All language subtitles for A Touch Of Cloth s01e01e02.eng

Hey, you men watch QI last night?
Yeah, bro, that Stephen Fry's a bad man.

Nah, I studied
for my harpsichord lesson, innit?

Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Go away.

I said go away.

Nobody home.

All right! I'm coming!

'This is Maniac FM, the
number one station for psychopaths

'tenderly stroking potential murder
weapons in dimly lit lairs, nationwide.'

'And now to get you in the mood,

'here's the new single from JLS.'

All right, Grandad?
What's in the bag?

Hey, what's in the bag, Grandad?

Come on, battyboy,
tell us about World War II.

What would you know
about World War II?

Hey, bruv, I seen the film.

Tom Hanks done more than you, bruv.
He'd shank you in your eye.

And he done Forrest Gump.
Hanks makes you look like a pussy.

An old pussy. Two old pussies.

- Nah, nah, I got it.
- Three old pussies!

Three old pussies
with a shopping bag.

Pussy. I'm gonna call the police
when I get in.

You do that and you're dead, yeah?
Dead, you stupid old man!

Dead... like this...

Grandad.

Heh-heh.

You're dead, Granddad!

The silly old man got a cat!

Yes, King, I... I've got your dinner.

Now, don't you worry.

Come on. Come on, there's a good boy.

Who's there?

Oh, God. God, no.

No!

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Inspector Jack Cloth?

Who wants to know?
Anne Oldman.

So, where is he?

Anne Oldman, your new DC.

My new DC's not an old man.

It's some top-of-her-class
Hendon graduate,

all tits and ambition,

from what I've heard.
I'm DC Anne Oldman.

Here's a close-up of my credentials.

Boys down the station
gave me your address.

Come in.

Why are you here, Oldman?

Old-man, sir.
What?

It's pronounced, "Old man".
Why are you here, Oldman?

Murder on the Rundowne Estate.
Victim was a decorated war hero.

Dunkirk, apparently.

An old man? Yes.

Why didn't you just ring?

We did, but your phone must have
been...

off.

So, the ACC sent you?

ACC and the DAC, SO's OS
so they need us ASAP.

CCTV? DNA?

N-O. VSU's gone AWOL.

OMFG.

SH1T.

I hear our beloved
Assistant Chief Constable Tom Boss

has been grooming you for some time.

Never trust anyone
you meet on the Internet.

He sounded impatient.
Said he'd meet us at the scene.

Then let's just cut
to you driving a car.

Preventable killing, over.
Repeat, preventable killing, over.

This guy looks
uncompromising, innit?

Yeah, troubled, yeah.
All haunted and shit.

Looks like the type of guy
don't trust his new partner yet.

Bet he does a little skip in a
minute. Yeah!

Victim's an Albert Thomas Stafford,
World War II veteran.

85 years old. Not been seen all
week. Lived alone. One cat.

Liked On Golden Pond. Partial to
Soreen malt loaf, lightly toasted with butter.

Collected autographed photos

of former Daily Mirror editor
and CNN irritant Piers Morgan.

Rarely used public transport.

Preferred to get around by walking,
which he did by placing one foot on the ground

before transferring his weight
to the opposing leg.

Kept himself to himself. Never been
found dead before, so this is out of character.

Eurgh. Oh, God.

Useful tip,
keep your hands in your pockets.

Reduces the temptation
to touch things.

Glove, sir.

Someone turn that off!

He'd been out shopping.

Receipts indicate several purchases
at the local pet shop.

Any leads?
No.

Just catnip and a flea collar.

And several... of these. Ten for
the price of five at Ryman's.

Where's the body?

In the living room.

Sir?

You'll need a strong stomach.

It's like a crime scene in there.

Oh! Mary, mother-of-pearl.

- Over here, Oldmun.
- Oldman.

Not any more.

What happened to you,
Albert Stafford?

He can't tell you. He's dead, sir.

ARGH!

Oh! Oh! Oh!

What have we got, Natasha?

Between us? Yeah.

An implied but never openly
referenced sexual history

and the suggestion of unfinished
business.

And him?

Not my type.
I like my men like my coffee.

Bitter.

And not half-eaten by cats.

Albert's had been feasting on him
for at least a week.

A hungry pussy with an insatiable
appetite for the older man.

You've come across one of those
before, haven't you, Jack?

Boys down the station just rang.
Chief's on his way.

Who's the talking shape?

DC Oldmun. Oldman.

Natasha Sachet, Forensics and Hair.
Hi.

Thanks, but I don't shake.

I'll be out here if you need me,
Jack.

First name terms?

I remember when you used
to call me Jack, Jack.

Did Albert Stafford die quickly?

Eventually, yeah.
By the looks of those streaks,

it was a sustained and
frenzied attack without mercy or toilet breaks.

Weapon? ..Yes. But you'll know more
when you get him to the mortuary.

Of course. But I can tell you
one thing right away.

Only a maniac could carry this out.

Let's find a maniac
to carry this out!

Any prints?

Only Purple Rain and Lovesexy.

That the girl who found him?
Granddaughter.

Attractive, but devastated.

Hairihan? Go check the neighbours,
see if they heard anything.

Yes, guv.

Albert would have
put up one hell of a fight.

He was quite the soldier,
by the looks of it.

He did his bit during World War II.
It's a tragedy how it ended.

The Nuremberg trials.

Eking out his final days
as a prisoner in his own home,

just cat litter and memories
for company.

And that singing fish.

Well, let's hope its song
brought him solace in his final days.

Touching, Cloth.

Don't you have a pen to push, Boss?
Assistant Chief Constable Tom Boss.

And while we're talking numbers,
congratulations.

This is the 100th murder this year
on the Rundowne Estate.

The stats match your attitude.
Negative.

Or what the Danish call "negativ".

Thanks to you, the entire department
is losing face, Cloth.

If you want neat results,
get a Ladyshave for Christmas.

If you want police work,
let me do my job.

What I don't want is words.

I've heard all the words there are
to hear, from dyspepsia to lemonade,

and they're just sounds you make
with your lips, inconsequential mouth farts.

I need results, Cloth.

What the French call resulte.
Is that the granddaughter?

Yes, sir.

I'm sorry for your loss, Miss.

If it's any consolation,
you really are extremely attractive.

Guv, got a witness statement.

Woman next door saw some lads
giving Albert shit-mouth

the night he was last seen.

Says the ringleader's
a right bum-rat.

Does this bum-rat
have a name?

Darren Crossway.
Goes by the street name Crossbo.

We'd better catch this Crossbo
before he bolts.

It's all about targets for you, huh?

I want Crossway's arrest report
on my table by 2pm.

But... On my table, Cloth.

Hey. We're looking for Crossbo.
You know him?

A'ight?

Where does he hang out?

Datdere Yute Club.

Right.

Crossbo?
Me no Crossbo. You dreamin'?

Where can we find him?

That's some chung gyal
you got with you, man.

You ever go nup on that ting?

Bare peng!

You feelin' me?

Your feedback is noted.
Now, where is Crossbo?

You making a friend? Dizzy wasteman!

Fix sumting I done a bit?

Crossbo bloodren tight.

Me no chat to no roz clat
bomb clat beesfed gel dem!

What?

Guv?

You Crossbo?

No, not me.

Why look when I call his name?
You in love with him or something?

Watch your mouth, bruv.

Why don't you watch it for me?
Down the station?

Oi!

Oi!

Oi!

You're nicked.

All right, all right.
Flippin' hell, man.

Ough!

Interview Room B4.
Friday 22nd June, 12.20 pm.

Present are myself, DI Jack Cloth,
DC Anne Oldman, WPC Cardboard Cutout.

Suspect Darren Crossway.

And Noodles P Hound.

Later we'll have music
from Jessie J and The Wanted.

But we start by asking Darren
Crossway why he murdered a defenceless old man.

No comment. For the benefit of the
tape, the suspect has confessed all.

I'm innocent.

Does The Guildford Four mean anything
to you? Because that's what he said.

I never even saw no Albert Stafford,
man.

Then let me refresh your memory.

That is Albert Stafford
on his 85th birthday last year.

Here's a picture from this morning.

Jesus.
I don't need to see that, man.

That's one of the last things
Albert Stafford saw before he died.

And here's what we saw of Albert
Stafford.

That's disgusting.

You think so? Have another.

Huh? Not a pretty sight, is it?

Take him away, please! Do you not
want to have a closer look?

Huh? There you go!

Here's a jar of Albert Stafford's
blood.

Go on, smell it! Smell it!
Sir!

For the purposes of the tape, he
is sniffing blood like a jackal!

You're crazy, man!
Do you wanna drink some?

Here, have a drink.

What about dunking
one of his fingers into it?

Sir, that's enough!

You disgust me!

You taunted Albert Stafford,
he said he'd call the police!

So you got rid of him, hacked him
to bits like a marmalade bus!

I dunno what you're talking about!
Neither do I! That's enough!

For the benefit of the tape,
Noodles P Hound is licking blood off his bollocks.

Impressive fireworks, Cloth.

But why haven't we charged him yet?
The boy's not our man.

He's just a kid.

Even a burn-out like you knows
he's as guilty as Derek Bentley.

Supposing he did do it.
What if he didn't?

Well, charge him anyway.

You know it'll never stand up
in court.

I said charge him, Cloth.

And then I walked out of the room.

Hello.

Hello.

Hello.

Hello.

Boys down the station
said I'd find you here.

Yeah, I always come here
when we lock up an innocent man.

Helps me forget everything.

You're in here a lot, then?

No idea. Your post, Jack.

Don't just stand there.
Get the lady a drink, Gerry.

The lady's on duty. An orange juice.

Sorry.

'Hey, hon, great news.'

The meeting with the adoption
agency's been confirmed.

We'd better start
decorating that spare room.

Great. That's great.

Oh, and the wedding invites

are ready to go. They look fab.

Brilliant,

fantastic.

Tell me you love me.

'Come on, just say it, Oldman.'
I do.

'Just say it. Say, "I love you."
Nobody's listening.'

Me too.

Fiancee.
Good luck holding on to him.

I'm doing my best.

This job doesn't respect
relationships. It vandalises them.

We're the thin blue line helping the
public sleep soundly in their beds.

We wind up sleeping alone.

Public gets a good-night kiss
from their beloved.

We sit bathed
in the cold light of a laptop,

masturbating to online pornography
and wiping our hands...

You had a wife, didn't you, guv?
Says who?

Boys down the station. They say
she was your life... I mean wife.

They say she was your wife.
Do they?

Jack? Don't "Jack" me.

You don't know me.
Eat your orange juice.

OK! I did it!
Ow! I did it!

No-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o...!

They want to fix that mirror.

What is it? Message from Boss.
There's been another murder.

Wants us to head over there
during the ad break.

What?
Nah, I didn't understand it either.

Victim's name
is Aiden Matthew Hawkchurch.

Successful chef. 39 years old.

Six foot, 180 pounds.

Got his own TV show
now in its fourth season.

Been married for 13 years -
all in a row.

Lives in this house.
Estimated resale value 1.9 million.

Desirable catchment area.

Would suit professional couple
or recently murdered man.

Black front door. Entrance hallway.

Orla Kiely stem-print doormat,
recommended retail price 29.99.

Six-peg coat at price unknown.

Walnut frame mirror, purchased 2006.

Grieving widow Clare Hawkchurch.

37. GSOH.

Sagittarius. 34C.

Where's the body?

Upstairs in the bedroom.

Christ and Londis!

From high-flying chef
to bed-bound human casserole.

What happened to you,
Aiden Hawkchurch?

He can't hear you, Jack.
His eardrums are full of blood.

They handcuffed him to the bed
and hacked him to bits.

Some kind of sex game?

Maybe later
when I finish pointing at blood.

The quantity of spray suggests
his heart was still pumping

when his carotid was severed.

What, he was alive
when they cut him up?

Until he died, yeah.

You see those spatters?
He was moving.

Lying there, horrified,
writhing on the bed

watching his own life fluids
splash against the wall.

Usually best to try
and catch it in a sock.

What kind of animal would do this?

Wielding the weapon required
opposable thumbs, so almost certainly Homo sapiens.

An athletic one, too.

Those streaks show our killer
has one hell of a back swing.

And no respect for plasterwork.

Anything else?

Well, it's not relevant
but it's interesting.

A bloodstain resembling
Ross Kemp in silhouette.

I'd say Ian Hislop.

And I'd say Kemp. Guv?

I think you might want to see this.

Keep looking.

Let's talk to the wife,
see if she can... light some shed.

I can't believe it.

Aiden is...

was...

everything to me.

Can you tell us what happened?

We are... were...

having roast lamb tonight.

Aiden was preparing it, naturally.

He asked me to pop out to the shops
to buy some herbs.

Time? Coriander.

When did you return?
Just before one, I think.

'Aiden, I'm back.

'It's just before one, I think.

'Aiden?'

He didn't respond when I said Aiden,
which struck me as odd, because...

that is... was...

his name.

I climbed the stairs saying...

'Aiden?'

a few more times...

'Aiden?'

Like that.

Then I asked if he was
playing a trick on me.

'Are you playing a joke on me?'

My mistake.

I said joke.

Then I pushed open the bedroom door.

There's a knack to it. You have to
lift the handle as you turn it.

'There you go. Thanks.'

'Aiden! Aiden!

'Aiden! Aiden!'

Oh, Aiden! Oh!

Oh, no!

Would you like a cup of tea,
Mrs Hawkchurch?

Clare, can you think of anyone

who might have wanted your husband
to come to harm?

Have you seen his TV show?

It's easier to list the people
who didn't.

Go on.

Henry Kelly.

The DJ? Yes.

That's it.

Sorry. Er...

Where are the mugs?
They are...

were in the corner cupboard.

So, Aiden wasn't a popular man, then?

You can't build a restaurant empire
without breaking a few eggs, Inspector.

Aiden is...

was driven

in everything he does. Done. Did.

Here we are.

We will need to ask you
a few more questions

when you think you're up to it,
Clare.

I understand.

Something's not right there. I know.
Coriander doesn't go with lamb.

Tell me you've got a lead.

Aiden Hawkchurch made friends
like a dog flies a helicopter...

badly and not for long.

He's half as popular as
piss-flavoured birthday cake with Mussolini icing.

The world hated him. It could have
been anyone! Checked his contacts?

Anyone he stiffed on a deal,
snubbed with a recipe?

Don't you need to be somewhere -
teaching your granny to suck eggs?

Mock me if you must,
but the bodies keep washing up.

Whatever. Washing up, Cloth!

Oldman.

Keep an eye on him for me,

tell me if he bends any corners,
cuts any rules.

You want me to tell tales on him,
Boss?

I'm just saying Cloth is
frayed around the edges.

Hm? You've got the makings
of a good DI, Anne Oldman.

Don't let an old man jeopardise
that. Yeah?

I want you to keep me in the loop.

What the Germans call Das
Loopenclampf. I'm counting on you.

"Hello, Tom?"

Yes, hello, Grandma. Yeah.

Yeah, I won't be long.
About half an hour.

Don't let them hard-boil.

A man as unpopular as Aiden
Hawkchurch,

must be a million suspects.

'Now I'm delighted to say

'we've just heard that the celebrity
chef Aiden Hawkchurch

'has been murdered!'

A million and one.

Go the back way. Guv.

'Day 306 in the Pan
Academy, and Aiden isn't happy

'when Amy drops a spatula.'

'Pick it up... with your
teeth. Put it in your mouth!

'(BEEP) stand up! That's it!'

Whatever happened to chivalry?
She got voted out in week three.

'Do you want some?
Do you want some?

'(BEEP) Come here! Come here!'

Wait, the best bit's coming up.

He blinds a pregnant woman
with a corkscrew.

'I do not forgive!
I do not (BEEP) forgive!'

We won't find our motive in there.
He's frightening people.

Exactly. Fear isn't a motive.

Sex. That's a motive.

Put a corpse in front of me,
the first thing I do is consider sex.

This job's damaged you, hasn't it?

Guv? Natasha rang from the mortuary.
Says it's big.

I know it is. I've been there.
Well, she wants us there again.

When? Now.

Natasha?

Cloth?

I see your trainee's still with you.
How sweet.

How professional.

Kemp. Hislop. Cow. Bitch.

What have you found out?

It's worse than I thought, Jack.

Hawkchurch didn't die of blood loss.
He died of fright.

And blood loss.

You've reassembled him.

Simplest way
to find out what's missing.

I've been disappointed in the past,

finding out a man hasn't quite got
everything you'd hoped.

Like a penis? Hell, yeah.

Hawkchurch had one? Yes.

Where is it? Being analysed.

Analysed where? In a place.

The way he was handcuffed,
any sign of sexual activity?

According to facial swabs,
he'd recently performed cunnilingus.

Where's the tongue?
Yeah, it does. Doesn't it, Jack?

Anything else of note? Mm, yeah.

His stomach contained
a laminated pear.

There's only one restaurant
that serves laminated pear,

and Adrian Hawkchurch owns it.

I'll call them.

Well, surely with him in this state,
it's closed.

I mean, look,
he couldn't hold a ladle.

Guv?

I think you might want to see this.

Get a sketch drawn up.

What did the restaurant say?
Nothing. It's a building. No larynx.

But the staff were helpful.

They biked the last 48 hours
of CCTV over to the tech lab.

Qureshi's running it through the
computer.

Ah, I don't believe in computers.
They do exist.

Did you read that on the Internet,
whatever that is?

You're a relic, do you know that?

An antique of a bygone era like
MySpace or The News Of The World.

I've got a MySpace page
like everybody else.

No-one's had a MySpace page
since '78.

You live in the past, guv.
It's affecting your work.

Answer that. They're irritating!

Hello?

The adoption woman's here. 'Shit.'

Can you talk to her on your own?

We're meant to be a couple,
like any other couple.

We are.

Slightly more interesting
than a standard couple, granted, but a couple.

But there's three of us,
aren't there?

Me, you and that bloody job.

Gemma, I'm sorry.
It's not good enough, Oldman!

Aiden?

Back for more, like a bad boy?

The water's getting cold.

Aiden?

You're not Aiden.

'Segue FM with a news update.

'The body of a woman has been
discovered in St Pope's Forest.

'Police have appealed for witnesses

'and asked the public
not to turn up at the scene,

'and stand around staring
like ghoulish meerkats

'hoping for a glimpse of a dead leg.'

Victim's a Gavina Duntish,
female, 32.

Body was found near a quickset
hedgerow by an elderly couple walking their dog.

Distinguishing features? Four legs,
tail, mottled hindquarters.

Plays well with children.
Vaccinations up to date.

Answers to the name Poppy.

Where's the crime scene?
Through here.

Time of death
has yet to be firmly established.

She was found unclothed.

Natasha's had her team working
on the body for the past hour.

Great Susan of Nazareth!

Natasha?

Jack.

If I'd known you were coming,
I'd have dressed for the occasion.

That's enough for now.

Brought your pet, then?

This is the body
that you wanted us to see?

Clear signs of neglect. Funny.

I'd heard you appreciate
the female form.

Prick. Shithead.

Where's Gavina? Over here.

She was snatched from her bath,
attacked with a bladed weapon, probably a sword, and dumped here.

Thrown away like so much rubbish.

Even sorted for recycling. Torso.

Extremities. Mushy bits.

Found this in her stomach.

It's a bill from the restaurant
of Aiden Hawkchurch.

First laminated pear and now this.

What sort of mad crap
did they serve there?

That's great, Des, thanks.

Hairihan rang in some exposition.

They're bringing in Clare
Hawkchurch.

OK, great. Excuse me! Can I help you?

They said something
had happened to Gavina.

I'm her father.
I came as soon as I heard.

It's a condition I've got.
Sudden shock induces orgasm.

I mopped myself down and drove
straight over. Is she all right?

I'm afraid your daughter is dead.

Ooh... Ah... Mmm...

Come again? Yeah.

Let's get a sock over here!
Clean him up, take him to the mortuary.

He's not dead, guv.

To identify the body!

Come on. Sock, quick!

Couple of 999s. Sure.

Can I have a little nap now?
Of course you can.

I've seen every reaction in the
book, and that was my favourite.

We don't have time
to congratulate the grieving,

not when there's
a Clare Hawkchurch to question.

I've been thinking. No, you haven't.
I think I should question her alone.

An arsehole says what?

The last time you questioned
a suspect, you lost control, Jack.

I can't trust you in there.
You might do something crazy.

Like rip her eye out and eat it?

Like raise your voice.

Let me handle her, Jack, please.

Come on, Clare, stop playing games.

Cutout, step out for a minute,
will you?

Aiden and Gavina were having an
affair.

You suspected as much
and, by God, it made you angry.

Ridiculous.

This is a bill from the opening
night of Aiden's restaurant,

stuffed in Gavina's mouth. You fed
it to her and then killed her.

I didn't.

All those nights
he stayed late at the restaurant

while you sat alone
imagining them together.

No. Her unbuttoning his shirt.

His strong hand hitching up her
skirt, revealing a vulnerable thigh.

A flurry of undressing,
and he's naked on his back.

Her topless astride him,

grinding her silk-clad sex
against his stiffening manhood.

She leans forward,
her breasts teasing him,

his tongue greedily circling
the nipple.

Go away.

His hand down her back,
slipping his fingertips into the hem of her knickers,

pulling them down
as he turns her onto her back, easing open her soft...

Sorry, guv. Can I have a word?

Go on.

CCTV showing Clare leaving Gavina's
place four days ago.

Yes!

I could kiss you, Asap.
You're all right, sir.

And in and out and in and out.

And in and out and in and out!

And in and out, and in and out.

And in and out!
And in and out, and in and out.

You made a good fist of it
but you can't pull this off.

Something's up, and everyone
in this room can see what it is.

What are you talking about?

What were you doing at Gavina's
house?

I was always going round there.
She was my friend too.

We all met at the same time.

All 12 of us.

All 12?

On the jury.

What jury? When was this?

Well, it was years ago.

But I still remember the details
as if it were yesterday.

'It was 1996.

'- 1996?
- 'Yes.

'You're absolutely sure it
was... It was 1996.

'Those TV nostalgia programmes
were all the rage.

'I spent all my time at home
watching them.

'Until the letter arrived.

'Jury service.

'A murder trial.'

Because of the condition of the
body...

'Aiden and I hit it off
straight away.'

The victim had been
repeatedly stabbed with a jagged blade,

possibly a hunting knife,

causing extensive serration trauma
to the kidneys and what was left of the spleen.

Brain matter was also retrieved
from the stomach of the Alsatian,

which was found shot next to the
victim.

And both bodies... both bodies
exhibited advanced putrefaction.

The eyeballs were entirely liquefied
and had been consumed by maggots.

That doesn't sound very...
appropriate, Mrs Hawkchurch.

Yes, well, we had to put up with
plenty of disapproval in the jury room too.

'I mean, Davina didn't care.

'But there was this old guy always
tutting.

'Even when we weren't having full
sex.'

But the point is he'd been shot.

People in courtrooms can be so
judgmental.

But the killer...

What's his name, that old man?

Let's get back to where you were...
Albert.

That's it.

Albert Stafford.

Albert Stafford.

Our martyred war hero.

Albert Stafford.

Davina.

Aiden Hawkchurch.

All members of the same jury.

Murdered.

Who was the defendant?
What? In the trial in '96.

Oh.

Um...

Bradstock!

That was his surname.
His first name was, um...

Burton! Burton and Bradstock.

Burton Bradstock.

Clare Hawkchurch is in the clear

but someone's killing former
jurors on the Bradstock case.

I'll speak to the boys down the
station, see what the boys down the station are saying.

Yeah, good. Des, we need everything
on Burton Bradstock. Case, files, trial reports. Sound, guv.

And pull the names and addresses of
every juror on that case.

We need to get them into a safe
house. Clare Hawkchurch too. Asap.

Yes, guv. Asap, get me some kind
of a sandwich.

Cheese and pickle?
Yeah. No, cast the net wider.

Coronation chicken. Ciabatta, if you
have to. Let's think on your feet.

I'm on it, guv.

Yeah, the boys down the station.

So there's a link between
our three victims. No, thanks.

Three victims?
That's right.

Would you explain it like I'm some
sort of viewer, guv?

It's simple, Des.

Albert Stafford served on
the Bradstock jury. Someone's bumping them off.

I say we're dealing with a
serial killer.

What we need is...

proof.

Starts with? Oldmun?

Oldman. Albert Stafford.

Served on a jury with Aiden
and Clare Hawkchurch.

And Gavina Duntish.
Burton Bradstock case.

What do we have on Bradstock?

Er... Burton Bradstock.
Jailed '96 for killing his wife.

Released three weeks ago
for not doing it since.

Albert Stafford was murdered
two weeks and six days ago.

So Bradstock is our prime suspect.
Where's that list of jurors?

Boys down the station
say it's not on the system.

It's in the paperwork somewhere but
there's a lot of it.

Oh!

Do a lot of late nights?

Nothing much to rush home for.

I told you I'm working.

Yes, it's important.

Yeah, fine, whatever. Gemma?

No, Gemma...

Gemma? Short for Jeremy?

No.

Gemathon?
No.

Gemadict?
No.

It's Gemma as in... Gemma.

So, you're gay?
Bi, Jack.

No, don't go. It's none of my
business.

I'm bisexual, Jack. I'm not ashamed.

I just thought you'd be...

I don't know.

Shocked.
Nothing shocks me.

A female detective that
swings both ways.

An AC/DC DC. See?

It's the sort of thing the boys down
the station joke about.

I'm not laughing. I haven't laughed
since my wife died.

Why did you laugh when your
wife died?

Oh, I didn't. I made a sound,
I think, but it wasn't laughter.

It was...

something else.

Like a bassoon?

I lost my mind that night.

I can see it.

I can still see it.

Jack?

Jack!

No-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o...!

Jack. Jack. Jack.

Jack? I've found a list. A list
of jurors. A list of jurors from the Bradstock trial.

It's written in some kind of
a... code.

Upside-down writing. We learnt it at
the academy. Here.

All these people are in danger.
Start dispatching officers.

Wherever these people are, whatever
they're doing these days,

we round them up now.

Yes?
Andrew Preacherman?

DC Qureshi. Can you come
with me, please?

What for?

I'll explain on the way to the
station.

Guv? It's me.

Des. Yeah, yeah.

Jurors are in the safe house.

Yeah, WPC Cutout's gonna
be keeping an eye on them.

Oh. And, guv, Natasha rang.

She's run some tests. Turns out
Albert Stafford was killed with a sword.

Same murder weapon
used on Aiden and Gavina.

Yeah. Yeah, she did tell you
earlier but that scene got cut.

So, just to clarify,

the key thing is all the victims were
killed with the same weapon,

which was a sword.

Apparently, that's important.

All victims, same weapon, sword.

Just so you know.

Good work, Des. Bye, love you.

Well, they're out of harm's
way for now.

Bradstock's still out there just
walking around like a man.

We're gonna have to find him
somehow.

Public appeal?
Not to me.

So, if anyone has any information
regarding Burton Bradstock's whereabouts,

they can call our incident room
in total confidence.

OK, I'll take your questions
now.

Judith Chandler, The Independent.

Do you have a personal message
for Burton Bradstock himself?

If I had one thing to say to him
it's, "Stop killing people." OK, next?

Robin Stork, Birdwatching Now. Were
there any birds found at the scene?

No.

Woman with the hair?
Jemima Symes, Rhyming Times.

Were the victims gored
with a type of sword?

Well, that's one line of enquiry.

Which you can... put in your diary.

Right, well,
I think that's enough for now.

Dick Hasty, The Interrupter.
Why are you trying to wrap up this press conference?

That's really all I have to say.
Mark Down, Market Trader.

Do you want to buy this Dictaphone?
No.

Conor Tinuity, Lexington Inquisitor.
Where are you going now?

To see a retired former
detective raking leaves in his garden.

Is that enough for you?
Will he have gloves on?

Yes. What colour? Blue!

Satisfied?

Cloth? Detective Inspector Cloth,
these days.

They made you a DI?

Wonders never cease.

Good to see you, DCI Ball.
Oh, call me Bill now, Jack.

I didn't have you down
as the gardening type.

Oh, compared to the old days
it's genteel.

I like that.

Still, I caution the odd starling now
and again for old times' sake.

Heh. But mainly I tend the plants.

But I guess you haven't come here for
gardening tips, have you, Jack?

What do you remember about the
Burton Bradstock case, Bill?

That's a name
I hoped I'd never hear again.

You didn't see my appeal
on the news, then?

No.
Or the one on Crimewatch?

No.

Or Paul O'Grady?
No.

Or Made In Chelsea?
No.

Or Total Wipeout?
I don't have a television, Jack.

Bradstock's out, Bill. We need
to know where he is.

Oh, forget about it, Jack.

Some things are best left
in the past.

Like smallpox, and the Macarena.

You ran the investigation, Bill.

Anything that you can tell us
might help.

It was high profile.

A young woman was killed in
Coldblood.

At the time, Coldblood was a quiet
little village.

Everyone was up in Arms. Arms was
the town where they were based.

We needed a result fast.

Burton Bradstock was the fall guy.

Lee Majors was The Fall Guy.
Not this time.

We embellished a few witness
statements, lost some evidence.

Mimicked the DNA sequence
with a nucleotide fabricator.

Burton Bradstock went down.
Everyone was happy.

Oh, Jesus, Bill!
Don't judge me, Jack.

It was 1996, for God's sake.

Babylon Zoo were number one
for five weeks.

People needed hope. We gave it
to them.

By framing an innocent man?

No wonder Bradstock's out
for vengeance.

You'd better watch out for
yourself, Bill.

Don't you worry about me, Jack.

I always keep my eyes open.

Bradstock's out for revenge. Killing
jurors is just the start of it.

Oldmun?
Oldman. Yes, guv.

You and Hairihan check the cheap
hotels, the flophouses, the shit caves,

anywhere he used to hang out.

Use a montage if you have to.
Just find 'im.

You seen this man?

Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!

Yes! Yes!

Yes! Yes! Yes!

No!

Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!

All right, girls? Have any of you
seen this bloke?

No. OK.

Anne.

This is the hardest thing
I've ever had to say.

I've tried so hard to make
things work but I can't go on.

You live for the job.

It's like I don't exist.

Even now as I'm saying this,
you're not even listening,

You're just standing there
staring at a sheet of paper,

thinking about the boys down
the station.

Did this note come from
the boys down the station?

I can't do this any more.

Pick up suitcases?

Carry on with this relationship.

You'll have to do it alone
from now on.

I'll always love you, Oldman.

Gemma, wait.

Have you seen this man?

Jack, where are you?

Listen, we've got a lead on
Bradstock. You'd better get over here. I'm on my way.

Seems the appeal worked.
Anonymous tip-off.

A man in a distinctive red hoodie
matching Bradstock's description

was seen hanging around here over
the last couple of days.

Do it.

Des, stop that.

Put that torch on silent.

Oh, sorry, guv.

Guv?

I think you might want to see this.

Keep looking.

Looks like some kind of...

shrine.

What sort of sick mind creates a
shrine to Todd Carty?

What are you doing in my lockup?

This is your lockup?

Yeah, I store chains. Art.

My scrapbook here.

I think there's been some kind
of mistake.

Boys down the station say someone
matching Bradstock's description

has just been spotted
down the Eastridge Mall.

Let's go.

Des?
Yeah, just coming.

Oldman, anything?

Nothing, guv.

Asap?

Negative.

Dick?

Got him, sir. Distinctive red hoodie
heading north on the main entrance.

Julie, he's coming to you.
Pick him up.

Got him, guv. Following.

Distinctive red hoodie. He's
heading down the escalator to the lower level.

Not too close, Julie.
Will do, guv.

Todd, try to pick him up downstairs.

Got him. Red hoodie coming down the
escalator to the lower level.

Des, have you got him?

Des?

Mm?

All right, Todd, where is he?

Heading towards the caff on the far
side. I think he's on to us.

OK, back off, back off.

Pete, see if you can pick him up.

Following, sir.

Stick with him, Pete, but be
discreet. Yeah, roger that, guv.

He's going under the limbo pole,
sir. What do you want me to do?

Follow him. Follow him.

OK.

Oi! Oi!

Damn it! All teams, go, go,
go! Pick him up!

That's enough, Todd! Enough!

Todd!
Hey, hey, hey, hey!

Burton Bradstock,
I arrest you on suspicion of...

not being you.

Damn it!

This is where you got the hoodie?
Yeah.

Where, exactly?

Bradstock.

Heroin export. Looks like he drank
himself to death.

Qureshi, get this sealed off.
Guv.

Carty, call Natasha in Forensics. We
need to establish a time of death.

Yes, sir.

Pete, go and inform the next of kin.
Yes, sir.

More sterling police work, Cloth?

It seems the only way
you can catch a suspect

is when he stops running in favour
of a nice lie-down and a rot.

By the look of Bradstock,
he didn't kill Gavina Duntish.

She's been dead at least 48 hours.

Well, then, I suggest
you find out who did kill her

before you're left completely
in the dust.

But... The dust, Cloth.

Yes, Boss.

I'm recommending him for suspension.

I trust I can count on your support?
He's a good man, sir.

Like I said, I trust I can count on
your support?

Have a relative identify
Bradstock's body.

And don't breathe in for a moment.
I've just been eating Scotch eggs.

If it wasn't Bradstock,
it was someone else.

Let's go back through what we know,
starting with the jury. Albert Stafford.

We think he's been knifed.
Turns out to be a sword.

Aiden Hawkchurch was handcuffed and
hacked apart with the same weapon. Ditto, Gavina Duntish.

All of them swiped at, apparently at
random, by someone wielding a sword.

Who swipes at people randomly
with a sword?

George Alagiah?

Lady Justice, sword in one hand,
scales in the other.

And a blindfold.
Blindfold?

Our killer's administering
blind justice.

Bullshit.

Yeah, but it's more specific
than that.

Must have been planned for
some time.

That receipt in Gavina's mouth
was two years old.

So, he's trying to send us a
message?

Why don't they just text?
Out of credit?

The apostles.
They're killing the apostles.

Albert's middle name is Thomas.
Aiden's is Matthew. Gavina is...

Not an apostle.
Not yet.

It makes no sense. It's not the
apostles. Anyway, that's been done.

Wait.

Hawkchurch's stomach contained
laminated pear, right?

Yeah.

On the first day of Christmas,
my true love gave to me...

a partridge in a pear tree.
Mm-hm.

On the second day of Christmas, two
turtle doves. Doves are the symbol of peace.

Aiden Hawkchurch was found
in pieces!

Yeah, but how can they...
Three French hens!

What if Gavina Duntish
went on a day trip to Calais?

I say give it up.

So, any other theories?

Mega hits of the '80s?

What about favourite Mr Men?

Work it up.

Jack.

Yes?
Jack.

Jack.

Kate! Jack.

Kate. Jack.

Kate. Jack?

Kate, where are you?
I'm in your mind.

And this toilet.

But you're dead.

When you stand in the beyond,
you see many things, Jack.

To unlock the answer, you must heed
the words of an old man.

Which old man?

Oh, you always take me so
literally.

I'd forgotten what a pain in the arse
you can be. Just tell me...

It's like that time we were
at Jacqui's wedding

and I said I wanted to strangle
her brother-in-law

and you got the arse with me.

Which old man?

Anne Oldman.

Your partner.

Aiden Hawkchurch, famous chef. So,
he's got to be Mr Greedy, right?

Albert Stafford, mithering
old sod-box, by all accounts.

So, he's Mr Grumpy.

Or Uppity.
Or Uppity.

Or Bump.
What's it got to do with Bump?

He went in the night.

OK. We'll go with Mr Bump.

Bump's safe. We're keeping Bump.

I'm sorry, Kate.

What for?

For failing you.
I never found your killer.

The answer is closer
than you think, Jack.

It's closer than you think.

Oh, can you please do something
about the bathroom cabinet?

I will.

You promised me for months. It's a
mess. You can't fit anything in.

I know. I promise.

Good.

Bye, love.

That leaves Gavina Duntish
as...

Little Miss... Murdered.

OK, I've got it! Aiden Hawkchurch
was found in handcuffs, correct?

OK, Anne, what did you say about the
receipt in Gavina Duntish's mouth?

Two years old.

It was an old bill. Old bills.
Handcuffs.

The killer is talking directly to
us, to the police.

What about Albert Stafford?

There's nothing police-related
there. Not so.

I took the amusing precaution
of dissecting the cat.

It had swallowed this,
a police-issue whistle.

Don't look so shocked.

It's not the first time I've stood
in this room clutching a dripping pussy, is it, Jack?

So, the killer is taunting us
over the Bradstock case?

Mocking the boys down the
station.

Bumping off jurors, leaving whistles
and cuffs at the scene.

Oh, my god. What if they've
got access to police records?

Like Roxanne?
Like the address of the safe house.

Crosby, Stills and Nash.

We'd better call an ambulance.

We don't need an ambulance.

We need a hearse.

And an ambulance.

Let's get an ambulance here!

Preacherman's still alive, just.

When he comes round, he might be
able to tell us who did this.

How's Cardboard Cutout doing?

Still no pulse, still not breathing.

Hairihan's talking to her family
now.

No.
Jack?

No. No!

No!
It's not your fault, Jack!

No.
It's not your fault!

There was nothing that we could do.

If we hadn't stopped at
Nando's on the way here...

Apart from that.

An entire building full of innocent
people dead because of me!

For the fifth time this year!

I can't live with that!

Jack, no!

No!
No!

No!
Don't blame yourself, Jack!

Blame whoever did this!

Blame the five minute wait
for my peri-peri halloumi.

Or blame the rain, if you have to!

Why the rain?

Because it's cold and senseless,
Jack!

Like these murders!

Because it lashes us mercilessly
like this damn job!

Because in Spain
it falls mainly on the plain!

And here it falls on all of us!

Oh!
Even you, Jack!

Oh!
Even you!

Fuck the rain!

Fuck the rain!

Fuck the rain!

Fuck the rain!

Oh!

Kate.

Kate.

Jack?

I'm coming to be with you, Kate.

Jack.
I'm coming.

- I'm coming.
- Jack?

I'm coming, Kate.

Oh, Kate! I'm coming, Kate!

Aah!
I'm coming!

What in God's tit are you
playing at?

You're coming apart
at the seams, Cloth.

Incompetence is one thing.

Now there's so much blood on his
hands, he's got scabs for fingernails.

Cloth can wrap this up, sir.
I know it.

You don't know Jack, sir.

I know he's receiving these
dismissal papers tomorrow morning.

You can't hang Cloth out to dry.

I will see you in my office at 8am.

And don't keep me waiting, Oldmun.
Oldman.

Don't keep me waiting, Oldman.

Oh, piss.

Dr Bernardi to the Almost Dead
Jurors Ward.

Dr Bernardi to the Almost Dead Jurors
Ward.

You're through to Cloth's hand.

Jack, it's me.
Where are you?

I'm with the boys down the station.
Jack, there's not a lot of time to wrap this up.

Boss is on the warpath and the
credits run in ten minutes.

Let them roll.

I'm here to see Andy Preacherman.
You can't go in there.

Yes, I can.
I'm telling you it's impossible.

And I'm telling you it's
a murder enquiry.

Mr Preacherman's through here.

Thank you.

How is he?

He can't take much strain
so go easy on him.

Mr Preacherman.

I want to ask you some
questions, if that's OK?

OK.

Do you remember who did
this to you?

Yeah... yes.

Who was it?

For Christ's sake, be careful.

Guh...

God? Do you blame God?
Gah...

Geh...

Gethin Jones. Find and kill
Gethin Jones!

Get... off...

my... pipe.

It was the policeman.

What?

The policeman put on a blindfold and
got me with a sword.

Which policeman?

The one we laughed at in court
when we were jurors.

Years ago.

I remember it like it was
happening now.

But in flashback.

He was giving evidence.

And the way he spoke, it was...

We absolutely fell about!

Just thinking about it,
honestly!

You... you probably had to be
there.

Who is he, the policeman?

It w... wa...

It... it w-w-w-w-weu-eurgh...

What's wrong with him now?
He's having an implausible relapse.

Leave. Leave now or he'll die.

Go now!

Now! Go!

Get out! Go!

Now! Go! Go!

Leave! Go!

Get out!

Go!

Go away! Go!

Get out! Go away!

Go!

To the corridor outside!

It's not about taunting the cops.
It's about a cop being taunted.

All this time, it was one of the
boys down the station.

Who was on that case?
It's got to be in the records.

Hm.

Hm.

Ah. Ah.

Guv? You might want to see this.

Bookmark it. Keep looking.

Eh?

My God.

Stop him!

Der Weisse Engel! Der Weisse Engel!

Der Weisse Engel!

Got it. Bradstock, '96.

Officer in charge of
investigation...

It's your old guv, guv.
Bill Ball.

Bill Ball? No, it can't be.

No, wait.

Ball didn't actually give evidence
at the trial. The only officer that did was...

Now it all makes sense.

So, you want me
to tell tales on him, Boss?

Just keep me in the loop.

Like I said, I trust I can count
on your support.

Would you write the address
of the safe house on this envelope for me?

Don't just stand there, Oldman. Help
me lick the blood off this sword.

Yes, what I'm doing, I'm murdering
jurors that laughed at me.

Yeah, here, let me write it on
your hand.

I just didn't put it together
until now.

So, here we are, Mr Preacherman.

It would seem that arse Cloth

has finally stumbled upon the link
between 12 men and women good and true.

Except it's true... that you weren't
very good, were you?

And I appear to have picked
up my wife's gloves again.

No matter.

Well.

So amusing, wasn't it,
Mr Preacherman?

So funny.

Responding to the call, I quickly
entered from the rear.

Er... almost immediately, I
came across

a female lying face down
on the sofa.

Um... I then pulled out
and decided not to re-enter

without taking precautions.

Um... as I did not want to
contaminate the lady's front garden.

Er... when the forensic officer
arrived...

I took her up the back passage...

which had been recently evacuated.

Er... she performed a physical
exam...

and remarked that, er... while
it was not as stiff as she had anticipated,

er... there was significant
swelling around the head,

which was purple and shiny
and had only one eye...

one eye which was leaking
a milky white...

Not funny.

If you had seen it, big...

shiny purple head,

dribbling milky white fluid
from its one dark hollow eye...

Stop laughing, eh?
Stop laughing at me, please!

Stop! I had nightmares!

Stop laughing at me!

I'm a police officer! I'll kill you!

I'll kill you all!

Just a young officer trying to
do his job.

Well.

I have one more job to do.

Yes, one more job...

before I retire.

Time for sentencing,
Mr Preacherman.

Guilty!
Oh!

Oh.
It's over, Tom. Give it up.

Switching places with my intended
victim so that I would murder you in his place?

Huh. It's a clever move, Cloth.

But I can still outsmart you
by running away.

Oh!
Oh, my god!

He's headed for Denouement Heights!

Funny to think,

not so long ago we were just over
there in Albert Stafford's flat,

with his attractive granddaughter.

Happier times, Jack.

Why did you do it, Tom?

That day in court...

the laughter.

The humiliation.

Do you have any idea what that did
to my confidence, my career?

You made Assistant Chief
Constable at 38.

You were the
fastest-promoted officer this force has ever had.

Exactly. It drove me on.

"I'll show them," I said to myself.

I worked like a dog tied to a
horse, day in, day out.

Promotions, commendations.

I hated myself for it
but I just couldn't stop.

Those bastards made my career.

Well, it's over now.

It's over for you.

You're finished, Cloth.

What the Finnish call...

fee-neeshed.

Shoot me, and I'll bleed in
your face.

Oh, always have to play the hero,
don't you, Jack?

Couldn't save your Kate,
though, could you?

What?

Yes, that's right.

It was me.

I lured her to that eerie stock
footage and prop warehouse.

Hello?

I lured her there on the night
of the officers' ball.

And I shot her.

Tom?
I shot her with a gun.

A gun full of bullets, bullets
that kill.

Tom!

And I killed her.

Do you know what she said
as the bullet went in?

Ouch.

Ouch. That's what she said.
Kate's final word.

Why did you do it? Why kill Kate?

Isn't it obvious? You were shit-hot,
Jack. You'd have been promoted above me.

I knew I had to break you.

So I killed her.

No!

I saw you at the funeral.

You were crying.

Did you feel nothing?
Only my cheeks getting damp.

But...
Damp, Cloth!

But while those crocodile tears
fibbed down my face, I was laughing inside.

Like this. Ha-ha-ha-ha.

Dead wife? Ha-ha-ha.
Bastard.

No, Jack, don't! He wants you
to rush him.

He'll shoot you.
That's what guns are for.

And he's clearly got one.

That's what's in his hand!

So what? I've got nothing to
live for.

You have!
Look at my life, Oldmun.

Oldman.
Oldman, look at my life.

I'm a lot like you were!

Idealistic.

Committed. Sanctimonious.

You can be all those things
again.

We make a lot of sacrifices in
this job, don't we?

Don't make another.

Is this going to take much longer?
I've got a man to shoot.

Think of Kate.

Think of me.

Think of the boys down the station.
Oh, stop going on about them!

No, Jack!

Oh! Jack?

Jack, I'm here!

Goodbye, Cloth.

Goodbye, Oldmun.
Oldman!

Whatever.

Jack.

Oh! Oh, Jack!

Uh.

I wondered why I put that in
there.

Come on, Jack.
Oh!

Ow!

He asked for a result.
And we gave him one.

Top work.
Well done.

Mm, yeah.

Jack, where are you going?

Home.

Jack, wait.

You live that way.

Jack, wait!

I've been fooled before,
Oldmun.

Oldman.

I've been fooled before, Oldman. I
won't be fooled a second time.

I'm not trying to fool you, Jack.

You've got a fiancee.

Not any more.

You're gay.

Bi, Jack.

Jack, wait.

Fucking hell.

Let me walk with you.

Murdered by a killer.
Arthur Killer.

This is the work of Arthur Killer.

Find Arthur Killer!
I'm on it, guv.

Guv.

Admit it, Killer! It was me.

Tell the truth! I did it!
Liar!

Tell the truth!

You're facing the sack!

But... The sack, Cloth!

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