All language subtitles for Endeavour.S03E02.720p.HDTV.x264-ORGANiC_eng

Tally-ho!

No!

- Annette, what a super outfit.
- Thanks.

I'm forever telling Pru she should
make a bit of an effort and it'll
take years off you.

Let me get you a drink.
Annette, gin and bitter lemon?

What will you do with yourself
now you're back from Harvard?

He's gonna work at the supermarket
for his old man. Learn the ropes.

Er, just for the summer.

- Come to Richardsons supermarket...
- Dad?

Who's had the Savoy Truffle?

- Is there anything in it?
- Who knows?

Well, deal with it, Ivor.

Christ, what do I pay you for?
Remind me.

You're a manager, aren't you?
Manage!

I don't take kindly to being
hustled about a police station like
a criminal!

Who do you think you are?

Calm down, sir, I'm
just trying to do my job.

Will this take much longer? It's
ridiculous.

I felt ill and my husband agreed to
run me home.

Well, perhaps if you didn't drink so
much you wouldn't feel quite so ill.

You're very rude.

No, Mrs Richardson, I am very busy.

- Are you going to charge them?
- Apparently not.

But you might want to remind your
father, when he's sobered up,

that another month and the new Road
Safety Act comes into law.

- It won't matter who he plays golf with then.
- I'm sorry if you were put to any trouble.

- Well, it's not your fault.
- It will be.

- You took your time.
- I was out.

Who were you saving this evening?
Yellow ones or little brown ones?

Little red ones, actually.

All right, all right. Not tonight,
for Christ's sake.

- Come on.
- Constable Nixon will see you out.

Aghh!

Brigade had to axe their way through.
Morning, matey.

- Who's the, er...?
- Simon Hallward. Early 20s.

What is he, some sort of artist or
something?

According to Mrs Cravat, his
landlady. Lived here about 18 months.

It's turps.

- Next of kin?
- I've got Shirley talking to the neighbours.

Woman Police Constable Trewlove.
She's new.

Overcome by smoke most likely.

The fire's done the rest.

- Any idea as to cause?
- Cigarette, left burning.

Room full of solvents.

Runners and riders,
once I've completed the post-mortem.

Sheer hooliganism. Throwing members
of the public off the towpath?

The boys' colleges have been spoken
to.

They'll be gated for the rest of the
term, but the victim didn't want to
press charges.

- They bought him off, I suppose.
- Offered to pay for his dry-cleaning.

- Anything else?
- Morse is looking into
a fatal fire in Jericho.

Oh, and DC Parrish rang in sick this
morning. Tummy bug.

- How many does that make?
- Three, sir, in CID.

And five on 'B' Relief. Much more of
it, we'll have to bus in reserves.

- You're all right, are you?
- As ninepence, sir. Touch wood.

Trewlove? I'm Detective Morse.

- Anything germane?
- Not much.

The deceased moved in a year ago
last February.

Nobody saw much of him.

Out at his studio in the day,
in the Turf most nights.

- Friends? Girlfriend?
- One or two models but no names, I'm afraid.

Last person to see him from here
was a Miss Treadwell. Ground floor
flat.

She saw him heading out
about seven last night.

There's some talk
that he might have been at Beaufort.

And he was behind with the rent.

- What?
- Your idea of "not much".

- Have I missed something?
- No, no. It is commendably thorough.

I don't suppose anyone knew if he
was a night owl or an early riser?

I can ask. Why? Is it important?

Wondered what he had to get up for
so early.

The clock was stopped dead on five.

Not a few minutes to nor a few
minutes past, but bang on the hour.

- Too neat, you mean?
- What's this?

Morse has some reservations
about this death by fire.

What's new?

No, go on. Who was he?

Simon Hallward. Read Philosophy at
Beaufort,

only he dropped out last summer.

Joined a commune up by Boar's Hill
run by a man called Gideon Finn.

- Calls himself Brother Gideon.
- Morse.

Sergeant Strange said I might find
you here.

Trewlove. This is Detective
Inspector Thursday and DS Jakes.

- Constable.
- Wotcher.

I went by the Turf
to ask after your man Hallward.

He was in there last night shortly
after seven,
on his usual Radfords,

when he added a gin and bitter lemon
to his order.

- So he had a woman with him.
- That was my thought.

No description though. He was sat
around the corner from the bar.

I just... thought you'd want to know.

- Excellent use of initiative, Constable.
- Thank you, sir.

Morse. Sergeant.

You sickening for something?

New WPC and no off-colour remarks?
We'll be sending out for iron
tablets.

I've been through his post. It's odd.

A man dies but the business of his
life goes on.

Letter from his parents.

Notice of an AGM for the Oxford
Trogs, whatever that might be.

Bills mainly. Art supplier, wine
merchant. Final demand on both.

- The door was locked, then?
- Yes, according to Strange.

- Brigade had to chop their way in.
- So where's the key?

This Finn character. Where did you
say he was?

Good afternoon.

Come in peace and friendship.

Enter freely with a loving heart,

and leave behind some of the
happiness you bring.

No, you're all right, miss,
thank you.

DI Thursday, DC Morse. City Police.

Miss...? Ayesha.

- We're looking for Gideon Finn.
- I'm Gideon.

Welcome to House Beautiful.

- That's awful. Poor Simon.
- When did you last see him?

It must be six months. He left us
last autumn, after the harvest.

- How was it you knew him?
- We met in Life Drawing class.

That was his thing, really. Art,
painting.

That's Simon's. Oxford was his
parents' idea. But we stayed in
touch.

After he threw in his degree, he came
out here.

- Why did he leave? A falling out?
- No, nothing like that.

He just, um... moved on.

I don't think he got what we're
about.

- What are you about?
- A simpler way.

We have questions about ourselves,
and the world,

erm, what we're here for, what it
means.

And you're the leader of this, er...
whatever you want to call it.

It's a commune.

We have no leaders, but I found the
place, started the work.

- Do you want one?
- No. No, thanks.

- Big place. Who owns it?
- Nobody.

- It must belong to someone.
- All property is theft.

- Is that right, miss?
- We're not harming anyone.

We eat what we grow.
We drink what we draw from the well.

- Sounds like hard work.
- It is.

But at least we're not harming each
other.

- Simon Hallward wasn't happy with that.
- He wasn't ready.

- For what?
- To let go.

To trust.

He was still too attached to the
world.

You see them, crowded onto trains,
hurtling through life, just another
rat in the race.

And for what? First to the grave?

That's not what we're about.

Consider the lilies of the field.

"Consider the lilies of the field"?

Come that old madam with me,
and he'll be considering my boot up
his arse.

- You won't be signing up, then?
- There's nothing wrong with that one

that two weeks in the glasshouse and
a scrub down with carbolic wouldn't
put right.

Did you see the girl flinch
when he put his hands on her?

Yes, I saw.
Pot and free love, I suppose.

Free love. In my experience, that's
the most expensive kind there is.

End the illegal regime!
End the illegal regime!

End the illegal regime!
End the illegal regime!

End the illegal regime!
End the illegal regime!

Freedom for Rhodesia!

End the illegal regime! End the illegal regime!

- Freedom for Rhodesia!
- End the illegal regime!

Simon Hallward.

Asphyxia.

He'd drunk, quite heavily.

Which is probably why he didn't wake
when the fire broke out.

He was in the pub most nights,
according to the neighbours.

The Last of the Red Hot Livers.

Hm. Now...

...if you'll excuse me, I've a little
mystery of my own to solve.

Miss Lorraine Figgis.

Fit young woman, just collapsed in
the street on the way back from the
shops.

Upstairs are at a loss.

They thought it might have been this
stomach bug, but if it was it would
be the first fatality.

- So...
- These hers or yours?

Oh, hers.

Came to hospital with her. Though
what they expect me to do with them.

- Aw. How old is she?
- 14 months.

Aw! She's gorgeous.

Come on, you. Let's get you home.

- All right?
- End the illegal regime!

End the illegal regime! End the illegal regime!
End the illegal regime!

Here comes the train,
into the tunnel.

- Glass? In baby food?
- Mm, stewed apples to be precise.

- It's a miracle the child wasn't badly injured.
- Or worse.

- Where did the mother come by it?
- Richardsons, in the centre.

Mrs Thursday swears by them for
value.

One of about two dozen stores,
here and in the Midlands.

- Have they been spoken to?
- Morse is on his way there now

to talk to the manager,
a Mr Maddox, see what's what.

We had Mr Richardson, the owner,
in the station the other night.

He'd been drinking quite heavily,
but there's something else.

A young woman collapsed and died in
the street after shopping at
Richardsons on Saturday.

Now the hospital had this down as

some kind of tummy bug at first.

- Coincidence, surely?
- Possibly.

But two incidents where both of the
customers have come to harm,
it could be something more.

We're taking the baby food off the
shelves in case there's glass in any
of the others.

But she's sure she got it from here,
is she?

Much as I like to flatter myself,
customers do shop elsewhere.

It was Richardsons' own brand.

I can show you the receipt, if you'd
like to see it.

Luckily the little girl was off her
food.

Her mother thought she might try some
if she saw her eat first.

There must be some sort of
malfunction at the bottling plant.

I'll talk to our suppliers.

I'll talk to your suppliers
if you give me their number.

Of course.
Unless there was anything else?

Actually, there is another matter.

One of your customers collapsed on
the street yesterday afternoon.

Possibly this stomach bug.
Sadly, she died in the night.

You're not laying that at our door, I
hope.

No. But when going through her
effects,

she had a substantial amount of
Green Shield Stamps in her bag.

They're proving very popular.

I'm no expert, but she seemed to have

many more stamps
than her purchases seemed to warrant.

All done, Dad. Where do you want
them? Out back, please.

It's Mr Maddox at work, I told you.

- Freedom for Rhodesia!
- End the illegal regime!

- What's this?
- Rhodesia. The boycott.

They've got it into their heads
we're selling embargoed sugar.

- Are you?
- The law is very clear.

We would not and, as far as we're
aware,

have not bought Rhodesian sugar.

Such goods could be bought via
indirect means.

This company was founded
on good Christian principles.

Quakers, weren't they, the
Richardsons?

Well...

- Good heavens. What's this?
- I believe it's called a sit-in.

I'm suspected of what?

We were exercising our lawful right
to peaceful protest.

This morning a young mother bought
a jar of baby food from Richardsons.

It was laced with broken glass.

She came this close to feeding it to
her child.

That is... barbaric.

But you cannot imagine
it was anything to do with us.

People have done far worse
in the name of one thing or another.

- It was a non-violent demonstration.
- Actually, it was trespass.

If you're convicted
you could have your visa revoked.

I can't see how that would help you.

If I am sent back to my country,

I will most likely be killed.

Morse, a word.

Good news, Mr Mukamba. Um...

Richardsons don't want to take the
matter any further... this time.

What swung it? The sea view?

I got most of it in the other day.

Thanks for the help. Do you fancy a
drink?

Can't tonight. Next time though.

- He's quite nice looking.
- Shy, though.

The quiet type.

Bit like George Harrison.

It's the quiet ones you've got to
watch. My old boss was like that.

Wouldn't say boo, but get him in the
stockroom and he was all hands.

Seven and nine, please.

Oh, Miss Thursday.

Running late. I've left the door.

- Need a lift?
- No, you're all right.

- Dad says you've moved.
- Yes.

- Nice?
- Oh, you know. Four walls.

- Sorry I can't stop.
- Another time.

- Morning, by the way.
- Morning.

- You lost something?
- Thunderbird 2.

Bit of a squeeze, I'd have thought.

- Hello, Morse.
- Hello, Mrs Thursday.

- Hi, Morse.
- Hello, Sam.

- Much on?
- I called Hallward's art supplier.

He has a place at Osney. Thought I'd
take a look once I've dropped you at
the station.

- Heh-hey!
- Richardsons were out of your usual,

so it'll have to be bloater paste.
- Oh! Right. Nice change.

- Come home safe.
- Righto.

This is you handling it, is it?

I thought I had... handled it.

Don't! Don't! Bloater's off.

- Flypaper?
- Infused with arsenic.

Illegal these days.

Must be antique stock
he's got hold of somewhere.

Soaking the strips in water for a few
hours

will extract most of the soluble
arsenates.

So that's what he used to doctor
the bloater paste?

Certainly looks that way.
He was nothing if not methodical.

Ah, says here. Last entry, Friday
week.

"Following disappointing preliminary
results, tripled the dose.

Findings to follow."

So, what was he about? Mass murder?
Some sort of grudge?

The woman who died of the tummy bug.

She shopped at Richardsons,
didn't she?

- So you think Richardsons is the target?
- Probably.

But if Hallward was the poisoner,
then who killed Hallward?

- City Police...
- Do the honours.

Ladies and gentlemen,
can I have your attention, please?

Detective Constable Morse, City
Police.

Stop what you're doing and leave your
shopping.

If you've paid for your goods,

please leave them where they are and
obtain a refund.

This store is now closed.

- Here, let me.
- I can manage.

Is everything all right? What's
going on?

I'm sure your parents will explain.

Is this a joke?

Taken together with glass being found
in a jar of baby food yesterday,

it would suggest that someone's got
it in for your business.

Typically in these cases, the motive
is extortion.

"Pay so much or we'll ruin your
business and your reputation."

Have you received any threats like
that?

- When did this start?
- About a month ago.

Always at the same branch.

Always left on the shelves,
addressed to the manager. That was
the first one.

"Certain of your food products have
been contaminated with a purgative

injurious to your customers. Symptoms
include vomiting and upset stomach."

Purgative?

"Indicate you are prepared to pay
£50,000

by putting a sign in the window

offering Richardsons biscuits at
half-price

and further instructions will be
delivered."

What did you do?

Nothing.

We didn't do nothing, Ivor.
We did something. We ignored it.

You should have come to us at once.

And seen our share price drop
through the floor. Thank you

Every business gets letters like
these, monthly,

if not weekly, mostly written in
crayon.

They're by crackpots or idiots
trying it on.

If we took every one seriously...

So you put profit before customers'
lives. You played Russian roulette

and now at least one of them is dead.

Tell you, won't miss shifts like
this.

How's that?
Oh, I've been meaning to say.

I've put my papers in.

You've resigned? Yeah.

You kept that quiet.

This, er... this girl I've been
seeing is... well...

...pregnant.

I see.

- It's the right thing.
- Mm.

Not in that way. Funny. It crosses
your mind, something like that.

I thought it would be the worst
thing that could happen to a bloke,

but now it's here, it's about one of
the best.

- She's a great girl.
- I'm sure she is.

Congratulations.

June bride. But not here. America.

She's been doing a, er... what d'you
call it, a doctorate, is it?
At Lady Matilda's.

But all her family's out there.
Wyoming.

Old man's in the cattle business.
Gonna take me on.

- Right.
- Outdoor work.

Clean air.

Leave all this behind.

A new start.

- When do you...?
- End of the week.

- That soon?
- When your number's up.

We're, er, we're having a few drinks
at the Flag. Just mates.

Gideon?

Gid?

Gideon?

What are you going to do?

- Why does everyone ask that?
- They don't ask me.

Like I know.

- Did they know?
- They had a war.

We've got a war.

Haven't we?

It's like I can see their lips moving
but I don't speak the language.

I don't understand what they want.

It's the same full-page ad in all
the nationals.

A problem with the "manufacturing
process".

I've been after Leo Richardson all
afternoon. He's keeping
tight-lipped.

- Is he?
- What's the real story?

I've been looking into the company.
It was founded in 1843.

They even had a refreshment stand
at the Great Exhibition.

- Maddox and Richardson?
- That's right.
- Why?

Oh, nothing. Only... the manager of
the Cowley branch is called Maddox.

- Any relation?
- I don't know.

I mean I knew it was founded by
Quakers, but beyond that...

Well, that was the problem.
Looking back through the archives,

the schism seems to have been
brought about by the Great War.

Mr Maddox found out that his partner
had been provisioning the army

through a holding company, which was
at odds with his pacifist credo.

Maddox had a son, a stretcher
bearer, killed at Mons.

That seems to have put the tin hat
on it. Literally.

The two men never spoke to each
other again.

And there... I must leave you.

My dinner companion.

A date, Miss Frazil?

Well, I like to keep my hand in.

You should try it sometime.
Seriously.

You're looking uncared for.

Morse?

Thank God! Thank God.

What? What is it?
The station said you asked for me.

When I came home, the lights were on

but I turned them off before I went
out.

- When was this?
- About half an hour ago.

I think there might be someone
upstairs.

Well, you should have called for a
patrol. They'd have been much sooner.

Wait here.

The house is secure. There's no-one
here.

- Are you sure?
- Yes.

Verity must have come home
and then gone out again.

Right.

Well, there we are. Mystery solved.

Good night, Mrs Richardson.

Would you wait until my husband gets
home?

- When will that be?
- Not long. Please.

I just don't really want to be
alone,

not with everything that's happened.

You can understand that, can't you?

- Any news?
- No. Not yet.

What will you drink? Whisky?

- Oh, nothing for me, thank you.
- Don't be silly. Straight or on the rocks?

Waiting with you is one thing,
a drink is something else.

Is it?

Isn't it?

- Well, you're not very gallant.
- So I've been told.

- Making a woman drink alone.
- I expect you can manage.

Oh, that was low.

I'm not a fool, Mrs Richardson.

Well, you're certainly acting like
one.

Would you come upstairs, please?

Why?

Because I want to change my dress.

You're big enough to do that by
yourself.

But the zip sticks.

I'm sure Mr Richardson will be able
to assist you when he arrives.

You're not going to help me,
are you?

You really are a heel.

- What is it?
- There was someone there.

- Where?
- Outside, by the pool.

No, no, don't go. Don't go.

Whoever it is will be gone by now.

And as you're here...

This zip really is a devil.

I'm sure I'm not the first woman
you've seen in her underclothes.

Thank you.

I'll be downstairs.

Do you not like women? Is that it?

I'm not... asking you to run
away with me... to the Kasbah.

What would be the harm?

I'm... afraid it's a little too...

...sophisticated... for me.

Well, when... when you change your
mind...

...you have my number.

Hello again.

Your mother thought that there was
an intruder. It was a false alarm.

Dad told me what's going on.

Who'd want to do this?

My parents...

- They're not bad people.
- They're successful, rich,

which makes them a target
for some very bad people indeed.

Try not to worry.

- Good night.
- Good night.

An intruder.

I thought so.

Where's Daddy?

Out. I don't know.

- How was your date?
- It wasn't a date.

No, of course not.

You wouldn't let a boy touch you
where he shouldn't, would you?

What do you want?

A drink.

Verity?

Verity?

Verity.

Verity?

Leo!

- Leo!
- Where are you?

Leo, come quick!

What is it?

Let's spread out.

- Victor, you come with me.
- Sir.

Sergeant!

- Blood?
- Oh, yes.

Same on the bed, and the stairs.
There's not much more I can tell you.

- What about these?
- Librium.

Tranquillisers. Usually prescribed
for anxiety.

Dr Amthor. Doesn't ring a bell, I'm
afraid.

You know where I am if you need me.

Doctor.

- Who saw her last?
- Her mother. About half-past ten.

- Nobody heard anything?
- No.

I saw Mrs Richardson here last night.

She'd been drinking quite heavily.

- What were you doing here?
- She called the station.

She thought there'd been an
intruder, but there wasn't.

Then she claimed to have seen
someone in the garden.

- Claimed?
- There was no-one there,
so far as I could see.

- Where was the father?
- Out.

He says he got in about one,
fell asleep on the sofa downstairs.

Found this, sir.
Caught on a branch in the garden.

Now, there was a dentist's surgery
in Summertown turned over yesterday.

WPC Trewlove says there was
a bottle of chloroform with the
takings.

When the call comes, and it will,
it's very important you stay calm.

Keep him talking for as long as you
can.

The longer you can keep him talking,
the better chance we've got of
tracing the call. All right?

- It's the supermarket Richardsons?
- Yes, sir.

- Kidnap, presumably.
- That's what we're assuming.

No ransom demand as yet. Entry seems
to have been the back door.

Whoever took her
knew exactly where to find her.

- What do we know about the girl?
- Oh, not a great deal.

Attended Blythe Mount.
Finishing school on the Continent.

Involved with AmnOx.

- The civil rights people.
- That's them, sir.

The Howard League. Good causes in
general.

Verity had been prescribed
tranquillisers, Mrs Richardson.

Yes, she... she suffers with her
nerves.

Whoever took her
knew which room was your daughter's.

We'll need a list of her friends and
of yours.

But this is... whoever is threatening
the business.

Mr and Mrs Richardson.

Chief Superintendent Reginald Bright,
City Police.

I'm here at the express wish
of the Chief Constable

to assure you we will do everything
possible

to see your daughter home again safe
and sound.

Leo? Annette?

- What's going on?
- It's Verity.

Some... someone's taken her in the
night.

What? My God.

- What are you doing here?
- I...

I just went into the store to see if
there was anything I could do and...

...I found this in the bread aisle.
I don't how long it's been there.

I thought it might have something to
do with the other business.

"Stay by your phone. Wait for
instruction.

One chance. No police. No press."

Tape running.

Mr Richardson.

- Hello.
- Don't speak, just listen.

If you want to see your daughter
alive again, you'll put £100,000

in used, unmarked notes of small
denomination into a dark holdall.

Come to the phone box
on Merton Street at 4am.

Come alone and on foot.

If I see the police, the deal's off,
the girl's dead.

How do I know you'll do as you say?
How do I know she's even alive?

- Daddy! No!
- Give it to me!

Don't hurt her! Please don't hurt
her!

You're a businessman, think of
this as a business transaction.

If you follow my instructions,
you'll see her again. If you don't,
she dies.

Talk to the police, she dies.

Speak to the press, she dies.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my gosh.

Sir?

This ransom drop.

I'd like to volunteer.

- It was Jakes I had in mind.
- There's no saying how it might go.

- Dangerous, you mean?
- Potentially.

Job for a single man, I'd have
thought.

One with no dependants at least.

- He told me his news.
- Mm.

- You knew, then?
- He mentioned something.

- You didn't say.
- For him to tell you.

- Sudden.
- The way it goes sometimes.

Wouldn't have had you for a sweet
tooth.

- What is it? Calm the nerves?
- Something like that.

Just follow whatever instructions he
gives you. All right?

Don't try anything clever.

- It's a girl's life we're talking about.
- I know.

All right.

It should have been me.
I'm her father.

I should have been the one to go.

- You think that's going to help her?
- Christ, you can talk!

My men are doing all that can be
done.

Try to take what comfort you can
from that.

Believe me, I do apprehend something
of your anxiety.

Apprehend? My God, how can you?

Yes?

Phone box. New College Lane.
Four minutes.

Thursday. Go ahead. Over.

Message from Constable
Trewlove.

Second rendezvous for DS Morse
is a phone box on New College Lane.

Understood. Out.

Phone box on New College Lane.

Which phone box? There's two.

Hello?

Telephone directory. S to Z.

- Nothing.
- Must be the other box.

He could be anywhere, sir.

Clean away with the money,
and us none the wiser as to the girl.

- It was a good plan.
- Nothing's foolproof.

He's got us beat. So far.

- How's the head?
- Oh, nothing broken, thank you.

He's got what he wanted. Let's see
if he keeps his side of the bargain.

- I wouldn't hold your breath.
- We need a dog team.

I know you said not to try anything,

but erm... those sweets?
Aniseed balls.

I put one in each corner of the
holdall.

Thought it might give us a fighting
chance.

Jakes.

Good boy.

- He's transferred the money.
- The dogs are no use now.

So, which way?
We'll go this way.

- Down there.
- Sir.

- Lads, up there.
- Yes, sir.

- Do you think we'll find her?
- We'll find her.

Alive?

Be nice to go out on a win.

This time next month you'll be
riding the range, or whatever it is
you do with beeves.

Yeah.

- Second thoughts?
- Maybe.

But no regrets.

Life's too short.

There's something just up here.

- Hell's this?
- It's chalk works. Flint works too.

Used when the Botley Road
was re-laid before the war.

Simon Hallward was a member of the
Oxford Trogs. Spelunkers. Cavers.

- There was some kit at his lock-up.
- But Hallward's dead.

Yeah, but what if he's not?

What if he started the fire and it
was someone else's body that we
found at his flat?

Dental records. The only way that we
can identify him. What are the odds

it's not just chloroform been taken
from that dentist's surgery?

Look at the place. Nobody's been near
nor by here since God knows when.

It's a new padlock.

Watch out.

Mind how you go.

- Verity!
- Sshh! You'll bring the roof down.

Verity!

Watch yourself. Watch yourself.

Verity.

- Verity!
- Here!

Help! Here!

Here! Help!

Here! Here!

Verity? It's all right.
It's the police.

Stay calm. We're gonna get you out.

Look.

Won't be long now, Verity.
Nothing to be afraid of.

- Look.
- Oh, Christ.

Gotta get that bar we used on the way
in. We need something for leverage.

I'll do what I can in the meantime
with elbow grease.

- You go, I'll stay.
- It's not a debate.

That thing goes off, it could bring
the whole bloody place down.

- You've got something to lose.
- Till the end of the week I'm your senior.

So, get. Go on!

Help. Please.

Won't be long now, Verity.

There's nothing to be afraid of.

Help me, please!

Hurry, please!

Help!

Come on, up you get. Up you get.

Let's get you out of here.

Get her out. Get her out! Get her
out! Get her out!

Careful. Careful.

Come on, get her out. I'm right
behind you.

This way.

Just up here. Through there.

Peter? Peter?

What was that about second thoughts?

- How is she, nurse?
- As well as can be expected.

Tired. She'd had nothing to eat or
drink since she was taken,

but she's otherwise unharmed.

I suppose we should be grateful it
was nothing more.

- There was nothing more?
- She says not.

Does she remember anything?

The last thing I remember
is going to bed.

I think I maybe half woke up,
but only for a second.

I had the briefest sensation of
something over my nose and mouth.

It smelled like...

I had a tooth out when I was about
14. It was the same smell.

Next thing, I woke up.

I thought for a moment that I'd gone
blind.

But then I realised
I had some sort of blindfold on.

And you never saw his face at any
time? Never heard his voice?

No.

I thought I was going to die.

- All right, miss.
We'll let you get some rest.
- Thank you.

Pru, dear. That was Leo. They've
found her.

Thank God.

- And the kidnapper?
- No. No word.

I don't suppose Leo's worried about
the money.

- The main thing is they got her back.
- Yes.
- That's the main thing.

Well, I've got to go in.

The re-stock's almost done
and Leo wants to open up.

Business as usual? How can you stand
it?

Well, someone has to.

Is there any news?
It's just... we're very fond of her.

- Yes.
- Miss Flett?

You bastard! Arrest him! He knew
there was something in the food

and he kept quiet about it!
- All right!

You're going to have to hold the
fort on the kidnap.

I'm going back to the station to
brief Mr Bright before he reports to
Division.

Talk to Suzy Flett, one of the women
on the tills.

Turns out Miss Figgis, the poisoning
victim, was her cousin. Right?

So tell me about these Green Shield
Stamps.

You were giving Miss Figgis far more
than she was entitled to. Isn't that
correct? Weekly?

It was just a bit of pin money.

We'd just... redeem 'em
to get the odd gift from the shop.

And what would you do with the gifts?
Sell them on?

No-one's ever gonna get rich
on the wages they pay here.

Compared to what they've been doing,
letting people get poisoned...

Let us worry about that.

I'd keep Miss Flett away from the
tills if I were you.

Yes. Well, we don't want her
upsetting customers.

I think that's the least of your
problems.

It must be hard seeing the company
name dragged through the dirt.

Maddox and Richardson.
Bit before my time, of course.

Nonetheless, dissolving any
partnership is difficult,

especially when one seems
to have involved such acrimony.

Are you sure there's no residual
ill feeling between you
and Leo Richardson?

I wouldn't be working for him if
there were.

Look, I've seen what resentment can
do, Constable. First hand.

My father, my grandfather both.

Bitterness. Regret.

It ate them from the inside out.

Both dead by 40.

No.

Middle-management, middle of the
batting order, middle of the road.

There's a lot to be said for it.

It's your fault.

My fault.

How exactly is it my fault?

The business.

Someone you've...

...done down or...

- She could have died.
- Christ, you think I don't know that?

She's the one good thing
we ever did.

It's a judgment, Leo. God sees all.

It's a bit late to start bringing
him into it.

You think this is how whoever it is
did for Hallward?

If it was Hallward's body at all.

Yes, what is this new theory of
yours, Morse? Hallward's alive?

Well, Hallward seemed to have a hand
in all of it so far, sir.

The poisoning, the broken glass
and Verity Richardson's kidnap.

The kidnapper had a Norfolk accent
and Hallward's family were from
Norfolk.

- Rather elaborate.
- Not if we were meant to
take it at face value, sir.

Ingenious, really.

A sort of homemade time bomb.
With the door locked,

Hallward didn't stand a cat in
hell's chance.

- If it works.
- It'll work.

Any second... now.

- Is that it?
- A watched pot.

Bad luck.

Sorry, sir.
A message from Dr DeBryn.

Hallward's dental records have been
located

and match those of the cadaver
recovered from the fire.

If it wasn't Hallward, who was it on
the phone?

And whom do we have here?

WPC 734 Trewlove, sir.

One of the replacement intakes, sir.
Started last week.

- Your first posting, is it?
- Yes, sir.

Excellent. Well, we run a taut ship
here at Cowley,

though I like to think a happy one
also.

All work and...

- Wouldn't you say so, Thursday?
- Sir?

- The ship. A happy one.
- Oh, as the day is long, sir.

My door is always... well,

if not actually open then not
infrequently ajar. - Thank you, sir.

Well, er... carry on.

It was a nice idea.

Hallward was behind the poisoning,

the evidence in his studio puts it
beyond any doubt.

- He can't kidnap Verity
Richardson if he's dead.
- He can't, no.

But what if he had confided in
someone or had a partner maybe?

And they thought that all the ransom
sounded better than half. But who?

Someone who was close to the family,

someone who knew the layout of the
house.

The night she was taken,
you'd been on a date together.

No, it wasn't a date. We just went
for a drink in town, catch-up.

Look, I've known her since we were
kids. We're like cousins.
Brother and sister almost.

How did she seem? Nothing worrying
her that she talked about?

No.

- How were things at home?
- Good, so far as I know.

I've been away at college in America

and she's very wrapped up in her
AmnOx work.

You're better off talking to my mum.
She saw far more of Verity than me
these past few years.

- How's that?
- They both go to the Friends House in town.

Mrs Maddox? Detective Constable
Morse, City Police.

You should have waited outside.

Well, the sign says "All are
welcome".

All are welcome. To worship.

It's not my first time in a meeting
house, Mrs Maddox.

I know what is and isn't welcome.
I was raised in Quakerism.

So far as my father would allow.

I wanted to ask you a few questions
about the Richardsons.

A happy family, would you say?

No more or less than any other.

Leo makes money, Annette spends it.

It seems enough.

What about Verity?

I'm very fond of Verity.

She used to come to meetings a lot
when she was younger.

Since this last year,
I think she's been once or twice.

I suppose she has less time now
with her work for AmnOx.

She ever mention anything at home?
Or boyfriend trouble?

She'd had a bad experience, I think.

End of last year, about a month or
two after she got back.

A man. I mean, I assumed it was a
man.

It usually is at that age.

Your son seems fond of her. Verity.

It's not a trick question, Mrs
Maddox.

It's about Leo, isn't it?

It's someone he's rubbed up the
wrong way,

or a disgruntled member of staff.

Maybe someone who knows he's got a
bit of money. Wouldn't you think?

- When did you last come to a meeting?
- Oh, not since I was a boy.

I was never much of a believer then.
Even less now.

I could have baulked at it.

Refused point blank to go. Kicked up
a fuss.

Why didn't you?

Because I didn't want to disappoint
her.
She'd had enough of that.

So we'd go, the two of us, and sit in
silence.

Sometimes the spirit would move her
and she'd speak.

"Minister", we call it.

But mostly it was silence.
"Still your mind," she'd say.

That was the point.

"Still your mind."

Never got the knack.

Good morning. AmnOx.
How can I help you?

- Volunteering?
- No.

Then might I trouble you for a
donation? All in a good cause.

I know, I'm a donor.

Detective Constable Morse,
City Police.

- Guilty conscience?
- How's that?

A policeman donating to AmnOx?

Your lot are usually more at home
arresting lawful protestors.

You should be safe today. My rubber
truncheon's at the menders.

What can I do for you?

I'd like to ask you a few questions
about Verity Richardson, Miss...?

Brooke. Marion Brooke. Just Marion,
if you like.

What sort of questions?

General.

I understand she's quite involved
with all this.

She volunteers here, yes.

Look, I was just about to take my
lunch. It'll be easier for us to talk
off the premises.

She'd been abroad for AmnOx
last year?

To Rhodesia, as part of a
fact-finding mission

and to help support the families
of political prisoners,

those unjustly accused of insurgency
- sabotage, blowing up railway lines.

She'd been under a private doctor,
I understand, for her nerves.

Oh, really? Well, I don't know about
that.

I mean, she was quite poorly
when she got back from Africa.

Some nasty she'd picked up out there.

She was off work for a while
and I know that left her quite low.

Did she ever mention a Simon
Hallward?

The only Simon I ever heard her
mention was that chap who painted her
picture.

A portrait her family wanted done.

He seems an unlikely portraitist.

His work seems to have been
avant-garde in the main.

Abstracts and so forth.

- Where did you find him?
- Through Verity, I think.

- But you met him?
- Mm. He was very handsome.

Had a great sense of... fun.

Yes, his chief source of amusement
of late

was running an extortion campaign
against your husband's business.

Were you sleeping with him?

You do that again and we can add
assault to the list of charges your
family is going to face.

What time did you get to the
Maddox's party?

Fashionably late?

Time enough to stop
for a gin and bitter lemon

with Simon Hallward at the Turf?

How many people in Oxford
like gin and bitter lemon?

Thousands probably. But of the
people I've met on this case, only
one.

Get out of my house.

Don't speak, just listen.

If you want to see your daughter
alive again,

you'll put £100,000 in used,
unmarked notes

of small denomination into a dark
holdall.

Come to the phone box on Merton
Street at 4am.

Come alone and on foot.

If I see the police, the deals off,
the girl is dead.

H-how do I know you'll do as you
say? How do I know she's even alive?

Daddy! No!

Give it to me! Don't hurt
her! Please don't hurt her!

You're a businessman. Think of
this as a business transaction.

You're a businessman.
Think of this as a...

You're a businessman. Think of
this as a business transaction.

If you follow my instructions you'll...

He'll be down in a minute.

Mum says Peter's going abroad.
Getting married.

Yeah. It looks that way.

Oh, well, there's a turn-up.

- What's she like, his fiancee?
- I don't know. I haven't met her.

I only found out myself this week.

Out of all the people, who'd have
thought?

Love, I suppose.

- Don't know until you meet the right one.
- No. Don't suppose...

- Ready for the off then, Morse?
- Yes, sir.

Miss Thursday.

The voice on the tape was exactly
that. A recording of Hallward.

The kidnapper assumed it would be
Mr Richardson on the phone.

But at one point, Mrs Richardson
picks up the receiver and says...

- No!
- Give it to me.

- So?
- The kidnapper then says...

You're a businessman...

- Odd, don't you think?
- He thinks he's talking to Mrs Richardson.

- So why would he say, "businessman"?
- Could be a slip of the tongue.

It could, but when he gives
instructions for the drop

you can hear a clock chime the
three-quarter.

You'll put £100,000
in used, unmarked notes

of small denomination into a dark holdall.

Come to the phone box
on Merton Street at 4am.

Come alone and on foot.

If I see the police, the deal's off,
the girl is dead.

How do I know you'll do as you
say? How do I know she's even alive?

Daddy! No!

- It stops.
- Yes. When Mister Richardson starts speaking.

You're a businessman, think of
this as a business transaction.

And starts again

when the kidnapper starts talking.

I think I know which clock it is.

Listen. It's the
third, the sixth and tenth note.

The G is marginally flat.

Can you hear it?

Not really.

Trust me. It's the same clock.

- Money? That's not what we're about.
- Well, it's what somebody's about.

We need to talk to everyone who
lives here.

- They're in the field.
- Bring them in.

All right.

Hi.

Hello.

How you feeling?

I've been better.

Erm... Mum and Dad send their best.

- I was so scared.
- Of course you were.

It's OK, you're safe now.
They'll catch him. Don't worry.

Anything from the commune?

Couple of them have been done
for possession of marijuana.

This Ayesha girl's real name
is Thelma Anne Davis.

- I'm having her previous wired through.
- And Gideon Finn?

Before he set up in the
"Jesus wants me for a sunbeam"
business, he gave art lessons

to the sons and daughters of the well-to-do.
- Does he have a record?

Not as such, sir. But his name does
come up as a victim of assault.

Father of one of Finn's pupils, a
15-year-old girl,

got it into his head that there was
a bit more on the curriculum

than perspective and the colour
wheel.

- Did Finn bring charges
against the father?
- No.

So there must've been something in
it. Wouldn't you think?

- Here.
- Oh.

- Thanks.
- How is she?

All right, I think.

Quite a few visitors this afternoon.
I've got a list.

Mike Maddox came by and a pal
of hers from AmnOx. Marion Brooke.

By the way, your Teasmade.

- You were right.
- I was?

The only reason you didn't have any
success in the yard is because it's
outside.

The vapours dispersed.

In Hallward's flat it would have
built up, filled the room.

As the liquid boiled away, the
exposed element would have become
white hot and, well...

- Boom.
- Quite.

Well done.

Hello.

Does Cuthbert Mukamba volunteer here?

He does, when he can. But today's
not one of his days, I'm afraid.

What did you want to speak to him
about?

Did you take a "get well soon" card
from him to Verity Richardson?

There's no law against that, is
there?

No.

- Who's Dziva?
- Why do you ask?

You mean Dzivaguru.
Chthonic goddess.

The Great Creatrix
of the Shona people.

Stands for life, fertility. But
woe betide anyone that crosses her.

- How's that?
- She has bit of a temper.

Goddess of the Night, too.

Of course, to we Catholics,
that's just superstition.

So why would Cuthbert Mukamba
address Verity Richardson as Dziva?

Miss Richardson
came to my country last year

with a delegation from AmnOx.

My brother is a political prisoner in
Salisbury.

AmnOx supported his family
with money

and organising legal representation.

You were friends, then.

We were.

I wonder then why, of all the "get
well soon" cards she received,

yours was the only one that she tore
up and put in the wastepaper basket.

I also wonder why you addressed her
as Dziva, Goddess.

In this country, that's a term of
endearment usually reserved for more
than friends.

- What is there to say?
- The truth.

- So you put pressure on her?
- Well, what were we meant to do?

- Support her?
- It's easy for you to say.

What if it was your daughter? We were
thinking of her future. Her good
name. Her reputation.

The only good name you were thinking
of was Richardsons.

- We did the right thing.
- For who?

She was 19. We are still her parents.

What chance would she have
of a decent husband

with a Marxist bastard hanging
around?

- It was his politics you disapproved of?
- We did nothing wrong.

I'm not concerned with ethics,
morals. The law's my business

and procuring an abortion is illegal.

Not if the patient's mental state is
at risk.

I suppose that's where Dr Amthor
comes in.

For the right money, he signs an
affidavit

to the effect that she's likely to do
herself harm,

and no-one can touch you. Health
farm, was it?

This isn't the end of it, I promise
you.

I really was thinking of Verity.

I could have been... something more.

But you meet someone.

The wedding dress
becomes the christening gown,

and before you know where you are
it's 20 years.

You wonder if those bright summer
mornings ever happened at all.

I didn't want that for my daughter.

But it wasn't your choice to make.

Ben?

- Ben?
- Oh!

- Ben! Ben!
- Are you all right?

Where's my baby?
Where's my baby? Ben!

Smells good.

So do you.

Not now, Gid. I'm not in the mood.

You never are any more.

Whose fault's that?

Christ.

What have you done?

- Ahh!
- What have you done?

Could we have the screen across,
Nurse Hicks?

Of course.

Good afternoon, Inspector. Not more
questions?

- I'm not sure there's much more I can tell you.
- I think there is.

- I've spoken to Cuthbert Mukamba.
- You know why we're asking.

We've also spoken to your parents.
It'll go better for you if you tell
the truth now.

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

You spent some time last year in
Rhodesia working for AmnOx.

While you were there,
you got involved with Cuthbert.

When you came back to England
you were carrying his child.

Your parents weren't too pleased
about it, so they made arrangements.

Miss Richardson, would you like to
come with me, please?

The food-tampering, extortion, all
the rest of it, was your way of
getting back at them,

of hurting them as badly as they'd hurt you.
- You've no idea.

We know you couldn't do it by
yourself.

The voice on the phone
making the ransom demand.

If we played that to Simon
Hallward's parents, they'd
identify him.

But there was a third.
Hallward was dead

by the time you faked your
kidnapping. So, who helped you?

Who's Tad, Verity?

- An American boy I met in Rhodesia.
- Really?

Sure it's not Thelma Anne Davis?

Verity, you don't have to say
anything...

My daughter is in no fit state to be
questioned.

If you wish to do so, do so
formally...

If you want to hurt them, now's the
time.

- What do you want to know?
- Darling...

- No! You don't call me that!
- Please. Think of your father.

When did he ever think of me?
When did either of you think of me?

"Richardsons - for all the family."

I'll answer your questions.

But not with these people here.

You stupid, stupid girl!

Please, Gideon!
Please let me keep him.

It's not a puppy! It's a child!
Someone else's child!

- God help me...
- You're mean!

- You don't love me.
- Love you?

You're a maniac. You take it back
today! Or I will!

- So who was her accomplice?
- Thelma Anne Davis, sir.

Her previous just came through. She
was sent to an approved school aged
11 for arson.

She burned down a sports hall.

These days she calls herself Ayesha.

One of Gideon Finn's disciples
up at House Beautiful.

I think that's how she got to know
Hallward.

I think maybe the original idea
was to hurt the Richardsons through
extortion,

but once Leo Richardson refused to
pay, they struck on the notion of
faking a kidnap.

- Then why did they kill Hallward?
- Because he went too far.

With Leo Richardson dragging his
heels about paying up,

Hallward got impatient and upped the
stakes.

From his notebooks, it's clear

Hallward increased the arsenic dose
in the bloater paste.

Sadly for Miss Figgis, with fatal
consequences.

The glass in the baby food was a
step too far.

I don't think Verity and Ayesha had
intended anyone

to come to serious harm, certainly
not women or children.

He had crossed the line
and had to go.

He'd already recorded the ransom
demand,

so they had no further use for him.

We stood no chance of identifying
the voice on the tape because
Hallward was already dead.

So how did Verity even meet this
Ayesha girl?

They were at the same abortion
clinic at the same time.

It would have meant prison
for Gideon Finn.

He was the father, according
to Verity.

I don't doubt they said Ayesha was
16. She was 15 when she fell pregnant
by him.

What about the chalk mine? Verity
Richardson would have been killed in
that explosion.

She was never in any danger, sir.
It was all for show.

The explosion was detonated from a
safe distance by her accomplice

once she'd seen
that Verity was clear.

Hello, Tadpole.

Ssh. Who's upset you?

I'm afraid the jig's up.

They'll be coming.

We give thanks to the earth, mother
of all, for her fine, fair bounty.

We give thanks for the barley
and the sweet vegetables

raised by the sweat of our labour
from this good earth.

We give thanks for our fellowship,

and the company of honest hearts.

And today, we give a special thanks
to Sister Ayesha

for the meal she has so thoughtfully
prepared

and set before us so lovingly...

My God, don't you ever get sick of
the sound of your voice?

Ready?

Don't let me go alone.

No, I can't, Tadpole. I can't.

I thought
I was brave enough but I'm not.

I need you!

Sister?

You think this is heaven?
This is hell.

Thelma Anne Davis,
Verity Richardson, I...

What is it? What's she taken?

About 50 Librium.
The arsenic was meant for me.

Fetch an ambulance.

Thelma.

There was nothing they could do.

This was meant to be a refuge.

A place of kindness.

- It was a dream. My dream.
- The less out of you, the better.

Your dream? You exploited a
vulnerable young girl.

- If I had my way,
you'd answer for it.
- Sir! Sir!

She was ill-used!

We were going to found an orphanage
in Africa.

Use the money for something good.

So One-eye'd Jakes
will no longer be a lone ranger.

He's reached his High Noon
and found his Darling Clementine.

So the way I look at it,

we're not so much losing a Detective
Sergeant as gaining a cowboy.

- The happy couple.
- Happy couple.

I believe Mr Bright has
something to say to you, too.

In light of your late exploits at
the chalk tunnels,

I have made a recommendation
for the Queen's Police Medal.

I am assured that the request
will be looked upon favourably.

So, very well done, very well
deserved. Congratulations.

- Very, very well done.
- Thank you, sir.

Morse! Are you not coming in?

- Work.
- Right.

Well... I suppose...

Your other half.
I'm sorry, I don't know her name.

Hope.

- Make a go of it.
- I mean to.

Step to, matey.
Your pint's getting cold.

Nocturne

- Any sign of Gideon Finn or his disciples?
- Not a soul.

- Cleared out.
- It looks that way.

What'll they do, do you think?
Back to the nine-to-five?

"The world was all before them,

where to choose their place of rest
and Providence their guide.

They hand in hand
with wandering steps

and slow through Eden took their
solitary way."

- You'll miss him.
- He kept me on my toes.

No. I'm glad.

Any man finds a measure of
happiness, it's got to be
a good thing.

The start he had,

if anyone deserved it...