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Bugger.

Oi!

That bike belongs to a copper.

How about you mind
your own business.

And he's still not
had his first coffee.

Detective Inspector Max Arnold.

Give me those.

Right. Stand there.

What you doing, bruv?

You can't just take
pictures of me, mate.

What's your name?

- Jake.
- Jake what?

Turner. Are you gonna
nick me or what?

I'd prefer to avoid any
unnecessary paperwork.

Well, Mr. Turner, you
owe me a new bike lock,

which you can drop
off at Chelsea nick

at your earliest convenience.

Off you go then.

And I mean new.

With a receipt.

As in not bloody nicked!

Like and share, like and share.

Aw, mate! What you doing?

The wages of sin... is death.

The wages of sin... is death.

Get off.

The wages of sin... is death.

Jog on.

Please stand back from
your platform of choice.

Excuse me! DI Arnold.

Darren Goldfinch,
Chelsea Online News.

Is it true a passenger
was pushed onto the line?

Rumor is we could have a
mad pusher on the loose.

No. That is not true.

Could it be? Just
give me something.

Huff Post are interested.

- Morning, Sir.
- Morning.

Make sure nobody
nicks that, will you?

DI Arnold...

Detective Inspector Arnold.

You did know I was
back today, right?

Did I?

How is it?

By "it", you mean my child?

Motherhood.

Uh, girl, right?

On account of the
pink teddy bear?

Thanks for that, by the way.

Don't tell me. A flower.

I'm picturing a flower...

Lupin?

Who calls their child Lupin?

- Poppy.
- Poppy.

She's got your eyes.

Beady.

Sorry to hear about your dad.

How have you been?

And, dare I ask.
You and Astrid?

Oh God, Max, you're not still
on that smelly boat, are you?

I might be.

Did we get anything
from eyewitnesses?

She thinks he was pushed.

What did the driver say?

He said he jumped.

Less paperwork if he jumped.

I'm Detective
Inspector Max Arnold.

Please.

You told one of my officers you
believed the victim was pushed?

That's how it
looked at the time.

Did you see who pushed him?

But thinking about it now,

it's more like he jumped.

It all happened so fast.

Or fell.

I think actually he fell.

He looks unsteady on his feet.

That busker's not happy.

Do you think he made his
way down on to the platform

to give him a shove?

Depends on the type of
coffee that was spilled.

World's first
coffee-related murder.

Not the last.

I can't see a push.

It looks like he falls.

Or jumps.

We need the footage
from the driver's cab.

How'd you know I spoke to him?

Right, right, always watching.

You took a break shortly after.

Yeah, in that direction.

I went to get a refill.

Oh, where'd you get your coffee?

From a van around the corner.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk.

Excuse me.

Can he do that?

What did the victim say to you?

Not "sorry," I can
tell you that much.

Something about sin.

The wages of sin is death.

Are you sure?

Yeah, it was weird.

Did he smell of alcohol?

No, but he... He was
slurring his words.

Morning, Ashley.

Excuse me. Is she on?

I'll just go check.

Morning.

- Morning.
- Morning.

Hold on.

Wait for the beep.

Speak.

Any ID?

Victim is Andrew
Knightley, 62 years old,

formerly of 72 Denton Crescent.

Amazing what you find down here.

Coins, various denominations,
a gym membership card,

expired April 2016, a
false nail... pink...

A button... White
with a blue ripple.

Did you find his phone?

Just his keys, wallet,
and oyster card so far.

Is he one of yours?

Oi! Can you stop!

- I said stop filming!
- Hey!

How the hell did he
end up on the platform?

I don't know.
Nobody's got past me.

Oh, well, clearly he did!

Can I have my phone back?

How did you get in?

Invisibility cloak.

It's locked. Face ID.

Invisi-bility.

How'd you spell that?

- Is it all I's?
- Are you allowed to do that?

Oh, deleted!

Thank you, Mr. Hewitt.

Venting at a colleague.

Is everything alright?

The kid, the new
baby, new mum thing...

Okay, these are
just random words.

Sleepless nights.

Oh, I think he's
asking if I'm tired.

No, he's concerned why you came
back to work three months early.

Are you and Astrid
still speaking?

Oh, you're deflecting.

We're having a custody battle.

Over what?

My coffee machine.

Astrid bought it for
me, so it's mine.

She doesn't even drink
coffee, for God sake.

Okay, great.

Good to know you've been coping.

Connor. Jess.

- Morning, boss.
- Morning, boss.

- Look busy.
- Hey.

- What are you doing back? Hello.
- Congratulations.

Welcome back.

Um, I've got the footage
from the driver's cab.

- Oh.
- Connor?

Where are we on locating
the victim's next of kin?

The daughter's on
holiday in Tenerife.

I left a message with the hotel.

A message?

I'm chasing.

Okay.

Right, there's our man.

Does that look like a push?

Maybe he trips,
loses his balance.

Hello.

Is that an arm?

- Pushed.
- Oh, definitely.

Start collating everything you
can find on Andrew Knightley.

Hey, Pri, welcome back.

Any baby photos?

Um, later.

Did they call you back early?

That's a bit out of order.

I'm fine.

I'm fine.

Okay.

No, Max, I don't want
you round my flat

with your screwdriver
taking it apart.

Oh, your flat now, is it?

Since you left, yeah!

- Asti...
- Astrid.

Asti, how do you
know it's broken?

You don't even drink coffee.

No, but my guests do.

It's probably just the fuse.

Wait, you have guests?

What guests?

Goodbye, Max.

There... you talked to her.

You feel better now?

Upstairs neighbor said
last Tuesday night,

he heard a loud
sobbing and moaning.

- From this flat?
- Hmm.

He said he asked him
about it the next morning.

And Andrew Knightley
was mortified.

Said he got carried
away "praying."

What's his family situation?

Neighbor said he lived
alone since his wife died

six months ago.

Bank statements.

An invoice for
Brompton Stonemasonry.

Proprietor, Andrew Knightley.

Letters from his GP.

This one from last week.

"Saw Mr. Knightley...

complaining of dizzy spells."

He's been referred for a
thyroid test and an MRI.

Maybe he was ill.

Place is spotless, but
he's missed a bit here.

He was unsteady on his
feet, slurring his words,

but there's no alcohol
in the cupboards.

No empties in the recycling.

You checked the
bathroom for pills?

Yeah. Nothing stronger
than paracetamol.

This isn't really about
the coffee machine, is it?

Unless it is, in which case
I'll just buy you a new one.

How much was it?

About £500.

I know, I know.

For my 40th, Nitin
bought me a terrarium.

It's the height of romance...
A cactus and a jar of dirt.

Hello.

A spy camera?

Yeah, but what's it
doing in the bin?

It's not broken.

Looks like it's
motion-activated.

You got a pen?

However did you cope
without me, Max?

Andrew Knightley's tox
samples, blood and urine,

showed traces of a
synthetic opioid.

We checked with the GP and he
wasn't been prescribed them.

He was using?

It's possible he wasn't
aware he been taking it.

But from the opiod
metaboloid present,

it looks like he'd been
ingesting it for a while.

What do you mean
he wasn't aware?

We didn't find any
opioids in his house.

But I did.

There were traces in
the stomach contents,

so I requested further tests

on foodstuffs from
the victim's kitchen.

Milk and sugar samples
where contaminated.

Someone was drugging him?

Someone was doing
more than that.

Contact burns.

See this discoloration across
his shoulders and upper back?

They're healing, but probably
less than a week old.

Circular, but blistering
in different sizes.

Not cigarette burns.

They look more like
a drip pattern,

possibly oil-based.

What did that neighbor say?

Moaning. Sobbing. Praying.

A spot of Tuesday-night
flagellation.

There's one more thing.

From his medical history...

there's an old fracture
of the right humerus.

Well healed, at least
5 to 10 years old.

But hard to spot clinically.

There's barely any malunion.

Which means?

Which means it's been treated,

so should be on his
medical records,

and it's not.

Boss, cyber boys
uploaded the data dump

from Andrew Knightley's laptop.

Cyber boys?

No social media presence,

but his search history
is interesting.

Oh, and front desk said

some young bloke dropped
that off for you.

Thank you.

"Ghosts," "Ghost writing,"

"Reincarnation,"
"Automatic writing."

Gabriella Tottenham?

He searched genealogy sites too,

so maybe building
his family tree.

Financial background
checks on Andrew Knightley.

Recent transactions
cross-referenced

with receipts found
in his wallet.

Two items of jewelry... A
necklace and earrings...

Bought a week apart, on
the 18th and the 25th.

Not cheap, either.

And he withdrew 500
quid two days ago.

He didn't have any cash on him.

You checked this against
the inventory from his flat?

No cash or jewelry there.

Phone company sent
through his texts.

He averaged single-number
texts per week, but...

outgoing, 21:05 the
night before he died.

"There is an evil in my
home. Can you help me?"

I've called the
number, left a message.

Requesting a trace.

And when was the last ping
from Knightley's phone?

Uh, oh, 7:55 outside
South Ken station.

So presumably he had his
phone on him when he died.

But it hasn't been
recovered yet.

Um, you might wanna see this.

Photos pulled from
Knightley's laptop.

There's four in total.

"He that hath mercy on the
poor lendeth to the Lord

and he will repay him."

"Do not forget to do
good, and to impart,

for by such sacrifices
God's favor is obtained."

"How gracious and
compassionate is our Lord."

"The unrighteous shall not
possess the kingdom of God.

Do not err."

The last one was
taken six days ago.

I've traced the
victim's last text.

It was sent to an Erin Murphy.

She's the chapel warden
at Brompton Cemetery.

Okay. Thanks, Jess.

Emmeline Pankhurst
famously buried here,

but what age was she

when she joined the
suffrage movement?

Was it 14, 18, or 21?

18?

It was 14!

Emmeline was 14

when she joined the
suffrage movement.

Right, everyone come on.

Through there.

Come on, let's keep it going.

That's it.

"An evil in my home."

I had no idea what he meant.

You didn't respond?

No.

Thank you.

I was going to ask him
about it yesterday morning.

You and he had planned to meet?

Most mornings, he's in
the chapel when I arrive.

Is that a new habit?

The frequency is.

It's been almost daily
for the past month.

I did wonder if he was ill.

He looked pale.

Have you ever been
in Andrew's flat?

No.

Where were you at
8:00 AM yesterday?

Dropping my husband
at Saint Pancras.

We found some writing on a
mirror in Mr. Knightley's home.

Four in total, over
the last four weeks.

Did he write them?

Not from our
handwriting analysis.

Does anything stand out?

Beyond it being a threat?

Proverbs, Hebrews...

That one's Psalms.

Corinthians.

But the language?

Um, is it standard King James?

One moment, please.

"Ghost writing"?

"Reincarnation."

I mean, he worked in a cemetery,

maybe something
followed him home.

I'm joking, Max.

I'm sorry. Is your
father buried here?

I'm so sorry.

Is that Davinson Clarke?

Mrs. Murphy, do
you know that man?

Davinson? Yes.

And I know all about his past.

I volunteer at a place
that helps people

like Davinson get
back into work.

Ex-cons?

People who've fallen
on hard times.

I don't judge.

Any history between Davinson
and Andrew Knightley?

You'd have to ask him.

Now, they're from the
Douay Rheims translation.

It's Catholic. Traditionalist.

Quite common.

But this one, this is truncated.

The full quote is "Know you
not that the unrighteous

shall not possess
the kingdom of God.

Do not err, neither fornicators,
nor idolaters, nor adulterers."

Wow, hard to fit all
that on a mirror.

Think he'll remember us?

Mr. Clarke!

This is DI Arnold.

Any units near
Brompton cemetery?

Chasing a suspect on foot
towards the Fulham Road.

Davinson Clarke.
Advise caution.

He's got previous for GBH
and aggravated robbery.

I think he remembered us.

Aww, it's been ages
since I've had a stitch.

Well, you've just... you know.

Yeah, I know.

Hiya.

I've just started
working on the head.

Excuse me.

I'm Detective
Inspector Max Arnold.

This is Detective
Sergeant Priya Shamsie.

Are you Hayley Donohue?

Yeah.

We're investigating an incident
at South Kensington tube station

yesterday morning,

which resulted in the death
of Mr. Andrew Knightley.

What happened?

He was hit by a tube train.

I'm sorry, we do have
to ask some questions.

Hayley?

Okay, okay.

Alright.

Stay still.

It's so impressive.

Thanks.

We were supposed to
build it together,

but it's all my own work.

Andrew kept avoiding it.

Why's that?

He just hated doing it.

Have you worked together long?

Coming up to two years.

I started here on
an apprenticeship

and then Andrew kept me on.

He was a good boss.

There. It's not deep.

You might need a tetanus shot
if you're not up to date.

Thanks.

Can you tell us anything
about Andrew's personal life?

You know he was
widowed last year?

Did he have a current partner?

No, he was the
married-for-life type.

He recently bought some jewelry.

A necklace and some earrings.

That was for his
daughter's birthday.

I helped him choose them.

What's this?

Charity barbecue a while back

that Andrew roped
me in to help at.

He donated all the food.

Was Andrew friendly
with Davinson Clarke?

Sure. Davinson helps
us prep the plots.

You and Mr. Knightley
look close.

We were, I suppose,
but he's my boss,

so I had to laugh at his jokes.

I know how that goes.

Did you socialize
outside of work?

Me and Andrew?

No.

Did you go to his house?

No.

Could we take a sample
of your handwriting?

What for?

Elimination purposes.

What should I write?

The whatsit fox
and the lazy dog?

How about "The Lord is
Gracious and Merciful."

"The Lord

is Gracious

and Merciful."

Is this about the messages...
The ones on his mirror?

Mr. Knightley told
you about those?

Oh. Did he.

He showed me a photo
of one on his phone.

"Messages from his
ghost," he told me.

He was hoaxing it, right?

Oh...

Do you have any other samples
of your writing to compare?

Seeing as you already
knew about those.

Thank you.

We also found a video camera
in Mr. Knightley's home.

Do you know about that?

No.

Maybe he was trying
to film his ghost.

Okay.

Put some officers outside
the suspect's flat.

There's no sign of
Davinson Clarke.

Oh, are we taking the tour?

Had a gut feeling
about that tour guide.

He was watching us like a hawk.

Is there a number we can call?

A-ha!

CHIPS.

The Chelsea Historical
Preservation Society.

It's my aunt's passion.

Hello, stranger.

Morning.

You remember my partner, Priya?

Partner?

Ah, as in copper.
Well, obviously.

'Cause you're way
out of his league.

I called Simon.
He's on his way.

Come through.

I love your aunt.

It's our most popular tour.

Simon used to be an actor.

Still am an actor,
Livvy, and a writer.

Playwright.

How well did you know
Andrew Knightley?

Only to chat about the weather.

The reason I was staring...

I was plucking up the
courage to come over.

I might have some information
about the groundsman.

Go on.

Must've been two days ago.

I saw Andrew Knightley
give Davinson some money.

It looked like a
lot of cash too.

I've heard people say
that Davinson's the man

to speak to if you
want... You know.

What?

Drugs.

And did you see an exchange?

No.

Well, when Mr. Clarke
turns up, we'll ask him.

I'm late for rehearsals.

Is there anything
else you need from me?

We'd like a sample
of your writing.

You wanna read my play?

Your handwriting.

Can you write out the
following sentence, please?

Um, "The unrighteous shall not
possess the kingdom of God."

Why do you need that?

Just collecting writing
samples of everyone

who had contact with
Andrew Knightley.

This is going to the library?

It's first edition.

Doesn't want to help,
but keen to interfere.

Just like his father.

That's fine. Thanks.

Thank God for spellcheckers.

Where were you
yesterday at 8:00 AM?

I was here.

What were you doing here?

I'm staying here.

It's only for a couple of weeks.

Just while his flat's
being decorated.

Sorry, I really do need to go.

Is that okay?

Uh, yeah.

If we have any more questions,
we know where to find you.

Don't wait up, Livvy.

I don't like him. He's shifty.

- He's good company.
- How well do you know him?

I've been friends with
his mum since forever.

Oh, Max, your police
antenna makes you think

everybody's shifty.

You know, intergenerational
relationships are

far more common than you think.

Mr. Simon Turnbull is
not my aunt's type.

- Oh?
- Trust me.

Oh.

Okay.

I get it.

Yes, absolutely.

No. No, it's not a problem.

Yeah.

Uh, can I just call you back?

Thank you.

Hey. Dinner's in
the microwave.

Did you jog home?

- I went to the track.
- It's good timing.

Do you remember Jo Lyndsey?
She was covering for me.

She just called. They
need me to review

the Itsu campaign
before it goes out.

- Could you...?
- I need to shower and eat.

Congratulations, Asti.

I bet you broke it on purpose.

- Boss.
- Oh.

Check your e-mail.

Where did these come from?

There's a new one.

"The wages of sin is death."

When was this taken?

Says in the copy it was
the morning he died.

Chelsea Online News.

That reporter at South Ken tube.

Um, Darren Bullfinch, Goldcrest.

The site's owned by
a Darren Goldfinch.

That's him. Find
his contact details.

I want to know how he
got these pictures.

Will do.

Was it just these photos?

Or were there others?

Just these.

How'd you come by them?

An anonymous source.

Arrived in the post this
morning, an envelope,

with a USB stick inside.

- Do you still have the envelope?
- No, I recycled it.

- What about the USB stick?
- It's somewhere.

Was the address
handwritten or printed?

I don't remember.

As of this morning,
5,000 hits and counting.

You normally get less
than 1,000 a week.

If I was you, I'd stretch
this out a bit longer too.

That's not what I'm doing.

I'll write you a
receipt for this.

No, no, I need that for work.

Look, um...

Good journalists need to
protect their sources.

Fine. Fine. It wasn't
on a USB stick.

It was a WeTransfer link from
1990superNH@protonmail.com.

Proton Mail is...

Yeah, we know what
Proton mail is.

Could "NH" be initials
and 1990 date of birth?

Didn't think to ask.

A good journalist would ask.

You said at the start I
haven't been arrested?

That's correct.

So I'm free to
terminate this interview

and leave at any time?

Thank you, Mr. Goldfinch.

Proton Mail is an end-to-end
encrypted e-mail service.

Hello, Poppy!

Say hello. Say hello.

Am I on mute?

Oh, she's smiling now. Look.

Oh, let me see!

Oh, hold on, hold on.

It was a lot easier to lie
before FaceTime, Nitin.

You missed it by micro-seconds.

Look, she's... she's
cold and she's tired.

Let me just sort her out
and I'll call you back.

It's okay, I'll... I'll
just see her later.

I'd better go. Bye.

Bye.

The spy-cam from the
Knightley residence

was purchased on the Internet
from a firm in Hong Kong.

Posted to a PO Box in the
name of "Snap Dragon 2,000."

No listings for it
on Companies House.

But the camera was networked.

Do we know which
way it was pointing?

Untraceable.

The IP address is used by
Surfshark, a VPN service.

Okay.

What are you doing?

What you're not.

Paperwork.

Is everything okay?

With Lupin?

Poppy.

I know.

She's fine.

I used to sit in
my dad's bookshop

and listen to him
chatting to customers

about "getting lost in a book."

And for years,

I thought everyone had
the same problem as me.

Permanently lost.

It's frustrating
not to understand

something so fundamental.

And I found ways
that work for me.

Visual clues.

Pictures make more
sense than words.

Are you okay?

Sorry, go on.

Well, my dad realized
there was another reason

why I was struggling
with schoolwork.

I mean, it was hardly ever
talked about then, dyslexia,

so his solution was to
do all my reading for me,

which was really annoying.

Textbooks, homework,

a chapter of a book every night.

And half the time,
when he was reading,

I'd get impatient, struggling
to follow the story,

the words whizzing by too
fast to picture it right.

But my old man, he persevered.

The thing is,

the words didn't matter.

What mattered was
his voice in my ear.

Knowing that he
hadn't given up on me.

Anyway...

Max, don't ever change.

Never been any good at that.

Bloody hell. Priya!

Keep your eye on
our busker friend.

What was his e-mail address?

Super NH, H, NH, NH...

- Nicholas...
- Hewitt.

Nicholas Hewitt.

TFL issue licenses for buskers.

They'll have an address.

When Andrew Knightley
bumped into you

at South Ken Tube, you
helped yourself to his phone.

Picked his pocket.

No, I didn't!

Station CCTV caught you.

And half an hour ago,

our officers found that phone
at your girlfriend's flat.

No comment.

How much did Darren Goldfinch
pay you for the photos?

No comment.

Did you push Andrew
Knightley onto the tracks?

After all, you were
angry with him.

What, for spilling
my coffee? Come on!

You took his phone,
but that wasn't enough.

And when the red mist came down,

you decided to
really punish him.

I didn't. I swear.

I went to get a refill.
I was only gone a minute.

And anyway, why would I stick
around to talk to you lot?

This is nuts.

Look, that reporter bloke
Goldfinch, you talk to him?

Of course.

He gave me his card.

So when I found the photos on
the phone, I contacted him.

He offered me 100 quid,
but he hasn't paid.

Process him. Theft
and obstruction.

There's more... a
video too. I was...

I was gonna charge
Goldfinch extra for it.

When we caught you
filming on the platform,

our officers insist
there was no way

you could have got past them.

So how did you do it?

And don't say
invisibility cloak.

Fire door at the rear of the
station has a dodgy lock.

Can jiggle it open,
let yourself in.

When I was sleeping rough,

I'd use it to get into
the tunnels at night.

The video was recorded
by Andrew Knightley

in his flat the
night before he died.

I need to know...

Is it you?

I need to know...

Is it you?

He's really struggling.

Or am I going mad?

Is it you?

What are you thinking?

We need to find out who
that girl in the photo is.

I've left you some
dinner in the fridge.

You alright?

You know at work,

I know what I'm doing.

I'm good at it.

But with her... I can't
shake this feeling

that I'm just gonna screw it up.

Well, if you want
to blame your mum,

I'm 100% behind that.

Maybe some of it's her fault.

But not all of it.

If I do start to mess this up,

if I am just...

If I am just crap
at being a mum...

you'll tell me, right?

God, no. You're kidding?

Good.

- Morning.
- Morning. Not so fast.

Andrew Knightley's daughter
just touched down at Heathrow.

We're gonna meet
her at his flat.

Finally. Someone who can
shed some light on Andrew.

- Yeah.
- No one seems to know him.

Apart from Hayley.

I got Jess looking
into her movements.

When the hotel said police
from London had called,

I thought I'd been burgled.

I never expected this.

Was your dad in any trouble?

We hardly spoke.

Unless hastily-written birthday
and Christmas cards count.

So he didn't buy you
jewelry for your birthday

No.

Last time we talked
was six months ago,

at Mum's funeral, but even then
only about practicalities...

Sorting out Mum's will.

Dad had no interest
in mending bridges.

Me neither after he told
me my mother's death

was God's punishment
for his sins.

Was he due a pay-out?

Mum's life insurance.

It's due any day now.

We found this photograph
on the mantelpiece.

Who is it?

I don't know, but
I've seen her before.

Dad used to do anything for you,

and then one day, he
couldn't care less.

Mum blamed it on his accident.

What accident?

He wrote off Mum's car.

Broke his arm?

Yeah.

When was this?

End of my second year at uni,

so June, July 2012.

Did he go to the hospital?

Yeah, of course.

Only there's no mention
in his medical records

about a broken arm.

There must be.

What was your
mother's occupation?

Well, she was a nurse.

So then it's possible...

No. That's absurd.

Why... Why wouldn't
he go to the hospital?

Can you tell us anything
else about the accident?

I was away when it happened.

Next time I came
home... Christmas...

Dad's arm had healed,
but he wasn't himself.

He just wanted to
be left on his own.

And then one day, I found
him in his workshop,

staring at this picture.

I asked him if he was okay

and he shouted
and pushed me out.

As soon as I
graduated, I moved out.

Couldn't wait to get away.

But you don't know who she is?

Or what your father's sin was?

No.

There's so much I wish I knew.

According to Andrew
Knightley's financial records,

he purchased a
silver chain necklace

and a pair of diamond
earrings on the 18th

and 25th of this month.

You told us he bought
those for his daughter.

That's what he told me.

The mast data for your mobile

shows you at Andrew
Knightley's address

on two occasions... the 5th
and the 12th of this month.

Andrew sometimes asked me to
drop things off on my way home.

He had a habit of
leaving his keys behind.

When we asked before if you'd
been to his flat, you said no.

I've never been inside.

The morning before he
died, he withdrew £500.

Do you know anything about that?

No.

Were you romantically involved
with Andrew Knightley?

What?

That's absurd. Of course not.

Can you identify this girl?

It's just someone
off the Internet.

It's Andrew's reference photo
for the carving of the angel.

Some food items we
found in his kitchen

had been laced with opioids.

Do you know anything about that?

- No.
- If we searched your flat,

would we find
similar substances?

No.

We believe someone was
trying to gaslight Andrew,

con him out of money
and expensive gifts.

Was that the plan...
To exploit him?

- No.
- Did he tell you about

the pay-out he
was due to receive

- from his wife's life insurance?
- No.

Where were you the morning
Andrew Knightley died?

I was at home.

If you have my GPS data,
you should know that.

Unless you left
your phone there?

Did you speak to my flatmate?

She'll confirm I was at home.

Max.

You don't want it?

Thanks, but no.

I felt guilty for
breaking your old one,

so I... I replaced it.

Am I missing something?

Do you want to come in?

No, I don't want to come in.

Fine.

Okay. I'll come in.

I'm jealous.

There.

Is that what you want to hear?

I'm jealous because you seem
to be doing alright without me.

On a houseboat.

You're not jealous.

And angry.

You want me to think
you're jealous and angry.

You're infuriating.

It eats you up, you can't
control what I do any more.

Nonsense!

Take the bloody machine.

I want you to have it.

Take it.

It's the top model, much
better than your old one.

There it is.

What?

I'm going to repair
my coffee machine.

That's what you do when
something's broken, Asti,

you fix it.

I'm gonna give it to
someone else then.

Oh, you have to make
everything so complicated.

I loathe complications.

You thrive on them.

I bet you broke my
machine on purpose.

Please!

You create these dramas
so you can take control.

That is not fair!

- Drink your wine.
- I'm driving.

You're bicycling!

We outgrew each other.

Well, I outgrew you.

Do you miss me?

I most definitely do not.

Good.

Good.

I don't want it.

Will you please take
the bloody thing?

- Keep it for your guests.
- I don't have any guests.

Asti, you asked me to
leave and now you're upset?

Or are you scared I
might have outgrown you?

And I like my houseboat.

Whoop-dee-bloody-do!

Simon?

I'm doing some washing.

Do you want me to...

Livvy?

Well, what do you think?

Livvy, have you forgotten?

Forgotten what?

You asked me to sell those.

You don't remember?

It was a couple of nights back,

you asked me to get
the ball rolling.

God, you know what,
this is my fault.

It was after we had two
spliffs and a bottle of red.

I'm sorry, I should've
checked with you first.

Are you alright?

I mean, going through
my things like this,

that is not the Livvy I know.

What's wrong?

I'd like it if you packed
your things and left.

And it's Olivia.

Not Livvy.

Is everything alright?

Oh, £350's not a bad
price, considering.

What's the problem?

Your police antenna
was right, Max.

I didn't sell this.

I found it in Simon's room.

He's been helping himself
to your Dad's books.

Little bastard,
conning old people.

People. Conning people.

I looked at his eBay account.

This is the sixth one he sold.

"Snapdragon."

He's not bloody dyslexic either.

Is he still at yours?

Yes, but I told him
to pack his things.

Leave it with me.

Can I have a word?

What about?

About a video.

Are these from Mr
Clarke's pockets?

- Yes, sir.
- Thank you.

You've knocked him out cold.

Paramedics have taken him
to hospital for a scan.

Five days ago, Simon Turnbull
saw you receiving money

from Andrew Knightley.

The day before, Knightley
withdrew £500 from his account.

Is this what's left of it?

You'll have to ask Knightley.

- Well, we can't, can we?
- Why not?

He was murdered four days ago.

Pushed onto the tracks
at South Ken tube.

You didn't know?

Did Andrew ask you
to pay Simon a visit?

Start of the week, I saw
Simon arguing with Knightley

about a video.

Simon wanted him
to pay five grand

or he'd put it up on YouTube.

So you offered to help?

£500's cheaper than five grand.

You're all heart.

Simon Turnbull takes
a lot of selfies.

I found this bible
in Simon's room.

The passages marked are
the same as the ones

on Andrew Knightley's mirror.

Is that Hayley from
the Stonemasons?

Do you think they're
more than just friends?

Maybe.

Hello.

Looks like it was Simon
gaslighting Knightley.

I bet he was drugging him too.

There's an unmarked folder here.

It's video files.

- That's the spy camera footage.
- Yeah.

Andrew waking up,

opening the curtains.

Andrew laying out clothes,

Andrew leaving, coming
back with a mug of tea.

Andrew...

Oh.

Oh, dear.

And there's Hayley again.

Please God, forgive me.

Candle wax.

Forgive me for my sins.

Whose idea was it
to target Andrew?

Yours or Simon's?

Did you know he was
drugging Andrew Knightley?

No.

Did you give Simon
Andrew's keys?

This is Simon's laptop.

Oh, please, God, forgive me.

Forgive me for my sins.

Forgive me for my...

Last month, Andrew and
I were working late.

He was acting strangely, like
he was scared to go home,

so I asked him what was wrong.

He said a ghost was leaving him
these messages to punish him.

For what?

For his sins.

But you knew it was
Simon leaving them?

Not until much later.

At first, I thought Andrew
was writing them to himself.

Then, Simon told me it was him.

He said it was a prank.

But Andrew was convinced

the only way to stop the
messages was for him...

For him to punish himself.

I tried to talk him out of it.

Then he asked if I would help.

I didn't know what to say.

I felt sorry for him, so
I said sure, I'd help.

I didn't know what he had
in mind till I turned up.

The jewelry was
a thank you gift.

Or payment, I suppose.

Only happened a couple of times.

Did you confide in Simon
that this was going on?

That's when he told me it
was him writing the messages.

I told him to stop.
It wasn't funny.

I had no idea he
planned on filming it.

Assured me I was doing the
right thing by helping Andrew.

You still haven't unpacked, Max.

I've been a bit busy!

This actually
makes sense to you?

Yeah.

It's how I see things.

Right, let's separate the
murder from the mirror-writing.

We can't place Simon,

Hayley, or Davinson
Clarke at South Ken tube.

What if Andrew Knightley
genuinely thought a ghost

was writing to him?

If so...

was that his ghost?

Who is she?

Hayley said he hated
working on that.

The Angel Gabriel.

Gabriel. Gabriel...

Gabrielle.

Gabriella.

Andrew's search history.

Two weeks before he
died, he searched for

"Gabriella, Tottenham."

"Gabriella, Tottenham."

When did his daughter
say his accident was?

Um, uh, June, July 2012.

Here it is.

Tottenham Record,
20th of June, 2012.

Gabriella Hadlow, 19
years old, charity worker.

Died following a hit-and-run.

There's a photo.

Yeah, it's her.

She worked for Crisis.

Gabriella Hadlow?

That barbecue that
Andrew dragged Hayley to.

It was for a charity.

Hadlow. Hadlow.

Hadlow...

Hadlow House?

Was it Hadlow House?

Yeah, here it is, Hadlow House.

"Taking action to
end homelessness."

Founded in May 2013 by family

and friends of Gabriella
Hadlow, in her memory.

Where have I seen
that logo before?

An eyewitness, Toby Spencer,

supplied Haringey with a
description of the driver.

White male, 50s, red saloon,
but they never found him.

- Did you?
- Oh, yes.

According to the DVLA,

a 2008 red Mondeo

registered to
Katherine Knightley,

Andrew's wife, was updated SORN

on the 2nd of August, 2012.

He took it off the road.

I've checked his
insurance records,

and there's no sign of a claim.

He scrapped it,
destroyed the evidence.

There was a survivor,

suffered minor injuries.

In the vehicle?

No, friend of the deceased.

With her when the
collision occurred.

Listed in the report
as Jane Reece.

Wait.

Middle name, Erin.

Thanks, Jess.

Erin told us that she
volunteered for a charity.

That's where I've
seen that logo before.

The busker's coffee cup.

But on CCTV, there
was no sign of her.

White with a blue ripple.

Afternoon, Mrs. Murphy.

- May we have a word?
- Please.

How can I help?

We wanted to ask you
about an accident in 2012.

A hit-and-run which resulted
in the death of a young lady

called Gabriella Hadlow.

We believe Andrew
Knightley was the driver

of the vehicle responsible.

What can you tell us about that?

Gabriella's family speak
very fondly of you.

We know you volunteer for a
charity called Hadlow House.

And according to their schedule,

the morning Andrew
Knightley died,

you were doing
the breakfast run,

serving food and hot drinks
from the back of their van

a short distance from
South Kensington station.

That schedule's
wrong. I was...

You knew Andrew Knightley
would be at the station

at that time of the day.

No. Working for the homeless,

you know about the
broken fire door

at the back of the station.

That's how you gained
access, isn't it,

Erin?

Mrs. Murphy, is this your coat?

Yes.

White with a blue ripple.

We found this on the tracks
near Andrew Knightley's body.

You must have lost it
when you pushed him.

June 2012.

What happened that night?

We were walking back
from the college bar,

like we did a few
times each week.

Then this car...

It was like it
appeared from nowhere.

Andrew Knightley was driving?

I wasn't sure till
I saw him again.

When was that?

When I started working
here about three years ago.

I recognized him, but he
didn't know me from Eve.

Did you confront him?

What would he have
said? That he was sorry?

I know why he
didn't wait around,

why he didn't go to the police.

Way he was driving,
he was clearly drunk.

I did what Gabby would've
done. I decided to...

understand him,

to forgive him.

So what changed?

When we organized the
barbecue and Andrew offered

to pay for it all, I thought
it was a kind gesture.

I thought he was a
good man after all,

that he had remorse
for what he'd done.

I could've lived with that.

But then he told
me about his ghost,

sent me that text.

"An evil in my home."

How dare he.

"An evil in my home."

That's how he described her.

"An evil in my home."

How dare he.

So you decided to punish him?

Yes.

You went on to the
platform to wait for him?

He should've stopped.

He shouldn't have driven off.

A good man would've taken
Gabriella to hospital.

A good man would've saved her.

Andrew Knightley
was not a good man.

Yes, I pushed him.

I'm so, so sorry.

Paperwork then.

Can it wait until tomorrow?

Only I'd like to go
home, if that's okay?

Is everything alright?

Yeah. Yeah.

At least I'm getting there.

I'll see you tomorrow, Max.

Enjoy your smelly boat.

I've been avoiding it.

Oh, I realize that.

I've been tending it
until you were ready.

Fighting a losing battle, mind.

Your dad would have loved that.

Ready?

Bye, Dad.

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