All language subtitles for The Inspector Lynley Mysteries - S01E01 - Well-Schooled in Murder

(THUNDER RUMBLING)

(FOOTSTEPS SHUFFLING)

(LOCK CLICKING)

- Mrs Whateley?
- Yes.

John Corntel, Matthew's housemaster
at Bredgar Hall.

I really don't want to worry you,

but is your son here?

What do you mean Matthew's missing?

The headmaster wants me to assure you

that the school is doing everything in
its power to find your son, Mr Whateley.

Never mind that. What have the police said?

We've held off going to the police

until we could clarify
that Matthew hasn't come home.

(HORSE SNUFFLING)

(WHISPERING) Good boy.

Yeah.

Good boy. That's it.

Okay, now, let's stop here.

Nice and slow.

(MOBILE RINGING)

Damn! Ignore it. Just
ignore it. That's okay.

(SHUSHING)

It's all right. Good lad.

Just ignore it.

Stay there, well done.

Stay there.

Lynley.

John!

How'd you know I was here?

It's the only place you
ever turn off your mobile.

(SIGHING)

I just sit by his bed,

trying to feel all of the things you're
supposed to feel when a parent's dying.

Feeling guilty 'cause I
can't seem to feel them.

Don't be too hard on yourself, eh?

We were never close.

Yeah, I know.

Nothing that I
particularly want to go into.

I thought this was your weekend off.

I just received a call from an old friend.

Now, you don't have to be involved
if you don't want to be.

He's a housemaster
at a boys' boarding school in Berkshire

and one of his boys has gone missing.

- What, an old friend?
- Yeah, his name is John Corntel.

We were at school together.

Oh, I see.

What is that supposed to mean?

Well, when I say "we
were at school together",

it means I spotted a familiar face
at a supermarket checkout.

When you say it, it means a quick tug
on the old school tie and you come running.

If it wasn't for John Corntel, Sergeant,

it terrifies me to think
where I might be today.

His friendship is something I value almost
above anything else.

And yes, we did wear
the same tie at school.

The sleeping pills got her off.

Mr Whateley, this is Detective
Inspector Lynley from New Scotland Yard.

Mr Whateley.
My colleague, Detective Sergeant Havers.

- How is your wife?
- Matthew was everything to her.

- Is, is everything to her.
- I'm sure.

- Has he ever run away from school before?
- Never.

And he gave no hint in his letters or phone
calls that he was thinking of running away,

- or was at all unhappy at the school?
- None whatsoever.

Would it be possible
to have a look at Matthew's room?

It often helps to give a sense
of the person we're looking for.

Sure. It's that room on the left.

- I'll put the kettle on.
- Thank you.

That's very kind.

Have another go at the dad. Anything
pointing to why Matthew may have run away.

Well, I think working-class boy at private
boarding school is a good place to start.

Proper diaries.

Uh, when you last spoke
to Matthew, Mr Whateley,

did you detect any difference in his mood?

Or did he use any unusual turn of phrase?

Nothing.

"Happy Birthday Matthew.

"Stephen Cowfrey-Pitt."

Grown-up books for a little boy.

(ROCK MUSIC PLAYING)

(MOBILE RINGING)

I've just had a call from the school.

Dear God.

They're fresh. No doubt about that.

You know, by its width,
I'd say it's an HGV,

coach, something along those lines.

Do an immediate check on all coach firms,
bus companies, hauliers,

anyone whose route takes them
within a five-mile radius of Stoke Poges.

Right.

And make sure SOCOs gets a cast of the
tread before the rain washes it away, right?

Right away, Sarge. Oscar Charlie 43...

what have you got for us, Mike?

Well, I'll be doing a full autopsy
first thing in the morning.

But what I've seen so far
doesn't make a great deal of sense.

Why? In what way?

Well, at first glance I could rattle off
at least two possible causes of death.

- Two?
- Strangulation and mutilation.

- Is your boss okay?
- Yeah, he will be.

I still don't understand
how you swung this case.

Well, Matthew's death was reported
in Hammersmith, within our jurisdiction.

With my personal knowledge
of schools like Bredgar Hall,

I argued it'd be perverse
to give it to anyone else.

My knowledge of schools like Bredgar Hall
is negligible, bordering on none.

But I do believe the
comprehensive in West Acton

was briefly twinned with a privately
operated remand centre in West Yorkshire.

I wanted you here because you'll
come to the school with fresh eyes.

- Without prejudice.
- Without prejudice?

You mean, apart from my opinion
that a school system

based on dumping kids
with relative strangers

a million miles from home
is fundamentally rotten?

An opinion you will leave at the
school gates, if you don't mind.

Opinion dumped, sir.

Well, the message couldn't be clearer.

With this little demonstration, the headmaster
tells us we may be New Scotland Yard,

but on his turf, he'll
see us when he's ready.

What?

Instead of coming to meet us in person,
he dispatches one of his senior prefects.

No doubt, the head boy.

You can't possibly read so much into that.

Chas Quilter, head boy.

- Detective Inspector Lynley, New Scotland Yard.
- Very pleased to meet you.

The headmaster sends his apologies.

He's on the phone with the Board
of Governors about... poor Matthew.

(CLEARING THROAT)

Come along, Sergeant. Chop-chop.

- Chop-chop, sir?
- Havers.

You do realise any authority I might
have here will be pissed to the wind

if you insist on treating me
like your nameless flunky.

(BELLS TOLLING)

These kids are brought up with hired help
lingering silently in the background.

They're used to paying them no mind, dropping
their guard in front of them, understand?

Yes, sir.

I need you to be my eyes
and ears here, Sergeant.

As a female you have a special status
in a boys' boarding school.

I want you to use it.

I may even ask you to abuse it.

This way, Inspector.

Detective Inspector Lynley, this is
our school bursar, Stephen Cowfrey-Pitt.

He used to be on the teaching staff.

Cowfrey-Pitt.

No doubt the scumbag responsible for this
atrocity has already crawled back under his stone.

Maybe not quite yet.

But certainly the faster we move,
the better chance we have of finding him.

Paradise Lost

I'm sorry?

You made an inscription
in a copy of Paradise Lost

that I found in a bookshelf
at Matthew's home in Hammersmith.

I occasionally make gifts of books to
the less advantaged boys at Bredgar Hall.

Would you excuse me? I must make a call.

Chas, wait outside, will you?

Sue? Yeah, yeah. Though I'm loath to,

I think I must reschedule my meeting
with the redevelopment team this afternoon.

Apologise profusely.

Say that something completely unavoidable
came up, without specifying what.

We ought to be talking about the tenders
for digging the foundations ASAP.

So let's coordinate diaries
for, say, a week today?

Good. Thank you.

The death of a child
overshadows all else, Inspector.

At a school, I expect it would, yes.

- It's a great setback for the school.
- Not to mention the boy.

So, how can we help you?

I would like to start with Matthew's room,
if I may.

What he took with him, what he left behind.

A diary, his notes, something.

Anything.

His point of departure
should be our first port of call.

I'd put Chas at your disposal.

Can we rely on his discretion?

Discretion is just one of
many admirable qualities.

Chas, would you show the inspector
to Matthew Whateley's dormitory, please?

Certainly, sir.

- Thank you, Headmaster. Bursar.
- Inspector.

Well.

Good of you to give us your time, Chas.

We're all deeply
shocked by this, Inspector.

I'm glad there's
something I can do to help.

- Daniels, shirt.
- Yeah, Chas. Sorry.

Tell me, your father wouldn't be
Francis Quilter QC?

You know him?

One of the few silks to carry off
the rare feat of being highly respected

by both the criminal fraternity
and the police force.

Everyone loves my father.

Any thoughts of following in his footsteps?

I have a conditional
place at Trinity to read law.

Lot of hard graft before that, though.

Glad to see you're not
taking anything for granted.

I'm bright, but I'm not clever,
if you know what I mean.

If I wanna get the grades I need,
I'm gonna have to work damn hard for them.

Must be a lot of boys
with successful fathers here?

Well, I should think at £6,000 a term,
one can take that as a given, Sergeant.

- But not Matthew Whateley's father, sir.
- Sorry?

Well, his dad was a builder.

Hardly make Matthew one of the boys, now,
would it?

We do not discriminate against anyone here
because of their background, Sergeant.

He's made it all the way up here
from all the way down there.

Well, it's all the more
reason to respect him, isn't it?

- Chas, it's a good read.
- Brian.

This is Detective Inspector
Lynley and Sergeant...

I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name.

Havers. Detective Sergeant Havers.

Detective Sergeant Havers.
They're here about Matthew.

He was very well-liked. Even among
us sixth-formers, which is unusual.

In what way?

At boarding school,
each year group is quite self-contained.

Matthew was an unusual boy, Inspector.

We all sincerely hope
you find whoever did this.

I'll be in chapel,
if you want a spot of practice later.

- I'll come and find you.
- Nice to meet you.

What I meant before. I'm bright,
but he is seriously clever.

This is Matthew's house, Erebus,

named after the primal darkness
that emerged after Chaos.

Quite apt when you consider the state
of some of the boys' rooms,

which, it's the senior house prefect's job
to keep under control.

- Isn't that right, Pritchard?
- Yes. Rather a losing battle, I'm afraid.

Qi, Cobain, Green.
Double Biology started five minutes ago.

- Now, go on.
- Yes, Pritchard.

- Sorry, Pritchard.
- Move.

Yes, I was just putting
up a notice, actually,

inviting the younger boys
to book an appointment with matron.

If they have any anxieties about the last
24 hours, they may want to talk them over.

Before the hoards of counsellors descend?

I was just about to show the inspector
up to Matthew's room.

No. No, I'll do that.

Matthew was in my house.

You know, it sounds ridiculous, but there's
a part of me that can't help but feel

I should have noticed whatever it was
that led to poor Matty running off.

I'll wait for you outside, Inspector.

The senior boys have their own rooms,
slightly less seniors share.

You're allowed beer in school?

Every Friday evening, each sixth-former
is allowed one small bottle, yes.

Designed to avert
more serious secret consumption.

Something like that.

This way.

Boys Whateley's age sleep in dormitories,
three or four to a room.

This is Matthew's.

This one.

As you can see,
Matthew was a keen photographer.

- He was very good.
- Mmm.

The Photographic Society
is run by our housemaster, John Corntel.

He teaches the boys the basics

and then helps them develop their prints
in the darkroom.

Rather them than me.

Sorry?

Matthew was one of the stars of the club.

You discovered Matthew
missing at lights out, is that right?

That's right.

Is it usual for the prefects
to do the last-minute check?

In my day, it was always
the housemaster's job.

Well, some housemasters do, some don't.

And John Corntel
divulged that responsibility to you?

Yeah, I think he feels more comfortable
letting the house prefects do it.

More comfortable?

Not walking around a house full
of half-dressed young boys, miss.

Really? And why is that?

Probably for the same reason
he chooses not to involve himself

in school trips away or PE.

John Corntel happens to be
a very good friend of mine.

If you have anything to say
about his conduct at school,

now would be a good
time to come out and say it.

I didn't mean to cause offence, Inspector.
I was merely making an observation.

Thank you for your assistance, Clive.
We can manage from here.

I'll be downstairs if you need me.

What was that all about?

Nothing like a bit of schoolboy slander
to while away a dull study period.

- Yeah, but sir, we should...
- I'll deal with it.

Now,

we know that Matthew disappeared
on Friday night without permission.

Was he running away?

Or was he sneaking out to meet someone?

Okay, son, time to tell me all you know.

A row of diaries at home,

nothing here covering the last year.

Read back what we've got.

A half-finished letter to
someone called Jeannie,

a missing school uniform,
missing school shoes,

and he seems to have
left his asthma inhaler.

Suggesting?

He left in hurry.

Or?

Or he didn't think he
was gonna be gone long.

He'd certainly be easier to spot running
away from school wearing his uniform.

Yeah, and leaving his asthma inhaler

suggests he wasn't planning on staying out
for any length of time.

So, Matthew goes on a
little outing somewhere,

and is snatched either en route,
or on his way back.

Or when he arrived.

Or when he arrived.

Any news back yet from the boys
on the tyre tracks in the lay-by?

The Berkshire lads are asking the locals
if they saw any heavy traffic

stop off in Stoke Poges last night.

We're still waiting on a wider search.

My feeling is the lorry's our best bet.

- Plenty of gruesome precedent.
- Maybe.

Read that letter back again.

"Dear Jeannie,

"thank you for dinner last Tuesday
and for dropping me back at school.

"Don't worry about how late I was because
the boy who saw me can't say anything.

"I hope the Colonel
doesn't mind me beating him at chess.

"I've always been pretty
good at thinking ahead.”

And that's as far as it gets.

Perhaps he was on his
way to Jeannie's house

when he was picked up.

Or perhaps he arrived
and Jeannie wasn't there.

Her father was,

an old man who likes playing games
with little boys.

Things get out of hand?

Speak to the boys in Matthew's dorm.

See if we can't knock this
running away theory on the head.

I'll find out who Jeannie is.

Wouldn't it be better if
you spoke to them, sir?

You know, this being a boys' school,
run almost entirely by men.

A woman can encourage boys to reveal things
they might not reveal to a man.

- Should I have brought my rubber gloves, sir?
- Psychological things, Havers.

Yes, sir.

Inspector, my observations earlier,
I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to...

Ah!

Ah, I thought I'd find you here, Tommy.

Sir, the boys in Matthew's dorm,
how can I locate them quickly?

John can tell you that.

- Of course...
- I have every boy's timetable right here.

I can have them waiting in the library
in 15 minutes.

Thank you.

"Edward Hsu. Scholar, friend."

(DOOR OPENING)

Sit there, Andrews.

You know who I am?

Now, speak up, boys.

Police.

I'd rather you regarded me as...

as someone who's here to help find
who hurt your friend Matthew.

What's your name?

Morant, miss.

Where I come from, we use first names.

Harry, miss.

Well, my name's Barbara.

Now, Harry,

we're trying to understand what Matthew was
doing outside the school yesterday evening.

We wondered if
there was anything going on in school

that may have made him want to run away.

Can you think of anything, Harry?

Answer the police sergeant, Morant.

You don't have to
answer if you'd rather not.

(CRYING)

He's a little upset, Sergeant.
Harry and Matthew were quite close.

Just take your time.

There's no hurry.

Yes, lad. This is all a terrible
shock to them, Sergeant.

I think it would be kinder
if we brought the interview to a close.

Don't you agree, Mr Corntel?

Yes.

- It's all right, Morant. Go on.
- Yes, Pritchard.

Yes, will do.

Sir, I found out who
Jeannie is from John Corntel.

Apparently, Matthew used to visit
a Jeannie and Colonel Bonnamy

as part of
the school's community service programme

and it's run by the bursar, Cowfrey-Pitt.

- Oh, sorry.
- Good. Well done.

- I was just saying...
- Yeah, I got the Bonnamys' address. I heard you.

- We'll check it out later.
- Why not now?

They picked up a lorry driver.

His route only took him within three miles
of the cemetery

but his tyre treads match the cast
you had made in the lay-by.

- Any form?
- Well, apparently not.

As my favourite instructor
used to say at Hendon,

you've never got form
till you're caught for the first time.

- Did you find out anything from the boys?
- Not much.

One of them, Harry Morant, started to cry.
I had to stop.

Apparently, he and
Matthew were pretty close.

You can never tell how something like this
will affect boys of that age.

Sir, regarding Pritchard's remarks
about John Corntel...

You're thinking there's
no smoke without fire.

Well, I know he's a very
great friend of yours...

I said I'd deal with John and I will.

I can smell that from over here.

No one comes into chapel anymore
unless they have to.

Including the chaplain.

I could assume the authority of my office
and grass you up.

If I'm expelled,

who's going to cram you through your A levels
and into your father's glorious footsteps?

Three months, Brian,

and we're out of here.

I prefer to take it one day at a time.

There's a little left, if you want some.

Hardly my opiate of choice.

- Brian?
- Mmm?

Matthew Whateley.

I'll lead. You just do what you can
not to embarrass yourself.

Shall I have first crack at him, sir?

You know, me being a woman with
the power to make you lot reveal things.

All you've demonstrated so far, Havers,
is the ability to make a small boy cry

after a single question.

We'll do it together.

What are we dealing with?

Child murder? Torture?

We're dealing with the worst that there is.

And you know, when I come face to face
with these men

I feel an overwhelming
sense of satisfaction

that I can do something.

Shut them down.

Stop them from inflicting such misery
on anyone else ever again.

Is that why you joined the force, sir?

Can you think of a better reason?

Well, a few of the lads back at the Yard

were convinced you had a thing
for women in uniform.

Remind me never to bare my soul
to you again, Sergeant.

Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.

All right, Barry. Let's go through
this again from the top, shall we?

How many more times/

I didn't kill any boy.

I didn't see any boy.

Then why were you in
Stoke Poges last night?

- It is not on your usual route through Berkshire.
- I told you.

I was tired.

I wanted a bite to eat. I thought I'd pull off
and find a nice little country pub somewhere.

Not because you knew there's
a boys' boarding school near Stoke Poges,

and you thought you might try your hand
at a spot of fishing?

If you stopped off at a little country pub,
as you say,

why was your lorry
parked in an isolated lay-by

some three quarters of a mile
from the nearest one?

I already said.
After I had a bite to eat, I needed a kip.

I'd been on the road all day.

- So you thought you'd pull over for the night?
- Yeah.

Climb into your lorry driver's jimjams,

pull closed the dinky little curtain
on the inside of your windscreen,

- go to bed.
- Yeah.

And then almost immediately, get up again.

- Yeah.
- Pull on your jeans and T-shirt,

take a nice big bite of chunky chocolate

- and then go on your merry way.
- Look, I didn't do this.

You see, Barry,

my sergeant here is
very good at spotting liars.

She's won trophies for it.

The worse the liar, the quieter she is.

If you notice, she
hasn't said a single word.

So, why don't you do us all a favour
and stop lying?

(KNOCK AT DOOR)

Thought you might like
to take a look at this, sir.

It's 11:27, myself Sergeant Havers
and Inspector Lynley

are now leaving the interview room.

It's the preliminary path report.

There are no signs
consistent with sexual abuse.

Bruising and pinch marks on arms and legs
made prior to death.

Cigarette burns on palms of hands
and soles of feet made after death.

Cause of death, possible strangulation.

There's something he's not telling us. If
he's not guilty, he'll open up soon enough.

- Just let him stew for a while.
- Right.

You know, he didn't stop fiddling
with his wedding ring throughout.

Begin!

What's going on, sir?

Looks like a rubbish trawl.

I found a cigarette butt, sir.

You don't have to tell me
every time you find something, Arlens,

just put it in the sack.

- Please stop immediately!
- Someone's coming over, Sir.

- Thank you, Arlens, I have eyes.
- Stop, John!

- He's saying "Stop, John", sir.
- And ears. Thank you, Arlens.

Stop!

Now, I'm gonna talk to John.
You check out the Bonnamys.

You think the chess-playing
dirty-old-man theory really has legs?

Just about staggering along
with the aid of a Zimmer frame.

Right, sir.

They could be clearing away vital evidence.

I'll get police supervision.
Nothing is to be destroyed.

Look, John, is there somewhere
we could speak in private?

Yes.

Hello, Lynley here. I need some
SOCO officers onto the playing fields.

- This bring back memories.
- Have you still got yours?

Knocking about somewhere.

Oh, to look at me now,
you wouldn't think I could run 10 feet

let alone 10 miles before breakfast.

We won everything that year, you remember?

It was wonderful.

It wasn't completely wonderful.

Your father's death.

It was truly awful.

I've never forgotten
what you did for me that year, Johnno.

- I want you to know that.
- I was your friend.

Not many friends pull
you back from the brink,

from the top of a 30-foot wall
you scaled at two in the morning,

drunk as a skunk,
determined to throw yourself off.

Well.

Which only makes what I have to ask now
all the more difficult.

How suddenly serious you sound.

When I was asking questions this morning

someone made some pretty unpleasant
insinuations about you.

God.

I get so tired of this, you know.

Well, I have to ask.

Is there anything untoward going on at the
school, John, that I'm going to find out about?

A boy's been murdered.
Quick, find the nearest poof.

Is that how policing in
the 21st century works?

I have to ask.

When I called yesterday, I thought you were
the only person that could help.

I have to ask.

If you make me answer this,
our friendship will never be the same.

You do understand that, Tommy?

I am duty-bound.

I am a gay man.

If I have a relationship,
it is with a gay man, not with a boy.

As you well know, Inspector.

This is Detective Sergeant Havers, Father.

Good afternoon.
You didn't tell me she was a woman.

I, uh...

I understand that you and Matthew
struck up quite a friendship.

We did.

Was he very good at chess?

Better than me, that's for sure.

Despite the difference in our age, we
were, in many respects, fellow travellers.

Both low-born, both rising
in rank on merit alone.

Two street fighters, Matthew and 1.

Did Matthew ever mention

any reason for having to be a fighter
at Bredgar Hall?

One way or another
they're all fighting up there

against the mould their parents are trying
to press them into.

The cloning room, I call it.

Matthew was more resilient than most.

If I could just pick up
on something you said.

You said that Matty was
more resilient than most.

Well, I keep getting the sense from you

that Matthew was struggling with
something quite considerable at the school.

Well, I saw a lot of it
in the army, Sergeant.

I'm sure you must have
seen it in the police force.

Seen what, Colonel?

A new recruit, coming in fresh,

belly full of Queen and country,
does everything by the book.

Respects the rules.

Assumes everyone else respects them, too,
and then learns they don't.

Eventually, sees something in the barracks
it might be wiser not to mention.

Having to decide where they stand,
defining themselves by their decision.

Their decision?

Be a good little soldier,
keep your head down

or lift it up and stab
latent injustice in the face.

A difficult enough moral dilemma
when you're 19 or 20, Sergeant.

Matthew Whateley was 13.

Okay, boys. Stand up, please.

As you were before, spread out.

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

Come in.

- The police would like a word, Bursar.
- Thank you.

Bursar, you deal with the pupils' fees,
is that right?

Yes.

Something's been troubling me
since I visited Matthew's home.

Which is?

How on earth could he possibly
afford to come here?

This place must cost parents what,
between £15,000 and £20,000 a year?

Matthew was awarded an exhibition.

Not a full scholarship?

A full scholarship would cover all
his fees, an exhibition covers a third.

That still leaves
the remaining two-thirds uncovered.

I'm sorry, but how is this
remotely related to Matthew's murder?

Perhaps you could tell me why it isn't.

Parents who want
to send their children here badly enough

often manage to scrape the fees together.
You'd be surprised.

With Matthew's parents, I'd be astonished.

What on earth are they doing?
I told them not to destroy anything.

- It's just leaves.
- Burning black?

Matthew Whateley.

Havers.

I want you to follow through on your hunch
about Barry. I think you may be right.

There's a little boy lying cold on a slab

and all you can do
is keep twisting that ring round and round.

- I didn't kill him.
- Really?

Then why were you
parked so far from the pub?

Why did you leave the area in such a hurry?

Okay.

If you won't tell me, perhaps
you'll feel happier telling your wife.

- What, she's here?
- She's on her way.

Right, if...

if I tell you what I was doing
in that lay-by last night,

does she have to know?

If it's nothing illegal, Barry, it doesn't
have to go beyond these four walls.

- Salad, Pritchard?
- All the steak and kidney was gone.

How was your day?

Not good.

Me neither. I couldn't
teach anything, really.

I just put on a video about the Aswan Dam
to take their minds off...

- you know.
- Yes.

So Barry picked up a waitress
at the Queen's Arms,

and took her half a mile
down the road for a quickie.

No wonder he didn't
want his wife finding out.

The way Barry describes it,
it sounds like a regular perk of the job.

But I sent a constable to speak to the girl
and she confirmed everything he said.

- Good work, Havers.
- Thank you, sir.

So, if Matthew wasn't killed by Barry,

are we now saying,
with the discovery of his clothes,

that he was killed by
someone inside the school?

Well, he was last seen
alive inside the school

and he was found dead
at Stoke Poges cemetery.

Seems logical if his
clothes were found here,

he was killed here or hereabouts.

That would certainly tie in
with what Colonel Bonnamy was implying.

Which was?

Well, according to him,
he said that Matthew was deeply troubled

by something that was going on at school.

And I showed Jeannie the letter we found

and I asked her about
the bit that Matthew wrote,

"Don't worry, 'cause the boy who saw me
can't say anything".

I mean, something struck me about that phrase
"the boy who saw me can't say anything".

I mean, not won't or wouldn't, but can't.

Why can't he, more to the point,
and who's the boy?

Well, Jeannie said it was Chas Quilter.

So, Matthew had something on the head boy.

- I wonder what?
- I don't know.

But if someone wanted
to frighten him into keeping quiet,

that would explain the bruising on the body
prior to death.

Yeah, but he wouldn't keep quiet,
so they killed him.

You all right, Mr Cowfrey-Pitt?

I was just thinking
what a result it was for you, Mr Corntel.

Having an old pal from Scotland Yard
come down to do the investigation.

A result?

It would hardly enhance your career

if it transpires that Matthew's death is
in any way related to your, shall we say,

relaxed running of Erebus?

Every housemaster has
their own style, Bursar.

(SNICKERING)

Anarchy isn't a style, Emilia.

Anarchy is style's very antithesis.

Have you been drinking?

Go to hell.

I dare say we'll all get through this
in our own way.

I think we're all aware
what has happened in the last 24 hours.

With a police investigation underway,

now is not the time for speeches,

or even for a few words of regret.

Now is simply the time

for us to mark the loss of one of our own.

I would ask you to stand,
for a minute of silent respect.

Cocky little sod.

(YELPING)

Who is that?

Who is that?

- It's Harry Morant, sir.
- Oh, my goodness.

- This boy should go to the sanatorium.
- I'll take him, miss.

No, I'll do it.

Don't you ever get tired
of shining so hard, Chas?

Toxicology report's just in, Mike.

Not strangulation, asphyxiation.

Asphyxiation?

Enough carbon monoxide in the boy's blood
to kill a cart horse.

Carry on, boys.

Take him to matron. Tell her to
give him a thorough examination.

(MOBILE RINGING)

Hello? It's the pathologist.
What have we got?

Right.

I should let you know, Headmaster,

I'm calling in a Home Office team to check
every boiler and gas appliance in this school.

You're what?

Matthew Whateley died
of massive carbon monoxide poisoning.

Any leak from school equipment, whether deliberate
or accidental, won't be difficult to trace.

I also need you to get a
SOCO team down here.

Well, where will you be, sir?

Around.

- Well, could you be slightly more specific, sir?
- I'd rather not.

Well, that's all right, then.

(SIGHING)

John, you stupid, stupid fool!

- Haven't you heard of knocking, Pritchard?
- Headmaster wants to see you in his study.

What for?

Well, I expect he'll tell you
when you get there, Chas.

- Need to restock?
- I'm fine.

All right. Just looking
after my best customer.

Off you go, then.

It's leaking pretty badly, Sergeant.

If you could completely seal the room
the CO build-up would have been quick.

A small boy would be dead in no time.

Pritchard?

Pritchard?

You click your fingers and I come running,
Pritchard, now what do you want?

Pritchard?

You?

What are you doing here?

You think Pritchard asked to meet you
all the way out here?

Why would you think that?

Any conversation between us
came to an end in my rooms.

- Something's come up.
- Something else? Do you know, I don't care.

- Goodbye, Inspector Lynley.
- You lied to me, John.

- Where did you get that?
- You know where I got it.

The question is, what does it mean?

We need to know if you've heard of anything

taking place that might be of, well,

shall we say, an unsavoury nature.

Anything, in other words, we may
need to be in a position to deal with

before it becomes public.

- Unsavoury nature, sir?
- Before it becomes public, sir?

It's our duty to try and limit
the damage to the school.

- Sir.
- Yes, sir.

We all know that John Corntel gives you
a pretty free rein at Erebus, Clive.

Sir?

The extra bottles of beer
at the weekend he turns a blind eye to,

the smoking in the house common room.

The question is, what
might he receive in return?

I cannot believe you broke into my room
and ransacked my things.

Bluster and inflamed grievance
won't do it this time.

This time my investigation
needs a full and satisfactory explanation.

A full and satisfactory explanation.

Satisfactory for whom, exactly?

You told me one thing,
these photographs tell me another.

Not a gay man having a relationship
with another gay man,

but a schoolmaster
obsessed with a schoolboy.

Obsessed.

Have you been in the force so long you see
everything with the jaded eyes of a copper?

Not obsession, Tommy.

Love.

Love.

Go on.

His name was Hugh.

He joined the school in the lower sixth
after his parents had been posted abroad.

I took him for English.

Without engineering anything,
it was clear something was developing

between us.

But I was equally clear that nothing...

You're listening?

Nothing would happen
while he was a student here.

Oh, come on, John. There's pictures
of him lying naked in a hotel bed.

Taken in the summer
following his first year at Oxford.

He was 20 years old.

God, a straight man
could have fathered half a dozen kids

by the same age
and no one would have batted an eye.

- I didn't ask you here to debate the issue.
- Maybe not.

But the real reason you're able
to ask me these questions at all

is because someone in my position can still
be destroyed by a worm like Clive Pritchard.

Again Clive Pritchard.

Why did you assume
it was Clive who told you to come here?

Because he is the only one
who knew about me and Hugh.

A position of privilege which he
ruthlessly exploits to his advantage.

Do you expect me to believe, John,

someone like you
are in the pocket of someone like him?

Do you imagine for one minute I allow
Pritchard the run of Erebus out of choice?

You kept your mouth shut, good move.

What choice did I have?

If I was to tell them about your little addiction,
that would be you as a barrister up in smoke.

Your parents must be so proud.

Mutual assured destruction
kept the world safe for 40 years, Chas.

- Safe and terrified.
- Works for me.

(PRITCHARD GRUNTING)

Howzat!

You and Matthew were
pretty close, weren't you?

Did you used to help each other
with your homework and that sort of thing?

If I had someone to help
me with my homework,

maybe I wouldn't have ended up
in the police force.

Did you and Matthew ever share things?

I mean, not like sweets
and books and stuff,

but I mean like... like secrets?

Or problems that either of you
might have been having at school?

I did.

- Matthew did a bit.
- A bit?

He'd tell you stuff about schoolwork, or
a teacher that was getting on his nerves,

but he kept the really
private stuff for his diary.

- His what?
- His diary.

Well...

when we looked through Matthew's things
this morning, we didn't find a diary.

When he first came to Bredgar Hall,
Matthew wrote one.

Hopeless in a place like this 'cause
someone will just find it and read it.

It doesn't matter how
good your hiding place is.

Most boys give up within a few weeks.

Matthew wasn't like most boys.

If the boiler is leaking

I'm telling you now, it's leaking
because it's been tampered with.

We trade on our heritage here, Inspector.
We don't try and heat the school with it.

- There's simply no possibility...
- What's more important to you, Headmaster?

Absolving the school of any responsibility
or finding out who killed Matthew Whateley?

Okay, Harry, I'll see you later.

(BELL RINGING)

Sad little thing, isn't he?

Harry found it very difficult
to adjust in the beginning.

He was picked on for one reason or another.

I was so pleased
when Matthew took him under his wing.

Will he be here long?

I expect he'll be back in the dorm
before lights out.

- Okay, thanks for your help.
- Not at all.

Come along, boys. Come on.

- Well?
- Not here, sir.

Come on, then, boys, let's go.

Why all the cloak and dagger stuff?

Well, I didn't think
you'd want it made common knowledge.

- What?
- What Harry told me.

Well, how can I tell you if I mind
unless you tell me what Harry told you?

- Matthew kept a diary.
- We found nothing in his room.

Not a written diary, an oral one, on tape.

I repeat, we found nothing...

Sir?

What is the safest place to keep a
private diary about what goes on at school?

Try knocking again, Sergeant. She
might not have heard it with all this rain.

You do have hands, sir. You can also knock.

Indulge me. I'm in the mood to delegate.

WOMAN: I'm coming.

MATTHEW: Happened again, sir.

Happened again, as soon
as he turned the corner.

A few dirty plates piling up, Patsy.

Plates.

Do you mind if I have a go?

Boys?

- Everyone brushed their teeth?
- Yes, Pritchard.

Yes, Pritchard.

- Morant?
- Yes, Pritchard.

I didn't see you, Morant.
Go and do it again.

Lights out, now, boys.

You found them?

He sent them disguised as
compilation music tapes.

So Mum and Dad wouldn't get curious.

Intelligent and meticulous.

- Are we ready to leave?
- Oh, no, it's just the cutlery to do.

If you dry, we'll be out
of here in two minutes.

Everything okay?

The carer must have gone home

and depending on her mood,
Mum won't answer the phone in the dark.

Why don't you pop back for an hour,
make sure everything's okay?

- You can catch a cab in later.
- No, I don't think so, sir.

It only takes one set of
ears to listen to the tapes.

I'll be fine.

Let me take you back.

Thank you, sir.

Mum?

Mum!

Oh, my God.

(THUDDING)

(CLATTERING)

(GASPING)

Mum, Mum!

Mum, shh, it's all right.

(SHUSHING)

I was looking for...

- What, what were you looking for?
- Something.

You looking for Dad again?

Was I?

Dad's in the hospital, Mum, remember?

Hospital?

MATTHEW: Tuesday, March the 3rd.

Matthew, we meet at last.

Had another letter from home.
Mum missing me as usual.

Dad's usual PS.

Strange to think they're
only 30 miles away.

Half an hour by car. What's that?
Three and a half minutes by jumbo jet?

Less than a minute... I come
back to the dining hall this evening.

Paradise copped a detention for whooping.

I think Harry's got that thing,
like dyslexia, only with objects...

ran into him
as he was showing two new parents around.

Gave me a Saturday morning detention but you
could tell it was for the parents' benefit

I did my bit “Sorry sir.
Won't happen again, sir.”

Happened again as soon
as he turned the corner.

Won't have to do the detention either,
'cause he didn't take my name.

Apart from Chas and the other prefects,

I don't think he knows
many of the rest of the boys.

Brian calls him "The Spiv",

'cause he spends more time with new parents and
investors than he ever spends with the bays.

March the 10th.
Harry's other problem is still continuing.

I thought of going to
see Mr Corntel about it

But he always tells you to take in-house
stuff to the senior house prefect first.

Well, I can't do that, so I went to Chas
Quilter, who said to leave it with him.

I think Chas is the nicest of all the
prefects. I can see why he's head boy here.

Some people get power and go mad with it
Chas isn't like that

He's going to Cambridge.
I'd like to go to Cambridge one day.

But I don't know if I'm clever enough.

I've been to see Chas four times now.

Each time he tells me he'll sort it out.
But it's never sorted out.

I don't care if he is a prefect,
what he's doing is wrong.

After talking to Colonel Bonnamy
about what I should do,

gave him a hypothetically
similar situation,

I've decided to tell Chas
about the recording I made in the bathroom.

- I can't think of any other way to make him stop.
- What recording in the bathroom?

I'll go to the police if I have to.

What recording you made in the bathroom?

What recording...

There is no recording in a bathroom.

(MOBILE RINGING)

Lynley.

When was the last time he was seen?

(BANGING ON DOOR)

LYNLEY: Havers!

Havers.

Havers?

Harry Morant's disappeared in the night.

BOY: Hey, slow down. Wait for me.

HEADMASTER: What more can I do?

Tell me where I find the hours, the extra hours
I can work, to get the school past this. Show me!

Somebody show me

how I can move this institution
beyond the murder of two of its pupils!

One boy murdered. One boy missing.

If the circumstances of Morant's disappearance
are almost identical to Matthew's,

what makes you so confident
the outcome won't be?

Why do you want the
local boys out in force, sir?

Is it a change of tactics?

I was just thinking,
whoever's doing this is like

a kestrel plucking mice out of a field.

And what is the best way to catch a bird?

Well, your lot generally blast
them to pieces with a 12-bore, sir.

Alive, Havers. what do you do
if you want to catch a bird alive?

A net, sir?

A net, Havers.

Sergeant Havers to all units. Go.

(POLICE SIRENS WAILING)

I'm in here!

Help!

On the board there, Sergeant.

Would you mind
telling me the meaning of all this?

If Harry Morant is alive on the
school grounds, he'll hear our arrival

and know he hasn't been
abandoned to his fate.

Whoever abducted him and killed Matthew
will be left in little doubt as to theirs.

Help!

- All units in position and ready to move, sir.
- Give the order, Sergeant.

This is Havers to all units. Move now.

With all due respect, Inspector, whatever
has happened over the past three days,

may I remind you this is
still a functioning school?

Functioning?

First and foremost, Headmaster,
this is a crime scene,

from which no one, and I mean no one,
is allowed to leave unless I say so.

POLICEMAN: Get a move on, come along!
You and you with me.

If you've got a key, use it.
If not, kick the door down.

Right, quickly, come on.

Quad drive blocked, sir.

I want to speak to Chas Quilter
as soon as possible.

- I'll send someone to fetch him right away.
- Thank you.

(GRUNTING)

Help!

Arlens,

- bring me Chas Quilter. Go on.
- Yes, sir.

If you're seriously suggesting that my head
boy is in any way mixed up in all of this,

I'm sorry to say
you're going to look very silly indeed.

I'll take that risk.

Nothing in the cricket pavilion, sir.

Are you aware that Matthew Whateley
repeatedly asked Chas Quilter

for help on a certain matter
in the weeks leading up to his death?

Help that Quilter said he'd
repeatedly give, but repeatedly didn't?

On what matter?

On a matter so important
to Matthew to resolve

that he was prepared
to resort to blackmail if necessary.

Blackmail?

Search!

In his diary, Matthew describes
finding Chas snorting cocaine in his room.

Cocaine!

You weren't aware that
cocaine was being used at school?

Of course not.

Or that a senior prefect was blackmailing his
housemaster into letting him run his house

- as his own private fiefdom?
- What?

Outhouses and swimming
pool complex clear, sir.

No, no. Just hang on.

Apart from income and expenditure at Bredgar
Hall, what exactly were you aware of?

I don't have to stand here and listen to this.
Bursar, if I'm needed, I'll be in my quarters.

- Yes, Headmaster.
- Inspector.

Sergeant.

-Oil
-Watch where you're going!

Arlens shouldn't be long fetching Chas.

While we were at the Whateleys' last night,

I rechecked the dates of your inscription
on Matthew's copy of Paradise Lost.

So?

So why would the bursar of Bredgar Hall
give a disadvantaged student a book

two years prior to his
becoming a pupil here?

Chas?

Chas?

Chas!

I knew Matthew before
he came to Bredgar Hall.

I used to teach his father.

Tony Whateley came to Bredgar Hall?

Tony isn't Matty's father.

Matty's father was a very gifted young man
by the name of Eddie Hsu.

Eddie Hsu.

I know that name. I've...

It was up on a plaque in the library.

Scholar.

Friend.

And father.

Eddie had a clandestine affair
with a local girl resulting in a pregnancy.

Being impeccably decent,

and hopelessly unrealistic about what was
involved, he wanted to give everything up

and stand by her.

Given the dazzling
future that lay before him,

that was simply out of the question.

With not inconsiderable
financial inducement,

I managed to persuade the girl
to have a termination.

- The girl was Patsy Whateley.
- Yes.

The day she went up to London,
she sent Eddie a letter

explaining my.. help

and begged his forgiveness.

Eddie was found dead later that night,

his wrists slashed.

The overwhelming sense of betrayal.

At his funeral
I decided I was unfit to teach anymore.

And Patsy had the baby.

At the last minute, she couldn't
go through with the termination.

I eventually found her,

gave her money.

- To help bring up Matthew?
- How could I not?

Admin and science blocks cleared, sir.

You paid for Matthew
to come to Bredgar Hall.

It was you who topped up
the remaining two-thirds of the fees.

He had inherited his father's intelligence
but it was being stifled where he was.

Young Matthew was drowning.

It was my duty to throw him a lifeline.

Which ended in his death.

ARLENS: Sir!

Quilter's door is locked, sir.
But I could swear there was someone inside.

This way.

Door at the end.

CHAS: Matthew came to me as head boy.

Instead of doing
what he had every right to expect of me,

I thought only of what I stood to lose,

and did nothing.

I've tried so hard
to fulfil everyone's expectations of me.

But I've let the school down.
I have let my father and family down.

But most of all, I've let down
Matthew Whateley and Harry Morant.

May God forgive me.

Chas Quilter.

We need some men over here, Sergeant.

We've got a body in the
room. It needs sealing off.

But I don't want anyone connected with the school
knowing what's happened here until I say so.

- Is that understood?
- Yes, sir.

Mr Cowfrey-Pitt?

Mr Cowfrey-Pitt?

How many prefects are
there in Bredgar Hall?

Sixteen,

in total.

I'd like to see the remaining 15
in the school library in 10 minutes.

Could you tell Inspector Lynley
the post has just come?

It's something he'll want to see.

Right, listen, if you're not a prefect, leave
the library and return to your form rooms.

Prefects remain.

- George?
- Yeah.

House clear, sir.

Out, out, mush. Come on.

They know.

Don't cack yourself
Pritchard, they can't know.

Where's Chas?

Heard they took him to the sanatorium.

Do you think he said anything?

They'd have to kill him first.

What do you think Patsy's package is, sir?

- Matthew's last tape.
- Another one?

One he must have
posted just before he died.

The one someone killed him for.

That's area three cleared, sir.

Still no news on Harry Morant.

(POLICE SIREN BLARING)

We need a name.
A name will lead us to Harry Morant.

HARRY: Dirty Harry.

- BOY: Who are you?
- Dirty Harry.

- Why are you Dirty Harry?
- It's Harry Morant, sir.

- Because I smell.
- What do you smell of?

- Please.
- What do you smell of?

- Please, Pritchard let me out!
- Pritchard, let's go.

What do you smell of?

- I smell of wee...
- Louder.

(HARRY WHIMPERING)

Right, you're all free to go!

What did I tell you?

Except Clive Pritchard.

Caution him, please, Sergeant.

- John, I'd like you to stay.
- Yes.

Pritchard has the right to what's called
an "appropriate adult" present.

I can't think of anyone
more appropriate, can you?

- Where is Harry Morant?
- I told you, I don't know.

Clive, where's Harry Morant?

Look.

Morant is one of those boys
who let the rest down at every opportunity.

They have

no discipline.

No guts, no character.

He couldn't even look after himself.

It was up to me as his senior house prefect
to do something about that.

Put some backbone into him.

And you equate bullying weaker boys
with character building, do you?

Adversity is going to be his life, Sergeant.
I was teaching him to live with it.

Matthew made a tape of you
teaching Harry his lessons, didn't he?

- Yes.
- And he told Chas about that tape.

To make you stop.

Or he'd hand the tape over to the police.

- Yes?
- Yes.

To whom he would expose not only your bullying,
but also Chas Quilter's cocaine habit.

Am I right?

Chas told you about the
tape to make you stop.

But Chas never really cut
any ice with you, did he?

And you weren't going to be pushed around
by little squirts like Matthew Whateley.

So you went after Matthew yourself
to get him to hand the tape over to you.

When he refused, you
went to town on him for it.

Punching him.

Kicking him, yes?

- Torturing him! Yes?
- Yes.

Yes.

And when he still wouldn't
give you the tape, you panicked.

No.

Suddenly you had a boy on your hands
known for not shutting up,

now covered with bruises.

- You do the next logical thing, you kill him.
- No.

With Matthew disposed of,

the only person left to snitch on you is the very
person Matthew lost his life trying to protect.

So in the early hours of the morning,
you take Harry Morant from his bed,

and have either disposed of him already

or are keeping him somewhere,

until you think it is safe to do so.

Now, I'm not going to ask you again, Clive.
Where is Harry Morant?

Look. Look.

You have to believe me.

Yes,

I roughed up Whateley over the tape.

I took him
down to the Fives court after dark and I...

I tried to scare him,
but he wouldn't tell me where it was.

So 1..1 threatened him.

And I left him gagged and bound for an hour
to think it over.

When I came back, he was dead.

He was asthmatic.

He'd had an asthma attack and suffocated
but that doesn't make it murder.

Matthew didn't die of
an asthma attack, Clive.

He must have.

Matthew died from
carbon monoxide poisoning.

What?

What do you mean you believe him?

You saw his face
when I mentioned carbon monoxide.

I may as well have said Matthew
was run over by a combine harvester.

Cop for the small crimes and you may
just avoid having to cop for the big one.

I don't buy it. He was genuinely alarmed.

Carbon monoxide was something new,
something he had no control over.

If I go down,

- I'm not going down alone.
- Save your breath, Clive.

- I'm immune to you.
- Oh, really?

My resignation's on the headmaster's desk.

What?

- I feel sorry for you, Clive.
- I don't want you to feel anything for me.

Whatever I am, I was born that way.

But you?

No one's born a vicious,
twisted little sadist.

Someone or something
has turned you into that.

Which was it, Clive?

Someone or something?

Oh, piss off!

When I leave this school,
I hope I'm going to be missed.

With you, I think people
will just close their eyes

and try to forget.

If Clive Pritchard is to be believed,
we're left with a fact.

That between Clive leaving him in
the Fives courts and coming back,

somehow, Matthew died
of carbon monoxide poisoning.

In the Fives courts.

The Fives courts.

Fives is played on a court
similar to that of squash

but without the back
wall, they're not enclosed,

consequently not susceptible to
the accidental build-up of poisonous gas.

But it is where they keep their school van.

HAVERS: So if it wasn't Clive Pritchard...

Someone else wanted
Matthew Whateley silenced.

But we've already established that Matthew was
only a threat to Clive Pritchard and Chas Quilter.

- So if it wasn't Pritchard that only leaves Chas.
- Or someone who wanted to protect him.

- Sir?
- Friendships in boarding schools are unique.

Like a comradeship between people dependant
on one another for their very survival.

- You make it sound like the army, sir.
- Precisely, Havers, that's exactly what it is.

Boys in dormitories living under
strict rules and codes of conduct.

Knowing who you can or cannot rely on
in a crisis is vital.

(DOOR SHUTTING)

(ENGINE STARTING)

Help!

Help!

Help.

(COUGHING)

Who would it be for Chas?

Who would be prepared to do anything, even
commit murder, to safeguard Chas's future?

Sir, the van.

He can't be looking to
leave, the drive's blocked.

Whatever it is, it's
slowing down, isn't it?

Quick, Havers, the school gate!

What do you mean
"Quick, Havers, the school gate"?

He's in a bloody van!

We're not going to make it.

Well, the roadblock won't stop him

but it might slow him down while he
summons the courage to go through it.

Get behind the van. We're going
to try and stop him at the gate.

(CAR ALARM BLARING)

He's taken out two of our units!

Get the other two units now.
We need back-up, now!

I can't breathe.

If we can just close the gate
before he gets there, we may have a chance.

Come on.

(COUGHING)

HAVERS: Oh, thank God.

Sir?

- You look after the boy.
- Right.

(GASPING)

You all right?

It's over, Brian. You can stop now.

Chas is dead.

- Tell me that's not true.
- I wish I could.

I wish I could,
but you of all people know that I can't.

We found him in his room this morning,
hanging from the water pipe.

Now, killing little Matthew
didn't free Chas, as you'd intended.

It simply added another
pressure to his life.

How much did Chas know
about what you were trying to do for him?

Nothing.

It was my idea for Pritchard
to get the tape back.

But when he came upstairs in a blind panic
saying Matthew was dead, I couldn't believe it.

So I went down to the Fives courts
to see for myself.

He wasn't dead, but half-conscious.

He kept saying he was going to
bring us all down, especially Chas.

He just wouldn't shut up.

Well, that's when I had the idea, to put
Matthew in the van and connect up the hose.

And once he was dead
you returned him to the Fives courts.

Then you went to get Pritchard.

Confirming his fear, laying it on thick,

that it was in fact he who had
effectively murdered Matthew.

Take deep breaths.

But whose idea was it to mutilate
the body and then cover it with paint?

Pritchard.

He thought if we made it look
like a weird ritualistic killing,

it would divert attention
away from the school.

I didn't set out to kill Matthew!

I just couldn't see any other way.

And what about Harry Morant?
Was there no other way for Harry?

I didn't want to hurt him.

But there was no turning back!

No turning back.

You're not winking now, Clive.

(MOBILE RINGING)

Barbara Havers.

It's too intense, John,
life in these schools,

closed off from the outside world.

The pressure to succeed, to conform,
play by the rules.

And if you can't or won't,

the consequences can be lethal.

I agree.

What are you going to do? Another school?

Oh, I think I've been in
school long enough, don't you?

Hiding from the real world
among the desks in class and common room.

It's a nice life, it's a good life,

but it's increasingly
felt like a small life.

- Good luck, John.
- Good luck to you, Tommy.

Will you ever forgive me?

If... when I do,

I'll send you a postcard.

(DOOR CLOSING)

Ican't tell you how pleased I'll be
to leave this place.

Can we just stop for a minute, sir?

Three days ago, it was all I could do to drag
you here and now you don't want to leave.

No, I just had a call from the hospital.

My dad died an hour ago.

I'm sorry to hear that, Barbara.

We were never close.

Yes.

Yes, you said.

Nothing I want to go into.