Original subtitles

# Summertime

# And the livin' is easy. #

Amo, amas, amat?

It's Latin. "I love, you love, he loves."

The alpha beta stuff.

You learn it at 11. It never leaves you. Same with the Catechism.

He's a Catholic grammar school boy.

It's not a bank account or national insurance number.

We're checking phone numbers.

2-1-1-9-0-2. Any ideas?

Childhood.

Army number?

Army, Navy and RAF. Get on to them.

Go public.

No.

An appeal from the mother. No.

His photograph. "Does anybody recognise him?"

Are you serious? The ID evidence wouldn't be worth a carrot.

You wouldn't need it. Prove he did it, and he'll confess.

You believe that? Yes.

Then you're a pillock.

I think he might be innocent.

What?

You daren't consider it!

You've got a suspect so you're concentrating on proving he did it.

You could prove he didn't do it, but what then?

Piss off back to your clinic!

He's never worn a watch.

You ask him the time, he looks at the wall.

I noticed it when I met him.

Three weeks of sunshine, and no white mark on his wrist.

The Sweeney takes trains all the time! People who do wear a watch.

That proves he's innocent?

It proves that he could be.

Go back to your clinic, Fitz.

2-1-1-9-0-2 - a number from childhood?

Yeah.

4-3-9-6-2-1. My mum's Co-op number.

4-4-6-6-2-1.

Check the Co-op records. And find the parents!

A wonderful idea (!)

Just through here, then.

Morning, gentlemen.

Morning.

Rudy. Thank you.

She's beautiful, isn't she?

She was.

Is.

The wounds look impressive, but this one killed her.

Typical razor wound. Neat.

I'll show you what it did.

There's a bonus to this job, I keep telling my mother. A belief in God.

Bacteria toiling away in their own little organs...

with no idea of the body as a whole.

For them, only the heart exists, or the liver, or the spleen.

The organs themselves, throbbing away,...

convinced this body is an entire universe.

And then one day a knife, a cut...

and they see with blinding light the world outside the body.

Bin. Thank you.

He's gone right through the trachea and the cartilage...

totally severed the carotid artery. Death in seconds.

He did it from behind, cutting from left to right, so he's right-handed.

Wounds to the breasts. Some are from behind. She must have been alive.

Alive and standing.

See the damage to the hands.

She's put them up to protect herself, and he's hacked at them.

Then there's the body, the way it's put together. Intricacy, genius.

No accident this, it's the work of an Almighty God.

No?

No.

She was dead when he shaved her pubic hair.

Not so much as a nick.

Tender loving care.

Two blades.

We're trying to trace a man named Kelly.

Why, what's happened? Just routine.

Oh. Thomas. He disappeared.

When was this?

Oh, years ago. The seventies.

That could be him, yeah.

Know where he went? I could guess!

Holland, then Rome.

So they said!

She thinks the worst of everybody. He went to be a priest.

He got put away!

He did not, you evil-minded -

He was bit of a loner, eccentric.

He was round the twist!

His parents were upset.

After he went, they never talked about him.

You don't act that way if your son's gone to be a priest.

Who asked you to stick your oar in?

You wouldn't talk like this if they were alive!

(CHURCH BELLS)

Does it mean anything to you?

(CHURCH BELLS STILL RINGING)

HYMN: 'FAITH OF OUR FATHERS'

Is this familiar to you?

Yeah.

In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, amen.

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ...

What is it?

It's in English.

It's been in English for 20 over years.

..to celebrate the sacred mysteries, let us call to mind our sins.

ALL: I confess to Almighty God and to you, my brothers...

We've heard from the seminary in Rome.

Thomas Francis Kelly went in 1974 and left in 1976 -...

.."doubts about his mental stability".

There's no national insurance number

for a Thomas Francis Kelly, no police record, no vehicle...

never been in a mental institution.

Has anyone identified him as Thomas Francis Kelly?

No, sir.

Well?

We haven't enough to charge him, but he has agreed to go into Fitz's care.

Anything else? Yes.

It's asking a lot, I know.

But I'd like a televised appeal for information.

I'll do it.

I'd like you both to do it.

She's not up to it.

That's the point.

Isn't it?

I'll do it. If I can bury my daughter.

There are legal difficulties - I don't care about that.

I can only take one step at a time.

The first step is to bury my child.

You need permission from the coroner.

The accused has a right to an independent post-mortem.

You mean, I've got to ask his permission?

Yes.

Get Mrs Appleby a glass of water, will you?

This is a copy of the Mental Health Act. Read it.

Don't take it out on us! What?

Your boss treats you like a skivvy. Don't take it out on us.

I need directions.

About here's fine.

Where are you going? The dogs.

How many brothers have you got?

This man was released into your care -

He PLACED himself in my care.

I'd say four. Am I right?

Three. You're not going in there!

No other sisters, though. You're the only girl, right?

You'll lose him. He'll do a bunk.

I'll take that chance. You're the only girl. Right?

Right. That explains everything.

What does it explain?

The chip on the shoulder.

Need to assert yourself.

Penis envy.

The boys playing football, and you're stuck indoors ironing.

Resentful, angry. Penis envy. Freud. Clement, not Sigmund.

Bye!

(CROWD CHEERING)

Come on, number three!

He's on the inside!

Come on, you bugger!

He's coming up on the outside!

Fantastic! Come on, you lazy thing! Move it!

Get up there, you bugger!

Jesus flaming Christ!

Please stop! I know you!

Please! Please!

I won't hurt you!

Please!

Who am I?

(GROANING)

DCI Bilborough, please. Quick, yeah.

It's Fitz. Fitz!

The police want information, no matter how trivial it seems.

Do you know anybody who was away from home

when Patricia Garth died - Monday, May 3rd.

And the day my daughter died, June 8th?

"Have you felt threatened by a man in a railway station or train?

"If so, please phone 061-835 4567."

"His clothing was bloodstained.

"Patricia and my daughter put up a fight, so it could be torn."

"Does that mean anything to anybody?

"Monday, May 3rd and Tuesday, June 8th.

"A man with torn, bloodstained clothing?"

"If so, please, please contact the police.

"This man could be highly dangerous."

(TELEPHONES RINGING)

"Finally, do you know this man? Police want to trace him.

"He may be known as Thomas Francis Kelly.

"He may be from the North West.

"For 10 or 15 years he's lived in the South of England."

Good night.

Good night.

Good night.

"We'll give you that number again after the news.

"As always, a reminder that violent crime is a rare occurrence.

"The chance of becoming involved in the type of crime shown..."

How many calls so far?

Calls or leads?

Leads.

63. I reckon on 100 by the end of the night.

Yes, madam.

Hold the line a second.

Trace. Trace line 48, please.

I've got his wife on the line!

That was nice and quick.

Only 35 people in the queue!

Want one?

No, thank you.

Why do you drink so much?

I like it.

And smoke so much?

I like it.

And you gamble as well.

Yes. I like it.

What is it, this sadness, this void in your life?

I'm sorry, I'm sorry. This void in my life?

In MY life?

When I meet my wife, mine will be fulfilled.

Really think that, do you?

Cherryhill Farm.

That's what they said.

Mean anything to you?

I'll remember it when I get there.

How long have you been married?

18 years.

18 ?

Why? What are you thinking?

Nothing.

It is Mr Kelly, isn't it?

I'm sorry.

She saw your picture in the paper. Took a shine to you.

Women, eh?

S'pose we'd shown your face on telly and come right out with,

"This man is suspected of murder."

They'd all fall for you. They'd phone in their droves.

Can I have some more?

Sure.

Dirty Den. Mean anything to you?

EastEnders? No.

Well, I had this idea.

A soap opera, and all the actors - not the characters, mind you -

are convicted murderers.

15 million viewers, all of them women, no problem.

All drooling at the mouth.

Women, eh?

I'm sure she'll come back to you.

# And you sing, Laura

# On a train That is passing through

# Those eyes

# How familiar they seem

# She gave

# Her very first kiss to you

# That was Laura... #

DCI Bilborough.

"Who's speaking?"

I can't give you me name.

"One moment, please."

"Sorry, sir, DCI Bilborough's busy at the moment."

I know who Sweeney is.

"Just a moment, please, sir."

Bilborough. He gave a false statement?

Well, go round again, embarrass him.

Right.

I'm sorry.

I'm a Catholic priest. This has got to be confidential.

"Of course, sir."

"Two months ago, a man confessed to the murder of Astrid Reynolds."

Who was this man, sir?

I'm no crank.

I don't know his name, but I'm looking at his picture in the paper.

Which paper, sir?

"Evening News, page four, middle-aged man, missing person."

You're sure, sir?

It's got to be confidential. I heard all this in confession.

Where is Astrid now?

Promise me it's confidential.

It's confidential.

At the bottom of Clayton Wharf.

You knew two months ago?

"Yes."

(It's local.)

I'm hanging up.

I promise confidentiality. Why did you wait?

Are you a Catholic? No, sir.

Then you won't understand.

You explain, I'll try to understand.

He's killed again. In the same way.

Possibly, yes.

God forgive me!

Platform 14.

TANNOY: "Platform 14, the 16.39 service to Blackburn."

"Platform 14, the 16.39 service to Blackburn."

Over here!

What do you think?

Female. 20, 25. Been dead two months.

Sweeney?

Probably. I'll tell you more tomorrow.

Let the parents know. Take Penhaligon.

Get round to Fitz's. Bring that bastard in!

When's it gonna be ready?

Well? They asked me to kill the chicken.

I put a sack over it.

Who's "they"?

It was struggling.

Who's "they"?

I don't know.

I brought the axe down through its neck.

It twitched.

Pulsed.

With every pulse, the stain spread.

Blood.

I held it down, dying, pulsing, throbbing.

(DOORBELL)

It's the police.

Will you tell them?

It'll be better for them if it comes from you.

(KNOCK ON DOOR)

Mr Reynolds?

DS Penhaligon, DS Beck from Anson Road Police Station.

May we come in, please?

I'm terribly sorry, we have bad news.

We found a body, and we think it's your daughter.

I'm sorry.

Hello.

Stand up.

I believe you're concealing drugs on your person. May I have them?

If you confess to a more serious matter,

I won't bother looking for them.

You twisted pervert!

Do you understand what I'm saying?

I'm not being too subtle?

I must see him again!

I'm sorry, Fitz. You're wrong.

You've been wrong all the way. You're out.

(ALARM)

I'll scream. I'm not after your body, Panhandle.

Penhaligon.

I want a list of suspects, 35 to 45, who are single and Catholic.

I want you as my driver.

Five, four, three...

You're on it anyway! You'll catch the killer!

You'll get brownie points!

(SCREAMING) (ALARM)

Your boss is wrong. I know he's wrong, you know it.

(SCREAMING)

I'll repay you! I need -

Please, I need this.

Why?

Just testing.

Multiple orgasms.

"He's killed again, in the same way."

"Possibly, yes."

"God forgive me."

So?

Are you a Catholic?

I think so.

Do you think a priest would lie?

Answer, rather than shake your head. Would a priest lie?

No.

Then you did it. You killed those girls.

Could you answer, rather than nod your head!

You killed those girls!

It appears so.

You kill her. Nobody knows she's dead except you.

You get a buzz from that. But that buzz wears off.

You want her found, you want it in the papers.

Next time you leave her where she drops. Third time, an even bigger buzz.

You do it on a train, people around. How do you top that?

Do it on stage, sell tickets?

I want to confess.

We're listening.

To a priest.

No.

I wanted you to find another body.

I wanted to prove to you, but mainly to myself...

I couldn't have done these things.

If another girl died and you were watching me...

you'd know I couldn't possibly have done these things.

And that would be it, the proof I needed.

And then I realised what I was praying for: for another human being to die so I could be at peace.

And now it's happened.

And another family...

It proves nothing.

"5.18 - five furlongs at Lingfield."

Midsummer Blue.

What's this?

It's a bet. Or did I walk into the butcher's?

I'm not taking this.

What?

£200 after the off. What is this?

It's nothing!

It's not on. You've taken more.

Not after the off!

It's a five-furlong race!

Call yourself a bookie, and you turn back a lousy £200!

I'll take anything that gives me time. That's all I ask, time.

That's life.

Well, thank you, Esther!

# Need someone's hand To lead me through the night

# I need someone's arms To hold and squeeze me tight. #

What we'll do if it's touch and go who's first, we'll bung in a fiver each.

Otherwise I can't afford it.

Mum's been.

I can smell the sulphur (!)

There's a copper to see you.

Right, so that's what we'll do.

You've got me for one week.

I had pleurisy once - for two!

Drink?

No.

Why did you change your mind?

Woman's privilege.

Right, no sex. Strictly platonic.

Keep your hands to yourself.

It's gonna be hard; there's nothing I can do. OK? Just hands off!

I'll try (!)

I thought he was off the case.

You thought wrong.

If the boss finds out...

I'll carry the can, OK?

Hello.

Hello.

You did it.

I won't bore you with details.

The killer's Catholic, late 30s, single, clean-shaven.

How do I know he's clean-shaven?

He shaves with the razor he's used on his victim.

Look at her. Look at her!

What do you see? A victim?

Some women out there ask for it. She's one. A victim. Right?

Stop this.

You can read her like a book.

The petit bourgeois parents in an area they couldn't afford.

Few friends except other girls who couldn't make friends.

Huddled together for comfort, bitchy, bitter...

Please stop this!

Sitting with the rejects, watching others.

They always seemed to have more fun.

They got parts in the school play.

They got the boys. She didn't, except for one night, the first time.

The girl he fancied wasn't there, but he made do, sloped off quickly.

Was it behind the bike sheds?

A knee-trembler up an alley? Over in seconds, cold, unsatisfying.

Straight home, a hot bath, but the next day, looks, sniggers, remarks!

Everybody knew, the whole school knew!

That's what life's like if you're a bloody victim!

Ah - big mistake.

Just what you were looking for. A sign of vulnerability.

You'll strike now. You'll kill now.

Stop this!

It's your mission in life, women like that. Acting tough, treating you like dirt!

You'll show her what's what, put her in her place!

She's not tough! You'll put her in her place for keeps!

STOP this!

You're a killer.

Your picture's been in the papers, on TV. Nobody's identified you.

You're nearly 40, and nobody knows you. Is that credible? No!

One reason people haven't come: you're a killer, and they know.

They're terrified!

You kill, but you don't rape.

You can't rape, so you kill. For you, that's penetration.

Sex, women are disgusting. Better to kill.

More moral to kill than penetrate. You want to kill now!

I know what's going on in there!

You want to kill, kill, kill, kill!

He told me he only loved two women: his mother and the Virgin Mary.

He seemed calm.

I asked him, did he want a cup of tea.

When I got back, he'd gone.

Anything else?

I didn't do it.

I know.

But I know.

I know now.

Married? Single.

Anything else? Catholic.

Two, travelling on business. Michael Hennessy, Peter Fredrickson.

I had to do that. I had to do it!

So how do you explain the priest's call?

It wasn't a priest. He broke the seal of the confession.

No. 1 in the top 20 of sins, above buggering the pope.

He knew Astrid Reynolds was in the canal because he put her there!

Why?

He thought Kelly was dead, then he's in the paper. Would you slow down?

Frightened? Yes.

Never admit you're frightened. Tell me more.

This is no Yorkshire Ripper chasing prostitutes. He idolises women.

Statues, sculptures, Venus de Milo, Virgin Mary.

White, hairless, smooth. Hairless is most important.

Pubic hair shatters it, so he shaves them.

I'll grab the wheel!

There are men who are victims, and you're one, right (?)

Why the hair?

At school he was probably first or last to grow it.

I'd guess the first. This is where his neurosis is from.

He saw it grow and thought it was God's punishment.

If I'm right he was born in August or September, so he's the oldest -

OK, can we stop now, please?

Mr Hennessy.

Mr Michael Hennessy?

John. Michael's my son.

Could we speak to him? He's out.

Police. May we come in?

We're investigating a murder. May we come in?

Right.

About that girl on the train?

Yes.

Michael made a statement.

This is just routine.

Had a bit of a late night.

Where is Michael?

He's at work.

What does your son do?

He's a health inspector. He rates hotels.

Travels around a lot? Oh, yea.

D'you want some tea?

No, thanks.

No, thanks.

Promiscuous.

What? Five across.

Oh! I don't do 'em.

Michael's, is it? Yeah.

Want a drink?

Don't mind if I do.

How about her? I doubt it.

Um, 'ere, want a drink?

No, thanks. Your wife's not in?

My wife died a year ago.

I'm sorry.

Do you know where Michael was on Monday, May 3rd?

I don't know where I was then!

I don't know where I was last night!

It was the night Patricia Garth was murdered at Oxenholme. Remember?

No.

They thought they'd pull the match.

United against Spurs. Live on telly.

Did you watch it?

Yeah.

Well, that's all we need to know.

Michael and his mother?

Yeah.

You don't go out much since...

No.

Can I use your bathroom?

It's upstairs, yeah.

Cut-throat razors and a phoney alibi.

Phoney?

Claims he saw the game live. Can't have. No satellite dish.

He's catching the 15.20 to Leeds.

15.20. What's that, pre-decimal?

"Control to Oscar Three."

Oscar Three receiving.

"What the hell are you playing at?"

"Fitz is off the case. You let a member of the public interview a murder suspect!"

You spoke to the murderer, prick!

The guy who phoned you was the murderer!

Over (!)

"Sergeant Penhaligon, I want you back here right now!"

Can hardly hear. Fault on the radio.

I'm on my way to intercept the 15.20 Manchester to Leeds train. Request help.

You'll never get into the Masons now!

Tsk! British Rail!

Pardon? Ten minutes late!

Would you like a sherbet lemon?

No.

(TRAIN RHYTHM) I'm too tired, I'm too tired.

I'm too tired, I'm too tired.

I'm too tired, I'm too tired.

I'm too tired, I'm too tired...

That is so oh... that is so oh...

Yes yes yes, oh, yes yes yes.

Oh yes yes yes.

Oh yes yes yes.

Bingo!

(SCREAMING)

You're OK!

You are Lobby Lud, and I claim the reward!

There's a train coming! What? A train coming!

I can't hear you. A train's coming!

It's on this line!

Let go of me, you maniac!

All the way with LBJ!

(SCREAMING)

These two guys will look after you. They'll take a statement.

Look after her, make sure she's all right.

Well done.

Thanks.

You didn't even know your parents were dead?

No.

The Falklands, Gulf, Berlin Wall, Gazza's belly, mean nothing to you?

You should have stayed in your ivory tower.

If I'd acted differently she'd still be alive.

That's what you're thinking.

Why are you going back?

I had doubts about my vocation.

I left the monastery to see the world outside.

I've seen it now. And you can keep it.

Can we stop here, please?

Bye.

Bye-bye.

If you want to get banged up for life, do a bank job.

Do something to deserve it.

I belong in here.

I'll pray for you, Fitz.

Fancy a quick one? No. Alcohol, not sex.

You must be bloody joking.

Do you get much?

Tell me about your wife.

Ever cop off in uniform?

Why did she leave?

Know why uniform turns a woman on?

It reeks of death - the aphrodisiac.

Why did she leave? Gambling? Drink?

Because you're an arrogant, misogynistic slob?

Flatterer!

There's a pub on the right.

No!

# Since my man and I ain't together

# It's rainin' all the time

# Life is bare

# Gloom and misery everywhere

# Stormy weather

# I can't get my poor self together

# I'm weary all the time

# I'm weary all the time. #