All language subtitles for Endeavour.S07E01.Oracle.1080p.BluRay.x264-OFT

♪ ♪

MORSE:
The good ended happily

and the bad unhappily.

That's what fiction means.

When the overture begins,

you don't know what the opera
might be

or where the story
might take you,

whether it'll be comedy

or tragedy.

This...

is a story about love.

♪ ♪

(bird squawking)

♪ ♪

(talking softly)

(bird calling)

(rats squeaking, bird cawing)

(cawing)

♪ ♪

(owl hooting in distance)

(phone ringing)

Castle Gate C.I.D., Strange.

(man and woman singing slow duet
in Italian)

(people speaking Italian)

(music continues)

(singing in Italian)

(singing)

(people talking in background)

♪ ♪

(man singing dramatic solo
in Italian)

(singing)

(people talking in background,
glasses clinking)

♪ ♪

(woman cries out,
man grunts and laughs)

Oi! What are you doing?

What do you think you're doing,
eh, touching her like that?

MAN:
Oh, get out-- come on.

Come on, get out.

(man's dramatic solo continues)

(singing in Italian)

(piece ends, audience applauds)

MAN:
Think you'll like this one.

You'll like this one--
have a listen.

So I've got this dog,
and I love my dog.

But I had to take it
to the vet's the other day.

Vet took one look at it...

Picked him up, checked his eyes,
checked his ears,

checked his teeth.

Ah.
"I'm really sorry,
I've gotta put the dog down."

I burst into tears,
"Why you gotta put him down?"

He said, "He's really heavy."

(laughing)

(exhales):
Three more chicken in a basket.

Two scampi in a basket.

(catches breath)

(background conversations
fading)

♪ ♪

(cawing)

♪ ♪

(cawing, cat hisses)

TONY (distorted):
You all right, Jen?

Yeah.

Yeah, sorry, Tony.

I'm fine.

It was just a turn.

I'll be all right.

♪ ♪

(singing slowly in Italian)

(woman singing)

(stops singing,
orchestra playing somber music)

(orchestra continues)

(piece ends, audience applauds)

(audience cheering
and applauding)

(people speaking Italian
in background)

(bird calling)

♪ ♪

(water lapping, bird calling)

("Auld Lang Syne" playing
on television)

This is more like it.

Thank you.

MAN (on television):
♪ Should auld acquaintance
be forgot ♪

Cheers.
Cheers.

♪ And never brought to mind ♪

(music fading):
♪ Should auld acquaintance
be forgot ♪

(breath catches)

(breathing shallowly)

♪ ♪

(person whistling)

♪ ♪

(breath shuddering)

♪ ♪

(person whistling)

(gasps)

(whistling)

MEN (drunkenly):
♪ For auld lang syne, my dear ♪

♪ ♪

(Molly panting)

(yelping)

(fireworks exploding)

♪ ♪

(door opens)

♪ ♪

I said no questions.

♪ ♪

(birds twittering)

(inhales, exhales)

THURSDAY:
Got a name for her?

STRANGE:
I wouldn't like
to swear to it,

but I think it could be
Molly Andrews.

Barmaid,
down the Grapes.

Taking a shortcut home,
maybe.

Body was found
by David Clemens.

Works in the Morris plant.

Keep Fit fanatic.

Doctor.
MAX:
Gentlemen.

Have to wait on the postmortem
to confirm it,

but cause of death would
appear to be a broken neck.

That what the mark's about?

Yes, possibly.

I'll know more after the PM.

Any...

If that was the motive,

he hasn't gone through
with it.

He may have been disturbed,
of course.

Shall we say 2:00?

Oh, and, uh...

Happy New Year.

Her handbag was found
over there.

No purse in it.

Robbery, you think?

Some drunk, maybe?

Be enough of 'em about
last night.

Tried it on.

Or had too much of a skinful to
do what he meant to.

♪ ♪

Uniform up and down the towpath.

See if anybody moored up
saw anything.

(exhales)

DOROTHEA:
So, how was your
New Year's Eve?

Resolutions?

Find out who did this--
you?

Oh, I'm long past
mending my ways.

New year.

New decade.

New start.

You always hope for better,
don't you?

Bitter mornings,
up in the dark and the cold,

and the worst of human nature
at the end of it.

You start to wonder how many
more of these you've got in you.

No Morse today?

Fortnight's leave.

Oh, yeah.

Anywhere nice?

(bell tolling in distance,
seagulls squawking)

(men speaking Italian)

♪ ♪

What time is it?

1970.
(chuckles softly)

Felice anno nuovo.

♪ ♪

(boat engine rumbling)

(talking softly,
birds twittering)

♪ ♪

PRESENTER (on radio):
The body of a young woman

discovered on a stretch
of canal towpath

in the early hours
of New Year's Day

has been identified
as 24-year-old Molly Andrews.

Miss Andrews is believed
to have been attacked

shortly after finishing
her shift

at the Grapes pub in Oxford,
where she worked as a barmaid.

The investigation
into her murder

is continuing.

I told you,
I was at a party.

I left the Grapes.

I wasn't gonna get home
before midnight, was I?

STRANGE:
The landlord says
you were arguing with her

earlier in the night.

Then you started chucking
your weight around.

Said he had
to throw you out.

Somebody said she'd been
seeing another fella.

Some college type.

Where'd this come from?

I just heard it somewhere
is all.

All right.

Let's just have it
one more time.

From the beginning.

(seagulls squawking,
water lapping)

♪ ♪

(man speaking Italian)

Oh, no, grazie.

Si!

Avaro!

Come se dice...

Cheap.

(laughs):
Discerning.

Grazie.
Grazie.

If you want a rose,
I'll get you a rose.

I just won't waste money
on this artificial rubbish.

It will never fade.

Never die.

(chuckles softly):
Yeah, but it's not real.

Michelangelo's David
isn't David.

"Ceci n'est pas une pipe."

If it's beautiful,
does it matter?

(chuckles softly)

You think
he is responsible.

Denying it, of course,

but they were seen rowing
earlier in the evening.

And her purse is missing.

We're searching
Sturgis' place now.

No sign of it as yet.

At the bottom of the canal,
as like as not.

I've divers coming in,
but in my opinion,

the whole purse business
is just a blind.

A domestic dispute
leading to a murder, Thursday?

Such a ruse as you're suggesting

supposes a far greater
presence of mind

than one usually finds
in cases like these.

It's him, I know it is.

I can feel it in my corns--
I can crack him.

I'm sure.

Well, keep me abreast
of any developments.

Of course.

Very well, carry on.

Sir.

If I might ask, sir...

How's Mrs. Bright
bearing up?

As well as can be expected.

(birds twittering)

(woman calling in Italian)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

You're back, then?

How was, uh...?

Oh, you know.

So...

What've I missed?

♪ ♪

(women talking in background)

♪ ♪

(bell tolling in distance)

♪ ♪

(woman giggling)

BRIGHT:
I'm given to understand
that the A.C.C.'s daughter

was amongst a group of young
women making their way back

from Lady Matilda's boathouse
along the towpath,

when a man exposed himself
to them.

Obviously, with the killer
of the barmaid...

Molly Andrews,
sir.

Yes, thank you, Sergeant--
the young woman at New Year,

still at large,

the A.C.C. is keen to know
what progress is being made.

Bit of a sticker, sir.

But I'm still
of the strong opinion

that the boyfriend's
responsible-- Carl Sturgis.

Her purse was taken, wasn't it?

Doesn't that suggest a robbery?

One wouldn't expect that
in a domestic dispute.

The boyfriend always seemed
a little... pedestrian,

to my mind.

Plus, he's alibied,
isn't he?

What's this?

Well, a cab driver said
that he picked him up

outside the Grapes
smashed,

then dropped him at an address
in Cowley.

Had to pour him through
the letter box, supposedly.

Well, he could've
come back.

That's if the cabby
had the right man.

Sturgis did say that
he got a cab, though, didn't he?

One young drunk
on New Year's Eve

looks much like another,
I'd have thought.

I...

I was on leave the initial week
of the investigation,

so I may not have
the full picture.

BRIGHT:
Indeed.

Well...

Perhaps you might take
another look.

What do you say, Thursday?

Fresh pair of eyes.

If you think so, sir.

Yes, well,
I can't see the harm in it.

Done yourself an injury,
Sergeant?

Rat, sir.

Big bugger.

Been hanging about
the coal shed.

Gave me a nip when I went
up the yard last night

to fill the scuttle.

But you've seen someone
about it?

STRANGE:
Yeah, sir,
tetanus first thing.

From the house man.

(people talking in background,
typewriters clacking)

Where is he,
the boyfriend?

Carl Sturgis?
Mm-hmm.

Drives for Duxbury's
out of Cowley.

Undertakers.

I'll dig out the address.

(phone ringing,
typewriters clacking)

"Pedestrian"?

You never said.

Well, I came to it late.

I thought perhaps you knew
something I didn't.

Not everything's
a crossword puzzle.

Sometimes, how a thing looks
is how it is.

The boyfriend, the husband,
father, brother...

Right, so,
if you thought he did it,

why didn't you charge him?

We couldn't put him
at the scene.

We turned his place inside out.

Not a shred--
no purse, no nothing.

And if he didn't do it?

Then I'm sure you'll get
to the bottom of it.

Did Molly ever mention
a college type?

Boyfriend, perhaps?

Not lately.
(Lucy exclaiming)

She did like the college-y ones.

Said they treated her
more nice.

Thought I were done
with kiddies.

My Rose.

Molly.

Now Lucy,
third time lucky.

What about the child's father?

(chuckles)

(birds twittering)

New Year's Eve,

when your granddaughter
didn't come home,

you weren't concerned?

I took it she was
seeing her fella.

Carl Sturgis?

(exhales)

She weren't a bad girl.

Just lonely.

I think it's not having
a father herself.

She was always
looking for something.

(exhales heavily)

What did you make to him?

Carl?

Couldn't say.

She never brung any of 'em home.

(button clicks, timer ticking)

MAN:
Professor Donald Blish,
Cardinal College,

Higher Mathematics screen test,
seventh of May, 1970.

(bell rings)

DIRECTOR:
And action!

BLISH:
Hello, and welcome
to Module Seven.

In this module,
we'll be looking at...

FERMAN:
Rectilinear shapes...

Um, don't tell me,
don't tell me.

Uh, what is it?

DIRECTOR:
Particularly triangles.

Thank you, um...

Particularly tri...

Particularly triangles.

And finding the gradient,
equations, and intersections

of medians, altitudes,
and perpendicular bisectors.

(bell rings)

(clock ticking)

CARL:
Sorry, this isn't public.

Oh, Detective Sergeant Morse,
Thames Valley.

I'm looking for a Carl Sturgis.

This about
Molly Andrews?

I said all I had to
when it happened.

Don't you want to find out what
happened to your girlfriend?

CARL:
I know who you lot
think did it.

Not me, I wasn't part
of the original inquiry.

I'm keeping an open mind--
that's why I'm here.

Why, what do you think happened?

I don't know.

I'd give anything not to've had
that row with her.

I wasn't thinking straight.

I liked her.

She was a smashing bird.

She was a smashing bird,
and now she's dead,

and it's my fault.

If I hadn't acted
like a berk...

This other man you thought
she'd been seeing.

"Some college type,"
you said in an interview.

Where'd you get that?

One of me mates said he'd
seen her in town with a bloke

who looked like he was
in college.

You know the sort.

Scarf, pushing a bike.

♪ ♪

(car door opens, closes)

Should one get an agent,
do you think?

Just to handle the money?

Putting the cart somewhat
before the horse, aren't you?

No, no, I don't think so,
Jeremy.

Oh, they told you
you got the job, did they?

Well, not in so many words,

but, uh, I think we've got
an understanding.

Look at this.

Well, well.

BENFORD:
Dr. Naomi Benford,

28, currently
junior research fellow

at the Department
of Latent Potential.

As you tilt
the horizontal plane,

the section is an ellipse,

but there will come a point

where the plane is parallel
to the line.

Now, let's see
how that applies to...

Strong?

To break someone's neck?

Not necessarily.

The right angle,
a sudden twist.

At least it would have been
relatively quick.

Nothing out of the ordinary,
then?

All too ordinary,
I'm afraid.

The "female of the species"
might hold good for Kipling,

but he never walked
a crooked mile in these brogues.

There's nothing here

that wasn't in my report
at the time.

Oh, I was on leave at the time.

Mr. Bright's asked me
to take a second look.

Just fresh horses.

What did you make
to the mark on her neck?

MAX:
Ligature?

Garrote, possibly.

But I thought you said
her neck was broken,

that she wasn't asphyxiated.

(exhales):
Well...

Perhaps he started out trying
to choke her, and...

changed his mind.

You don't sound
terribly convinced.

I'm not.

Answers on a postcard
to the usual address.

FERMAN:
Well, I think she's got
a bloody nerve.

She's not been here
five minutes.

KREITSEK:
Oh, give it a rest,
will you?

Oh, speak of the little
succubus.

Here she is, look.

Well, you are a dark horse,
aren't you, love?

Something you want, Ferman?

Oh, I just wondered
where you got the idea

that you would put yourself
forward for the television.

I wasn't aware I had to ask
your permission.

There was an advert
in the college newsletter.

Oh, I know there was.

We all saw it.

There's such a thing
as seniority, you know.

You've heard the phrase "best
man for the job," have you?

(sighs):
Don't talk rot.

You're a
junior research fellow.

Tea and filing,
that's what you're here for,

and don't you forget it.

Naomi,
if you have a moment.

(closes folder)

♪ ♪

(engine stops)

(car doors close)

(knocking at door)

Hm...

(door opens)

SAWARD:
"And a certain woman, who had
an issue of blood 12 years

"and had suffered many things
of many physicians,

"and spent all that she had
and was nothing bettered,

"but rather grew worse,

"when she had heard of Jesus,

"she came into the press behind

"and touched his garment.

"And he said unto her,

"'Daughter, thy faith

"'has made thee whole;

go in peace, and be whole
of thy plague."'

♪ ♪

(putty knife scraping wall)

(scraping continues)

(exhales)

(grabs bottle)

♪ ♪

(bell tolling in distance)

♪ ♪

(breathes deeply)

♪ ♪

(chuckles)

I am feeling better,
Puli.

(both chuckle)

Stronger every day.

Well, that's... marvelous.

You do have faith,
don't you, Puli?

Of course, my dear.

Of course.

(recording of Don Giovanni
playing)

WOMAN:
♪ Perchè questi sospiri? ♪

JENNY:
You said to call
if I didn't hear anything?

No, no, no, I understand.

No, I haven't changed my mind.

I'll be in for
the usual session next week,

but you know where to get hold
of me if there's any news.

(chuckling):
Okay, bye, now.

(chuckling):
Right, yeah.

(music playing in background)

(bell dings, rotary whirring)

♪ ♪

(panting softly)

♪ ♪

(bird calling)

(birds twittering, bell tolling)

Morning, Win.

Morning, Reet, Bridget.

♪ ♪

Shoo!

Shoo!

It's 9:00
with Mr. Bright.

Sharp, he said.

Traditionally, the condemned man
gets a hearty breakfast.

Oh, come on,
it's not like that.

Isn't it?

My investigation pass scrutiny,
then?

Well...

Early days.

That right?
(exhales)

Butter's cold.

Square.

WOMAN:
Wavy lines.

MORSE:
So, going through
the original statements,

there's a dog-walker
came forward,

day after the body
was discovered,

said he'd heard someone
whistling

on the towpath.
Whistling?

Hmm, a melody
that he couldn't place.

But it doesn't seem
to have been followed up.

I followed it up.

I spoke to him, Mr. Scrimm--
he didn't see anyone.

There's nothing to say
it was connected, sir.

What about traffic on the canal?

Very little of it, sir.

The odd bit of boating
for pleasure,

but not at that time
of year.

I'm sorry, sir,
but that's not strictly true.

Um, I have a report
of a narrow boat,

the Rosie Jugg,

logged passing through
Braunston Junction

in the early hours
of New Year's Day.

Skipper was an
Abraham Petrovski.

He has a history of petty theft
and drunken disorderliness.

Though where he is now
is anybody's guess.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

BLISH:
Any other business?

Good.

Um, F-23.

I just wondered,
now you've had a little time.

Mmm,
well, I don't think

we're taking that
any further, are we?

F-23 scores very highly.

Some little nobody?

What's that got to do
with anything?

I mean, she might not know

which knife and fork to use
at high table,

but her scores
are off the chart.

Jeremy, you'll back me up.

I don't know, Nay.

There's nothing there
that couldn't have come out

of the papers, is there?

I don't know--
isn't that the point?

Don't we have a duty?

To science? Certainly.

Yeah, but science
doesn't exist in a vacuum.

We're part of this town.

There's no need
for hysterics.

I'm not hysterical,

I'm worried--
genuinely worried.

You said you'd consider
this seriously,

but it's been months.

It really isn't
any of our concern.

But it will be
if something happens

and it gets out
that we withheld information.

But it won't.
Won't what?

Won't happen or won't get out
that we knew something?

Either--
now really, I am very busy.

♪ ♪

(exhales)

It don't sit right with me,
you do know that, don't you?

Not being able
to close the book on it,

I don't care for it
any more than you do.

You just got
to be patient.

Keep your powder dry.

We'll get him.

I know.

Oh, I tried to call
Miss Thursday at Welfare,

just about
Molly Andrews' daughter.

They said she's on secondment.

That's right.

Win did say-- four month,
six month, something.

Talk to Viv Wall.

She'll see you right
about the kiddie.

I will.

Monday morning, then.

Mind how you go.
Mm-hmm.

♪ ♪

(person whistling)

(whistling continues)

♪ ♪

(breath catches)

Oh, I thought you'd gone home.

No.

Can you lock up, then?

He's right, you know.

It's none
of our business.

Something like that's
never anyone's business.

Till it's everyone's.

I thought you were on my side.

Is this about...?
No.

(chuckling):
Good heavens, no.

Then, why?

You'll always be on the outside,
you know.

Snotty grammar school nose
pressed against the pane.

They'll never let you
in their club,

no matter how often
you take their part.

I'm sorry.

Me, too.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(bicycle riding,
chain clanking)

♪ ♪

(phone ringing)

Morse.
OPERATOR:
I have a Dr. Benford

on the line for you.

Put him through.

BENFORD:
Hello?

Dr. Benford, how can I help?

I'm calling about the woman
killed on the towpath

at New Year-- Molly Andrews?

Oh, yes?

What was it you wanted to say?

One of my test subjects...

Actually,
can we meet somewhere tomorrow?

♪ ♪

DOROTHEA (chuckling):
Well...

This is something.

Yes, yes, it is.

Naomi Benford.

Dorothea Frazil,
Oxford Mail.

You making a speech?

A speech? Me? No.

(chuckling):
No, I wouldn't know how.

I'm just saying a few words.

I'd love an interview
with the organizers.

Even just a quote--
do you know them?

Yeah, of course.

It's Arielle, Sheila,
and Sally.

I can introduce you.
Oh, fantastic.

BENFORD:
Hi, sorry, can I introduce
Dorothea Frazil?

Oxford Mail.

Sally Alexander,
I presume.

(people talking in background)

Sorry,
excuse me just a minute.

The creche is just
along the hall.

I'm sorry?
The creche.

The chaps are running it today,

if that's what
you're looking for.

Uh, no, I'm here to see
a Dr. Benford.

You're the policeman.

That's correct.

Um...

I might have spoken out of turn
last night.

Prematurely, at least.

Well, how's that?

I'm afraid my blood was up
when I telephoned.

You are aware there's an offense
of wasting police time.

(stammering):
I'm sorry,

but there are professional
protocols I'm obliged to observe

before I can speak freely.

If you have any information
about what happened

on the towpath at New Year,

you have an obligation
to tell the police.

I'm sorry, but it's not
my story to tell.

There are people I need
to talk to-- well, a person.

I'm speaking to them
this afternoon.
Right.

I can't betray a confidence,
I'm sorry.

(people talking in background)

This you for the weekend,
is it?

Some of it.

At 4:00, I've more of this
dreadful cat business.

Cats going missing,
and then turning up, oh...

(groans):
It's too horrible.

One for the RSPCA, no doubt.

So as you can see, my dance card
is positively chocker.

What is it
that you're all hoping

to be liberated from,
exactly?

Is it just the dishes,

or light housekeeping
in general?

Patriarchal hegemony
in the main.

Ah.

Freedom from the tyranny
of the squeezy bottle's

just an adjunct.

Speaking of which.

How are you settling in
to this new place of yours?

(groans):
Slowly.

I'm still waiting
to hear about Venice.

Streets are filled with water.

Stop press?

What about you?

You've clearly plans.

Oh, I shall be oppressing
someone somewhere, I expect.

Keeping the chauvinist end up.
Mm...

Otherwise, I take
my comforts where I can.

"Music hath charms."

Have a nice weekend.
(chuckles)

(string quartet playing
gentle piece)

(closes door)

You're sure?

I didn't think it was right
to speak on your behalf,

without asking you
first.
Oh, no, no.

You know I wanted to go them
in the first place.

I just... wanted to do it
the right way.

Will they believe me?

He seemed pretty decent.

BENFORD:
Slightly bad-tempered,
but then,

he did think I was wasting
his time,

so I guess
that's understandable.

I did get the impression
he wanted to get

to the bottom of this.

I'll just feel better
once they know.

I'm sure I will.
(exhales)

It's just, uh,
a weight on me.

I know.

Been meaning to thank you.

For what?

For believing me?

It's going to be all right.

I promise.

(string quartet continues)

(people talking in background)

Ooh!

♪ ♪

Excuse me.

Stop!

Stop!

♪ ♪

(tires screeching, both cry out)

Careful!

(grunts)

Are you all right?

♪ ♪

It's, um...

Morse.

Morse! Of course!
Forgive me.

English names.

I'm sorry, have we met?

Ludo.

We were up at the same time.

I was at Beaufort.

And you were at, um...

(clicks tongue):
No, wait, don't tell me.

I was at Lonsdale.

Lonsdale! Yes.

Please, allow me to stand you
a drink?

Oh, no, I'm fine, thank you.

No, look, I insist!

I have some small connection to
this afternoon's entertainment.

Which, in a manner of speaking,
makes you my guest.

(birds chirping,
insects chittering)

♪ ♪

(ducks quacking)

BLISH (through door):
Frivolous!

It is not scientific work!

It's not important.

What this, this is,
demeans us all, I'm sorry.

BENFORD:
Donald, I think you're being
unreasonable.

Oh, sorry.

It'll keep if you're
in the middle of something.

I can...
No, we're not.

Donald.

You know about this?

Oh, I might've heard
something about it.

Well, you might have told me.

You know, this is
a serious department.

We are engaged
upon serious work.

The bursar's already making
noises about funding.

Something like this could turn
us into a laughingstock.

(audience applauding
at concert)

You enjoyed the concert?

Very much.

Music is my life.

My grand passion.

Second only to the dogged
pursuit of beautiful women.

(laughs)
You would say this,
"dogged pursuit," in English?

Yes, we would.
(laughs)

Well, there we are.

Such are the articles
of my faith.

The only ones I acknowledge,
in any event.

There are much worse.
Oh, none better.

(chuckles)
And now I am hungry.

Shall we have supper?

Oh, well...
Now, I shall brook
no refusal.

There's a little place
I know.

You'll love it.

(people talking in background)

WOMAN:
Cross.

♪ ♪

Wavy lines.

♪ ♪

Triangle.

ANNOUNCER:
League Division One...

(door closes)
Cambridge nil, Lincoln one.

Oxford one, Birmingham nil.
(key drops in tray)

Leicester four...

WIN:
Not like you to miss
the results.

(birds chirping)

Uh, work.

...Halifax nil.

Uh, it's work.

(running water):
The, uh...

That girl on the towpath
at New Year.

Mr. Bright's asked Morse
to take a look at it.

Make sure there's nothing
I've missed.

Morse?

Well, I'm not sure what I think
about that, I'm sure.

(water stops)
Don't mean anything.

Standard practice,
that's all.

(birds twittering)

Oh...

I bought a couple of canaries
down the market.

A pair-- a cock and a hen.

We might get some chicks.

Might we?

I used to keep birds
when I was a boy.

Well, look after them
for the old man.

I thought it might be...
something.

(stammering):
An interest.

Feathers, everywhere.

It's not "feathers everywhere."

And if it is,
I'll, I'll see to it.

It's two birds.

They're not gonna
bother you.

Well, where are we going
to put them?

Where we going to keep them?

Up my arse, Winifred.

That's where gonna keep them,
up my arse,

like David Nixon.

I'm just asking.

No need for language.

In a cage, where do you think?

I just saw them, and I wanted
them, and I bought them.

And that's it and that's all.

I thought it might be
something nice.

Something not...

blood and... cruelty.

Hatred.

What one person'll do
to another you've no idea.

Just gets you down sometimes,
that's all.

Another bottle?

Oh, no.

(Morse chuckles softly)

Well, what a day.

We have a saying in my country.

"Do not praise the day

before sunset."
Which country is that?

War has redrawn national borders
so many times

as to make such notions
an irrelevance.

I prefer to say
I am a man of the world.

And what is it you do
in the world?

Travel, mostly.

My family's in shipping,

since before Vasco da Gama.

(chuckles)

I look after the various arms
of our charitable foundation.

I buy and sell
beautiful things-- artwork.

I have a music festival--
and you?

Oh, nothing quite
so interesting.

I'm a policeman.

Truly?
Mm-hmm.

But you seem a man
of refinement, of great taste.

Not at all a lumpen,
plodding, petty official.

(exhales)

Ah, I've offended you.
(laughs)

I meant, of course,
those policemen not in England.

Have you traveled much
in the continent?

Yeah, a little.

So you will know

that border officials
and provincial policemen

are one of two types.

The dull,
everything-by-the-book sort

and those who understand

the only international language
worth a damn.

Which type are you?

The former, definitely.

(chuckles):
Incorruptible, is that it?

That's right.

Every man has his price.

(chuckles)
Every man.

I shall make it my life's
business to find yours,

and once I have
found your weakness,

I shall exploit it without mercy
to my own ends.

And what is that?

I shall think of something.
(both laughing)

And what about you?

What's your weakness?

My weakness?

My weakness left me.

(swallows)

Ah.

I see.

I'm sorry.

Perfect.

♪ ♪

(vacuum whirring in distance)

(Bridget screaming)

(vacuum stops)

(screaming continues)

♪ ♪

(gasps)

Bridget?

♪ ♪

(birds twittering)

Department
of Latent Potential.

Some sort of
science research lab.

Attached to Cardinal College,
so far as I can make out.

Who's the deceased?

Dr. Naomi Benford.

28 years old.

What?

WIN:
She's just so young.

THURSDAY:
Did you know her?

I saw her
about once or twice.

You know, early bird.

Not to speak to.

You're all right, though.
Yeah.

It was Reet's granddaughter
Bridget that found her, not me.

It's you I'm married to.

I saw worse on fire watch
in the war.

Really, I'm fine.

Now, go on, do your job.

She'd just been picked to be
on the television

for some new academic
broadcasting program.

There's a bit
in the Mail today.

Interview she did
with Miss Frazil.

Family?

Penge.

Locals are notifying them.

But she had a flat
in North Oxford.

Multiple catastrophic injuries
consistent with a high fall

onto an unyielding surface.

Have to wait on the postmortem

to establish exactly
which killed her,

but there's perimortem hematoma
to both upper arms.

Someone gripped her
by the biceps,

firmly enough to bruise,

within moments of her decease.

When?

Saturday evening
sometime?

Watch is stopped
just after 8:12.

You think this is connected
to Molly Andrews?

Don't you?

So, she calls the station
Friday night,

claiming to have information
on the towpath killer...

And then when I see her
on Saturday at Ruskin,

she's got cold feet and says
she needs to speak to someone

before she can disclose anything
she knows.

And now she's dead.

Somebody's killed her
before she can spill

what she knew about Molly.

Somebody here.

Who's in charge of this place?

Headman's a Professor
Sir Donald Blish.

He's got tutorials
this afternoon,

and never comes in
on a Monday morning,

but one of the
junior men is in.

A Dr. Jeremy Kreitsek.

What is it you do here,
Dr. Kreitsek?

We're examining certain aspects
of human consciousness.

Psychic phenomena.

Telekinesis.

E.S.P.--
extrasensory perception.

Telesthesia--
traveling clairvoyance,

or remote viewing,
if you prefer.

Some people call it
distant seeing,

but it all means
the same thing.

Which is what?

The subject will be able
to focus in on a place

that they've never even been--

Could be next door
or the other side of the world--

And describe it
with great clarity and detail.

All in their mind's eye.

People, too,
they've never even met.

And you get paid
for this?

(chuckles softly)

I'm sure that to a layman,
it all sounds

like a whole lot of mumbo-jumbo,

but Faraday
was an early researcher.

Sir William Crookes,
Rufus Osgood Mason.

They all believed the mind
contained vast, untapped powers.

(door opens)

What's all this?
(door closes)

Sir, it's Naomi.

There's been some sort of
accident.

The stairwell...

I don't know what happened
but she's, she's dead.

These gentlemen
are with the police.

What?
No, that can't be right.

I'm afraid it is, Dr...

Ferman.

We'll need an account
of everyone's movements

between Saturday afternoon
and Sunday morning.

Well, I was in the pub
on Saturday night.

I'm afraid what I did see of
Sunday was beneath an eiderdown.

Which pub?

The Baby and the Bird,
the Turl,

and well, after that,
it gets a bit hazy.

Anyone vouch for you?

(chuckling):
Bar staff, I suppose.

What about you,
Dr. Kreitsek?

I was at the Tunnel
Saturday night.

It's a folk club.

Oh, yeah, who was on?

Who was playing?
Mm-hmm.

Chap called Thackray I like.

Seen him on Braden's Week.

Must have a couple of times.

Dr. Benford been
with you long?

Since, um, about autumn.

What was her role here?

Junior research fellow.

Naomi carried out
a number of our experiments.

What sort of experiments?

The subject undergoes a period
of sensory deprivation.

A red light is shone
on ping-pong balls,

which are cut in half
and placed over the eyes.

At the same time,
headphones play white noise.

What's the game there, then?

Well, the idea is to clear
the mind of any external stimuli

in order that the subject
might become more receptive

and attuned to their
extra sensory potential.

And do they?

Some, yeah.

Once the subject
is suitably prepared,

the tester turns through
a collection of flashcards

which show various
geometrical symbols.
Circle.

Like uh... triangles,
squares, circles,

wavy lines and that.

The subject tries to see
what's on the cards.

Triangle.

Anything in it?

Some subjects show
an above average aptitude

for correctly identifying
the symbols.

And some subjects show a below
average aptitude, I assume.

Given the nature
of averages.

(chair screeching)
Look, the government show us
a lot of respect

for the work we do here.

Perhaps you might want
to extend the same respect

that it warrants.

Well, uh, to get back to
the matter in hand,

did Dr. Benford have
a boyfriend, or...?

Not so far as I know.

But I can't say we were close.

THURSDAY:
When did you last see her?

Saturday afternoon.

THURSDAY:
Here?

(paper rustling)

Doctor?

♪ ♪

(tapping on door)

(birds twittering)

MORSE:
Good morning.

Detective Sergeant Morse,
Chief Inspector Thursday

from Thames Valley.

We're looking for
a Professor Blish.

Donald.
My husband.

He's in the garden.
Won't you come in?

I thought I heard the door.

MRS. BLISH:
The police, darling.

Someone at college has died.

A Dr. Benford.

Naomi?
THURSDAY:
I'm afraid so, sir.

Detective Chief Inspector
Thursday,

Detective Sergeant Morse.

Would you like tea,
or something stronger?

Thank you, Mrs. Blish,
we won't if it's all the same.

MRS. BLISH:
Sorry...

Darling, if I could just

trouble you for a check
for Querrels,

and then I'll be
out of your hair.

I've made out the amount.

The butchers.

Only I'm not allowed
my own checkbook.

In case my head explodes
and falls off.

(chuckles)
Quite right.

Do you let your wife

have her own checkbook?

I know it's all the fashion,

but money seems to me
a man's job.

There we are, darling.

If there's anything you want,
just shout.

At the department, you say?

Poor girl.

But how?
I don't understand.

Was there some sort of
accident or...?

A fall, sir.

But hopefully, with your help,

we'll be able to get
to the bottom of it.

When did you last see
Dr. Benford?

Saturday it would have been.

Half past 5:00
or thereabouts.

She'd been over at Ruskin
in the morning

for this women's conference,

and then came in
for a few hours after lunch.

Was there anyone with her
when you left?

Not that I saw.

But I wouldn't expect anyone to
be in the lab much after that.

She said she had some work
to finish.

Right.

Did she ever mention
a young woman killed

on the towpath at New Year?
(flicks lighter, clicks)

Molly Andrews.

She was a barmaid
at The Grapes.

I read about it, of course.
Awful thing.

But I... I don't remember
Naomi ever mentioning it.

(puffing, flicks lighter)

Really?

Only she intimated that there
were some professional protocol

that she were obliged
to follow,

before being able
to discuss it.

I'm afraid I'm at a loss
to explain

what she might have meant
by that.

We have it that you quarreled
with her on Saturday afternoon.

I wouldn't call it a quarrel.

We had a frank exchange
of views.

You upset her,
supposedly.

Really?

Well, I'm afraid
it doesn't take much.

They don't respond well
to criticism.

What was the nature
of this criticism?

(inhales)

I felt she had become less
than rigorous in her work.

Her mind was on this
television business.

You disapproved?

One can either be a serious
academic or a frivolous person.

On the whole, I think
women are too emotional

for the life scientific.

That will come as grave news
to Madam Curie, I'm sure.

(chuckles)

I'm not sure I'd offer up
someone who managed

to give themselves radiation
poisoning as a shining example.

They just get
under your feet in the lab.

If they're not crying about
who they do love,

they're crying about
who doesn't love them.

It's a distraction.

MORSE:
There's a don like that

in every other
common room in Oxford.

His experience of
the other half of humankind

starts with matron
and doesn't gets much further.

Women are only good for
ironing their shirts

and making sure the cruet's
filled at high table.

Anything in it,
do you think,

this, uh,
sixth sense business?

I've always had it down
for a load of old baloney.

I mean, if you had the gift of
second sight or whatever it is,

you'd be down the bookies,
wouldn't you,

not trying to see
what Mr. Brezhnev's got

in his briefcase?

Yes, but we all get feelings,
don't we?

Like what you had
about Carl Sturgis,

only we call them hunches.

That's experience, though,
isn't it?

It's not something
from the great beyond.

Mrs. Blish.
(soft chuckle)

♪ ♪

(car door opens)

♪ ♪

(shuddering breaths)

(squeaking)

(squawking)

♪ ♪

(gasps)

It's always the ones
you like.

Mm.

I read your piece.
What'd you make of her?

Clever, beautiful, funny.

Excited about the television.

Whoever hired her
knew what they were doing.
How so?

Well, they could have hired
some dusty old don,

no one would have
turned a hair.

But put an intelligent
young woman on screen...

(clicks teeth)

Was she attached?

She said not.

Was it an accident?

Well, that's what I'm here
to find out.

She did ask me,
off the record,

if I'd heard anything
about the towpath at New Year.

The barmaid at The Grapes.

Such as?

Oh, anything the police
might've been keeping

from the public.

Seemed a strange thing
to ask.
Mm.

Did she say what
her interest would be?

(exhales)

Behalf of a friend,
she said.

You think that's connected?

Uh, really,
I couldn't say.

And any avoidance
of speculation in print

ahead of a formal statement

would be greatly appreciated.

It'll cost you.

Oh, it always does,
but thank you.

Just make sure
you get the bastard.

She was all right.

(birds twittering)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

MORSE:
Where's all this come from?

The handbag.

Pen was under her body.

A few bits and pieces
had fallen out--

lipstick, a compact,
address book.

Anything else?
Afraid not.

Hmm.

According to the diary
at her flat,

Dr. Benford was supposed to meet
a Jennifer Tate

on Saturday at 8:00.

A friend?

Well, if she was,
she wasn't a close one.

There's no address for her
in the book.

Dr. Benford had also asked
Dorothea Frazil

if there was anything she'd
heard of that we'd kept back

from the public
about the towpath killing.

She had clippings related
to the case upon her desk.

And in her appointment book,
next to Jennifer Tate

she'd written "Regarding: M.A."

Molly Andrews?

Well, that would be my guess.

(classic music playing)

(doorbell rings)

(music continues playing)

I was in the neighborhood.

If it's a bad time?

No.

No. No.

Um... come in, come in.

It's the second on the left.

(music continues playing)

I don't get many visitors.

I like what you've done
with the place.

You might want to let that
breathe.

Well, I'm afraid I've
a very limited cellar, but, um,

I've a reasonable bottle
of everyday wants finishing

while we wait.

Perfect.

(glasses clinking)

Oh, my God!

You have the Calloway '54
Traviata from La Scala.

I've never heard it.

Very few have.

It's a test pressing.

They were trying out
some new recording system.

Can I hear it?

Well, you can have it.

You are joking.
I can have it?

Do you know how rare it is?

No, I haven't listened to it
for years.

I'd sooner it went
to a good home.

Cheers.

So...

to what do I owe the, uh...?

I'm having a few people around
to my place at the weekend.

Few drinks.
I haven't seen you.

Oh, yes,
I've been busy with work.

What devilish conundrum
currently occupies

the mind of the great detective?

Murder in pursuit of robbery.

What makes you say that?

Her necklace.

That's what he took.

That's what made those marks
on her neck.

The chain, as he tore it away.

We were occupied during the war.

There was a girl,
young girl,

daughter of one of our staff.

14, 15?

She wore a St. Christopher.

One of the soldiers, um...

Playing in the woods,
I found her body.

The marks on her neck
were like this.

I'm sorry, I have never
told anyone that story before.

I, um...

I had forgotten it
until I saw that.

I can't... I can't imagine.

No.

You know, I think that's why
I am drawn

to the beautiful things in life.

(doorbell rings)

Um... excuse me.

(footsteps retreating)

(door opens, closes)

Oh sorry, matey, I didn't
realize you had company.

This is my colleague,
Detective Sergeant Strange.

This is my friend Ludo--
Ludo, Strange.

Jim.

Ooh, see you've got
the record out, then?

Can't go wrong.

So, how'd you know our Morse,
then?

Oh, we were up at Oxford
at the same time.

Oh, were you?

I've been up in Oxford with him
the last five years.

Well, up and down.
(chuckles)

Cowley for the most part.

Castle Gate now.

Do you mind if I borrowed him
for a minute?

It's, uh... it's work.

Excuse us.

I've got a work address
for this Tate girl

Dr. Benford was due to see
Friday night.

Thought you'd want to know.

In case it was important.

Right.

Well, that was all,

I won't stop
if you've got company.

Don't worry about
seeing me out.

I know the way.

It's nice to meet you.

Anything from
the TV people?

Nothing that won't keep.
(sighs)

Look, I didn't like to say
anything in front of your mate,

but we've talked about this.

You can't be bringing work home.

Not evidence, you can't.

Orderly running of the office
is my responsibility now.

Anything goes missing,
it's my neck.

Just think on.

Have a good night.

(door opens, closes)

It's about Dr. Benford,
Miss Tate.

I thought it must be.

How's that?

Naomi said it'd be passed on
to the police months ago.

Right after it happened.

What would?

What I told her.

About the girl on the towpath
at New Year.

What did you tell her?

What I saw.

The man who did it.

You saw who killed
Molly Andrews?

You were on the towpath
that night?

No, not... exactly.

What do you mean?
You said you saw who did it.

Yes, I did...

I...

In my head.

It was a vision.

Well, we're very grateful
for your assistance, miss.

(scoffs)

You don't believe me.

We're the police.

We need evidence.

Physical evidence.

He took her necklace,

didn't he?

We're not at liberty...
Yes.

Why, what else did you see?

Did you see his face?

No.

But I felt him.

This... anger.

This hatred.

Something evil.

And the taste, I could...

taste it in my mouth,
on my tongue.

Taste what?

Blood.

♪ ♪

Blood?

That's what she said, sir.

There was no blood.

Not at the scene.

Certainly none
from Molly Andrews.

Is it possible, do you think?

This girl could literally
have seen what passed

on the towpath that night?

Well, I'm not one for macabre,
sir.

(chair creaking)

The way she described it all,

maybe you'd have had
to've been there,

but she did seem sincere,

if you're at all susceptible

to that way of thinking.

Susceptible or not,
she knew about the necklace.

Is that which caused the marks
to Molly Andrews's neck.

The killer tore it from her.

A keepsake, perhaps?

And what of this
television program

that Dr. Benford
was involved with?

Anything there?

I spoke to the producer, sir.

A chap called Ray Douglas.

Quite flamboyant, as is often
the way with these people,

but in his words

Dr. Benford was a natural.

She had a...

Yeah, here we are.

"She had a very easy rapport
with the camera,

"and the camera loved her.

"I think we knew
as soon as we saw her,

that we'd found our presenter
for the Higher Maths module."

Did they interview many people
for the post?

"Audition."

Hundreds apparently.

Anyone with a half decent
science degree in Oxford

put in for it.

Including one or two
from her own department.

I just went along to see
what it was all about.

Didn't expect to get very far
with it at all.

(scoffs)
I wasn't disappointed.

I think I knew at once
that I wasn't the sort of thing

that they were looking for.
That none of us were.

How's that?

Sex, isn't it?

That's what it's all about
nowadays.

That's what sells.
Sex appeal.

I mean, why bother hiring
a fella who knows

exactly what
he's talking about

when you can just put a big pair
of knockers on the screen?

For an academic program?

For anything, my boy.

From soap suds to Japanese cars.

You see it at the motor show,
at the boat show,

in the papers now.

I mean it's not us blokes
they've got sprawled

over everything,

showing the world
what we've got, is it?

I think that's a bit
unnecessary.

I won't have you talking smut
about her anyway.

We were friends.

(derisive laugh)
Friends!

Jeremy had a soft spot for her,
didn't you, huh?

Well, soft-ish.

Asked her out the week
she started, didn't you?

But she turned him down flat.

Shame.

You never mentioned.

I asked her out once,
for a drink,

she said no.

I mean she was under
no obligation anyway.

I wasn't her type, clearly,
and that's all there was to it.

Not her type? You didn't have
anything to offer her.

That's why you weren't her type.

No leg up, no leg over.

You want to wake up, man.

It's not a battle of the sexes--
it's war, mate.

And they've got the bazookas.

How's your poor little
pea-shooter

gonna compete with that?

I'll tell you, it's not.

(lighter clicks,
flicks shut)

(birds twittering)

(ducks quacking)

♪ ♪

Sam!

What is it?

♪ ♪

They're proceeding upon
the assumption that, what,

the towpath killing
and the murder of Dr. Benford

are the work of the same hand?

Potentially, sir.

But in truth,
there's very little to go on.

Her colleagues at work?

Only one of them
has a solid alibi, sir--

Professor Blish.

At home with his wife.

Well, he denied Dr. Benford
had mentioned

the towpath killing to him.
If he'd lie about that...

Well, we've only really got
Jenny Tate's word to go on, sir.

(phone ringing)
You said Kreitsek
had interviewed

for this television post

and had been turned down?

Something in that?
Professional jealousy?

Hmm.

Ferman seemed rather bitter
about it.

Put her getting the job down
to her...

natural advantages.

And Professor Blish.

What was his position with
regard to Dr. Benford's part

in these educational programs?

Far as we could make out, sir,
he's none too keen

on having women
in his department at all.

Only had her there
on sufferance.

Word just through
from Birmingham, sir.

Petrovski, the bargee who passed
through Braunston Junction

in the early hours
of January 1,

collapsed on his boat
yesterday afternoon

near Gas Street Basin.

(water lapping,
birds twittering)

STRANGE:
Apparently he died
of alcohol poisoning.

Sister says he'd
never hurt a fly

but just couldn't resist
a drink.

Yeah, the place is full
of empties.

Look,

I got a bone
to pick with you.
Oh yeah?

I didn't think much to you
hanging the old man out to dry.

I read the case files.

The first 43 hours

of the Molly Andrews
investigation

were slipshod at best.
"Slipshod"?

Yeah, all right, shabby, then,
if you'd sooner.

Poor record keeping.
Statements misfiled.

In short, it was a catalogue
of errors from start to finish.

We were short-handed,

with the New Year.

You know Ainsley's rubbish
on exhibits.

If you hadn't
been on leave...

Yeah, well, if people had done
their job in the first place,

then perhaps Naomi Benford
might still be alive.

Anyway...

Molly's boyfriend?
Carl Sturgis?

I don't think so.

Is it hers?

♪ ♪

MORSE:
So you took her to the folk club
in November.

She kept the tickets.

I really liked her.

All right,
she was my kind of girl.

What kind's that, then?

Easy?

See, you're just like the tools
I work with.

She wasn't easy,

or a pushover,

or any of the other names
you'd call her.
Then...

why didn't you tell us about
your relationship with her?

You've heard them rib me at work
over taking Naomi out.

If they'd found out
I was seeing a barmaid

that would've been
the end of me.

How would they have known?

She was a test subject,
wasn't she, at the lab.

No latent potential
for E.S.P. whatsoever.

Well, a complete brick.
(soft chuckle)

Don kept her on
as a control group.

They thought it was funny,

Don and Ferman.

They thought they'd have some
sport with a thick barmaid.

Mind you she was making
30-bob every visit,

so who had the last laugh there?

You were ashamed of her.

No.

I was willing to take her on.

Only you didn't.

Yeah, well,
she was still with Carl.

Then why didn't she
just drop him?

She was frightened to.

She was afraid of him.

And with good reason.

I mean, he got her in the end,
didn't he?

That what you think?

Don't you?

I didn't tell you, did I?

The television people
have been in touch.

Which television people?

About these lecture programs.

With what happened
to Dr. Benford,

they want me to talk to them
about stepping into her role.

Is that something you want?

To be a--
oh, what do you call them--

A television personality?

(chuckling):
No, not really.

I can't think of anything worse.

But they've asked

and you never know.

Might be good
for the department.

This Dr. Benford

that the police
were here about--

Is there any news?

No.

No.

She must have been pretty.

How's that?

You never mention
the pretty ones.

(scoffs)
What nonsense you do talk.

I'm plain.

It must be very dull for you.

Now you're just fishing
for compliments.

If I have not mentioned her,

it's because I barely
notice her.

You know, they are a general
nuisance in the laboratory,

but beyond that,
they are invisible to me.

Dessert?

Prunes.

Oh, splendid.

And cold custard.

Tip top.

(birds twittering)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(footsteps crunching)

♪ ♪

(whistling in distance)

(people talking in background)

STRANGE:
That Miss Tate telephoned.

She's had another one
of her turns,

and wanted to talk
to somebody.

I'll give her a call.

I don't know if it's connected,

but this was handed over
from Nights.

Woman reported a fella exposing
himself to on the towpath

not 200 yards from where
Molly Andrews' body was found.

She says she heard someone
whistling just before

he jumped out at her.

I've got Identikit coming in,

see if we can't get
a description off her.

His face, obviously,
not the, uh...

Last turkey in the shop?

Hanging about the bushes
half the night in all weathers

on the off chance of a passerby
to wave your doings at.

What'd they get out of it?

That's what I
can never fathom.

Great relief to us all,
sergeant, I'm sure.

You think that's
what's happened at New Year?

He goes out flashing,
and something's gone wrong

between him and Molly Andrews.

I don't think it's about a man
exposing himself on the towpath.

I think it's about
a college type

writing his telephone number
on flashcards for a barmaid.

MORSE:
Did Dr. Benford ever mention
her private life?

JENNY:
Not really.

What about a Dr. Kreitsek,
did she ever mention him?

(Jenny gasps)
It was here, wasn't it?

Where she died.

The... the girl from New Year.

When did you start
having these--

What would you call them--
intuitions?

Um, when I was
a little girl.

It was just little things.

Family things to start with.

My aunt had a car accident,

and I knew about it
before she'd told my mum.

Right.

Sorry, I don't wanna
go down there.

The man from here,

could he have anything to do

with what happened
to Dr. Benford?

I don't know.

(sighs)

Look, it's like...

being a radio that's left on,

that's tuning
through the frequencies,

trying to find a station.

I can't always make sense
of what I see until later.

Like with you.

Me?

Why, what about me?

There's a woman...

In a green dress?

And there's just a...

sadness.

Does that mean anything to you?

♪ ♪

THURSDAY:
Jenny Tate confided
to Dr. Benford

about this vision
or whatever it was.

And she, in turn, notified you.

I'm curious as to why
you didn't bring

this information
to the police?

I really didn't think
it was my place.

We only had Miss Tate's word
to go on.

This vision did not take place

under laboratory-controlled
conditions.

We'd no way to know
if it was genuine...

Or if she was just doing it
for attention.

She could have just picked up
on something

she read in the papers.

You know, we're not
in the vision business.

Not like that.

See, our experiments suggest

that paranormal phenomena

present in far less dramatic
a fashion than she described.

You're not treating her claims

with any degree of seriousness,
are you?

There are certain details
of the crime

known only to ourselves
and the perpetrator.

Miss Tate's insight, or vision,
or whatever you want to call it,

accords with those

peculiarities to a degree
which warrants us taking them

very seriously indeed.

Oh, and what happened to Naomi?
Did, um,

Miss Tate have a vision
of what happened there?

Oh, that's a very good point,
Dai.

They were quite close.

If this girl really had
half the talent she pretends to,

one might imagine
she'd have some idea

of who was responsible
for Naomi's death.

If she had, professor,

I'd hardly be at liberty
to discuss it.

Certainly not with any
of her colleagues.

♪ ♪

(soft chuckle)

Yeah. Yeah, no,
I'll be right over.

Thank you.

Could you cover for me?

Why? Where you going?

Looks like Dr. Kreitsek wasn't
lying about Molly Andrews.

She's here, all right.

With all the rest
of the guinea pigs.

Professor Blish has signed off
her expenses each visit.

Worth giving Carl another go,
I think?

So Professor Blish
uses a fountain pen?

Hmm?

You can tell by the signature
on the time sheet, look.

The nib has become splayed.

That's what's giving it
that double-vision look.

So?

♪ ♪

I thought it was unusual

for Dr. Benford to be using
a pen like this.

This is Professor Blish's pen.

But we saw Blish sign a check
for the butchers.

It was a silver pen,
quite modern.

But didn't his wife give him
a pen with the checkbook?

Bloke can have more
than one pen.

(scribbling)
He can...

but this pen belonged
to Professor Blish.

Look,

the lines on the page
are the exact same

as the signature
on the timesheets.

And that's the pen
that was found

under Dr. Benford's body?

Which means it must have landed
before she fell.

Why kill Molly Andrews though?

You think he was
knocking her off?

Only one way to find out.

Just one or two formalities
I wanted to go through with you.

I'm taking care of
Dr. Benford's subjects now.

(clears throat)

You spoke to the police,
I believe?

Uh... yes, yes, I did.

About Dr. Benford.

Yes.

And I told her about my...

uh... what I saw on the towpath.

And did you talk to them
about anything else?

Anyone here, say?

Like who?

Well...

you remember that
little conversation I had

with Dr. Benford?

You were both laughing--

Do you remember?

On the staircase.

(women laughing)
Perhaps I seemed
a little funny.

What...
A little cross, heavy...

What's funny?

(laughing)
Nothing.

Oh, really?

It seemed quite funny.

No, no, I assure you.

Do you?

Well, then I am assured,
aren't I?

(exhales)

♪ ♪

(both chuckle,
footsteps descending)

Did you mention that
at all?

(soft chuckle)

No.

No.

Well, that's good.

(cries out)

(struggled screaming)

(grunting)

(gasping for breath)

(door opens)

THURSDAY:
Strange!

(ragged breathing, grunting)

THURSDAY:
You're all right.

You're all right.
You okay?

(panting)

(people talking in background,
siren blaring in distance)

MORSE:
So, did Molly Andrews
threaten to expose

what was going on
between you to your wife?

Is that why you killed her?

Square.

MORSE:
She was blackmailing you,

so you strangled her
the way you

tried to strangle Jenny Tate.

What?

Molly?

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

What happened between
me and Naomi was nothing to do

with anything else.

No more lies, professor.

You'll never breathe
free air again.

Why don't you come clean?

Get it off your chest.

You must have hated her
with a passion.

Hate Naomi?

I didn't hate her.

Quite the opposite.

I had feelings for her.

And she gave me reason to
believe they were reciprocated.

You know, it's...
it's little things.

Shy glances held
a moment too long.

Young woman like that,

what would she want
with an old stick like you?

Oh, you don't know.

You've no conception.

An older man has...
experience,

wisdom.

BENFORD:
Donald, I'm...
I'm flattered, but...

I thought...

You gave me a reason to believe
you felt something for me.

I-I gave you no reason.

You took my arm.

What?

In the common room.

Did I?

(scoffs)

I suppose you'll put it
round the college now.

You can all have a...

you can all have
a jolly good laugh.

Well, I'm telling you now,
I won't be laughed at.

I won't!

I... I... I wouldn't.

I respect you too much
to ever laugh.

She had a lovely laugh.

That's one of the things
that first drew me to her.

But, I mean,
when you think about it

it was her fault.

That's what set
the whole thing in motion,

the end of it.

(soft chuckle)

(paper rustling)

Donald.

(scoffs)
I gave you a chance!

Here.

To make something of yourself.

I give you a chance and...

you used me.

Used you how?

You know, I am infinitely
more qualified

for that television thing
than you.

It was me first mentioned
your name to them.

I thought you might make
a good assistant!

That's what this is about?

Your bruised ego?

A woman beat you to the job,
and you can't stand it.

(scoffs)

You're pathetic.

Where do you think
you're going?

I'm going home, Donald.

You'll stay here
until I'm finished with you!

I just want a kiss.

No! No!
Kiss me.

What are you doing?
Get off me!

I would have changed my life...

burnt all this

to the ground!
Please. Please!

Please!
(screaming)

(loud thud)

She could have been something,
you know?

Really been something.

She was more than something.

She was someone.

Is that how it went
with Molly Andrews?

You became fixated with her,
the same way you were

fixated on Dr. Benford?

Did she reject your unwanted
advances in the same way?

Is that why you killed her?

♪ ♪

(glass clinking, pouring liquid)

(knocking)

I'm off.

Drink?

Um...

I won't this evening.

You were right, then.

And I was wrong.

It wasn't the boyfriend.

(exhales)

Well, don't feel too bad
about it.

Sometimes you can't see
what's staring you in the face.

We got there in the end.

That's the main thing.

See you tomorrow.

(people talking in background)

You made it!
(soft chuckle)

How's the case?
Did you get your man?

Yeah, it looks that way.

Congratulations.

(chuckles)
Thank you.

Say, this is quite the place.

Let me get you a top up.

Sure.
Now make yourself at home.

Enjoy the garden, relax,
I'll find you

and you can tell me
all about it.

(people talking and laughing
in background)

Cheers!
Cheers!

(glasses clinking)

My wife's been having
these people round.

Faith healers
they call themselves.

They perform this...

"laying on of hands"
they call it.

Touching her body
while prayers are said.

She says it won't work
unless

one believes.

Do you believe?

Well, I can't say I've ever had
much use for it

in civilian life
outside of court, of course.

We weren't Bible raised.

Can it work, do you think?

Beyond me, sir.

For some people...
believing's enough.

What they say?

"Faith can move mountains."

If it gives her comfort.

Yes. Yes!

That's... that's
the important thing--

Comfort, hope.

But I worry, do you see?

What if there is a chance
it can work

and my want of faith...

♪ ♪

(people talking and laughing
in background)

(water rushing)

(exhales)

♪ ♪

(soft chuckle)

Morse.

Come and meet my wife.

♪ ♪

(birds squawking)

(inhaling, exhaling)

♪ ♪

(blade sings)

(body thuds)

♪ ♪