All language subtitles for MDAD.S03E01.1080p.STV.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H.264

My friends, it's a small world
and everything's connected.

Hey, watch out, mate!

The early 1980s. Two things happen.

Here in England,
mass youth unemployment.

4,000 miles to the east,

the Soviet Union
invades Afghanistan.

Target heading west
through Abbey Plaza.

West through Abbey Plaza.

The mujahideen reap
vast harvests of poppies,

which they convert into heroin,
which they convert into hard cash,

which they convert into arms.

The heroin floods
our inner cities,

and voila -

English urban dialects are
forever changed.

The quick, brown
fox jumps over the lazy dog.

Note the emerging urban sounds,

all layered over classic Glaswegian
working-class phonology.

As a new underclass was formed
in our post-industrial cities,

so a new cluster of accents emerged.

Police. Out the way!

Liverpool, circa 1970.

The quick,
brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.

Liverpool, 1985, we get a marked
lenition in velar plosives.

The quick, brown fox jumps

over the lazy...

It's fine, it's fine. They've gone.
George!

Oh, my God.

Suspect in the Guild Hall.
Where'd he go?

No, George, don't try and get up.
Just...

Paula, just give me some space,
please.

Who've we got out there?
Dodds.

Where is he? Where'd he go?

How?
Oh, it's a small city, ma'am.

Everything is connected.

Harvey! Sorry.

Harvey! Leave that woman alone.
She... she's sleeping. OK?

Er...

'Which service do you require?'
I need the police please.

See, that's the way I like it.

Idiot does a robbery, we chase him,
we nick him, he 'fesses up.

New boss is gonna love me,
isn't she?

Gosh, are you OK?

Dunno, ma'am.

I think these might be oven chips.

Homicidal maniac?

Switchblade?
Ah, well.

I'm just too quick for him, ma'am.

Do you know, I still haven't been
hit in the line of duty, ma'am.

Really?

What, not...?

Fatality in Parade Gardens.

Smiling.

Never seen that before.

Nor I, ma'am, nor I.

Get a call out for more backup.

We need this place properly secured.

Inner cordon, 20 metres.
And I want a forensic tent.

Yes, ma'am.
Let's see if we can get her ID.

Oh, my God. I saw her
this morning in the Guildhall.

A guy was knocked over.
He was giving a talk.

She was there. Get on to Base.
Let's find out who he was.

Ma'am?

Thanks, DC Malik.

This is James Langmere.
DCI Lauren McDonald. You OK, sir?

Yeah, I didn't realise
till my son pulled her hat off.

Mr Langmere made the 999 call
at 12:27.

No! Harvey, no. Sorry.
It's OK.

He's fine.
Leave that lady's badge alone.

How long have you been here today?

Um, since about quarter past eleven.

Where were you sitting, sir?
Just over there.

Did you see anyone talking to her?
Anything odd or unusual at all?

Er, I don't think so,
but, um, you know,

I was busy keeping my eye on Harvey.

Sorry.
Ma'am.

No worries, we'll organise a car
to take you and your son home.

But we might have to talk
to you again.

Sure.

Her... her hat over her face.

Everyone must have thought
she was sleeping.

So, this means
that she's died quietly,

in plain sight,
with no signs of distress.

That's very odd, ma'am.

No phone, no purse. And it's like
someone's gone through her stuff.

Nothing here to give us an ID.

She... she might be Irish.

That, er... that tattoo?

That's a triquetra.

That's the, erm, Celtic symbol
for the Holy Trinity.

Worth a shot.
I'll get on to the Garda.

Ma'am?

Stallholder says she hired
two deckchairs at 10:15am.

But she paid cash, not card.

TWO deckchairs?
Yeah.

But she arrived alone.
Maybe she was waiting for someone.

What's that?

It could belong
to whoever she was meeting.

Hm.

Tuna salad.

Get it fast-tracked for prints.
This might help!

It's an app that reads barcodes.

If you don't mind, Sarge?

Thank you.

Yep. Point of origin, batch number,
date and time of delivery.

I'll chase up the sales outlet
from the manufacturer,

which should narrow it down to a
specific time and place of purchase.

Right, get both these deckchairs
swept for trace.

Shout up Pathology.
I want initial assessment

and blood works ASAP.

And get all these people
identified and interviewed.

And get a callout for anyone else
that was here this morning.

Probably a couple of hundred folk.
That's not good.

Why's that?
A couple of hundred witnesses means

a couple of hundred suspects.
And with a crime scene this big,

no-one ever notices
anything specific.

We have to find out who she is.

Just so we all know where we stand.

Not only do I run a tight ship,
unlike my predecessor,

I LEAD a tight ship.
The mission is everything.

The mission takes precedence over
personal and professional loyalties.

The mission being...?

The successful apprehension

and prosecution of perpetrators,
ma'am. Justice,

for the victim and the bereaved.
Oh, yeah, of course, ma'am.

DCI McDonald,
the body in Parade Gardens?

Um, we're collating witness
statements

and analysing evidence, ma'am.
Early leads?

Yes. I actually saw the victim
earlier this morning

when we were apprehending a suspect.

She was at some sort of public talk
by a...

Professor George Gillian.
Yeah, a professor

of linguistic anthropology
at the university.

He lives in the Beechen Hill area.

A place called... Belvedere.

Hm. Well, it's not much,
but it's a start.

Ma'am.
OK.

Database windows closed when
we're away from our desks, please.

What's up?

I dunno, ma'am.
I think I've been here before.

A long time ago, with, erm...

Well, it must have been
with my old auntie.

I miss the old auntie.

DCI Lauren McDonald,
West of England Constabulary.

This is Detective Sergeant Dodds.

Police? Really?
We'd like to speak

to Professor George Gillian?
What's he done now?

Come on in.

Spud!

Spud!

Spud!
Yes!

Visitors!

Yes, yes, I'm busy. What is it?

DCI Lauren McDonald,
West of England Constabulary.

This is my colleague,
Detective Sergeant Dodds. Oh.

Good afternoon.

"Oh. Good afternoon."
Oxford ruined you.

Officers, arrest this withered old
crone for crimes against humanity.

He wears pachouli
when he's depressed, you know.

Ych a fi!
That's Welsh for "yuck".

Yuck.

Er...

what we're wondering, Professor,
as a matter of urgency...

..do you know this person?

She was found dead in Parade Gardens
a couple of hours ago

under suspicious circumstances,
minus any form of ID.

Was she one of your students?

No, I don't believe so.

I saw her at your event
this morning.

We were pursuing a suspect,
if you recall?

Quite a few members
of the public there,

and my memory of the events
a little fuzzy, obviously.

Did you catch your fugitive?

All safely banged up, sir.

"All safely banged up,
sir." Sorry, Detective.

Your accent is fascinating.

It's so typically early
21st-century south-east London.

Intriguing vowel system
and prosodic contours,

but it's more peripheral
than Lambeth, beyond Southwark.

In your 20s,

you lived and/or worked in...
Shepherd's Bush.

My goodness, Professor.

That is incredible!
And I'll hazard,

attended a comprehensive school
in... Keston? Bromley Town?

- Chislehurst?
- Bromley Town.

Oh, not that old party trick again.

That is a priceless work of art,

not a cocktail stand.

Now, Picasso was a proper artist.

Proper man, too.

I had a fling with him in Bilbao

the night before
the Spanish Civil War was declared.

Roedd y rhyw yn anhygoel.

"The sex was incredible."

And once again, Mother,
completely delusional.

You were only 15
when the Spanish Civil War started.

Spud didn't pop out till I was 45.
I'd assumed I was barren.

Honestly, Lauren, he's been
such a disappointment to me.

Oh, Professor, if your mother was 15

at the start
of the Spanish Civil War...

It's her 100th birthday on Tuesday.

I'm beginning to fear
the old fossil may be immortal.

I'm sorry, I...

I really have no idea
who this unfortunate young woman is.

OK.

When did your talk finish?

Er, about 11.
What did you do after?

Came straight back here.

Can your mother verify that?

Mother seldom surfaces
before two in the afternoon.

She's practically a vampire,
as you probably noticed.

Ah! What's that?

It's phonetic notation.
Ah!

Words as they're sounded
and not spelt,

like accents and the like.

More or less.

So, what does this mean?

Does it matter?

Does it have anything
to do with your inquiry?

Oh. Oh, no, I, er, I suppose not.

Sorry, erm...
pressure of work, you understand.

He's definitely hiding something.

Trying to throw me off
with all that stuff about my accent.

It was uncannily accurate, ma'am.

He knows exactly who you are
from how you speak. It's amazing.

He knows where I come from

and where I went to school.
That's not who anybody is.

And he didn't like you sniffing
around that blackboard.

What was it again?
Phonetic notation.

And another thing.

I saw a green Aspinal handbag
on the chair.

Grand a pop, those things.

Maybe it was Mrs Gillian's?
No, I smelt perfume, too.

Expensive, and it wasn't Agnes's.

£1,000 for a handbag?
Yep.

I've told the boyfriend
I want one for my 40th.

Your 40th? But that's, erm...

Nine years.
He'd better start saving.

Pathology are ready.

We believe one of these was
your murder weapon.

We found a high concentration

of propylene glycol
in the victim's system,

which indicates
she was a habitual vape user.

We've identified a second substance,

highly toxic,
in her respiratory tract,

which is what killed her.

So, someone adulterated
her vape pen.

With what exactly?
Well, that's where it gets strange.

Whatever it is, its molecular
signature doesn't match

to any known drug or narcotic.

I've sent a sample
to the School Of Tropical Medicine.

What about her stomach contents?

Breakfast - eggs Florentine.

Tuna salad sandwich?
No.

Time of death?
Between 10am and 11am.

No later than 11, 100%.

And what about her smile?

Our mystery substance bound itself
to her opioid mu receptor,

so her emotions
departing this world

would have been euphoria.

Ecstatic euphoria and serenity.

A slow, happy, painless death.

The girl who died in the park.
Are we sure this isn't suicide?

The deceased's bag was rifled.
No purse, no phone, no form of ID.

Opportunist theft after the death?

I'm, erm...

Keeping an open mind. Fair enough.

Er, ma'am, the team
are ready for you now.

Mm.

Are you OK, ma'am?
I dunno.

What do you think?

She watches you
without looking at you.

Yeah. Where are we?

Well, the victim enters
the Parade Gardens

and hires two deckchairs at 10:15.

By 11am, she's dead.
And no vape recovered

from the crime scene.
There's no murder weapon.

It's probably in the Avon by now.

Malik, the tuna sandwich?

Still waiting on the manufacturer.

But we've pulled several sets
of the same prints

from the wrapper. Not the victim's,

but no hits
on the crime scene database.

I chased up
the School Of Tropical Medicine,

but it'll be a couple of days.
Victim ID - anything?

No hits on her prints. Nothing
from PNC via age, sex, height.

We don't get her ID,
we don't get her personal life,

and we don't get suspects
with motives. Sugar. Ma'am.

Nothing in her jacket,
nothing from her hat,

and her dress
doesn't have any pockets.

Doesn't it?

This dress is a...

Yes, it's a vintage Caprioli.

There you go.

Clean lines
to emphasise the slimness.

That's why there are
no visible pockets. But...

Go on, Sergeant Dodds.

Well, um, Ms Caprioli,

she bucked the tradition
that pockets were masculine.

So, in order to, er, empower
her clients,

without compromising
the line of the garment,

she would secrete
a pocket along the side seam.

Now, there we are!

It's a betting slip.

Full-cover tricast,
with a £10 unit stake.

3:40 at Chester last Tuesday.

Can someone check the result?

How did you know about the pocket
in the dress?

Oh, my aunt. She was a seamstress.

She brought me up.
Very good.

Thank you, ma'am. There's nothing
I don't know about women's clothes.

£5,075.02.

For a £1 unit stake,
you need to multiply by ten.

Over £50,000.

So, the slip specifies the time
and place where the bet was struck,

which should land us a credible
suspect on the bookmaker's CCTV.

Full-throttle murder inquiry,
DCI McDonald.

Ma'am.

So, what do we think?

Did the betting slip belong
to the victim

and the killer knew she had it?

Or did she steal it from someone,
and they killed her to get it back?

Right, I want a specialist search
team back over the crime scene.

I know it's a long shot,
but her vape was the murder weapon,

so we need to get our hands on it.

Bright and early tomorrow. We've got
good leads here. No excuses.

Your victim's name
is Elodie Docherty.

Irish citizen, resident
in Ballymun, just outside Dublin.

Her boyfriend. He arrived in Bath
a few hours ago.

We've arranged accommodation
for him.

Take him out for a cup of tea.
Get as much as you can.

Ma'am.

Liam, what was Elodie doing in Bath?

She didn't really say.

Something to do with her business.

She ran a beautician's.

But I thought
she'd given all that up.

Her salon went bust last year.

When did you last speak to her?

On the phone, yesterday.

She sounded happy,
excited about something.

I thought I'd jump
on the first plane

and come over here and see her.

Where was she staying?
I don't know.

Oh, but, sir, you were going
to meet her, so...

Where and when?

No, it was a surprise.

I was gonna call her and tell her
I was in Bath.

So, when I got here this morning...

..I did.

It went straight to voicemail.
I kept trying.

She wasn't answering my texts.

A couple of hours later,

I was in the main street
and I heard someone talking

about a girl that had been found
dead in the park yesterday.

So, I... thought I should go
to the police

and make sure it wasn't Elodie.

And...

Did she have a history of gambling,
betting on horses?

No. No.

What am I gonna do with this?

I was gonna ask her to marry me.

We're on this, OK, Liam?

Paula, what's wrong?

I've just found this mascara
in your office.

What exactly are you doing
in my office on a Sunday?

What I always do.

Organising your work and your life.

Supporting you in every way,

like I've always done
for 20 years, George.

How often are you in there?
Listen. Whoever she is,

whatever you've got yourself into,
know this -

I will not be here to catch you
when you fall, OK? Not this time.

Ma'am.

The bet was placed
on Tuesday morning

at a BetsIn branch in Dalton Place
by this woman.

CCTV outside.

We got her name
from the car registration.

Kate Porter -
divorced single mother,

freelance marketing consultant,

lives on Bennett Street,
off The Circus,

with her six-year-old daughter.

All right, darling,
have you got everything? Yep.

Mrs Porter?
Yeah?

DCI Lauren McDonald.
This is my colleague,

Detective Sergeant Dodds.
Can we have a word?

Yeah, sure. Go on, darling.
I'll be along in a minute.

Now, this is a copy
of a betting slip, Mrs Porter.

Do you recognise it?
Oh, my God! You've found it!

Thank you so much. I've been
searching everywhere for this.

Thank you. Do I, er, need to sign
something to get it back, or...?

Actually, under Section 19
of the Criminal Evidence Act,

we're gonna have to hold onto it.
Oh, right. Why?

It was found concealed on the body
of this young woman,

who died yesterday
in suspicious circumstances.

Her name's Elodie Docherty.

Do you know her?
No. Sorry.

I mean, obviously,
I lost it in the street.

I suppose
she must have picked it up.

Mrs Porter, where were you
between 10am and 11am yesterday?

Taking my daughter
to her best friend's birthday party.

I was there all morning.

OK. We'll need a detailed statement
from you.

Can you come into the station
later today. 2pm?

Yeah, I suppose, if it helps me get
my betting slip back.

You'll have that returned to you

when I've arrested and charged the
murderer of Elodie Docherty.

Of course. I'm sorry.
I wasn't thinking.

Aspinal handbag?

Sorry?

Do you know George Gillian,
Mrs Porter?

Professor George Gillian?

No. Sorry.

OK. We'll be in touch.

OK.

What do you think, ma'am?

Well, one - she doesn't look like
the type to bet on the horses.

Two - she's lying through her teeth.

Er, Saturday, I took my daughter
to her friend's birthday party.

Erm, we arrived early,
around five to ten.

Where was the party?

Laser Quest
at the Lakeside industrial estate.

And what time did you leave?
Er, midday.

So, you weren't at Parade Gardens
at 11:30?

We have a witness
that saw someone,

a woman talking to the victim,
at around 11.30.

It wasn't me.

Oh, look, I've broken my pencil.

Sorry.

Er...

Er...

Embarrassing, sorry.
Sorry, could you just go back?

It's working now. Where was
the children's party again?

Laser Quest
at the Lakeside industrial estate.

Er, just one more thing,
just for the record.

Um, where were you from originally,
Mrs Porter?

Surrey.

I was raised in Crawley
and I stayed there until my divorce.

So, you came to Bath
to start a new life.

Yeah.

Well, thank you for coming in,
Mrs Porter.

Sergeant Dodds will see you out.
Thank you.

A woman talking to the victim.

Now, that is new, isn't it, ma'am?
Yes.

James Langmere, the guy who found
the body, gave us a new statement.

He said he saw a woman
speaking to Elodie

a few minutes before he rang 999.

That's 11:30. Well, that's, er...

that's after Elodie had died.
Yeah, I know.

She wasn't talking to her.
She was rifling her bag.

Now, Kate Porter said
that she didn't leave

the children's party
until after midday.

I've got Goldie phone-bashing.

One witness has confirmed that

and he's looking
for others to corroborate.

Why did you wanna know
where she was from, by the way?

Oh, just the way that she pronounced
the word "lake",

in... in Lakeside.

"La-a-ke." She flattened the vowel.

Didn't you hear it?
No.

It sounded sort of... northern.

You think she's not
who she says she is?

Oh, I don't know.

But I know a man who might.

Professor Gillian.
And will HE deny knowing HER?

So, erm... what I need is,

I need a recording
of Mrs Porter's statement

on one of those tablet things

and a few hours' deployment
in the library.

Done. And I'm gonna see
what James Langmere has to say.

So, yesterday morning, you were at
Parade Gardens at 11:30am?

Er, yeah.

Now, in your statement, you said you
saw a woman speaking to the victim.

Erm, yeah, that's right.
Did you see her face?

Yeah.
Can you describe her?

Ethnicity, age.
Anything that comes to mind, really.

Early 50s, white, dark eyes.

Er, I couldn't see much
of her hair under her hat,

but I think it was brownish.

Could have been a red cap.
It had a letter on it, an A.

Do you think you'd recognise her
if you saw her again?

Er, yeah, I think so.

Great. Can you come on down
to the station?

I'm sorry,
I've got to work all day.

Tomorrow, then? Be really great
if you could help us

put a photofit together of
the woman. Can you do that for us?

Yeah, definitely.

OK. Thanks for the time, then.

Have you come back to arrest Spud?

Oh...

No, ma'am.

Um, Mrs Gillian, er, I wondered
if you recognise this young lady?

Her name is Elodie Docherty.

No.

Did you ever see her in the company
of your son?

No.

But women circle round Spud
like vultures.

They think he's rich.
Mother?

Everything OK?

Professor Gillian, er, I wonder
if you might spare me a few moments.

You, Sergeant Dodds, are most
definitely a north Somerset man.

Preponderance of centralised
nuclei of diphthongs

would place you in north-west Bath.

But that post-vocalic rhoticity,
those elongated vowels

leads me to the conclusion
that you were born, bred

and still reside in...
South Twerton.

My goodness, sir!

That is remarkable.

Da iawn. Golden ears strikes again.

Erm, as I was saying, sir,
I wondered if I might pick

your professional linguist's brain
just a little.

Well, I would love to help you,
Sergeant,

but I'm due to give
another one of my talks.

Oh, come on, Spud!

Nobody cares about your
George Of The Jungle adventures.

Help the man.

I've always brought you up
to be a law-abiding citizen.

Within reason.

It can't be good for you.

You're late.

You need to help me.

No, you need to help ME.

Elodie Docherty.

Did you kill her, Kate?

No.

Do something.

'Er, Saturday,
I took my daughter

'to her friend's birthday party.

'Erm, we arrived early,
around five to ten.

'Where was the party?

'Laser Quest
at the Lakeside industrial estate.'

Would you like me to play it again?

Standard diphthongs, oo-fronting,

e-lowering,
occasional word-final glottalling,

reduced lip roundness.

This person is southern English,
privately educated,

born and raised
around the Surrey, Sussex border.

Oh, that, sir, considering
everything that we already know

about her background,
is uncannily accurate.

It's almost as if
you know her already.

I mean, do you?

No. Why would I?

Oh, this is a small city, sir.
Everything is connected.

Sergeant, it's a small world

and everything's connected.
Believe me, I've seen most of it.

This woman is
exactly who she seems to be.

Are you sure about that, Professor?

Laser Quest.

Now that "ay" vowel sound is,
I believe,

a typically southern English
diphthong.

My word, Sergeant,
you are surprisingly conversant.

Well, sir, that is six hours
in the library.

And I took out this phonetics bible.

Watt and Sharma. Bold theorists,
but ivory tower academics.

Well, I... I'm sure you're right,
Professor,

but if I could just encourage you
to listen

to her pronunciation
of the word "Lakeside".

'Laser Quest
at the Lakeside industrial estate.

'At the Lakeside industrial estate.'

Now, it is my understanding,
that the "ay" in "Laser"

and the "ay" in "Lakeside" should
sound exactly the same.

But Mrs Porter is deploying

a close-mid monophthong
in the word "lake".

Um, now isn't that odd,
in your opinion?

Affective downgrading, Sergeant.
Aff...?

While this woman's dialect
clearly denotes

southern English affluence,

the pull of her university-educated,
Metropolitan politics

draws her to deploy characteristics
of northern working-class accents.

The close-mid monophthong
you picked up on in "lake".

She is intentionally identifying
as both elite and egalitarian.

Affective downgrading.

Ah. My public awaits.

Another talk of my George Of
The Jungle adventures in the Amazon.

You can show yourself out.

Beware Mother.
Ha.

Been here before, Titch?

Oh, er... yes, ma'am.

When I was four or five,
my old auntie brought me here.

Your old auntie?

She raised me and, erm...
she brought me here once

to see a friend.

When it was the ladies' loony bin.

This used to be the old
women's psychiatric hospital.

That was the bell box.

I bought the place for pennies
when they shut it in 1976.

Well, I didn't buy it.

An ex-boyfriend, very high up
in the Irish government -

he bought it for me out of guilt
because he wouldn't leave his wife.

Not that I asked him, mind you.

He was deluding himself there.
Men!

You don't really think
George killed that girl, do you?

Oh, I'm... I'm sorry, Mrs Gillian.

I can't...
No.

Ewyn dwfr addewid gwas.

That's an old Welsh saying.

I heard it from my mamgu -
my grandmother.

"The promise of a youth
is like the froth on water."

From the day George was born,
I mapped out his whole life.

He was gonna lead the country.

But what does Spud do at Oxford?

Switches to linguistics

and wastes the rest of his life
writing books nobody wants to read.

Sorry, Titch,
my son is NOT a killer.

That was from his time in Brazil.

Are you all right there?

Oh, yes, er, ma'am. I...

Could I keep hold of this?

I suppose so.

I've always been interested
in anthropology.

Right, then, Mrs Gillian.

"Chapter 12.

"No word for 'death'
in the tropics of Brazil.

"Having grappled for many years
with the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis,

"I witnessed a momentous event
in the life of the Kayataxa -

"an event which explained
the absence of any word for 'death'

"in the tribe's vocabulary."

Time is money, Sarge.

This is the most important bit.
So...

"I accompanied the village elders
to the hut of the dying matriarch,

"where she was administered
with a resin

"from the rare and almost extinct
Amorphophallus titanum plant.

"Now, this magnificent old lady,

"who reminded me so much
of my own dear mother,

"partook of the ceremonial pipe
and fell into a trance.

"Then, painlessly,
with serenity and dignity,

"her spirit departed
our vale of tears."

And here we are, ma'am.

The matriarch's face post mortem.

Smiling.
Just like Elodie.

George Gillian.

Malik, anything from
the School Of Tropical Medicine?

Tried last night. They promised
I'd have it this morning.

Well, get back on the phone to them.
I need that report.

Got those results in from Malik.

That was quick, ma'am.
Interesting.

Just bear with me one second.
Erm...

Excuse me? Officers?

Where are you going?
You are?

Paula Monksford,
faculty administrator.

OK. We need a word
with Professor Gillian.

Oh. Oh, no, no, you can't...
You can't actually do that.

That's not actually possible
without an appointment.

George?

We need to talk to the professor
and Mrs Porter in private, please.

It's nice that you're both here,

especially since you don't
know each other.

What is going on, George?
And who exactly IS this Mrs Porter?

Please, erm, Ms Monksford, if you'd
just come with me. It's OK, Sarge.

The more the merrier.

I'm sorry that we lied to you,
Detective, about our relationship.

But it was only to protect
Paula here.

Protect ME?

Oh, no, you weren't keeping
whatever this is secret from ME.

You were keeping it secret
from your mother, weren't you?

Oh, that old witch!

She has sabotaged our relationship.

You know, she actually thinks
I'm after your money

and that horrible old house.

That's enough, Paula. I bet old
Agnes hated you at first sight, too.

George doesn't think
I should meet Mother.

Oh, my God. You actually love her!

Are you familiar
with the rare plant

native to north-eastern Brazil,
Amorphophallus titanum, Professor?

I'm a linguistic anthropologist,
not a botanist.

Elodie Docherty died
after inhaling a substance

that was laced with an extract
from that plant -

a plant you described in detail
in your book -

all confirmed by
the School Of Tropical Medicine.

Two deaths, 20 years and thousands
of miles apart.

Both smiling.

What are the chances of that,
eh, George?

Do you know this woman, Paula?

No.

She was at the Professor's lecture
on Saturday.

As were you.

I should go.
Not until you've explained

how the victim of George's poison

came to be in possession
of your 50K betting slip.

I told you, I lost it.

You have a cluster of random facts

upon which you are trying to impose
a conspiracy narrative.

"The party was at Laser Quest

"on the, er,
'Lakeside' industrial estate.

Erm, Professor Gillian...

you're teaching Mrs Porter
a new accent.

Kate is seeking to upgrade
her social standing.

When you told me
she was using affective downgrading,

I think you were misleading me.
Mrs Porter's, erm...

..close-mid monophthong in "la-a-ke"
was unintentional, not deliberate,

and it betrayed her origins
as northern.

Your vowel sound in "la-a-ke",

well, makes me think that you're
from Lancashire or Manchester?

Well, there we are.

First time hit
in the line of duty.

Shouldn't we have
arrested her, ma'am?

Yes, but when one of your prime
suspects loses the plot like that,

you let them stew.

Maybe she'll make another mistake.

Now we know the murder weapon,

we just have to figure out
which one of them used it.

Oh, OK.

Makes you wonder how well
you know anyone, doesn't it?

Even ourselves.

Sarge?

That house, Belvedere.

I know I've been there before,
ma'am. My old auntie took me there.

It was, er, to see, erm...

To see who?

Well, she said it was her friend,
but, erm...

But?

I... I don't know, ma'am.

I dunno.

Yeah?

'Ma'am, we've found
where Elodie Docherty was staying.

'We're down at the marina.'
We'll be right there.

We've got Elodie on a Dublin to
Bristol flight on Wednesday night,

with a return journey scheduled
for early this morning.

Get canvassing around the area.
Anyone that saw

any suspicious comings and goings.
Yes, ma'am.

Oh, it's open.

Miss Monksford.
Could you step outside, please?

Thank you.

What are you doing here?

Erm, I was just tidying up.

I, erm... I own that boat.

And you rented it to Elodie Docherty
who, a couple of hours ago,

you said you didn't know.

She hired it online.
I didn't even see her.

And when you mentioned
her name earlier,

I don't know, I suppose I panicked.

What about Professor Gillian's
talk on Saturday?

You were there, as was she.

I don't really remember.
I was just so worried

about poor George.
Poor George.

I get the feeling
you're a bit fixated on George

and jealous of other women.

Young, attractive women who turn his
head. I did not kill that person.

Ma'am?

I found this on a chair in there.

Is this yours, Paula?
No.

Must be that girl's.
I don't wear hats like that.

On Saturday, after George's talk
finished at 10:15,

what did you do?
I went home.

Alone.
OK, Paula.

Your status on this inquiry
is now "suspect".

What?
DC Malik here will escort you

to the station, under caution,
and take a formal statement.

What do you mean?
We'll also need

samples of your fingerprints
and DNA. Ma'am.

Ormond wants a word. Urgently.

Right, well, I'll organise

the search of this cabin, ma'am.
With you as well.

Ma'am.

This is Branch Commander
Kevin Newman, National Crime Agency.

Kate Porter's lodged a formal
complaint against both of you.

For harassment.

Excuse me, but we were...

Professor George Gillian
is prepared to testify

in support of Mrs Porter.
He would, wouldn't he?

And I'm going back to arrest her
for assaulting...

The consensus is that wouldn't be
in the public interest. Consensus?

Kate Porter did not kill
Elodie Docherty.

So, how did Elodie Docherty end up
with her 50K betting slip?

She lost it.

Have you considered the possibility
she might be telling the truth?

Yes. And rejected it.

I see what's going on here.

What? What's going on?

Kate Porter changed her accent,
and an NCA officer has her back.

She's on witness protection.

Ah.
Ma'am.

Cup of tea, DCI McDonald.

Make your case.

I just get the feeling

that Kate Porter
is not an innocent bystander.

You're already processing
a suspect downstairs.

Well, no stone unturned.

Elodie Docherty deserves justice.
Don't play me. I'm not Houseman.

Kate Porter is on
witness protection from Manchester.

Her real name is Maxine Riordon.

So, Maxine and Gary Riordon
were in business together.

Financial advisors.

They got up to their necks
in money laundering.

The NCA offered them a way out -
embedded informant status.

She agrees as long
as she and her husband

get immunity from prosecution.

And then, her husband was shot.

A leak inside the NCA.

So, she's paranoid

and didn't want to get involved
in a murder investigation

because she doesn't trust
the police.

Or she didn't want to get involved
because she killed Elodie Docherty.

OK.

No stone unturned.

You don't know what it's like.
Always looking over your shoulder,

wondering if those men
that shot Gary...

I live in a big house.

I've got a kid at private school.
I needed to blend in,

so I asked George to help me
to speak differently.

Does George know
you're on witness protection?

What?
Elodie knew who I was, OK?

I'd... I'd been to Ireland
with Gary.

He used to invest in...
in small dodgy businesses,

like Elodie Docherty's beautician's.

She found a picture of me
on bloody Facebook in Bath

and threatened to out me
on social media

if I didn't give her compensation,
so I gave her the betting slip.

But once she was found dead,
I had to tell George.

You told me that I'd be safe,
you told me that Isla would be safe.

You said that this would only take
a few months.

This is two years.
Two years I've been living like this

and you still haven't got
your case to court.

There's no way I was going
to get involved

in another police inquiry
after what happened to Gary.

I needed
to protect my little girl.

I can't even have pictures
of him around the place.

I can't talk about him...

in case she says something
at school.

Gary was a big, self-centred idiot,

but I loved him.

I'm sorry about this.

I just...

I just wanted to get rid of Elodie.

But not by killing her.

Maybe you got George to do it.

You've obviously got him lying to us
to protect you, so...

Results from the sandwich wrapper.
Time and place of purchase -

9:53am from the newsagent's
on Bristol Road,

which gave us CCTV footage.

Kate Porter, George Gillian
or Paula Monksford?

Agnes?

George Gillian's been lying
to protect Kate Porter?

He's been lying to protect
his mother.

Release your high-value asset
with a thank you and an apology.

You'd better release
Paula Monksford, too.

Yes, ma'am. Get this woman in
for formal interview

first thing in the morning,
under caution.

But tomorrow's her 100th birthday.
Tell that to Elodie Docherty.

Ma'am? I've got this
from a search of the canal boat

amongst Elodie Docherty's
personal belongings.

It's a surveyor's report.

Belvedere.

That's what connects Agnes
to Elodie.

It's strange.

It values the place at 5.3 million,
but estimates repairs

at over six million.

And someone, presumably Elodie,
wrote this on the back.

"Bullshit"?

And she's not wrong.
I just called the surveyors

and they know nothing about this.
It's fake.

So, someone wanted Elodie to think
Belvedere was worthless. Why?

Irish.

Hm?

Mrs Gillian told me

that the man who bought Belvedere
for her was Irish.

Oh, Agnes.

She was playing Elodie,
the crafty old minx.

We need to talk to you
about Elodie's family background.

She didn't know that much
about her family.

Her mum fell out with them all,
lost touch.

Was there any money in the family,
back in the day?

She told me once that her grandad
was someone rich and important.

Elodie and her mum
certainly never saw any of it.

Sir, we think that Elodie
had found out that she was due

some kind of financial windfall,

and that, possibly,
it could've been an inheritance

from her grandfather.

That's why she was in Bath.

And we reckon someone
was trying to fob her off.

Did she ever mention Agnes Gillian,

or a place called Belvedere
and a surveyor's report?

Not that I remember.
Hm.

People were always
underestimating Elodie,

but that girl never missed a trick.

Spud! More bubbles!

You screeched, Mother?

Who's that lurking behind you?

Oh, Mother, this is Kate.

There's something you need to know.

I'll take another slice of toast
with my lady petrol.

Off you go, Spud.

Happy birthday, Mrs Gillian.

I feel I should curtsey.

But you'd probably
prefer grovelling.

Well...

you're a different kind of vulture.

What can I say, Agnes?

I love George

and George loves me.

And it's real.

I'll say nothing.

He's on his own now.

The police are here.

They think YOU killed that girl.

Well, I'd better get dressed, then.

I suppose I should cancel your...
You'll do no such thing.

I want my party!

And now, I must change
for the police.

Mrs Gillian's ready, ma'am.

Oh... thank you.

Happy birthday, Agnes.

Oh, is it my birthday?

Who's Agnes?

Don't think you're going to get
a free pass cos of your age.

Oh, she's very fierce,
isn't she, Titch?

No wonder
your light's under a bushel.

Here you are on Saturday morning
at 9:53am,

holding the tuna sandwich
that you had just bought.

The wrapper of which we found next
to the corpse of Elodie Docherty.

Which we have now confirmed

have your fingerprints on them,
which puts you at the crime scene.

O diar, dwi'n drysu'n fawr.
In English, please, Agnes.

I get very confused, my dear.

I'm always wandering
about the place.

What possible connection can my
client have with this young woman?

This is James Farrell,
former Irish government minister.

Now, he purchased Belvedere for you
in 1976.

But his will stipulates
that, on your death, Mrs Gillian,

the house goes
to his surviving relatives.

In the event that there are
no surviving relatives,

then the house defaults
to your only son.

But there was
one surviving relative -

the daughter of James Farrell's
illegitimate child,

Elodie Docherty.

So, how did it go?

Elodie turned up at Belvedere,

claiming her inheritance,
and you palmed her off with this?

Fake surveyor's report.

Belvedere is worth five million.

But the roof needs replacing,
there's dry rot everywhere,

the foundations are falling apart
cos of some old tin mine works.

Except none of that's true,
is it, Agnes?

Elodie rumbled
your scam to get rid of her

and keep Belvedere for George.

So, you arranged to meet her
in Parade Gardens,

where you killed her,
using a fatal dose

of the poison
that you got from your son.

What are they saying, Edward?
I poisoned a tuna sandwich?

You poisoned the vape, Agnes.

Oh.

Are they sending me to prison now?
I'll need all my medication.

Now that we've established
the murder weapon was a vape,

unless DCI McDonald here
can produce said vape

with your fingerprints on it,
you're going home, Mrs Gillian.

Lipstick on your teeth, dear.

My client has experienced
an unnecessarily traumatic

two hours at the behest
of the West of England Constabulary.

She did it, didn't she?

All the evidence says so.
Mm.

So, why the bleeding hell

is she rubbing our noses in it?
I don't know, ma'am,

but I'm gonna find out.

OK.

Just take a seat on the couch
for me.

Yeah. Oh, hey.

Just sit over here, Harvey.

Thanks for coming in, Mr Langmere.

Any details you could give
my colleague -

hair colour, eye colour -

it would help us build
a better picture of the suspect.

Of course.
I'll leave you to it.

Um, right, where shall we start?

It's all right. I'll, erm...

Ah, Titch.

I knew you couldn't let it go.

Give me your arm.

Mrs Gillian,
did you murder Elodie Docherty?

You know, George brought that plant
extract back from the rainforest

to kill ME.

I had a touch of cancer in my 80s.

George thought it would be
the perfect release.

A slow, painless, happy death.

Can you see me
dribbling in a care home?

No! So, when I got the all-clear
from the cancer,

I told George
to keep the poison handy.

When you get to my age,
assisted dying is an option.

And, well, it did come in handy,
didn't it?

So, you're saying you DID kill...
Poor Titch.

All those years ago, when
your auntie first brought you here,

the woman you came to see,
her friend...

..was it your mother?

I don't know.

I was always told
that my mother died

a couple of weeks
after I was born and...

I think that my old auntie
was forced into it by the nuns,

but I... I don't know.

Yes.

I killed that girl.

Here's the murder weapon.

Look at me, Titch.

What do you see?

You don't see anything.

I'm an old woman,
and old women are invisible.

We might as well be ghosts.

So, when Elodie told me
she was in Parade Gardens,

I thought,
"Perfect. Nobody'll notice me."

So, I went to meet her.

And as soon as she got distracted

by one of those...
Oh, what do you call them?

..Arth tegan, coala...

..I replaced a harmless capsule
with a poisoned one. Easy as pie.

I did what I did,
and George gets Belvedere.

Where's the original capsule?

The one you took from Elodie's vape.

The capsule that you replaced
for the poisoned capsule.

I threw it away.

Hey!

You're not gonna stop me
going to my party!

I'm sorry, Mrs Gillian.
I need to take that.

And I'm sorry too, Titch,

but, you know, you really do need
a warrant, and another officer,

to corroborate that you didn't
forcibly extract this

from a little old lady,
and to corroborate my confession.

You've thought this through.

Every step of the way.

But don't worry.

You'll get your confession,
and your evidence, in the morning.

It's my 100th birthday,

and tonight, I'm going to party
like I'm only 99.

# For she's a jolly good fellow

# For she's a jolly good fellow

# For she's a jolly good fellow

# And so say all of us. #

100 years, eh?

And it's been hard sometimes.

Or not hard,
as in worrying about money

or losing your job,
which we all did in the Depression.

No. Hard as in,
what makes it all worthwhile?

Well, in the case of this poor girl,

it is, and always has been,
my lovely boy, George.

Aw.

When and where was I happiest?

The day my son was born.

But d'you know something?

I feel I've outstayed my welcome.

No! Hey, a hundred years
is a long time.

So, now, I'm going to break
the habit of a lifetime.

I'm going to be the first,
and not the last,

to leave the party.

Time for my early departure, son.

George...

Professor Gillian?

What is it now?

Where's your mother?
For God's sake,

it's her 100th...
Where is she?

She left, back to Belvedere.

She left her own party early?

Why? Why would she do that?

Sorry, Mr Gillian.

May I see her?

I'm sorry for your loss,
Professor Gillian.

But with your mother dead,
and Elodie Docherty dead,

Belvedere is now yours.

Mrs Gillian took her own life,
rather than face arrest.

Which gets your new client here
off the hook.

All of the evidence points
to Mrs Gillian as the killer.

Not me. I... But it was your poison
that was used.

And Mother knew where I kept it.

Where did you keep the poison, sir?
A desk drawer

in my office at the university.

Who else, apart from you
and your mother, knew about it?

Oh, God...

I get talkative
when I've had a drink.

Paula Monksford?

Yes. But why would Paula...?

Well, to marry you and get her hands
on Belvedere,

but Elodie stood in the way.

Which, if you think about it,

is the same reason that Kate Porter
would have had to kill her.

Did Kate know about the poison?

I suppose so.

Why would Mrs Gillian admit to
the murder unless she was guilty?

Because when she saw
Elodie Docherty die

with that smile on her face,

the same smile from the tribeswoman
in Brazil,

she thought that you, Professor,
had killed her.

And maybe she was right.

No, I didn't...

Everything that came out
of Mother's mouth,

you didn't know what was true
and wasn't true.

Her "affair" with Picasso?

Maybe she WAS in Bilbao
at the start of the Civil War.

Maybe there is a germ of truth
in her fabrications.

Every good lie has a germ of truth.

And your mother told me a lie.

She said she killed Elodie.

But to convince me of that lie,

she must have used as much truth
as she could.

And she told me that she swapped
the capsule in the vape

when Elodie was distracted by...
Oh, erm...

Oh, she said it in Welsh.

Er...

Arth... tegan...

coala.

Toy koala bear.

A toy koala bear?

I remember the evidence inventory.

SOCOs recovered
a toy koala bear, ma'am.

If this part
of Mrs Gillian's lie is the truth,

then this could be the hard
evidential link to the crime scene.

Guv.

Another secret pocket, Sarge?

Now, if we can get some prints
off this...

OK. We could be close
to our killer.

One set of prints positively
identified as Elodie Docherty's.

Plus, we have another rogue set.
Not Agnes Gillian's.

I'm running the rogue set
on the crime scene database.

OK, a hit.

Right.

Let's see who we've got.

Just...

bring that up...

..now.

- Bloody hell!
- Hm.

No way.

Nie do wiary.

Ma'am?

I've just got James Langmere's
photofit image of the woman

in the red baseball cap
seen with the victim.

Paula Monksford.

Yeah, course it is.

Right, drill down hard
into personal histories.

We need to get
these connections right.

And tomorrow, we'll get the killer.

Hey. I love you.

I love you.

Do you really?
Or are you just being

your usual sort of pathetic,
needy self?

"I love you"?

Pff! Wouldn't have said that
when "Mother" was alive.

What are you doing here, Paula?

The same as you.

They think I killed Elodie Docherty.

Good morning.

Thanks for coming.

Thanks for the invite
to our own house.

George, say as little as possible.

It's lucky that your future wife's
an experienced criminal.

I accept Kate for who she is.

Still Kate, is it, not Maxine?

I still live in fear of my life.

Which is why you've been protecting
her, isn't it, Professor?

Because she couldn't risk

getting involved
in a police inquiry.

But perhaps Elodie didn't come
to Bath to out you.

And maybe you didn't give her 50K
to keep your real identity a secret.

Maybe you gave her the money

so she would relinquish her claim
on Belvedere.

That's simply not true.

But here's the question.

Why would Elodie accept £50,000

to relinquish her claim
on a house worth five million?

Because somebody faked
this surveyor's report.

And that somebody is responsible
for the murder of Elodie Docherty.

Elodie rumbled that was a fake,

and I think she wanted
to tell you about it, George,

which is why she came
to your lecture on Saturday morning.

But it was inconvenient...

because George was
under the watchful eye of Paula.

So, instead, she arranged to meet
your mother in Parade Gardens.

And that's when the killer struck.

And even better for the killer,
when Mrs Gillian saw the smile

on Elodie's face,
she knew how she had died.

And so, to protect her beloved son,

she decided to take the blame
for Elodie's murder

and to use the poisoned vape
to take her own life.

Why?

Because your mother was convinced
that YOU were the killer, Professor.

But then, we come to Paula.

This surveyor's report
was found on your premises.

Ha!
And let's face it,

now, with Agnes dead,
your one impediment

to happy-ever-after with George
is gone.

And you knew, Paula.

You knew where I kept the poison.

I couldn't do anything like this!

Are you sure about that,
Miss Monksford?

Are you sure you didn't return
to the crime scene

after Elodie had died, wearing
a baseball cap to conceal your face?

No, that is absolute rubbish.
You can't prove any of that.

Actually we can.

We have an eyewitness.

Who?

What eye witness?

If you could just come in, sir.

Thank you, Mr Langmere.
I really appreciate your help.

Sure.

Saturday morning, Parade Gardens,
11:30am.

The woman with the red baseball cap,

the woman that we believe
is responsible

for the murder of Elodie Docherty -
you saw her face, didn't you?

Yes.

I'd like you to take a look
around this room.

That's her.
No! What is happening?

My God!

No, George... Please, you have
to believe me. George, please.

It's very difficult, Paula.

Is that it? Are we done?

Not quite.

Mr Langmere has confirmed
that he saw Paula in Parade Gardens

at 11:30am,
after Elodie was murdered.

But what about before,
when Elodie was still alive?

Did you see this woman
in Parade Gardens

between 10 and 11am?

Um...

Sorry, ma'am.

You... you're asking
the wrong person the wrong question.

Now, er, Mr Langmere
and his little boy,

erm...
Harvey.

No, er, they only arrived
in Parade Gardens

on Saturday around, erm...

11:15, er, wasn't it?

Yes.
And we know that Elodie Docherty

was murdered between 10:15 and 11am.

So, Mr Langmere couldn't have seen
anyone near her at the time

she was murdered, could you, sir?

No.
Er, no,

because between 10:15
and 11am, you would have been...

Ah, that's right.
At home.

Oh, yes, yes. Of course. At home.

Do George and I
really need to be here?

Are you sure about that, sir?

10:15, Mr Langmere?

Are you sure you're still at home?

Well, sir, we got this
from the CCTV camera.

That's you and your son
coming into Parade Gardens at...

10:12am.

You've been lying to us, James.

You didn't see Paula
in Parade Gardens. What?

Because it was you, Mr Langmere,
that murdered Elodie Docherty.

This is the original capsule
from Elodie Docherty's vape.

It's replaced
by the poisoned capsule.

Now, to make the switch,
the killer needed a distraction.

This.

That's your son's favourite toy.

Excuse me. Excuse me.

Oh!

Harvey, I dropped your koala.

Thank you. Sorry about that.
It's OK.

Oh, I think his eye's come off.
Could you watch Harvey for a second?

Yes.
Sorry.

Hi, Harvey. How are you?
Good.

Did you get that for your birthday?

Oh, Christmas!

While Mrs Gillian and Elodie
Docherty were distracted by Harvey,

that's when you swapped
the capsules.

But in the chaos
of Saturday morning...

No, oi!

..you couldn't get this toy,

containing that capsule
with your fingerprints all over it,

away from the crime scene.

You phoned our exhibits department
three times,

asking when your son would get
his favourite toy back.

That's why you hung around
after you had murdered Elodie,

to get your koala bear back.

You were probably
too busy looking for it

that you didn't notice
that Harvey had got loose

till it was too late.
The area was busy.

Harvey! No, leave that women alone!

You were starting
to attract attention.

Suddenly, you were trapped.

You couldn't walk away.

You were slap-bang in the middle
of a major police inquiry

into the murder
that you had just committed.

So, you pointed us to Paula.

You lied on your statement

about seeing a women
talking to Elodie.

Then you planted a red cap
on her boat.

My God!

But when we found a rogue set
of prints on this capsule,

we put it through our crime scene
database and we got a match.

Not James Langmere,
but a James Wrighton.

Two guilty convictions.

One for burglary in 2015...
I wanna talk to my solicitor.

Not a problem, sir. We'll have you
processed within the hour.

Well, I suppose we should be glad
to have helped you

to put this to bed.

Wait!

Why?

Why did this chap murder Elodie?

Belvedere.

Belvedere?

What's Belvedere to you?

No comment.

You're gonna take the rap for this?

Well, I suppose, when you get out
in 20 years,

your accomplice will be waiting
with a hefty financial compensation.

Accomplice?

James used to work
for the organised crime group

that Maxine - sorry, Kate -
is testifying against.

These two have an association
that goes back five years.

And that second conviction?

Fixing horse races

to help finance
Kate's expensive lifestyle in Bath.

And together,

they planned and executed
the murder of Elodie Docherty,

with your mother's death
as a... happy accident.

And as soon as you arrived in Bath,

you started taking elocution lessons
with Professor Gillian here.

He became infatuated.

You weren't interested,
until you saw this place.

Then your eyes lit up.

A wealthy bachelor
with a 99-year-old mother?

Marry him, and it's not long till
you get your hands on this place.

But then, you find out that

when Agnes dies
everything goes to Elodie,

so you plan her death.

You steal the poison from George
and you give it to James.

Now, with Elodie gone
and Agnes gone,

as soon as you get that ring
on your finger, Belvedere is yours.

And his.

Kate?
Back off, George.

Please back off.

"Back off, George.

"Just back off, please."

Recurring... interdental fricatives
tell me

I was a fool to think
you'd ever be interested in me.

Distribution of word-final
glottalling signals dishonesty,

greed, a cold, manipulative nature.

Don't judge me.

You know nothing about me.

I'm from a sinkhole in Wythenshawe.

Where was my ladder

out of the shit life I came from?

Hm?

If you're like me or him....

all you've got is the ugly scramble
for money.

You steal.

You'd even kill to get a better life
for you and your kids,

because there's no other way.

And I didn't have a mother like...
like your mother,

someone who'd die for me.

If we all had a mother like Agnes,
the world'd be a better place.

But we don't.

There's no helping hand,
apart from your own.

And, you know, when you look up

at your betters...

..they're just a bunch of crooks
with nice voices,

like the voice you taught me.

Thank you, George.

That clear vocal fry on "George"
makes it clear

that, sooner or later,
you'd have killed me.

Or maybe...

..maybe I'd have grown to love you.

The murder of your husband.

I've recommended
that the NCA reopen that inquiry

and consider you two
the prime suspects.

Really, ma'am?

I was up all night
going through those case files

with a fine-tooth comb.

There's a whole cluster
of inconsistencies

in Maxine Riordan's statement.

So, let's just hope they're
as rigorous as me at the NCA.

But I doubt it.

George.

Where are you going?

Away from this place.

Do you think she really is gone?

Well, as long as Belvedere
is still standing,

Mother will always be...

..causing trouble.
Hm.

Come on.

The least I can do
is buy you a drink.

You are police.

You could dig into this place,

find out if that woman you visited
really was your mum.

My old auntie, she gave me
a great upbringing, ma'am.

I was really happy back then
and... and here and now.

I'm... happy, ma'am.

Good for you, Sarge.

Bamboozle!

What?

My old auntie.

Towards the end,

she was losing her mind a bit,
and she loved Countdown.

You know, it's the numbers and
letters game on the telly. Yeah.

She watched every single day
and, er...

..every, every single day,

for five years,

when the Countdown Conundrum
came on at the end,

she'd shout,

she'd shout, "Bamboozle!"

Did it ever come up?

The day before she passed away.

I like your old auntie.