
You settling in all right?

ALAN: Yes! Very well.

In fact, it was Helen doing
good old-fashioned
door-to-door inquiries

who confirmed that
Mary Rothwell hadn't exactly
been truthful to us

about relations
between father and son.

Helen,
what have you got there?

It's from the Press Office.

They've had a call about the
photograph in the first
editions of thePost.

ALAN: Of Keith Rothwell?

Of the man we
found in the garage.

Keith Rothwell.

Not according to
a woman in Leeds.

She says this is someone
called Robert Calvert.

It must be difficult for you.

Moving to
a different department,
getting used to new people.

See if it was me,
I'd just say,

"You're not fitting in very
well, are you?"

Have you heard from DS Cabbot?

Yes. She's doing well.

-You must miss her.
-Well, of course.

But we all have to
carry on, or else...

Annie's a good colleague.

And what exactly
makes a good colleague,

do you think, DCI Banks?

What, you actually want me
to tell you how to fit in?

(SCOFFS)

Well, um...

suffer a trip to the pub,
for a start.

Using nicknames is good,

or at least don't refer to
your colleagues by their
rank all the time.

Crack a joke or two,
preferably
at someone else's expense.

Buy a round of coffees.
It's really not...

rocket science.

What's this?

It was found in
Rothwell's jacket.

He put spent
matches back in the box.

Turned round the other way
from the live ones.

Mary Rothwell wasn't
wrong when she said
he was careful.

She also said he didn't smoke.

(DOORBELL RINGS)

In her 70s, smells of
sprouts,
only talks to cats.

Oh, hi, yeah. Come in.

Yeah, it's him.

-HELEN: Robert Calvert?
-Yeah.

You're absolutely sure?

We were in
a relationship for six
months.

So, have they
printed the wrong picture?

We gave it to them,
Miss Jeffries.

It's Keith Rothwell.

Who was shot dead
in the early hours
of this morning.

When did you last see him?

About four months ago.

Did you know he was married?

Not that it would
necessarily have mattered.

Can you describe
what he was like?

He was...fun, funny, um...

(CHUCKLES) ...adventurous.

Makes sense,
his being married.

I travel a lot and there was
a limit to how much we could
offer each other.

Maybe that's why it worked.

Except you split up.

Because I got
the feeling I wasn't the
only one, and married or not,

all I asked was
that he was with me
when we were together.

Have you got any photographs
of the two of you together?

-No, why?
-What do you do,
Miss Jeffries?

Play the clarinet, Inspector.

You don't believe me, do you?
That's why you
want to see photos.

Where did you meet?

Leeds Town Hall,
at a Tchaikovsky recital.

Robert loved music.

All different kinds of music.

You played in these concerts?

Yeah.

You've performed at
Sydney Opera House?

(LAUGHS) Yes.
Yeah, I hope to again
in a couple months, actually.

Budapest first, though.
I leave in a few days.

You didn't strike me
as a classical musician.

Whereas you do
strike me as a policeman.

I thought you lot did courses
on not judging books
by their covers.

Is there any reason why you
don't have a very high opinion
of us, Miss Jeffries?

Have you had previous dealings
with the police?

No, but I do tend to
try and avoid people
who choose to spend their days

being suspicious of others.

Ella Fitzgerald.

It wasn't enough that she was
a world-class singer,
she also played the clarinet.

-And the trumpet.
-Yes.

(MOBILE RINGING)

Yeah, Win, can you give me
a minute, please? Thanks.

He had a flat.

Do you think you
could take us there?

Yeah.

Rothwell's computer files
have been unlocked.

There's no porn, just pages of
numbers and letters.

And they're being analysed now
but I think
they're account details.

There's one code that appears
on most of the documents,

NCLF LS1.

There's
a solicitor in Leeds LS1.
His name's Norcliffe.

I thought while
you were in town...

Can you text
the address to Helen, please?
That's great work, Win.

Cheers.
Ken wants to talk to you.

Dirty Squad have sent a sample
of the material that
the wadding came from.

It's Dutch,
hardcore, pretty niche.

Gynaecology meets automatic
weapons. And it's at
least 10 years old.

I mean, most of
this stuff you can get
online now. Apparently.

Contact Cyber Crime
and tell them you need
a list of relevant sites,

and start
requisitioning databases.

You want payment details
as well as usernames.

Most men won't give
their actual identities.

I'm sure Ken doesn't need an
intelligence
expert to tell him that.

First Exotic Companions,
now gun porn? Do I look like
a sexual deviant?

-Yes.
-ALAN:Yes.

Yes.

Win, we also need everything
you can get on a
Robert Calvert, please.

-Right.
-And Pamela Jeffries.

-Will do.
-ALAN:Thanks, Win.

Right. See you later.

-CARETAKER: There you go.
-Thank you.

It's probably best
not to touch anything.

He had a complete tin ear.

-Loved listening.
-Hmm.

Mr Norcliffe's not in any
kind
of trouble, is he?

Would you be
surprised if he was?

Of course.

That's Robert.

And was this Robert as well?

And was he a man who
left his CDs in a mess

or one who put spent matches
back in the box?

You don't seem very worried,
Mrs Graves,

considering you
haven't heard from
Mr Norcliffe since yesterday.

He's the boss.
He does what he likes.

And does he often
do what he likes?

He's out of
the office a lot, yes.

You don't always ask
where he is, even though
you're his secretary?

That's why I'm his secretary.

So this is nothing unusual?

He does answer his
phone to me, usually.

But he hasn't today?

(SIREN WAILING IN DISTANCE)

Faster on the train,
and the music's better.

Did you see any CDs or records
at the Rothwells'?

Why?

You left a search
team at Norcliffe's?

Yeah,
and we're running his mobile
numbers now.

Nobody honest
needs three phones.

Also...

Alan,
I believe you already know
DCI Stuart Burgess from SOCA.

Yes.

And this is DI Helen Morton,
joined us recently.

From regional intelligence.
We've heard good things.

Tell us about Norcliffe, Alan.

No sightings of
him after he left his
regular restaurant,

three hours before the murder.

Searching is underway,
although obviously he
has a start on us.

Locating him is
now a top priority,
alongside our gunman

and Tom Rothwell.

We found him. I was about to
tell you. In San Diego,
through Facebook.

He's been advised to return.

You'll have to
explain to Banksy
what Facebook is.

I assume this is where the
extra resources came from?

So, why are SOCA
sending people down
to the death of an accountant?

You know who
this is, I presume?

Martin Fleming.

Salt-of-the-earth
politician who'd
have you believe MP stands for

Man of the People.
(CLEARS THROAT)

And subject of
a two-year investigation
into serious fraud

and money-laundering offences.
Don't tell me
you voted for him.

Course you did.
He's right up your street.

Everyone's in
it for themselves
in the end, Banksy.

You'd know.

It seems Mr
Fleming was at Cambridge
with one Daniel Norcliffe.

Any connection gets flagged up
on our system,

including your
headless accountant.

Norcliffe would have needed
certain expertise to set
things up for Fleming,

and a non-entity like
Rothwell
would have been perfect.

Until he didn't
need him any more.

I don't know.
I don't much care,
for that matter.

We're in it for
the big fish, so,

we don't need you disturbing
the waters by chasing
Norcliffe and your shooter.

That's why I'm here.
To make sure
you keep us up-to-date

and stay well away
from Martin Fleming.

As I said, DCI Burgess,
we're happy to cooperate.

Yes, I can see that.

You wouldn't know it
but Banksy and I
are old friends,

we trained together.

Interestingly, he seemed to
like me less and less
the more I got promoted.

At some point
Detective Burgess started
hunting personal glory

rather than real criminals.

Yes, one could never accuse
you of hunting glory.

No offence.

No, don't worry,
we'll give
Fleming a wide berth,

but I'll also give him
the benefit of the doubt.

Not only because given
the severity of the crime
that
we're investigating,

money-laundering seems rather
trifle...

There's no such thing as
victimless crime.

...but also because it's
perfectly possible that he's
a corrupt businessman

and a good MP.

You do realise
you've just stormed
out your own office?

(SIGHS)

Initial fingerprint
comparison
between Calvert's flat
and Rothwell's body.

A perfect match.

Looks like we're chasing the
killer of the world's most
interesting accountant.

Okay, listen up. I'm heading
into Leeds. DI Morton is in
charge in my absence.

Right,
the search of Norcliffe's
property hasn't turned up much

but SOCA have been working
all night with Rothwell's
computer files.

SOCA? Who called the cavalry?

He's been depositing
considerable sums offshore
over a number of years.

All right, how about this?

Rothwell and
Norcliffe are working
happily together,

then Rothwell
starts creaming money
off the top.

Norcliffe finds out he's being
ripped off, decides he doesn't
need a partner any more

so he hires
someone to kill Rothwell.

Sorry, sir, Calvert's flat
was
broken into overnight.

That were the caretaker.
Apparently they
made quite a mess.

All right, Win, get Forensics
down there, I'll call in
while I'm in town.

Then I want you and Helen
to go to Arkbeck Farm.

Did Mary
Rothwell know Norcliffe?

Oh, and I want you to check
through their
music collection.

Norcliffe doesn't
do criminal cases,
does he?

Well,
it might be worth finding out
who he referred them to.

Maybe that's where
we'll find our shooter.

Who says that
looking at porn all day
rots your brain?

(ALL CHUCKLE)

Obviously makes your
hair fall out, though.
(LAUGHS)

You can't really think he was
having an affair.

We're not in
a position to go into
details,
Mrs Rothwell,

but there may
be several things
he kept to himself.

Well, Keith had no
imagination whatsoever.

Except when it
came to timesheets,
apparently.

I'll repeat the names.

When you're in a position to
reveal what you think you know
about my husband,

I assume I'll be
the first to hear it.

Pamela Jeffries.

I hope I won't
have to read about
it in the newspaper. No.

-Robert Calvert.
-I told you once.

We can finish
this at the station,
if you prefer.

I've never heard of him.

How about Daniel Norcliffe?

Think about it this time.

Uh, no.

What about your son?

When's your son back?

(SIGHS) Tomorrow,
for the funeral.

We weren't sure he'd bother,

given what we now know about
his relationship with his dad.

Well, if you had children...

I have. I look
forward to meeting Tom.

Hopefully he's got a better
memory for names.

(SIGHS)

POLICEMAN: Ma'am.

It's as though
reality doesn't actually
touch her.

Isn't that what money does?
Insulates you.

(CHUCKLES) I wouldn't know.

It's been distinctly draughty
for me since I bought a house
I couldn't afford

on a mortgage
even a loan shark
wouldn't give you these days.

How old are they? Your kids?

-Is that relevant?
-No, I suppose not.

(DOORBELL RINGS)

Hi.

Do you want some sugar?

No, thank you.

-Here.
-Thanks.

I do have some more questions,
I'm afraid.

-Okay.
-(CLEARS THROAT)

Did Robert ever talk about
his business dealings?

(LAUGHS) No.

What about Daniel Norcliffe?
Did he ever mention that name?

He never even told
me his real name.

Me and Robert,
we didn't do reality.

So what did you do?

It's important that
I try to understand

or get a sense of why this
careful, controlled man would
take such a huge risk.

And what have you
come up with so far?

Necessity, I suppose.

I think he felt trapped
by how people saw him

and perhaps how
he saw himself.

And maybe came to realise that
he wasn't actually being true
to who he really was.

He was still controlled,
though.

I mean, he must have been,
to be able to
keep two lives going.

"Let's keep it in the moment."

That's what he used to say.

Maybe that's why he
loved music so much,

because it holds
you in the moment.

You know,
you remind me of him.

(CHUCKLES)

I've got
something to show you.

So, wherever I am in the
world,

I make sure there are two
things that travel with me,

my instrument and this.

This is Ella Fitzgerald
singing live at a club in
Hollywood in the early '60s.

This is seriously rare.

Yeah, I think I've got
a copy of this on CD.

Yeah, me too. And digitally,

but neither of
them sound like this.

Nothing could sound like
this.
That night was
supposed to be on vinyl.

Do you know what I mean?

I'd love to hear it.

I've got a rehearsal,
unfortunately.

Oh, yeah. No, of course.

I'm home tonight,
though, if you...

(CHUCKLES NERVOUSLY)

Um, you know,
I'm not actually sure.

Take it with you now,
and then you can
get it back to me

when we next see each other.

As long as it's
before I go to Budapest.

Hello?

(DOOR OPENS)

Ah, hi. Police.

You took your time.

Oh,
I'm not responding to a call.

There's been a break-in.

Sometime after our
lot left last night.

Same technique
as at Calvert's?

Yeah. I left Forensics
down there but I don't
hold out much hope.

Looks like we're not the
only ones searching for
Daniel Norcliffe.

Did you get anything
from Pamela Jeffries?

Well, nothing to speak of.

Mary Rothwell seems to think
Keith having an affair
was impossible.

She would.

Mind you, he was punching well
above his weight.

Maybe they
shared something that
went beyond what Mary Rothwell

and others can understand.

Oh, the music at Arkbeck.
Half the CDs probably came
free with the Sunday papers.

It's exactly
what you'd expect.

Was there any particular...

(EXHALES)

I've got the details of that
criminal lawyer that
Norcliffe
referred clients to.

I'll get a full client list
and get DC Blackstone to
cross-reference it

against the porn data.

Go, Banksy.

Did you just call me Banksy?

-You said...
-Well, don't.

Please. Not ever.

Tell you what,
just email it to me, yeah?

I'd better phone home, Ken.
Looks like we're
in for a long night.

Okay,
I'm going out for coffee,
who wants what?

Not for me, thanks.

No thanks.

Uh...

-Mmm-mmm.
-No, thanks.

No? Cool. Good.

Yeah.

(IT HAD TO BE YOU
BY ELLA FITZGERALD PLAYING)

(SIGHS)

(DOORBELL RINGS)

-MAN: I want to talk to you.
-(PAMELA WHIMPERING)

MAN: I don't want
any trouble, right?

You just tell me what I want
to know and I'll be gone.
I'll be out of your life.

(PHONE RINGING)

(SLAP, PAMELA CRIES OUT)

-I don't... I don't...
-(PHONE RINGING)

(PUNCHING, THUDDING)

MAN:
'Cause I'm not leaving you
until you tell me!

(GLASS SHATTERING,
PAMELA SCREAMS)

-Don't tell me you don't
know!
-(PAMELA SOBBING)

MAN: Don't treat
me like I'm stupid!
PAMELA: I'm sorry! I'm sorry!

-(SHOUTS) Where is he?
Where is he?
-I don't know!

PAMELA: (SOBBING) Please,
please, please...