All language subtitles for Endeavour.S06E01.720p.HDTV.x264-ORGANiC

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Stop! That isn't the way
to cross the road.

If you step out here,
you could get badly hurt. Or worse.

This is a pedestrian
light controlled crossing.

Or PELICON crossing for short.

To cross the road,
press the button... and wait.

Wait until the red man
changes to the green man.

So always find a safe place to cross

at a designated pedestrian crossing.

And remember, if the pelican can,
then so can you.

'What Is And What Should Be'
by Led Zeppelin

Next one, please. Thank you.
That's lovely.

That's beautiful.

Big smile.

I, Charles, Prince of Wales,

do become your liege man
of life and limb,

and of earthly worship.

Hello, Pat, it's Karen. Is Ann with you?

No, I just wondered

if she'd come back with Jeanette
after school?

Shop!

This is where
you've been keeping yourself, is it?

I was passing.

People tend to.
Look, I, er... come bearing gifts.

CID closed a month after
I arrived in Woodstock. Budget.

It was uniform or nothing.
What about you?

You know me. I'm doing all right.

There was a piece in the Gazette.

Inter-Departmental something or other.

The Inter-Departmental
Forward Planning Steering Committee.

- Steering what, exactly?
- Resources. Manpower.

It's a sort of
quasi-managerial anticipatory role.

- Is it?
- Just shuffling paperwork, mostly.

Seen the old man?

I've called the house a few times.
Left messages.

- I'd have told 'em where to stick it.
- Would you?

Division don't like
to lose police officers.

Full disciplinary, though?
Busted down a rank?

It wasn't right.

And we're still no nearer
to finding who did for George.

"We"? I'm here. You're there.

Thursday's at Castle Gate.
Bright's at traffic.

I mean... there is no "we",
nor is there likely to be.

- We said...
- No, you said.

Heat of the moment.

- I meant it.
- Yes, I'm sure.

But it's not how it's turned out, is it?

It's never how these things turn out.

We are launching a fresh appeal
to the public

to be on the lookout for Ann Kirby,
who went missing on the 1st of July

on her way home from school,
and who hasn't been seen since.

Now, obviously, as the days pass by,

we're becoming more and more concerned

for her safety and well-being.

To that end, I would urge anyone
who has any information

about her disappearance to come forward

and to contact the police.

Your call will be treated
with the strictest confidence

and may be made anonymously.

If you have any information, any at all,

no matter how slight
or trivial it may appear,

then, please,
do contact us as soon as possible.

Now, I, er, I will just take
one or two questions from the press.

- Chief Inspector.
- Yes, Miss Frazil?

Is there any suggestion
she might have been kidnapped?

Extraordinary.

Er, no. No, there's no indication
that such is the case.

- How are the family?
- Well, as you can imagine,

they're worried about their little girl.

Chief Inspector.

One at a time, please. All right.
Settle down. Settle down.

Well, then, matey...

Look, let me know next time,
and I'll bake a cake.

Oh, I saw Joanie.
Said to say hello if I ran into you.

Started in as a trainee with the Welfare.

So, I suppose it all works out
in the end.

We shouldn't let it go,
what happened to George.

- Well, don't you care?
- Would it make a difference?

Police have made
a fresh appeal to the public

for information concerning
the whereabouts

of missing schoolgirl Anne Kirby,
aged 10.

Obviously, as the days pass by,

we're becoming more and more concerned,

for her safety and well-being.

To that end, I would urge anyone
who has any information

about her disappearance, to come forward.

There's been a young man hanging around.

I think he's been sleeping
in the porch. This was in the nave.

Good morning. Sergeant Morse.
Mr Tingwell, is it?

- Yes, that's right.
- Well, how can I help you?

Information room said something
about a missing horse?

Skynner here was due to collect
a Connemara from me this morning,

only it's not in the field.

Right, well, when was the last time
that you saw it?

Yesterday afternoon. 15 hands. Grey.

Well, I can pass the description
on to neighbouring stations,

and I'll keep an eye out for it,
when I'm on my rounds.

I've got night class. It's important.

Got to do something for me,
I can't sit by the window

and wait for someone
to tell me my life can start.

I can't do it anymore.

I can't do this anymore.

I suppose I should've shut the window

upon retiring to bed,
but it was really rather hot.

And one just doesn't expect
that sort of thing out this way.

So, it's seven snuff boxes,
and a couple of lighters.

All silver, is that right?

- Doctor Sheridan?
- Er, yes. Yes, that's right.

- But it's only the snuff boxes that have any real value.
- Oh.

Most of them are Victorian.
Two of them are Georgian.

- They're something of a passion with me.
- I see.

Oh, I can let you have a photograph,
if you give me a moment.

- Hello.
- Hello.

- Was it the boy that did it?
- What boy would that be?

There was a boy watching the house
from across the road

- yesterday evening.
- Oh, yes?

- And what did he look like?
- Like he could do with a good wash.

Yes, I knew I had a picture...

I'll be with you in a moment,
Sophie, dear.

Well, I just came in for my book.

Yes, well, as you can see,
the officer is busy.

I'll bring it to you.

The terrible teens!

I'm afraid the police training manual

is silent on that subject.

Shh! Shh! Shh! Shh! Shh!

- No sign of her satchel?
- Well, we'll find it.

What do you think
to the flowers in her hair?

Well, it's probably best

we leave it to them that gets paid
to ask those questions, eh?

All right, mate. Thanks for your help.

We'll take it from here.
If you could do something

- about the nag...
- There's a horsebox on its way.

Well, we've got a tea-urn coming out.

- If you could find a spot for that?
- Don't you want my report?

When the gaffer gets here.
She's not going anywhere, is she?

Well, you do get about.
I thought I hadn't seen you.

- What's the, uh...
- Dead about 24 hours.

Sizeable bruise on the skull,
same to her hip, too.

But nothing to say
how she died at first glance.

- And...
- No. No obvious sign.

- DS Jago says you found the body?
- Sir.

Sergeant Morse, sir.
A former colleague from Cowley.

I remember. Didn't recognise you. So?

I had a report of a horse stolen
from Tingwell's Farm last night.

I was on my rounds, I saw an animal
matching that description.

I came into the field, I found her,
and I called it in.

Right. Fair enough.
That's you done, then.

What... It's standard practice
in such cases

to ask if anybody unusual
has been reported in the area.

- Have they?
- Yes,

there's a young man been seen
hanging around the church.

A rough sleeper. The offertory
box was forced last night.

Right.

Possibly drug use. I've a syringe
recovered from the church.

- You might...
- Stick it in your report.

Make sure it's on my desk by tea.
And next time, try to remember

we put a cordon down,
so uniform don't go trampling

all over the scene of crime
with their size nines.

Standard practice in a case like this.

Right.

- Fred.
- Guv.

Pervert?

Are you asking if there's
evidence of sexual assault?

Is there?

Not at first glance, no.

Be able to tell you more
after the post-mortem.

- Shall we say four o'clock?
- You can say what you like.

I'm not one for seeing kiddies
carved up. Liaise with DI Thursday.

I'll brief upstairs.
Can you take the parents?

- If that's what you want.
- See you back at the factory.

- He's come from robbery.
- Not the Lucy Clayton?

Still. It's nice to see you,
Inspector. And Morse, of course.

One might've known
if anyone was going to find her,

it would be him.

No.

Not my Ann.

Not my Annie.

- It's a mistake.
- Love...

They've made a mistake.

You... You have made a mistake.

It's got to be some other girl.
Tell him, Joe.

Tell him it's got to be some other girl.

Come on, love...

My sincere condolences.

The body of a young girl

has been found in the countryside
west of Oxford.

Police have not confirmed yet
if it is that of Ann Kirby,

who went missing
on the way home from her school

in Banbury on Tuesday...

My report. Syringe is in the bag.

I'll see the guv'nor gets it.

Anything?

Early days. You know how it is.

Mind how you go.

You are looking at
the Emily Bayard case, presumably?

Er, Berkshire case.

Disappeared on her way home
from school, July 1966.

- Very, very similar circumstances.
- Only she was never found.

The DCI's ruled it out.

Is he up to it? Box.

A Sergeant doesn't question

a Detective Chief Inspector's
fitness to lead an inquiry.

- "Robbery? I've shit 'em," wasn't it?
- Things change.

I'm sorry about your disciplinary.
You deserved better.

I don't know about that. I was in charge.

Well, if you fancy
getting a drink some time...

Yeah. Yeah, we, er...

...we must do that.

Give my regards to Mrs Thursday.

It won't be any stroke of genius
that finds him.

Long hours and shoe-leather
will see this one right.

No obscure motive to be uncovered.
Just depravity. Some nobody.

On file already, like as not.

Initial reports said she was wearing
an Alice band in her hair

when she left school.

- It wasn't at the scene.
- Could be in the field.

Why there?

He could have left her body anywhere.

In a ditch, in the middle
of the field somewhere.

She wouldn't have been found
until harvest time.

Why leave her at the foot of a pylon?

- Showing off maybe?
- No, it matters.

Same as the flowers. It's important.

Sergeant Morse
delivering his report, sir.

- Nicked your little thief, yet?
- Not quite.

Well, don't let us keep you.

Sir.

Hey!

Ugh!

Stanley Clemence. Date of birth,
October the 4th, 1951.

- Of no fixed abode.
- What about family?

He hasn't asked
for anyone to be informed.

We've got a string
of juvenile previous on him.

Been in trouble on and off
since he was about 10.

Next of kin's an aunt in Torquay.

You want to brace him now,
or when the dew's still on him?

Let him sweat it a minute.
I haven't had my tea yet.

- See your reports here first thing.
- Well, I can do it now,

if I could take a loan of a typewriter.

The pool's gone home.

I kept my old machine.
Er, it's all right, innit?

So long as he keeps his beak out
of anything else.

Hard to see how he could've kept
Ann Kirby holed up all this time,

- if he's been living in a squat.
- Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a minute.

He's your collar, Sergeant.
This goes the distance,

could be your ticket back to big school.

Unless you want to stay
counting cabbages out in the sticks.

Sergeant Morse's got a point, sir.

Thief and drug addict's one thing.
A child murderer's something else.

If he's not involved,
how's he come by her satchel?

Oh, I was just asking.
What if he didn't do it?

It's the court's business, not ours.
We just get them up the steps.

- You think he did it?
- I'm uniform. I don't get paid to think.

I might know him.

How?

So, who killed his mother?

His father. Philip Clemence.
Commercial traveller.

Knocked out brushes, door to door.

And did he go down for it?

13 Jubilee Row.
Funny how some things stick.

His maternal aunt and uncle took him on.

Decent people... as I recall.

Well... Mind how you go.

- Tell me about Ann Kirby.
- I don't know her.

Well, what are you
doing with her satchel?

I found it.

Look, man, can you help me out?
I don't feel good.

Found it where?

I don't remember.

On the road, maybe.

I'm serious. I'm sick. I need something.

- What do you mean, you need something?
- A doctor!

I need to see a doctor.

Come on, man. You can see I'm not right.

We know all about you, Stanley.

You're bad blood.

I'm not blaming you. It's not your fault.

But you help us out with Ann,
we'll see about a Doctor.

- Help you out how?
- Just put your hands up to it.

I can't.

I can't say I did something I didn't do!

What he said...

- Hm?
- The other one.

Bad blood. You know about that?

I carried you out of there.

Ah, I don't remember.

- Some things are best forgot.
- Mm.

- What was she like?
- Who?

My mum.

Did you know her?

Yeah.

Yeah, I knew her.

She was a good 'un.

And him?

Don't give me that old bollocks!
He's still a minor,

he's got rights.
Uh-huh. Oh, is that right?

Well, you tell him Viv Wall is coming.

Wall. As in Berlin. As in bricks.

As in, about to come down
on your round head like a ton of...

Want me to spell it for you?

Prick!

Er, the psychiatric assessments
for the Pendleton hearing.

Don't worry about that. Fetch your coat.

- Why? Where are we going?
- To war.

Wait for it. Wait for it..

And remember, if the pelican can,
then so can you!

There he goes. Right, then.

Back to work. Fred.

And tell me, is this the young man
you found sleeping in the porch?

That's him. I did feel for the poor boy.

Nowhere to live, he said.
No family. No money.

I told him
to try some of the farms hereabouts.

Skynner the slaughterman
sometimes takes on casual labour.

You think he robbed the offertory?

I shall pray for him.

Well, I've kept you from your flock
long enough. Thank you.

- Very pretty.
- All from the vicarage garden.

Friday a funeral. Saturday a bride.
Sunday a christening.

The lot of a country parson.

Shall we be seeing you at the fete?

- Er, yes. Yes, I should think so.
- But not in church?

Six months,
and you've not darkened my transept,

except on official business.
Or perhaps you've lost your faith?

There was never much to lose.

We all have our doubts.

There have been times in my own life...

Ah, but I trust in the forgiveness
of a merciful Father.

I can't imagine
there's much in a vicar's life

warrants forgiving.

No. Well...

God be with you, Sergeant.

Stanley Clemence is 17. A minor.
We should've been notified.

- You have been.
- At once.

Not the best part of 12 hours later.
According to the custody record,

he's not been examined
by the police surgeon.

What's this?

Welfare. About Clemence. DCI Box.

- You've interviewed him?
- Of course we have.

- He's facing a serious charge.
- I don't care what he's facing.

There should have been
a solicitor present.

He declined.

He's an addict.

I doubt he was in a fit state
to decline anything.

I want him independently assessed,
and I want the duty brief notified.

- We'll look into it.
- You'll do it, or I'll know why.

In the absence of family,
we stand in loco parentis.

Word to the wise.
Little girls who squeak out of turn,

are liable to find themselves
over my knee.

- Oi!
- It's all right, Viv.

- Like to see you try.
- Would you?

So, who are you, then?
The sorcerer's apprentice?

My daughter, sir. Joan.

- Well, there's a thing.
- Railroading a kid into the dock?

I expect better of you, Fred.
I want to see him.

We want to see Stanley Clemence now!

Dad.

Small world.

Sorry, I wish I could help you.
I've not seen him.

- It's to do with this kiddie, is it?
- Oh, no, I'm just trying

to locate his whereabouts
for the past few days.

Where you two off to, then?

Take her books back. Library's in Bladon.

What's this, then?

The sergeant, he's asking after some lad.

Sorry, er, this is my wife, Mags.
Sergeant Morse.

Didn't he do a couple of days last year?

What, it's the same lad?

- Stan?
- Yeah, that's him all right.

- My, er, my wife wasn't too keen.
- Oh, why's that?

He just had a weird way about him.

Didn't sit right with me.
Thought we'd seen the last of him,

but I saw him last week
hanging by the church.

Should talk to the Reverend.

Oh. Oh, sorry. I haven't got round
to taking the plates off yet.

It's not an offence, is it?

Well, I won't say anything if you don't.

She only passed last week.
It's... It's third time lucky.

It'll be a godsend, to be honest
with, er, with Laurel.

It's muscular dystrophy.

Taking her into town
for check-ups and that, you know.

Up to now, it's either been the bus
or me, so...

Usually means taking a day off work.

You got kids?
Sorry, it's none of my business.

- No. No, need a wife first.
- Not in this day and age, you don't.

Mm. Look, er, I don't think
there was anything in it,

what Mags was saying about the boy.

To be honest with you,
I felt bad about letting him go.

Put him in Tingwell's way.

Right. Well, thank you for your help.

Yes, Stan helped out here.
But it was only for a few weeks.

Come autumn, he just lit out.
Not seen him since.

He wasn't a great worker, if I'm honest.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

How do you mean?

- Well, takes after his old man.
- Oh, you knew his father?

Oh, yes.

Phil Clemence and me were choirboys
together at St Christopher's.

Shared our first cigarette
up in the organ loft there.

I bet if I went back today,

I'd find our old pack of Woodbines
still be behind the pipework.

No, it was a bad business.

'What Goes On' by The Velvet Underground

- Er, the door was open.
- It's always open. What do you want?

Some information on Stanley Clemence.

I'm told he's been living here.

- Who wants to know?
- Police. Sergeant Morse.

When did you see him last?

- Couple of days. He came and went.
- Well, I'd like to see his room.

You need a warrant or something,
don't you?

You've got a couple skinning up
on the mattress over there,

and the place reeks of Red Leb.
Do you want me to call

the drugs squad,
or do you want to show me his room?

Go!

Oh!

I don't know
what you've got to come back for.

How do you mean?

There was another copper came by.

What other copper?

So, what's all this?

- What's all what?
- All that. Incognito.

In disguise, or hiding from someone?

- You don't look like you.
- What does me look like?

- Not like this.
- Well, there you go.

Maybe, I'm not me. Not anymore.

Things change.

- Well, that's too bad.
- It's just how it goes. You?

- I'm still me.
- Well, good for you.

- Morse...
- Help! Please!

Somebody help me! Please!
I can't find my little girl.

Excuse me. Excuse me, please. Sorry.

- What is it? What's her name?
- Rosie.

Rosie. What's she wearing?

- A pink dress.
- Right. Right.

- All right, as you were. Ronnie?
- Rosie Johnston, sir. From Cowley.

We've got a sighting
of a man with a little girl

that sounds like Rosie,
stood by a vehicle in the car park.

- Do we have a description?
- Witness didn't see his face,

only that he was wearing a Panama hat.

Doesn't sound like Stanley Clemence.

I've a photograph of Rosie Johnston
for circulation.

- You took your time.
- What about a registration?

Er, just the make. Vanden Plas, two tone.

I've ordered roadblocks, sir.
15 mile perimeter.

Well, that's something, I suppose.

Though, I suspect he'll be long past
any cordon by now.

Unless he's pulled off the road.

Ronnie, I can leave you to liaise
with Chief Superintendent Bright?

Of course, sir.
Very glad of Traffic's assistance.

Hourly despatches, yes? For good or ill.

Find Clemence, find the child.

We don't know that it is Clemence.

Our chief suspect for the abduction
and murder of a little girl

skips hospital, and hours later,
another girl goes missing.

Could be coincidence, couldn't it?

What are you saying, we've got
two perverts on the ground?

Well, it is a possibility.

Unless Clemence had nothing to do
with Ann Kirby.

I mean, I don't suppose anybody's
considered the locus of the body,

or the flowers in her hair?

Listen, this kiddie was taken out
from under the nose

of you and Johnny Morris here,
so I'll have no lectures.

If you'll excuse me.
I have a child to find.

There's evidence
Clemence had Ann Kirby at his place.

- What evidence?
- The blue Alice band she was wearing.

DI Thursday turned it up
not three hours since.

- Where?
- At his place. Now, be told.

But where at his place?

In his room under a loose floorboard.

Along with some drug paraphernalia,
and a notebook.

Fred.

I hate to admit it.

Anything from Traffic?

Not yet.

If there was a blue Alice band
under the floorboards,

it wasn't there when I looked.

You've been there? When?

Well, before you, clearly.

You think I did it?

Well, somebody did.

Whoever it is,
somebody is trying to frame Stanley.

Well...

You keep it to yourself.

Gets back to Box
you've been poking around

- in business that's none of your concern...
- But it is my concern.

He's not gonna get to the bottom
of it, you know that.

He's senior officer.

He's a fist with a warrant card.

He's gonna pin Ann Kirby
on the first passing suspect.

Your boy Stanley. Is that what you want?

You get caught with your tit
in the wringer on this one,

- I won't be able to help you.
- I'm not looking for your help.

How can you stand it?

"Yes, sir, no, sir" to a man like that.

It's called the chain of command.

Well, you're worth a hundred of his sort.

Don't forget it.

Because I won't.

Mister Haynes?

- Yes, sir?
- Can we have a word, please?

Yes, sir.

- Have you always worked round here?
- Mm-hm. Yes, sir. That's right.

Have you ever spent any
time in Berkshire.

On the buses or...?

Nah, Oxford, always have been.

You said when you made your statement

that you couldn't remember
when Ann Kirby got off.

Well, you try driving this route
week in, week out.

They're just uniforms.
They get on, they get off.

But, usually, she would alight
at West Adderbury.

If you say so,
but she can't have done that day.

Why's that?

I was running empty after Weeping Cross.

There was no-one aboard.

Didn't mention that in your statement.

Nobody asked.

Look, man, one day's the same
as the next in this game, you know.

Not every day one of your passengers
goes missing.

You know, thinking about it,

maybe she did get off
at Weeping Cross before.

Not regular, just once in a while.

We've enough to nail Clemence, then.

Just a question of picking him up.

If it's hers.

Course it's hers.

Why wouldn't it be?

Handy, it turning up when it did.

You turned it up, Fred.

Credit where it's due.

You know, it's funny,
we had trouble making it stick

against Stanley's father.

That right?

Couldn't crack him, love nor money.

In the end, it was a young DC,
my old bagman, Arthur Lott,

found the hammer he'd used,

concealed in the cistern
of the outside lav at his address.

- Lucky break.
- Yeah.

Miraculous.

Given it wasn't there when I had
a feel around two days previous.

People miss things.

- Even you.
- That's what I told myself.

It's what did for him, though.

Even so, he went to the gallows
swearing his innocence.

But he wasn't.

Was he?

He was a wrong'un.

So's his boy.

Bad stock.

We don't know he did it.

We never know.

It's a balance of probabilities.

You go with your gut.

What's important
is types like that get put away.

And if we've got to nudge the
jukebox to get the penny to fall?

What are you saying, Fred?

Not sure I'm saying anything.

We're just talking.

Something coming in to Traffic now.

He was picked up
at one of the road blocks.

Been teaching here
for ten years, apparently.

Thought I recognised his name
from your report.

Opium.

What are they doing here?

All hands to the pumps, I thought.

We've got Sheridan in custody.

This is our show, not Banbury's.

The uniform wants to make himself useful,

he can get back on his own ground
and search for the girl.

You should come out to Banbury some time.

I've been to Banbury.

Have a few beers, I meant.

Few beers.

- Curry...
- Talk about George.

- He's still on the books.
- Only for us.

Oh, there is an "us",
then, still, is there?

You're doing well.

You've friends at the Lodge.

You're going places. Just let it go.

I can't.

I can't.

That upstairs.

It don't mean anything,
it's... just his way.

Well, there's a daughter, Sophie.

- You should get Welfare over there.
- Right.

Oh, I went through the items
at 13 Jubilee Row.

You did what?

You can't keep your fingers out, can you?

Brush salesman, wasn't he?
Stanley's father.

- Door to door.
- So?

So I was thinking he should have
a sample case, shouldn't he?

Of brushes.

The past is the past.

Dead and buried.

Done.

A man answering your description,
wearing a Panama hat,

was seen with Rosie at the fair.

Well, there must have been
50 men there wearing Panama hats.

We found your photographs.

Children.

Young girls in not much more
than the altogether.

That's art.

I'm interested in photography.

- You're interested in something.
- Those are historical images.

They were taken
by the Reverend Charles Dodgson.

Lewis Carroll?

The man who wrote Alice In Wonderland?

Prince Albert and Queen Victoria

were great collectors of child nudes.

I doubt they were in the habit
of abducting young girls

from country fetes.

No more am I.

Look, there was a young man
watching my daughter at our house

the night before that, erm,
that Kirby girl was found.

That's the man you should be looking for.

Where were you on the afternoon
of July the 1st?

July the...
Er, I'd need to consult my diary.

The day of the Investiture,
if that helps. Tuesday last.

Oh. Yes, well, in that case,
I was in my rooms.

I watched the ceremony on television.

Anyone who can vouch for you?

Yes. The Bursar at Crozier.

Bursar confirms he spoke to Sheridan.

They talked about the Investiture,
mostly, what The Queen was wearing.

Call was made at 16:23,

line was in use for 26 minutes.

If he was at home talking to Bursar,

he can't've been out
picking up Ann Kirby.

Stand down the warrant for his gaff now.

What about the opium?

Can't prove it's his.

I can't see a jury buying it, can you?

I'm sorry, Fred.

I know you wanted it to be him,
but it's Clemence.

It's always been Clemence.

We've just got to find
the little bastard.

Oh!

Oh, it's nothing sinister.

I was just getting a seed cake
out of the oven.

Well, come in.

Well, this is a first.

Splash more?

How do you know where I live, by the way?

You're in the book.

It's nice.

I am fighting a war of attrition

with the greenfly over the tea roses.

Not very successfully,
it must be said, but yes.

As a spot, I am rather fond.

Well, something has to be lovely,

doesn't it?

Guv'nor.

There's a known pervert
seen back in the area.

Maybe he knows where the boy is.

Maybe.

Look.

This ain't gonna be Geneva Convention.

So if you've got reservations,

now would be the time to say.

Whatever it takes.

I mean it.

Can I count on you?

Always.

Ann Kirby.

I wondered if I had missed anything
in the post-mortem.

Not your case, is it?

Serious head trauma,
hairline fracture of the cranium.

Diffused degeneration
of the cerebral white matter.

Caused by?

A single violent blow
to the back of the skull.

Coup and contrecoup,

the brain bruises across a diffuse area.

Quick?

Not necessarily.

Some patients can lapse into coma
and linger for some time.

What do you think happened to her?

I think if I spent my days
in contemplation of such questions,

I would drink rather more than I do.

Been on your holidays, Gilbert?

We've been looking for you.

Rosie!

Rosie?

What is this?

Oh, you know what this is, Gilbert.

This is how things get done.

You've got known associates, Gilbert.

God knows how you freaks find
each other, but I know you do.

Swapping your nature studies
like cigarette cards.

We're looking for him.

I don't know him...

- Urgh!
- Attaboy!

You want tea?

You're back, are you?

Yeah.

I'm making tea.

Not for me.

Righto.

Gunsmoke, is it?

I don't know. Something.

What've you done to your hand?

Oh.

I don't remember.

Caught in a door, probably.

Doesn't hurt.

I'll put the kettle on.

I didn't do it,

I'm innocent! Thursday!

'Phil Clemence and me were choirboys
together at St Christopher's.

'Shared our first cigarette
up in the organ loft there.

'I bet if I went back today,

'I'd find our old pack of Woodbines
still behind the pipework.'

That's the sixth this year.

Overdose?

He was a habitual user, but...

No.

If he's anything like the others,

it's what the heroin's
being adulterated with

to make it go further that's the problem.

Quinine.

Not a happy combination.

And if someone doesn't cut off
the supply, he won't be the last.

I'm sorry.

I let him down.

His father, too.

Arthur Lott fitted Phil Clemence up.

And I sent an innocent man
to the gallows.

I've read the casefiles.

There's something you should see.

Clemence's sample case.

He had hidden it at St Christopher's.

So Arthur Lott may have
planted the evidence

that got him convicted.
But you were right, he was guilty.

That's not how they'll see it upstairs.

Or in the papers.

You know how it works.

If I fitted up Phil Clemence,

who else have I fitted up over the years?

But you didn't.

You think that'll matter?

They'll look at every single case
I ever made. We ever made.

Well, as it stands, nobody knows.

We know.

Bury it now, we're no better
than Arthur Lott.

An Alice band, a hammer.

It's corruption.

No.

Tell the truth and shame the devil.

I'll turn it in.

Well, if you want to do things
by the book,

it's actually in my custody.

So... I'll take
the responsibility for it.

Any news on Rosie Johnston?

Were still looking.

If Stanley took her...

She's still alive.

Stanley didn't take her
any more than he killed Ann Kirby.

You know that and I know that.

I'd better get back to the nick.

Mr Croglin?

That's right, yeah.

Sergeant Morse, Thames Valley.

You had a stall at Blenheim Fete.

Yeah, that's right. What's this about?

Do you ever do any work in Berkshire?

No, I've all I can manage here.

But you took this.

Er, yeah, yeah.

And do you remember this little girl?

From the photo you took here last week.

That's the girl that was killed,
isn't it?

My little bookworm.

How's that?

Well, I'd had to change a roll, see,

so I had a couple more minutes with her.

Mm-hm.

She was telling me
that she was reading, erm...

Black Beauty.

I said, "Oh, yeah, that's nice".
You know, just to make conversation.

She said yeah.

Only, she was worried.

About what?

Erm...

As it's quite a long book, you see.

She wouldn't be able to get finished

before it had to be back to the library.

I said, "You'll have to buy a copy".

She said, "I'm not made of money".

Just like that.

"I'm not made of money."

We rolled up.

Anyway...

That was...

My little bookworm.

The last time you would have
been here was when?

- Was it the 1st of July?
- That's right.

Can you tell me
if this girl came by that day?

Her name's Ann Kirby.

If you give me a minute.

Do you stop in Deddington?

No, that's not on the rota.

Weeping Cross is the nearest we come.

Yes, here we are.

Ann Kirby.

Returned four books, took out four more.

Four?

Mm-hm.

Caring For Your Pony, Ride Like The Wind,

Blue Ribbon for Binky
and Gypsy Wins Through.

Four books every visit.

Like clockwork.

I carried a little boy
out of a bloodbath.

That's got to mean something.

Guilty or innocent,
I can't give up on him.

So you returned to the scene
of the crime.

Hoping for what?

That the killer would return?

- Sometimes they come back.
- Sometimes they do.

But this isn't the scene of the crime.

You were right, I was wrong.

There is no obscure motive.

No stroke of genius.

Just shoe-leather.

Little girl goes missing, turns up dead,

one thought springs to mind.

99 times out of 100, it's the right one.

But not this time?

Mr Skynner?

Detective Inspector Thursday,
Thames Valley.

I believe you know Sergeant Morse.

It's about the girl
found in the pylon field.

Oh, yes.

The day Anne Kirby disappeared,

she got off the bus a few stops early

to return books to the mobile library,

where she collected four more.

I checked to see which would be
the best shortcut

from Weeping Cross to her home.

There's a field with a lane.

With a very nasty blind bend.

I recovered a piece of an L-Plate there,

broken off in a collision.

Alfie?

It's all right, Mags, go home.
See to Laurel.

Actually, it's probably
best if you stay here.

Please.

I'm sorry, Mr Skynner.

What's going on, Alf?

They know who was driving.

It was an accident.

She was just there.

I wasn't going fast.

- There was nothing I could do.
- She panicked, that's all it was.

I thought if I brought her back,
Alf could do something.

Make her right.

Only she never came to.

We thought that she'd come round.

Then, the longer it went on...

She just slipped away.

I went to get her a cold flannel.
I couldn't have been gone a minute.

She just slipped away.

I knew the maintenance gang
were gonna be out

seeing to the pylons.

I thought that they'd find her.

They skipped over to the next valley.

So you put the horse in the field,

knowing that Mr Tingwell
would report it stolen?

I didn't want her lying out there.

With animals and all sorts.

I didn't...

I didn't want her messing with.

For her parents.

And you put the flowers in her hair?

I thought I'd get in trouble.

Laurel, our daughter...

With Alf working... I'm all she's got.

Well...

Who's a clever bastard?

They're nothing to do with
Rosie Johnston.

Well, seeing as Stanley's
cooling in the fridge,

we've still got some work to do
to find her.

Fred.

What's this?

Well, I wouldn't swear to it,
as one looks much like another,

but I'd say that was
Ann Kirby's Alice band.

It was under the driver's seat.

Must've fallen off when they...

...got her out of the car.

We didn't have the best of starts.

But I hope we can straighten that out.

Bury the hatchet.

You got a raw deal over George Fancy.

Everybody knows that.

It's you should be sitting here,
and me standing there.

How it goes.

Maybe.

But it doesn't make my job any easier.

You're Fred Thursday.

That means something to these blokes.

I don't know about that.

I do.

Look.

My manners aren't all they should be.

But everything I've got in this
game has come through this

and hard graft.

And I reckon you're the same.

We can do something here.

You and me.

Sort this place out,
make it somewhere decent.

Kids can grow up safe.

But I need your help.

You in?

Or out?

Oh. Sir?

- Morse?
- It's her.

- Who?
- Emily Bayard.

The missing school girl.

He's using her as a model,
and period photographic techniques

to pass the images off
as vintage photographs.

- Who is?
- Doctor Sheridan.

That photograph's a fake.

- Looks like a photograph to me.
- No, I mean it's inauthentic.

If you look at the sculpture
on the plinth, it's by Degas.

Couldn't have been cast
until the early 20th century.

That's not Victorian,
that was made about three years ago.

How do you know?

Because the girl in the
picture is Emily Bayard.

Sophie.

- Sheridan's so-called daughter.
- So-called?

Yeah, it's the same girl.

- Emily?
- Emily!

Emily, it's the police.

You're safe now.

- It was here.
- What was?

The statue. He must
have taken it with him.

- Where?
- Wherever he takes the photographs.

Presumably where he stashed Rosie
after he took her from the fete.

Trapped in an upstairs room.

She's a bit...

It's all right.

You're all right.

Nobody's going to hurt you.

You're safe now.

Where is he, Emily?

What is this place?

Badgett Manor, former church land.

Sheridan was a local history buff,
He knew all about the place.

He knew it would be empty.

Rosie?

She's... She's perfectly all right.

She'd better be. Morse?

Laudanum.

A sedative.

I can assure you, she's quite unharmed.

And Emily?

Three years your captive,
and God knows what else.

How harmed is she?

It's... It's just photographs.

You take the photographs, and what?

You sell them on to other freaks?

Freaks? No, hobbyists.

Men of a like aesthetic bent.

Men?

You're not a man.
You're not a man's arse.

- I've never laid a finger...
- Perhaps.

But what did you intend to do with her?

Just sell her off to the highest bidder?

And that's why you took Rosie,

because you needed a new model,
because Emily had grown up.

She was... perfect.

Sugar and spice...

And all...

...things nice.

- Oof!
- Woah! Woah!

That's enough, that's enough!

That's enough.

All right, Rosie.

Now then,
hand you over to this lady here.

She's gonna take you home. All right?

I expect he lied to Rosie
the same way he lied to Emily.

Told her her parents were dead,

that she was gonna come and live with him

and she wouldn't have to
go to school anymore.

Sick bastard.

She'll be all right.

They both will.

Like Stanley?

I'll see you around.

Transfer I asked about, sir.

If I could trouble you for a signature.

- E Morse, He's, erm...
- Oh, yes, sir.

One of the college lodges, I believe.

Thank you, sir.

"Dear Mr E Morse,

"please find here, with notification,

"that you're being reassigned
from your current station

"to take up the position
of Detective Sergeant

"with the
Criminal Investigation Department

"at Castle Gate Police station."

"Report for duty at 0900 hours,

"Thursday July 17th, to DCI Box,

"to receive your first assignment."

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