All language subtitles for Endeavour - 08x02 - Scherzo.720p.HDTV.GTi.English.C.updated.Addic7ed.com

Hello, there. Paradise Court, please.

Paradise Court, coming right up.

Madam...

Thank you.

Del.

Oi! What are you doing?!

- Thank you.
- Enjoy your stay.

Bye.

Mr and Mrs Appleby, I presume.

That's us.

- Welcome to paradise!
- Oh, very nice.

Thank you.

Good, good, good.

Come, come, follow me.

Goodnight.

Oh, yes. Goodnight.

And, er, thank you.

There you are!

It's a wonder you hear anything
with that racket.

Well, don't just stand gawping,
fetch my bags in.

And don't give him too much of a tip.

I'm sure he brought us
the long way round.

And found every pothole along the way!

Clytemnestra's a friend of yours,
is she?

A relative. My stepmother.

My condolences.
Talk about a backseat driver.

It was too fast. It was too slow.

- The cab was too hot.
- Yeah, that sounds about right.

I can take it from here.
How much do I, er...?

Let me just check.

With the excess, that'll be...

- ...75 of your new English pence.
- Here you go.

Take 80. Think of it as danger money.

Ta very much.

- Did you get it all in?
- Just about.

Just make sure
you put it somewhere safe.

- The rest arrives tomorrow.
- The rest?

Well, didn't you get my letter?

I've sold the house
and bought a place in Eynsham.

Joyce has got herself engaged

to some man she's living in sin with
at Witney.

Oh, she never mentioned.

Well, who's to blame for that
if you don't keep in touch?

Keith Garrett, his name is.

Couldn't you stay with them?

Do you think I'd be here if I could?

They're abroad until Wednesday.

Unmarried and both in the same room.

Hm! It's not right.

But what about a hotel?

Well, you'll be all right on the
sofa for a couple of nights.

I mean, I don't like it
any more than you do.

- It's only till I take possession.
- When's that?

There is no need to ask in that tone.

I am not one
of your interrogation suspects.

Monday.

But you don't have to worry about me.

I don't expect to be looked after.

Ha! You won't even know I'm here.

If you could give your
statement to my colleague over here.

It looks to be robbery. Wallet's empty.

Dudley Lunn,
according to the Speedy Cabs office.

42.

Married.
Uniform's notifying his wife now.

The paperboy came upon the car
just after 6:00.

Doctor.

Do we know how long he's been there?

Rigor well established,

which, as well as making my labours
more difficult...

...suggests he's been dead
about 12 hours.

Are we sure about that,
the time of death?

The glass on his watch is cracked

and the hands are set to ten to seven.

Then the watch stopped ticking
several hours before Mr Lunn did.

The body doesn't lie, Morse.

Myself notwithstanding,

it's the only impartial, reliable
witness to any suspicious death.

So, ten-ish last night, then.

Mm, by my reckoning, yes.

Single shot to the back of the skull.

Point-blank range.

Exit wound just above the left eye.

As you can see...

the bullet strikes the windscreen,
drops onto the dash.

Et voila.

Looks to be a .22,
but it has taken quite a battering.

I'll be able to give you the def gen
after the postmortem.

Shall we say half past two?

It's late for you, Doctor.

Steak and kidney at The Eagle.

I wouldn't want to rush that dissection.

A cabbie's about as easy a mark
as it gets.

They have to go out with a decent float,

and it'll only get bigger
as the shift goes on.

There was a driver
a couple of weeks ago,

on our old ground, got put in hospital.

Pistol-whipped.

From what he could remember, the
suspect was bearded, dark-haired.

- Speedy Cabs again?
- No.

A2B Cars out of Cowley.

It's a long way to drive
to kill someone, isn't it?

Yeah.

Private, though. No witnesses.

Well, that's fine, as far as it goes.

But if he kills his ride,
how's he gonna get back?

Maybe he didn't have to.

Carry on down the lane aways,

there's a place called Paradise Court.

Some sort of naturist camp.

For nudists.

That's where the paperboy was for.

What have you got there?

- A piece of old tissue?
- All right, matey, don't rub it in.

We haven't all got your eye.

I just thought it might've been
something, is all.

Best bag it in any case.

We'll talk to the family
and have a word with his work.

Do you want to see if anyone heard
anything up at that...

place?

When he didn't come home,

I thought maybe he'd had
a long fare, you know?

Somebody might want him
to take them to Grimsby,

or anywhere you care to think of.

I did say that to the constables
who came by earlier.

I thought they would have written it
down in their notebook or somewhere.

But they didn't.

I'm afraid that's our job, Mrs Lunn.

I'm sorry to have to ask, but...

...all was well at home, was it?

Oh, yes.

Ours was a very happy marriage.

Fenella will be heartbroke.

She's out playing right now, but...

...she idolises her father.

You will tell Pauline, will you?

Or have I got to do that?

Who's Pauline?

He was married before.

She lives in Headington.

There's a kiddie, a boy.

She'll have to be told.

And she won't thank me for it, will she?

I think it's probably better
coming from you.

Good afternoon, sir.

Luggage in the car, is it?

No, it's, er...

- First visit?
- Well, there's no need to be nervous.

No need at all.

Now, I don't think we've any
reservation down for today.

But we've plenty of vacancies.

The season hasn't really got going yet.

I'm a policeman.

And I'm a former major with the
Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders.

But the naturist world
takes us as it finds us, Mr...?

Detective Sergeant Strange,
Thames Valley.

And I'm not here for a frolic
in the altogether, Major...?

Jones.

Ahem!

If I could have everyone's attention
for a moment.

- This is, er...
- Detective Sergeant Strange,

Thames Valley.

If you wouldn't mind putting
something on while I talk to you.

Thank you.

Now, I must ask if any of you saw or
heard anything unusual last night.

I did say, Sergeant,
with the music from the luau...

- Like a gunshot, you mean?
- Perhaps.

- Miss...?
- Appleby.

Alison Appleby, Mrs.

I thought it was a car backfiring.

Barry Appleby. Baz.

What time would that have been?

The guests all turn their watches in
upon arrival

as part of the process
of getting back to nature.

That's true, but I heard the church
clock chime ten shortly after.

Right.

No need to go to all that trouble,
Mrs Lunn.

It's no trouble.

And Pauline, please.

I only get called Mrs Lunn

by solicitors or the Social,
or up at Mark's school.

Cowley Secondary Modern?
I thought I recognised the uniform.

- My two went there.
- Oh, yeah?

- When was that?
- Oh, a long time past.

The youngest, my boy,
is in the Army now out in Ireland.

And my daughter, well, she's with
the Welfare looking after kids.

I probably know her.

Mark's got into trouble once or twice.

He's not a bad boy.

He just misses his dad.

God knows what this will do to him.

I'm sorry for asking, but, er...

- you are divorced, I take it?
- Oh, yeah.

Four years, last February.

Ann is the official Mrs Lunn now. I'm...

Well, I don't know what you'd call
it. What would it be?

The dowager Mrs Lunn?

- He gambled, did he?
- Gambled?

If it had four legs, he couldn't
throw money after it fast enough.

That and... Well, you've met her.

How did he meet the second Mrs Lunn?

Oh, didn't she say?
She worked in the cab office.

On the radio, handing out the jobs.

It started there.

They usually fizzled out.

Only, he got her in the family way
and, well...

You said "they usually"?

With Dudley it was four legs, good,
two legs, better.

I tried to keep it from Mark
as best I could,

but children pick up on
things, don't they?

All right, then, see you back at base.

45, 45, pick up 52 Festive Avenue

going to Headington on account.

A Mr Benn.

No, it's just awful news.

Awful.

You heard about what happened

to the driver from A2B Cars, presumably?

The fellas have been talking
about nothing else.

You hope it's just a one-off.
But now this?

Puts the fear of God in everyone.

Oh, sorry about this. Got to answer it.

Usually, we've a girl,
but it's her afternoon off.

Speedy Cabs, can I help you?

Hello?

Oh, yeah, that's my Siwan.

Joan, she'd be in English.

Though most everybody calls her Birdie.

Fy nghyw bach.

Always singing round the house,
she is. Like a cock linnet.

Beautiful.

- Have you got kids?
- Yeah, two, as it happens.

Speedy Cabs, how can I help you?

Erm, yeah.
What time would you like that for?

Oh, our pleasure.

Thank you, now.

Goodbye.

Did you give him a job
to Hovelle Wood last night?

Paradise Court, perhaps.

That's where it happened, is it?

Er, no, erm,
well, the last dispatch I had for...

for Dudley was... Let me see now.
It's all in here, see?

Oh, yeah, here it is, look.

5:18 pick up. Summertown to Beaufort.

Dr Hu.

Oriental studies.

Old boy, one of our regulars.

And there was nothing after that?

Well, if there was,
it didn't come from me.

Oh, I had a word with the boys.

A couple of the lads said he was on
the rank at Cowley East last night.

Do you want some tanning butter?

- No.
- You don't want to burn.

Where did you get to last night?

I woke up and you weren't there.

- Call of nature.
- You were ever such a long time.

Yes, well, I couldn't find it.

Maybe I should've said...

that we'd just come by taxi.

You don't think it was our driver,
do you?

No, why would it be?

He dropped us off at 7:30.

You said yourself,
you heard the gunshot around 10:00.

If that's what you did hear.

He's hardly likely to hang around at
the top of the lane all that time.

Was it the top of the lane?

Oh, I don't know, do I?
I'm just guessing.

Anyway, you don't want to get involved.

I wish that man would go and clip
his privets elsewhere.

He's staring!

8:30, quarter to nine.

Something like that's about
the last time we saw him.

- Wouldn't you say, Brian?
- Yeah, that's right.

Dudley was at the, er,
top of the rank waiting for a fare.

Did you see who got into the cab?

Er, no.

Did either of you have a job
out to Hovelle Wood last night?

- Hovelle Wood?
- Mm-hm.

- No, sir, no.
- All right, fellas?

- What's all this?
- The police, Joe.

- It's about Dudley.
- Dudley?

- What about him?
- You haven't heard?

Oh, my!

He's been murdered, Mr...?

North. Joe North.

Here, don't I...?

Yeah, Mr North dropped a fare
at my house this morning, sir.

Detective Sergeant Morse.
Detective Chief Inspector Thursday.

So... what happened?

Not another guy like this fella
with A2B?

We're keeping an open mind,
but it looks that way.

Here, Clarry, you're up, look.

Oh! If you'll excuse me, officers.

Certainly, Mr Haynes.

He was keen on the horses, I understand.

Oh, yes.

He was always touching one of us up

for a couple of quid to put on the
gee-gees.

Right. And he liked women, too, I hear.

Well, crumpet in and out
the back of the cab all day.

Can't blame him, can you?

Well, if anything else
should cross your mind,

you know where to find us.

I can confirm that the bullet
which killed Mr Lunn was a .22.

I've passed it to Ballistics
for a full analysis.

Small calibre.

A woman's gun, perhaps?

Ruth Ellis fired a .38, of course.

She did. But it wasn't hers.

You're not gonna want to keep
a Smith & Wesson in your handbag

along with your compact, are you?

Anything else?

Nothing to suggest any kind of
struggle for the weapon.

He very likely had no inkling
he was about to die.

The Ostrich Fanciers' Club.

- Never heard of it.
- No address.

But there is a telephone number
on the back.

I'll see if we can get a reverse trace.

What will he have had in his wallet,
£10, £15, £20?

- Would you kill someone for that?
- I've seen people killed for less.

What are you saying, that emptying
the wallet was a blind?

Well, unless I'm much mistaken,
that's not just blood on his collar.

That's lipstick.

No. If you could keep Fenella with you

and I'll fetch her on the way back.

They're sending a car for me
to go and do the identifying.

I know, I can't believe it myself.

I don't know what I'm going to do
for her tea.

He was something of a womaniser,

according to his mates,
and the first Mrs Lunn.

Indeed.

Morse noted a smudge of bright,
red lipstick on his collar.

Another woman, then?

A jealous husband, perhaps?

Or wife, sir.

Or wife.

'We've 20,000 people on the site.

'Without a name, I can't really
help you.'

Right. Understood.

Well, thank you very much.
Sorry to have troubled you.

I've conducted some odd interviews
in my time, matey.

But stone me, this morning's go
takes the Garibaldi.

- What's this?
- Paradise Court.

The nudie place.

A couple there think they'd heard
a gunshot. A Mr and Mrs Appleby.

Only, they took it to be a car
backfiring just before 10:00.

Lunn picks his fare up outside the
station between 8:45 and 9:00,

gets to the Hovelle Wood area
between 9:45, 10:00.

That works, more or less.

Must've been someone
who knows Paradise Court, then.

Get anywhere with
The Ostrich Fanciers' Club?

There's nothing on record in Oxford.
Nothing in the phonebook.

And the number just gets you the
BLMC switchboard.

But without a name...

_

- Just going out.
- You just got in.

What about tea?

Well, there's, er...

There's cheese in the fridge
and bread in the bin.

I take it I have to see
for myself, then.

Well, you found your way
to the drinks cabinet all right.

I can't imagine the pantry
will long prove terra incognita.

Oh, yes, always the Latin!

Must come in very handy consorting
with the criminal classes.

I expect this is one of yours, is it?

Taxi drivers murdered in nudist camps.

People running around
with no clothes on.

Urgh!

It's squalid.

And you grubbing around in it
by way of a living.

I can't imagine what your dad would say.

Well, not much,
if he was running true to form.

Still, being the son of a cabbie may
have its practical use, for once.

A cabbie?!

Your father was a
private hire chauffeur.

He drove the Aga Khan!

Once.

He was a taxi driver.

Got to drag us down, haven't you?

Belittle him.

Make him look small.

I can't imagine your father and this
dead man have a thing in common.

Well, there's the horses.
Our dead man liked to gamble.

Well, there's nothing wrong with that.

A lot of men like a flutter.

Oh, and he left his wife and child
for another woman that he'd, erm...

What's the polite phrase?

...put in the family way.

So, there's that, I suppose.

Don't wait up.

You haven't seen my husband,
have you, Major?

I appear to have lost him.

He asked me to call him a cab.

About an hour ago.

Did he say when he'd be back?

I'm afraid not, Mrs Appleby.

- Thank you.
- You're welcome.

The body of Christ.

Amen.

The body of Christ.

Amen.

The body of Christ.

Amen.

Whoa! Whoa...

It's Mark, isn't it?

Mark Lunn.

I'm Detective Sergeant Morse.

I'm investigating
what happened to your father.

- You're lying.
- No, I'm not. Let me...

Let me show you my warrant card.

Every police officer has to have
a warrant card,

to prove he is who he says he is. Look.

Take a look.

What are you doing here?

They come back to the scene
of the crime.

- Murderers. I've read about it.
- Yeah.

- Where did you get the gun?
- My dad gave it to me.

He gave it to me for rabbits.

My dad gave me a gun once.

For my birthday.

That was for rabbits, too.

Can I take a look?

Swap?

Hey!

You're too young
to be in possession of a firearm.

And it's not for you to find out
who killed your father.

No matter how much you might want to.

I'm staking out the scene of
the crime, in case he comes back.

No, you're going home. I'm taking you.

I know you want to help,
but this isn't the way.

Jump in the car.

She won't be a minute,
if you want to come up.

No, no, you're all right, I'll, er...

I'll wait here.

Is it, erm...?

Yeah.

Oh, yeah.

I'd forgot to say about gloves.
I asked someone who'd been to one.

I didn't want to let the side down.

You couldn't.

Should we...?

Yeah, yeah, of course.

I got you these.

Thank you.

Shall we...?

- Let me get you the door.
- Thanks.

Mind your dress.

Don't you look a picture.

- Shall we, squire?
- Let's.

I thought, if I got a better report,
he might come back.

How do you mean?

From school.

I got a bad report
and he was cross about it.

Then he went and lived with his new
family.

But...

Well, that was just a coincidence.

That wasn't your fault.

Your mum and dad getting divorced

had nothing to do with anything that
you said or did,

or didn't do or say. Do you understand?

He was a good dad.

Yeah, I'm sure. I'm sure.

He'd let me help at the garage sometimes

- when he was working on the cab.
- Yeah?

Did you enjoy that?

Can I have my gun back?

No.

Er, you can't. It's...

It's illegal, I'm afraid.

You're just as likely to hurt
yourself with it as someone else.

So, I'll keep hold of it
until you're old enough, all right?

Now, go on.
Go in and give your mum a hug.

Tell her you love her.

Goodnight.

Can I see?

Oh, certainly.

It's amazing.

You're very welcome to it.

You mean it, I could keep it?

By all means, if you'd like it.

Could you sign it?

Oh, now...

- How's that?
- R Bright.

What does the R stand for?

Reginald.

I'm Lynn.

- Lynn Parry.
- Miss Parry, how do you do?

Lynn.

Mr and Mrs Denby.

Mr and Mrs Cameron.

Brother Strange and Miss Joan Thursday.

- Worshipful Master.
- Brother Strange.

- What a beautiful dress.
- Oh, you're very kind.

Not at all, it's really gorgeous.

Thank you.

I hope you have a lovely evening.

We will, I'm sure.

Mr and Mrs Stubbings.

And the winner of two tickets

to see The Carpenters
at the Royal Albert Hall is...

...Mr James Strange
and Miss Joan Thursday!

Cheers!

- Some of us are trying to sleep!
- Oh, good evening.

Never mind good evening.
What do you want?

- I'm looking for Miss Thursday.
- Well, she's out.

Out?

Some bloke in an evening suit
and a private car.

Oh...

- Was there a message?
- No.

No, no message.

♪ Earth angel, Earth angel ♪

♪ Will you be mine? ♪

♪ My darling, dear ♪

♪ Love you all the time... ♪

- Here we go...
- Thank you.

- All right?
- So far, so good.

- I didn't say anything that was...?
- Mm.

No. No, not at all. You were brilliant.

So...

...what's this all about, then, Jim?

Well, it's kind of expected,
isn't it, in my line?

Not many of us went to the right
kind of school, so...

- ...this is the next best thing.
- Old boy network.

If you like.

There's no harm in it.
The way people go on,

you'd think it was all black magic
and sacrificing virgins.

But somewhere in amongst all that,

somehow, we manage to do
a lot of good work for charity.

Did you want to, er...?

Why not?

Thank you.

Allow me.

♪ ..Happiness ♪

♪ Earth angel, Earth angel ♪

♪ Please, be mine ♪

♪ My darling, dear ♪

♪ Love you for all time ♪

♪ I'm just a fool ♪

♪ A fool in love ♪

♪ With you. ♪

Hey!

Hey, what the hell
do you think you're doing?!

I could've killed you!

What...? Officer...

- are you OK?
- I'm sorry.

Come on, sir. Come on, let me help you.

Who's this?

- Are you OK?
- Yeah, I just tripped and...

and missed my footing a little bit.

That could have happened to anyone.
Which way are you going?

Erm, this way.

Look, let Clarry
take you home safe, sir.

Come on, the car's there, sir.
Come, come.

You scared the life out of me, man.

Thank you.

Well, listen,
thanks for helping me out tonight.

You're welcome.

Right, night, then.

Night.

Blimey.

I won't wash my face for a week now.

What was that for?

A lovely evening.

Go on, in you go.

Oh, listen, don't feel like

you've got to come to The Carpenters
if it's not your...

Excuse me, we won, didn't we?

- Yeah, but...
- A night out in London?

I'm not gonna turn that down.

She does have a lovely voice.

Yeah, she does.

Right, then, goodnight.

Goodnight.

Phwoar!

Nice bit of crumpet.

She's not crumpet.

She's a smart, bright,
independent young woman.

You'll remember it if you're looking
for a tip next time.

Whatever you say, squire.

Are you all right, now?

Yep.

Thanks for the lift.

Oh, it's all right, I've got them.

Father Francis Mahoney.

56.

- Who found him?
- His housekeeper.

A Mrs Walsh.

She brought him a cup of tea
to his room at the rectory,

only to find his bed hadn't been
slept in.

So, she came in here to look for him.

She doesn't live in, then?

Goes home of an evening
after he's had his tea.

Then comes in first thing
to see to his breakfast.

Looks to be another robbery,
in any event.

Wallet's open and empty
on the floor of the confessional.

Anything, Doctor?

I'm afraid Father Mahoney

got rather more of an earful
than he was expecting.

Shot through the screen.

Body temperature and rigor suggests
he joined the choir invisible

about 14 to 16 hours ago.

That makes it sometime after
last night's seven o'clock mass.

Doesn't confession happen before mass,

unless it's prearranged with the priest?

There's no exit wound this time, so
calibre will have to wait on the PM.

Might we remove the body?

Of course, Doctor. By any means.

Very well, then.
Shall we say two o'clock?

What would a taxi driver
and a priest have in common

that would be of interest
to the same killer?

Until we have forensics on the
bullet, we don't know they were.

What, two shootings in two days
by two different killers?

That hardly seems likely, does it?

I went back to Cowley East to talk
to the station staff last night.

The waitress at the cafe

said a cleric had been in the night
that Lunn was killed.

Hanging about over his coffee.

Mahoney? One dog collar's
much like another.

We'll see if there's any photos
of him up at the rectory

- and you can run it past her.
- Right.

She also said there was a young woman.

Blonde. Twenties.
Kept watching the cab rank.

Get going with door to door.

- We'll brace the housekeeper.
- Sir.

What happened to you this morning?

Oh, I'm sorry, I, er...
I missed the alarm.

That shirt looks
like you've slept in it.

I've got my stepmother staying with me

until she moves into a place in Eynsham.

I'm on the sofa. It's not ideal.

Still no excuse for a grubby shirt.

Slovenly dress leads to a slovenly mind.

If more connects these cases
than robbery,

then I'll need you to earn your keep.

Well, I wasn't completely idle
last night.

I went back to where Lunn was shot.

I almost went the same way myself.

His son was lying in wait in case
the killer returned to the scene.

You mean, he was armed?
Yeah, a .22 pistol.

Same as did for his old man.

Don't worry, I took it off him,
and then drove him home.

But while I was there,
I found part of a metal canister

on the verge
by where the taxi was parked.

- What sort of canister?
- I couldn't say.

I'd intended to take it
to this naturist camp,

but with the boy on board...

Pass it to Forensics for prints,

along with the pistol,
for comparison testing.

- Do you want to come down?
- No, you're all right.

Mrs Walsh said it would be all right
to carry on.

Well, I'm saying it's not.

So, if you don't get down here and
give your details to my sergeant,

you'll have my foot up your arse!

Come on, Pops, don't be uptight.
I've got a rota.

If I don't do them now,
it'll put me all out.

I'll put you all out
if you don't get down that ladder!

All right, all right, keep your hat on.

Blimey, what's the matter with him?
Ain't he getting any?

Name, address and date of birth, please.

Lee Timothy. 3 The Sidings, Jericho.

12th October, 1950.

When was the last time
you saw Father Mahoney?

Six weeks.
The last time I did his windows.

Did he ever mention
any trouble he was having?

Any difficulties with his parishioners?

To his window cleaner?

No.

Right.

Funny enough...

I did hear him have a bit of
a ding-dong last I was here.

I was aloft doing the window.

He was having a right old go
at someone in the front bedroom.

The top bay.

Did you hear what he was saying,
or see who he was talking to?

No, not who was with him, but...

I saw a trilby on the hall table.

Little orange feather in the band.
Too racy for the Father.

- What time was this?
- Early doors.

Right, I think that will be all
for now, Mr Timothy, thank you.

If we need anything else,
we'll be in touch.

His ministry had taken him all over.

He'd been a padre in the war, I think.

And a prison chaplain, too.

Did he have any family that you know of?

He had a half-brother come by
from time to time.

Donal.

But things weren't all that good
between them.

No?

How's that?

He turned up every few months...

like the proverbial bad penny.

After money from the Father.

I told him
I thought he was taking advantage.

The Father said...

"Am I not my brother's keeper, Roisin?

"Am I not my brother's keeper?"

- Afternoon, Mrs Appleby.
- Afternoon.

Baz!

Where the hell have you been?

- I've been going out of my mind.
- It's not a big deal.

I just had to get away.

- From me?
- No, from here.

It was just for an hour or two.
Baz, you've been gone all night.

Where did you go?

A pub in town.

An old haunt
from when I was an undergrad.

I had too much to drink and
passed out on Christchurch Meadow.

But I'm back now.

- I'll try and make a go of it.
- You don't have to.

- You can just go.
- No, I'd like to.

Really.

I'll get over my hang-ups and...

...we've paid for the week.

Let's just try and enjoy it.

Yes?

- Anything from lippy?
- No, nothing much.

Oh, other than he overheard Mahoney
arguing with someone in his bedroom

the last time he was here.

- Man or woman?
- He couldn't say.

Though he did see a trilby through
the window with an orange feather.

Not Mahoney's. So, presumably, a man.

Could be his half-brother Donal.

Well, there's a...

There's a "call D" in his diary.

And his last appointment is confession.

8pm. Ringed and underlined.

Kept by his killer, presumably.

Mm.

The fruit of my labour.

.22, the same calibre as did
for Mr Lunn.

By your leave, I'll pass it to
Forensic Ballistics for comparison.

See if we have a match.

Well, I can't imagine we've too many
robbers going round Oxford

knocking people off with a .22 pistol.

Three feathers.

That was on Lunn's membership card,
wasn't it?

Mm, The Ostrich Fanciers' Club.

"From the boys on D wing, Wandsworth."

His housekeeper said
he was a prison chaplain.

It's a funny robbery
that leaves a pocket watch.

And it's smashed again.

Two broken timepieces?

The killer's motif, perhaps?

Do you still think it was just
a robbery?

3:50...

So, what's he after?

Trying to fix a false time
to give himself an alibi, maybe?

Well, if that's his purpose,
it's pretty redundant.

We know from Doctor DeBryn
and from his appointment book

that Father Mahoney was shot at eight.

Well, whatever it means, I'd better
get back and brief Mr Bright.

Two deaths in as many days isn't
gonna go down well at Division.

You can bank on it.

I'll get back to the rectory, see if
there's anything that this fits.

There was a wardrobe
that I couldn't get into.

Just to make sure
nothing's been overlooked.

A taxi driver, and now a priest.

Anything to connect them?

We've no reason to believe the dead
men were known to each other, sir.

Well, whoever's behind it, you need
to find them, Thursday, and fast.

I've already had Division on.

If this is some lunatic murdering
strangers at random for money...

...he's got 130,000 potential victims
to choose from,

and we've no way of knowing
who's going to be next.

Can't you wear a bell around your neck?

Sorry. I've always been light of foot.

What are you doing skulking in there?

- Looking for absolution?
- It's too late for me. I'm past saving.

It's never too late for the Almighty.

"Though your sins be as scarlet..."

Did you know him? What was he like?

Whisky priest.

They get that look sometimes,
clergy. That...

over-the-shoulder,
hunted, cast to the eye,

as if they'll be discovered
in their doubt.

You mean, he lost his faith?

Well, there's a lot of it about.

Have you ever heard of
The Ostrich Fanciers' Club?

No, that's new to me.

- Where is it?
- I don't know.

I'm not even sure
what kind of club it is.

I can ask around.

Aye-aye, what's this, then?

A magic lantern show?

In a manner of speaking.

Oh! Blimey!

Morse found a bunch of them
in a wardrobe up at the rectory.

All right, Morse.

We get the general idea.

Pornography?

That's not Oxford business.
That's London business.

An hour's run up the A40
makes it everybody's business.

I've got an old colleague
in the Dirty Squad.

I'll see if he can shed any light.

Well, it wasn't Father Mahoney
at the station cafe.

I showed his photo to the waitress.
She said it was another fella.

Hello, hello, that's, er...

- a Masonic apron.
- Yeah, we know.

It was with the blue films in the bag.

Well, it couldn't have been Father
Mahoney's. The Pope stuck a ban

on Romans joining the Brotherhood
nearly 200 years back.

His brother Donal, maybe.

- He sounds like a wrong 'un.
- Sir...

These canisters...

A tin can, you say?

Well, you find all sorts in hedgerows.

No, it was half a canister.

It may have contained
eight millimetre film stock.

Well, we have a film show
once a week for the guests.

We've a small library of them,
but they're all 16 mil.

The couple that heard the shot,
Major, Mr and Mrs Appleby,

- when did they arrive?
- Friday evening.

We gave them their flower garlands
by way of a welcome.

I asked if they wanted to dine,

but they were very tired
and wanted to get straight to bed.

We didn't see them again till morning.

We were going to drive up,
but then we thought,

if we really are going to
get back to nature

we ought to take the train
and get a cab.

And can you describe the driver?

- The driver?
- Mm-hm.

Oh, yes.

You lied to us.

Turns out you were the one

who dropped the Applebys
at Paradise Court

the same night as the murder.

I can see I should have mentioned
it, but I've had a lot on my mind.

My wife's been sick, sir.

- Back and forth to the doctor.
- I'm sorry to hear it.

And where were you last night?

Well, now, sir, you know where I was.

I had a little accident
with the officer.

But I made sure he was all right
and took him home.

Before that.

Oh...

I had fares all over.

Anything take you near St Agnes?

No, sir, I don't believe it did.

And was everything all right
between you and Mr Lunn?

- Me and Dudley?
- Yeah.

Yeah, sure,
we was good friends, you know.

- Ask any of the men on the rank.
- No money worries or anything?

It's just I found this marker
in the back of your cab last night.

It's an IOU for £25
on the back of a Speedy Cabs card

and signed by Mr Lunn.

Oh, now, see, sir, that...

That was just a little
private matter between us.

Besides, Dudley paid all of that
back a long time ago.

In my experience, Mr Haynes,
when a debt is paid,

the marker's returned to the debtor.

Else destroyed.

Also, £25, what's that?

A week's wages or more.

Well, sir...

we all puts a little bit by
for a rainy day, don't we?

But you can see why we're finding it
difficult to believe

that you being out at Paradise Court

on the same night that a man
who owes you money is shot dead

is something that might
just slip your mind.

Look...

Maybe I should've said something.

But I didn't want to get involved
in that kind of trouble.

Murder trouble, you know.

I'm just a taxi driver.

I mind my business.

Mr and Mrs Maynard?

- Good afternoon.
- Good afternoon.

Thank you.

Farewell, my dear.

- Have a lovely trip.
- Thank you.

- See you in a few days, darling.
- I'll get the door.

And here's your coat.

Thank you.

- Drive safely.
- Will do.

Right, to the station, then.

Well, if this is what you get up to
living here by yourself,

no wonder you can't get a decent
girl to look at you.

It's evidence.

In a murder case.

There's more to the world
than you find in Reveille, Gwen.

And you'd know all about it, I'm sure.

Because you went to Oxford.

But you didn't finish it, though,
did you?

For all your books and your poetry...

and your snooty music...

- ...you failed.
- Yep!

Yep, I failed.

I should have stayed at home and...

drove a taxi, like my father.

And then got one of the local girls
knocked up.

Then you could look down your nose
at me, and all would be well

in your tiny, little world.

You were always a strange one.

Close and private.

Filled with your sweaty, little secrets.

- You were a disappointment to him.
- So you said.

- A big disappointment.
- So you said.

I didn't kill her!

What?

I didn't give her cancer.

And you can't blame me all your life.

I've got work to do.

Goodnight, Gwen.

We took you in.

It's Lunn? You're sure?

It's definitely him. He's in two
or three of the pictures.

That's his connection to Father Mahoney.

Lunn's a performer
in these blue films, which...

There's no need to clam up
on my account.

Oh, I'll get it.

I was in Blackpool with the ATS
for two years during the war.

And there was this man

and he kept asking me
if he could measure my feet.

I know, it takes all sorts, but...

there we go.

You're looking tired.

It's work.

You must look after yourself.

We all think a lot of you, you know?

I'm sorry you've had a bad go.

- Right.
- Well...

Come home safe, Dad.

Morse.

That was the factory.

He's the Worshipful Master at my lodge.

Commodore Maynard. Harry Maynard.

I only saw him the night before last
at the, er...

the lodge.

Who found him?

A beat constable.

Anonymous tip-off.

Next door thought they heard
a pistol crack

about nine o'clock last night.

That would chime with the grandfather.

- Morning, gentlemen.
- Doctor.

Oh, yes.

That does look nasty.

You seem to be making a habit of
collecting these, Chief Inspector.

Shot?

In the back of the head
at point-blank range

would be my first impression.

Three in as many days.

Oh...

And I think his wife
has just arrived by taxi.

Good heavens, it's...

Detective Sergeant Strange, Mrs Maynard.

If we could speak inside.

- Where have you come from?
- The station.

I picked her up from here
and dropped her there last night.

- What time was this?
- Er, quarter to six.

Something like that.

She'd booked a return
for 9:30 this morning.

Look, can I go now?
I've got a pick up in Headington.

Brian's not turned in
and Ifan's doing his nut.

No, I'd like you to give this
officer a formal statement

and then you can leave.

Go on.

Are you OK?

- Three shootings in a week?
- Shh...

- Here...
- What's this?

It's your Ostrich Fanciers' Club.

One of the classified ads boys
recognised the name.

- "The glamour of exotic rare birds."
- Mm-hm.

"Films £1.

"Send a stamped addressed envelope
to The Ostrich Fanciers' Club,

"The Rectory, 12 Cloister Walk, Oxon."

Exotic rare birds?

For the one-in-the-hand brigade,
I fancy,

rather than the two-in-the-bush
contingent.

Ah...! Right.

Happy to be of personal service.

Thank you.

We understand he was involved
in the Masonic Order.

Is that right?

He was in charge of the lodge.

We only had our ladies'
night this week.

He was so proud.

Mrs Maynard...

does The Ostrich Fanciers' Club
mean anything to you?

No.

Nothing at all. Should it?

Oh, now, that's a shame.

The clock's broken, sir.

And it always kept such good time.

Harry wouldn't have had it
in the house otherwise.

Sir...

There are two indentations
in the flower bed,

spaced about a foot apart.

I think I know who made the tip-off
call.

A ladder, you mean?

Well, if Acacia Avenue
is on Lee Timothy's round,

I can understand why
he wouldn't want to be found

at the scene of a murder
two days running.

What's all that about
Maynard's carriage clock?

Changing the time seems to be
the killer's calling card.

Though God knows why.

- What do you think, Morse?
- I've...

- I've seen this room before.
- What, been here, you mean?

This is the room where
Dudley Lunn's blue film was shot.

But you can see why
I didn't want to get involved.

Two people dead on the round

in two days could play havoc
on my goodwill.

I'm Squeegee Lee, not Typhoid Mary!

How well did you know the Maynards?

They're customers.

I clean the windows, they pay me.
That's it.

And where were you last night
at nine o'clock?

Meeting my bird, wasn't I?

She works of an evening part-time.

Gets off about ten and I walk her home.

So, no-one can vouch for your
movements last night at nine?

Not when you put it like that. No.

Right.

Morse.

Ah, Morse. I was hoping for a few
words with DCI Thursday.

He's gone to London, sir.

Looking for a lead
on this Ostrich Fanciers' Club.

We think Father Mahoney's step-brother,

Donal, might be involved.

This smutty films case,
wretched business.

Very well. Keep me apprised
of any developments.

- Carry on.
- Sir.

Ah, matey, glad I caught you.

I've got this woman
being knocked about by her husband.

Uniform would like us
to take a statement.

Can you deal?

Well, it's that or watching DeBryn

rooting around Maynard's brain pan
at the postmortem.

I thought you'd sooner the frail.

I won't press charges.

It's my fault. I provoked him.

There's nothing you could have done
that would warrant this.

I met somebody.

I went with him.

And your husband found out?

And who was he, this other man?

I don't want him getting in any trouble.

Please, Mrs Grady.

It's Dudley.

Dudley Lunn.

Where can I find your husband?

He's at a place called Paradise Court.

But I don't want to press any charges.

Mrs Grady?

Joan Thursday, Welfare Officer.

You don't have to talk to Detective
Sergeant Morse if you don't want to.

I've told him
I don't want to press charges.

Please...

Well, then, that should be enough.

Thank you, Officer.

Well, if you change your mind,
you can find me at Castle Gate.

- Are you sure about Grady?
- I'm not sure, no.

But it's a bit of a coincidence
that his wife's lover

is killed on a country lane
not far from where he works.

Good evening. We're looking for
your groundsman, Del Grady.

We've tried his home, to no avail.

Some sort of Peeping Tom?

A groundsman at a naturist camp.

It's hard to imagine a position

that affords greater opportunity
for voyeurism.

Anything out of the ordinary, Doc?

All too ordinary, I'm afraid.

The postmortem may say otherwise.

But at first glance,

there's nothing to say
it's other than it looks.

Suicide.

For the coroner to decide, of course.

But there's a strong smell of liquor
about the corpus.

Alcohol taken to excess
is a notorious depressant,

and we rarely make wise choices
when inebriated.

Anyway, er, shall we say nine
of the clock?

- Mm-hm.
- Doctor.

Morse.

So...

...he puts his wife in hospital...

then does for himself
in a fit of remorse, then?

Or it's what he did to Lunn

and the others that just pushed him
over the edge.

I can see Lunn,

if he was carrying on with Mrs Grady.

But where's your motive for Father
Mahoney and Commodore Maynard?

They can't have been seeing her, too.

I'll get on for a search warrant.

But unless Grady has a .22 pistol
at home,

we're gonna have to look elsewhere
for a killer.

It was just a mistake.

A silly, youthful indiscretion.

Did you meet him...

the other night, down by the lane?

Only, my colleague found a paper flower

out by where Lunn's taxi was parked.

And I know that you and your wife

were given Hawaiian garlands
the evening you arrived.

I just wanted to clear the air.

To make plain that whatever youthful
indiscretion had taken place

belonged in the past.

I'm a married man now. And so was Del.

Well, he was,
but far less happy than you.

How did he take that?

Not well.

He was trapped in a marriage
with someone he didn't care for.

He'd only gone through with it
because it was expected of him,

and to please his family.

So, that's where you were
when you heard the gunshot.

And rather than having to answer
any awkward questions

about what you both were doing there,

you agreed to keep quiet about it.

Del begged me to meet him in town

the following evening to finish
our talk.

I'm afraid I left him with no illusions.

Or hope.

Does Mrs Appleby know about your, erm...

"youthful indiscretion"?

No, of course not.

Right, well, thank you.

We'll be in touch
if we need any more information.

I'm after Dinner For Three.

Outside, all of you!

I know you've been a long time
out of the Smoke, Fred,

but it's still manners
to pay your respects

when you come on somebody else's patch.

- I didn't like to bother you, Len.
- It's no bother.

And it's Commander Dury
these days. Oh...

For what it's worth.

You've been talking to Ches Finch.

Well, we were probationers together.
At Cable Street.

The Dirty Squad
falls under my eye these days.

What's your interest?
A murder with a link to blue films

sold by a firm called
The Ostrich Fanciers' Club.

How it is, Fred.

We've got it just how the upstairs
like it.

Nice and quiet, no trouble.

Sure.

DI Nesbitt and DS Sneed
will put the word out.

If it's some interloper,
you can have them.

If not...?

Tell them they're looking
for a shitehawk

in a trilby with an orange
feather. About your size.

When did you blackmail Mahoney?

When he was prison chaplain
at Wandsworth?

What do you have on him? Boys, was it?

The flesh is weak.

So, you put the squeeze on,

he fronts up your racket
beyond the Smoke.

From time to time, you drop by,
posing as his half-brother Donal,

to keep an eye on proceedings.

Is there a real Donal?

Or was that just for someone
who might ask questions?

Like his housekeeper, for instance.

I could hardly show her my warrant
card, could I?

What happened, Len?

You were a good thief-taker once.

We're none of us as clean
as we'd like the world to think, eh?

Well...

...the priest is dead now,
whoever did for him.

The way I read it,
I've got three men dead...

all connected to your little caper.

Maybe someone's decided
to put you out of business.

I'll be seeing you.

Fred...

Your card's marked.

For old times.

Don't come back.

What you do in your sewer's
your concern.

You can be king of the shit heap
for all it means to me.

But you set foot on my ground again...

...you'll all swing.

I don't care whose coat you're carrying.

- Ah, Morse.
- Sir.

- Developments?
- Some, sir.

I think we can rule out the passenger

that Lunn picked up at the station.

How so? Oh, may I offer you...?

Yes, sir. Whisky, if I may.

- What's this?
- What?

Oh, well, it's just a... Just a hobby.

- These are very good, sir.
- Oh, thank you.

Clearing out my wife's clothes,

I found my old watercolour box
at the back of the wardrobe.

You were saying?

Oh, yes, she appears to have been
his mistress.

He dropped her at home at 9:20
to a beating from her husband.

Who is she?

Oh, yes, Miss Parry.

Life model at the art school.

Yes, she's quite striking, isn't she?

Cheers.

Miss Parry?

Yes.

And what time would that have been?

Oh, I finished about nine o'clock.

Ah, good morning, sir.

Sir, do you remember Mr Roberts,
the dispatcher from Speedy Cabs?

He's very kindly offered to come in

and help us out with a statement
this morning.

A statement?

Just a small matter concerning timings.

Mr Roberts, can you tell us what time

did you give Joe North the job to
pick up Mrs Maynard from her house?

Mid-afternoon.
Half past three, four o'clock.

Right. And was that over the
telephone or...?

No, he popped into the office.

Most of the fellas do around that
time, you know, if they're slack.

And Speedy Cabs, they sponsor a table

at Commodore Maynard's
lodge charity nights.

- Is that right?
- Oh, yes.

Now, would Joe North
have ever gone to those events?

Oh, we've all been to one or two
of those.

Joe included.

You don't think he's involved,
do you? Not Joe!

Why, I can't believe it.

Sir, do you remember that we found
Commodore Maynard's body

in front of the grandfather clock?

The key was on the floor next to him.

The glass door was open
so he could wind it.

- Exactly.
- His wife told us

he always wound the clocks at nine.

Right. So, we've been lucky,

insofar as we've been able to establish

at what time each of the
murders took place.

Dudley Lunn just before ten.

Father Mahoney at eight.

And Commodore Maynard at nine.

Which tells us...

that the killer changed the time
on a watch or clock

at each of the scene of crimes.

So, at ten o'clock,

he changed Dudley Lunn's watch to 6:50.

At eight o'clock, he changed Father
Mahoney's pocket watch to 3:50.

And at nine o'clock,

he changed Commodore Maynard's
carriage clock to 3:10.

Now, we thought that he was trying
to just supply himself

with a false alibi. But it's
actually far, far simpler than that.

If you say so.

The actual time is immaterial.

It's the position of the hands
on the clock that's important.

To use the terminology
that was drilled into us in Signals.

6:50, left hand down, right hand high.

3:50, left hand out, right hand high.

3:10, left hand out,
right hand across high.

- Semaphore?
- Exactly.

Mine's a bit rusty, but C-Y-W?

C-Y-W, yes.

C-Y-W?

It doesn't mean anything.

No, well, it's a puzzle, isn't it?

Ah, Miss Parry.

Fy nghyw bach!

Oh...!

Cyw...

Thank you, Miss Parry, for coming in

to confirm what you confided
in me earlier.

Constable, if you can escort her
to the canteen,

I'll see you in a moment.

Yes, of course, sir, you're right.
C-Y-W doesn't mean anything.

In English.

But in Welsh...

and perhaps you can help me
with my pronunciation here,

cyw is a term of endearment.

It means "chick".

Now, you said to us...

"This is Siwan.

"Joan, she'd be in English.

"But most people call her Birdie." Yes?

So she was to everyone else.

But to me... fy nghyw bach.

My little chick.

Cyw.

I recognised her

from Superintendent Bright's
sketchpad, sir.

Although she now calls herself
Lynn Parry,

after her mother's maiden name.

She's also the blonde in the
blue films made with Dudley Lunn.

Ifan Roberts, I'm arresting you
for the murder of Dudley Lunn,

Father Mahoney and Commodore Maynard.

Presumably you watched Lunn
for a long time.

Planning, waiting for your moment.

You knew he was knocking off
Patty Grady.

And you knew that Mr Grady
worked at Paradise Court.

I watched them all for a month,
on and off.

Nobody notices taxis.

Get behind the wheel of a cab
and you might as well be invisible.

But we see everything.

The pathetic secrets.

The carrying on.

All of it.

As a dispatcher,
you were perfectly placed

to send Lunn on a non-existent job
to Hovelle Wood,

where you would be waiting for him.

Ifan, what's...?

What's this about?

See what you did, Dudley, to my Siwan!

- Eh? Tell me who else is involved!
- No-one.

Tell me!

You probably told him he'd live

if he gave you what you wanted.

How did you discover
your daughter was involved?

Oh...

I see. Of course.

You'd become a member of
The Ostrich Fanciers' Club.

You'd ordered some of their films.

You saw her.

I knew her at once.

She was my little girl.

Fy nghyw bach!

He was just a name on a card
twice a year.

"Love, Dad."

Dad? What does that even mean?

I barely remember him.

Perhaps. But he never forgot you.

Well, maybe it would have been
better for everyone if he had.

Something far easier said than done
for any father.

What can you think of me?

I think you're an intelligent,
sensitive, young woman

who fell amongst scoundrels.

Any shame is on their side.

Not yours.

Thank you.

45, 45, pick up

98B Chestnut Way, New Hinkley.

Going to...

North Oxford Lawn Tennis Club.

Passenger's a Miss Carlitt.

Yeah, Roger, Clarry. On way.

I should've tumbled.

Crossed flags on his arm.

It's the badge of a Naval signalman.

And what of the graffiti?

Micah 5.15.

"And I will execute vengeance
with anger and fury upon the heathen

"such as they have not heard."

He did it in her name.
I can't say I blame him.

- If it had been my daughter...
- Ah, but it never would be.

It could happen to anyone.

Given the right circumstances.

They're all somebody's daughter.

Somebody's mother, sister.

They all mean something to someone.

Or did once.

And now because of
The Ostrich Fanciers' Club,

they mean nothing to anyone.

Except to us.

They mean something to us.

To me, at least.

I'd have said to you, too, once.

Well, I'm not the fool I was.

I quite liked that fool.

He hoped for the best in people.

Surely, it's better
to see things as they are.

People make bad choices,
they have to pay the consequences.

What about pity, understanding?

Where does that fit into the picture?

I'm not here to...

kiss the wounded.

I'm here to make sure justice gets done.

The rest I can leave to the likes
of Father Mahoney,

for all the good it did him.

Well...

...I'm sure you know best.

Another beer? Or are you bitter enough?

No, I won't.
I've something on tonight.

We're who we are, Morse.

Our nature...

...we can try to escape it.

But it'll find us out in the end.

A man's what he is.

Whether he likes it or not.