All language subtitles for City Homicide - 01x01 - In the Hands of Giants (1).DVDRip aAF.English.updated.Addic7ed.com

Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven.

She made a decent job of it.

We're supposed to be Homicide,
not suicide.

Yeah, all traffic
diverted to May Street.

What's the story?

Her name's Natalie Pierce.
That's her husband up there.

He reckons she jumped.

No witnesses?
We only just got here.

Do you want to canvass down here?
Me and Simon can talk to the husband.

Sure.

We'll do the link over there.
Get the building.

Can't you cover her up?
The crime team's running late.

Cover her up anyway.
Yeah, right.

They're gonna love that.

My responsibility. Matt Ryan.

Bond. James Bond.
Piss off!

Mr Pierce. I'm Detective Ryan.

This is Detective Joyner.

We're sorry for your loss.

She jumped.

She jumped out there.

She climbed up on the rail.

I don't know, she said... she said
she was sorry and she jumped.

You didn't try to stop her?

How?

I woke up this morning.
I was on the couch.

She was already
out there on the balcony.

Any idea why sh?

Every bloody idea!

These last couple of months
I wanted to do it myself.

Half a dozen times.

We had a fire and we lost
both our kids.

I thought Natalie
was just starting to get over it.

I come home from work last night
she's bloody hysterical.

She's crying.

Why do you think she waited
until this morning to, er, jump?

Because there was a bloke here.

Just as I'm getting home from work
he was leaving.

I don't know what the bloody hell
he said to her.

I was too hurt.

I was too late.

Rita Solomon.
Mm-hm.

I live on the fourth floor.

Do you know these people?

Yeah, Natalie was my friend.

I know what happened.

He killed her. Her husband.

What? Did you see it?

No, I didn't have to see it.

That prick killed her.

Well, you didn't see it
so how do you know she didn't jump?

You bastard!

You finally got what you wanted!
Shut up, Rita! Shut up!

You finally put an end to her.
You've got no idea!

You bastard! You killed her!

You made her jump!

Sir.

So, Mr Pierce, this mystery man
was coming out of your apartment?

No, no.

He was getting in the lift
as I was... as I was getting out.

How'd you know he come out
of your place?

Because at the same time,
my, my front door was just clicking shut.

And then I turned to...
to look back at the lift

and the lift was closing as well.

Ah, you were too late. Again.

What next?

Well, I went inside the flat
and Nattie's hysterical.

I asked her what was going on.

I said, "What's going on?
What's going on?"

But she wouldn't talk to me.

She just locked herself
in the bedroom.

This man you say you saw.
I did see him. I did see him.

Mm-hm. What did he look like?

I don't know, it was just a second.

Just... ordinary bloke.

Tall.

Um, dark hair, d-dark...
dark-framed su... er... glasses on.

Sounds like Clark Kent.

You a Superman fan, Craig?

Like a what?

Mate, you made this up on the way
over here, didn't you?

It's a big mistake -
overembellishing.

I didn't kill her.

You were close friends.

What did you talk about?

Oh... about her kids, mainly.

They died in a house fire
and he blamed her.

He hated her.

She was miserable all the time.

You said that he blamed her
for the children dying. Why was that?

She was having an affair at the time.

Who with?

How would I know? I never met him.

Bloody like to though. Mongrel.

She never told me his name.

But it had been going on for a while,
up until the fire.

And, er, she had this guilt.

Because she was with him.

She was with him when my kids died.

So, yes, I blame her!
Yes, I blame her!

Did you kill your wife, Mr Pierce?

Oh, I wanted to. I bloody wanted to.

I love my wife.

I love her, you know,
even after everything that happened.

It's got to have something
to do with that bloke

that I saw getting into the lift.

How about I get someone in here

to help us put together
a picture of this man, hmm?

If there's anything
you'd like to add to your statement,

you can call me anytime.

OK.
Thanks, Rita.

Thanks.

He does look like Clark Kent.

Ah, he doesn't exist, Sarge.
Pierce made him up.

No, no. He could be genuine.

No, look, Pierce blames his wife
for their kids, right?

She was out
screwing her boyfriend

when she should have been
looking after them.

So he moves her into the high-rise
and he keeps at her.

He keeps playing on her guilt

until she can't take it anymore -
it's payback.

That's what Rita Solomon
reckons went down.

Good luck proving it.

Hmm. No, Matt's right,
the DPP'd laugh us out the door.

Anything else? Any witnesses?

Yeah, uniforms
canvassed the occupants

of the surrounding tower blocks,
but they struck out.

Hmm. OK.

Get this copied and distributed.

The autopsy report
should be in tomorrow.

Jennifer, you can pick that up
on the way in.

And, Simon, interview rooms
are for interviews.

You want to eat your lunch,
go somewhere else and eat it.

Sorry, Sarge.

That'd be fine
if we actually got a lunch break.

? Alala, alala

♪ Would you be kind...♪

♪ Gimme one little more... ♪

Oh, my God!

Oh! Oh!

Oh! Oh... my...

...God!

Oh!

Oh.

This would be
so much easier in a hotel.

Yeah. Much more traceable.

We'd pay cash.

Why? This is more exciting.

Oh.

I'll pay for the room, Simon.
I can afford it.

No. No, your husband will find out.

That's what he does for a living.

He's going to find out anyway,

if I don't get home before he does.

Come on. Quick sticks!

? I'm so worried

? I bought that posh clothing

? But it still looks ugly

? Alala, alala

? Am I stupid

? I'm doing the talking

? But I don't get nothing

♪ Alala, alala... ♪

No pre-mortem bruising.

No sign of a fight or a struggle.

Grazes on the back of both legs

consistent with sliding over
a balcony railing.

Looks like a suicide,
from all the physical evidence.

Well, physical evidence
doesn't tell us

what's going on up here,
though, does it?

I'd say it pretty much covers it.

Oh, you think so, do you?

"My wife's gone to the Bahamas."

"Jamaica?"

"No, she went of her own accord."

Did she jump of her own volition,

or did her husband
talk her over the edge?

And what about this character?
Does he exist?

If so, what is his involvement?

Well, maybe
he was an ex-Iover

and he's gone over there
to try to resurrect the relationship.

Hmm. Possibility. Anything else?

One thing.
We checked her phone records.

The last call she made was to
a Dr Patrick Swain - plastic surgeon.

Yeah, she had a boob job.
It's in there.

They, er, don't do too well
in a fall, apparently. Implants.

No, but they can be dated
using serial numbers.

That's, er, in there too.

Natalie Pierce
had that operation almost a year ago.

Why would she contact her plastic
surgeon after such a long time?

Especially when
she's about to commit suicide.

Good question.
Maybe you should ask him?

Get your hand off it, Sherlock.
It wasn't that big a deal.

You missed it.

Yeah, well,
boobs aren't my thing, are they?

I'm more of an arse man.

Right.

I didn't actually
speak to Mrs Pierce...

She left a message on my mobile.

Saying what?

Well, to call her. I assumed
she wanted some more work done.

She was very happy
about her breast augmentation.

You'd, er, given her
your mobile number?

That must make you the most
accessible specialist in town,

wouldn't you say?

You're married?

Very observant of you.

Yeah, he's good at his job.

Are you good at yours, Dr Swain?

How's your, er,
your bedside manner, for instance?

Look, I've...
I've answered your questions

so if there's nothing else...

Dr Swain, Natalie Pierce is dead.

She committed suicide.

My God, that's... er... that's awful.

Yeah.

And the last person she called
before she killed herself was you.

Which would suggest to us

that perhaps you had more than
a professional relationship.

That's ridiculous.

Look, I'm sorry about Natalie.
Of course I am.

But I'm very busy and...

Right. Come on, we can go and ask
his wife, see if she knows anything.

Is that a threat?
No.

That's just the next logical step.

Were you seeing Natalie Pierce
on a personal basis, Doctor?

We were... we were together
when the fire happened.

You know about the fire?

Natalie was distraught afterwards,
naturally.

She... she kept calling me,
hysterical.

She even came here once.

It couldn't go on.

Just no fun anymore, eh?

Ever seen this bloke?

This is...
This is a nightmare.

He was... he was here.

That's why Natalie called me,
to warn me he was on his way over.

She'd told him
we'd used to be involved.

He came here asking questions.

What kind of questions?

About the affair.
How long it had been going on.

How we conducted it.

He wanted to know everything.

He was... he was like a crazy man.

He was yelling at me,
pushing chairs over...

Did he say who he was?

No. No, no way.

I told him to get out or I'd call security.

He left.

So Clark Kent does exist?

The loony version, anyway.

Anything from the apartment block?

I waved his picture around
the neighbours,

but no-one remembers seeing him.

I'll try running it
through the database.

It doesn't matter if he exists
or not, she still killed herself.

It's still suicide.

But what did Clark Kent say to her?

I mean, if he's the one that coerced her
into jumping, he's culpable

and we need to find the bastard.

And do what? What are we gonna
charge him with? Being a nasty person?

You lost something, Simon?

No.

There's gotta be something.

I'm gonna talk to Pierce again.

The Coroner won't release her body.

Reckon it'll be at least a week.

Yeah, takes time.

Not that long.

We've been following up on the man
you saw coming out of your apartment.

Anything else you can remember?

What about before you went inside,
was there anyone hanging around?

I told you everything I know.

Have a look at this.

"We're really sorry
about what happened, Mrs Peters.

"We'll pray for you."

Nice sentiment.

It's the wrong name, mate.
It's Pierce! Pierce!

Hey, wait, wait.
There was, there was a car.

There was a car parked here.

Like, a grey, bluey-grey
kind of car on... on that night -

the night that I saw the bloke.

What kind of bluey-grey car?

Old. Old... old Falcon.
Something like that.

Bloody big dent in the bonnet,

like, like it hit a truck
or something like that.

You didn't say anything
about it before.

Well, I've only just remembered, mate.

I got a lot going on,
in case you hadn't noticed.

I'm organising a funeral.

Why don't you
just leave me alone, hey?

Why don't you just let me
bury her body?

But you can't...
You can't do that, can you?

Because it's always the same,
there's always a bloody finger to point!

It was the same when I lost my kids!

People badmouthing us,

saying we're like druggies
or deadbeats or something.

Mate, I think you should calm down.
That I'd left them!

That it was my fault too!
It's now my fault that they're dead!

Mr Pierce!
I was at work!

I'm installing a bloody toilet...
Just take it...

...across town
and it's my fault that they're dead!

Mr Pierce.

And now you come here
after my wife tops herself

and you start
pointing the finger again.

Hey, hey...
You can't...

Just take it easy.

Get on the phone, ring D24!
Get on the phone!

Five calls from the media. So far.

Apparently Mr Pierce
believes we're harassing him.

Look, the man's children
were killed in a fire,

his wife has just committed suicide.

Now, oh, call me old-fashioned,
I would have thought

that might require a little bit
of sensitivity on our part.

But, no, you three go woofing in there
with your size 12 boots on,

without so much as a backward glance,
and the man ends up in hospital.

Whatever Craig Pierce
may maintain, ma'am,

it's still an ongoing investigation.

But that doesn't give us the right
to hound the man.

We're not. All we were doing
was asking him some questions.

Yeah, that's right.
He was the one who lost it.

You can consider yourselves
very lucky

that this is nothing more serious
than a panic attack.

Otherwise this would be

a very different conversation
we'd be having.

Full status report on my desk

first thing tomorrow,
please, Stanley.

Ma'am.

Honestly, if you three had half
a brain between you, it'd be Ionely.

With respect.

Half a brain between three of us.

That'd be one sixth of a brain each.
We'd probably qualify for a benefit.

I wasn't even there.
Mmm.

What are we gonna do
about this report?

We're gonna write it up
as a suicide and cut our losses.

And what about Clark Kent?
What about him?

Craig Pierce thinks he's responsible
for his wife killing herself.

Is that the same Craig Pierce

that just bagged you out
to the national media?

Yeah, well, he's looking
for someone to be angry at.

You know, that's us
until we find him somebody else.

You are sounding more and more
like Stanley Wolfe every day.

You'll be joining
his congregation next.

Nice one, guys!
Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Pipe down, ladies.
Go back to the 80's.

They're already there, most of them.

Your shout.

I hate this place. Matt?

Hmm. Thanks.

Simon Joyner.

Mate, what did you do -
bash him with the Yellow Pages?

See, this is what happens when
I'm not there to keep you two in line.

Mate, the guy had a spac attack.
It's nothing to do with us.

Duncan.

That's not what they're saying
on the telly. The red one.

It's a good thing I'm coming back.

You got the green light?

Yeah, squeaky clean.

The old firm's back in business.

I'll see you tomorrow.

Duncan got the green light.
He's back tomorrow.

So... what about Jennifer?

Don't know.

♪ Hello, hello
What's going through your head♪

? Hell, there, boy
Better get it read

♪ Hello, hello
What's going through your head♪

? Hell, there, boy
Better get it read

♪ Hello, hello
What's going through your head♪

? Hell, there, boy
Better get it read

♪ Hello, hello
What's going through your head♪

? Hell, there, boy
Better get it read

♪ You used to be so real... ♪

I'm not happy, Duncan.

They may have given you
the all-clear,

but I still have plenty of questions.

Which means you'd better be leaving
that weapon of yours in its holster

unless you've got a damn good reason
for taking it out.

And be careful of other people's
property, if you don't mind.

Yes, Sarge.

Wilton.

How are they hanging, Stanley?
Hmm, reasonably even.

Duncan Freeman
is back on my crew today.

Yeah, seen him. Flash little monkey.
Yeah.

How's he afford those suits?
You ever ask him?

Well, the point is now Duncan's back,

Jen Mapplethorpe
goes back down to Fraud.

I think we should make the effort
to keep her here

or get her back AS AP.

Bloody bastard
fart-arse technological crap!

So what do you want with me?

I write a letter of recommendation
and we both sign it.

Well, as long as I get first dibs.

I could do with an extra body
on my crew.

Especially a cute one.

I'll get back to you.

What's this?

I got the green light. I'm back.

Jennifer.

So I'm back down to Fraud?

Not necessarily.

I'll see what I can do.

We're in the middle
of an investigation, Sarge.

It doesn't make any sense.
Yeah, I said I'll see what I can do.

I'm writing a letter
recommending that you be seconded

back to us on a permanent basis.

Wilton Sparkes
has agreed to co-sign it.

I won't hold my breath.

There is a proviso, however.
Sparkes wants you on his crew.

For what? To do the filing?

You'd be in Homicide.

Fraud is so boring.

Well, Stanley's already said

he's trying to get you back
into Homicide, so...

Oh, with Wilton Sparkes.
I can hardly wait.

I've always wanted to be a secretary.

Have you got your
report in to Waverley?

Yeah, er, Simon did.

Usual, you know,
buy ourselves some time stuff.

Promising leads,
a couple more days...

No bloody way.
What?

Blue-grey car
with a bloody great dint.

Oh, just... can...

Hey, tell Simon and Duncan.

Oh, and give us the keys.

Great.

Mattie.

Are you sure it's a hit?

Gouge in the bonnet. Blue-grey.

Driver fits the description.

Did you check the rego?

Yeah, it makes sense him coming out
of our car park. He's a cop.

Bloody hell.

DS Larry Klein.

He's been warming his bum
in the Media Unit for the past year.

Did he go in the house?
Yeah. I wandered by.

There's, er, a plaque on the front gate -

"Sean McCready, psychiatrist".

Klein's been in there for a while.
Maybe we should...

Here we go.

What the hell are you doing?
Pick him up. Talk to him.

Yeah, right.

He's just been in
for a counselling session

from the stress of working
in the Media Unit, or something.

And we go and jump him,
and we look like idiots.

Do you want to get into
even more trouble?

OK, Dunny, you, er, follow him, then.
Me and Simon'll talk to the shrink.

Come on, mate.

Hello?

Police.

Dr McCready, it's the police.

He's down. Shit!

Looks like the doctor needs a doctor.

Duncan.

Police. Can you stay
in the car, please, sir?

I got my wallet...
Keep your hands where I can see them!

...with my police ID in my pocket.

Keep your hands where I can see them!

I said, I've got my police ID
in my pocket!

You take your hand
out of your jacket pocket now!

OK. OK.

Turn around and put your hands
on the roof of the car!

Now!

Alright. I'm on your side.

I am a Sergeant,
a Detective Sergeant!

Yeah, I know who you are.

You can show me your police ID
down the police station.

Recognise anybody?

This is the guy. This is him.

This is the guy. This is the guy
I saw getting in the lift.

What's his story?
Huh, what's going on?

Is he... is he the bloke
that Nat was screwing?

We're talking to him, that's all.

We're doing our job.

Maybe you wanna tell that

to your mates in the media.

That's him.

He kept asking me about my wife.

Going on about her
having an affair, or something.

So why the bashing, Dr McCready?

I don't know. I told him to get out.

He got angry.

I told him my wife wasn't
the sort of person to have an affair.

He got angrier still.

Has your wife ever had
plastic surgery?

No. She never did.

Why?

Past tense?

She died. Nine years ago.

She... killed herself
after we lost our kids in a fire.

It's true. Look at this.

Map of the world, eh?

I was almost killed myself
trying to get them out.

Doctor, is he?

Oh, I see.

I thought he was a psychiatrist.

I don't know where they get off
calling themselves doctors.

It's like you two
calling yourselves detectives.

Delusions of grandeur.

Sergeant Klein,
you know how this works.

We want answers.

You'll get the answers

when you give me sufficient
and proper cause to ask the question.

That's how it works.

You were seen
coming out of the building.

The victim picked out your photo.

I think that's sufficient
and proper cause, don't you?

Dr McCready says you attacked him
without provocation.

You wanna tell us why you did that?

What you were doing there?

Oh, I went there
to ask him his advice.

I thought I was developing
Mickey Mouse Syndrome.

Like this investigation.

Sean McCready's kids were killed
in a house fire nine years ago.

The same thing happened
to Craig and Natalie Pierce.

What's the connection?

Is there a connection?

Could be a coincidence, you know.
What do you think?

Why'd you bash Sean McCready?

Is that all you've got, is it? His word?

Hey?

How do you know I didn't go there
to make an appointment

and find him already bashed, hmm?

Why'd you visit Natalie Pierce?

Who's Natalie Pierce?

And if I did visit her,
who said I went to see her?

Her husband.
Then he's mistaken. Are we done?

No. No, we're gonna charge you
with this attack, Sergeant,

and it is gonna stick.

So you charge me.
I'll admit to the assault.

And then I'll make an issue
about his provocation and my stress

and I'll be charged
and released on bail.

What provocation?
What stress?

Working in the Media Unit, cleaning
up after donkeys like you two.

It can be stressful.

So I went there to ask him his advice

and he was rude.

And I don't like rude people

so I bashed him

and I'm deeply remorseful
about what happened, Your Worship.

Now charge me, you donkey.

What about Natalie Pierce?

What did you say to her that made her
cry all night then kill herself?

Who's Natalie Pierce?

Nice job.

This guy's looney tunes, Sarge.

Should have pushed him
on the fires, Matt.

Can't see it.
We checked with Arson.

Both accidents.
The Pierce fire, heater, curtains.

McCready's was a toaster.

Both electrical faults.

The only common denominator
were the kids.

Yeah, something's definitely off.

Hold him overnight.
Drag out the paperwork.

See what you can dig up on him.

♪ Eventually,
it took its toll...♪

Klein had you for breakfast.

What, and you could have done better?

My oath, mate.
He ran rings around you.

Crap.

Hey, he ran rings around both of us.

Sorry, Si, no luck.
Thanks for looking, sweetheart.

Lost his ID card, hasn't he?

What? You're kidding.

It's been three days.

It's not funny! What am I gonna do?

Tell Stanley.
So he can ream you a new arsehole.

Cheers!
Cheers!

Morning, Sarge. How's it going?

Been better.

Yeah, I've had a pretty crap week too.

Oh, you've no idea, son.

Had your prostate checked yet?

What?

Prostate cancer.

It can hit young blokes too, you know.

I had mine cut out about a year ago.

One thumb up your bum,
your whole life changes forever.

No, no, you ought to get it checked.

It can affect your performance.

One minute you're
bloody Godzilla in bed,

the next - ooh.

What's this, er, about, Sergeant?

You tell me.

You lost anything?

Sorry?

Your ID maybe?

The one I found
in the back of my wife's car.

You know, the Audi
with the stains in the back seat.

The one you've been porking her in!

You little shit!
You've been rooting my missus!

When I'm ready,

this is going to Stanley
Kiss-My-Arse-I'm-With-Jesus Wolfe

and he's gonna be told
exactly where it was found

and how it bloody well got there!

Let's see how that offends
his Christian sensibilities!

Till then...

...sweat.

So that's why
he's been acting so suspicious.

He is way past bloody suspicious.

I've been looking for that ID for days.

He found it in your car,
Lorraine. He knows.

So what's he playing at?

Why hasn't he said anything?

Look, you have gotta get it back for me.

How am I supposed to do that?

I don't know.
Just... just steal it or whatever.

But he is planning a bloody crucifixion.

Oh, you're back then. Good.

Plenty to do. I've got a pile
of paperwork to get through.

Fine. Point me at it.

Good. If you can, er, get me a coffee
while I pull the file.

White and three.

Bloody Sparkes!

Pain-in-the-arse,
misogynistic piece of shit!

Mapplethorpe? Jennifer, isn't it?

Ah, yes, ma'am.

Transfer not working out too well?

No. No, ma'am. Everything's fine.
Mm-hm.

I was just... venting.

Ah. Venting.

I was 18 when I came into this job.

In those days a female cop
could only be one of two things -

a nympho or a dyke -

determined entirely
on whether you stuffed up

by sleeping with
one of your male colleagues.

The second station I went to,
they didn't even have a toilet,

a female toilet.

And when one was finally installed

the boys took to using it
with great gusto and relish

and stank the place out.

Which, of course, amused them highly,
as I'm sure you can imagine.

You know what I did about it?
I didn't do anything about it.

I kept my head down and did my job.

I didn't waste time on the bullshit.

They think differently to us.

This is our secret weapon,
Jennifer. Use it.

Sarge.

Something's been niggling at me.

Larry Klein's house calls -
run through them.

Easy.

He left McCready
with the crap beaten out of him.

He talked Natalie Pierce into a state
where she committed suicide.

Hmm. And Patrick Swain?

Her plastic surgeon.

Hmm.

Shit! How come
he left Swain untouched?

Klein's on some kind
of a mission here.

He's quite happy to give one person
a kicking, well, why not another?

Why not indeed?

If Swain got out of that visit
without a thumping,

that has to be because he told
Larry Klein what he wanted to know.

Your plastic man's
gonna crack this open for you.

Jump on him. Hard.

Dr Swain!

Oh, look, whatever it is
I'm really pushed.

Well, this won't take long, Doctor.

Sorry. I haven't got the time.

Swain. That's old English
for Swine, isn't it?

Shepherd, actually.
And that would be Middle English.

You know, I saw this item

about this whole debacle
on television the other night.

The, er, the man who collapsed.

I'm sure you wouldn't want
another complaint about harassment

to be lodged with your superiors.

So if there's nothing else...

Well, media exposure
can work both ways, Doctor.

You see, I'm having a beer
with a friend of mine tonight -

newspaper reporter.

He's always on at me
for dirt to dish.

I mean, you gotta be
so bloody careful.

You have a few beers,
you might let a few things slip.

If you know what I'm saying, Doctor.

We'd been together
for about a year when it happened.

The fire?

We had a routine by then.

And...

...that's what Klein
wanted to know about?

That... and everything.

And you told him?

He threatened me.
He was all but foaming at the mouth.

Didn't want plastic surgery
yourself, eh?

We used a little boutique hotel.

Very discreet.

We'd have an early lunch
at the hotel restaurant

then room, drink, bed, sex.

And after that Natalie would go home

to be there for the kids
when they got back from school.

Except on the day of the fire,
it was meal, drink, bed...

...no sex.

Why not?

We both went to sleep.
We'd been... we'd been drugged.

Yeah, right.

How do you know that?

I'm a doctor. You think I can't tell
when I've been sedated?

What's the name of the hotel, Doctor?

Larry Klein was charged
and released on bail an hour ago.

Tell Matt and Duncan that he's out.

Alright.

Larry Klein's been released.

Oh, that's all we need,
another lunatic on the street.

Hey, check this out.

Hello! Anybody here?

Hello!

Oh, Jesus,
please don't hurt her!

Speak bloody English
and speak it now!

Klein!
...you dago barstool!

I told you I'd be back!

What happened
to them after they were drugged?!

Please, Papa.
Signor, we know nothing about this.

What happened to them
after they were drugged?

You talk to me!
You tell me, you dago bastard!

I wanna know what happened!
Put it down, Klein!

Put it down and listen to me!

Put it down!

Stay where you are!
I'll cut her hand off!

Yeah, I'm gonna stay where I am.
You just put the meat cleaver down.

Nobody's talking to you.
Put it down!

Help me, Papa. Please!
You don't want to hurt her.

Listen to me, don't hurt her.
Put the cleaver down.

Larry.
Stay where you are!

Larry, I'm gonna stay where I am.
You just put the meat cleaver down.

We know nothing about this. Please!

Larry, we can get you
whatever you need.

But you're not gonna get it
this way and you know that.

So just put the cleaver down!
Put it down.

Larry, you know how this works.

You don't know
what's been going on!

Are you OK?

Alright. Come on.

Yeah.

Come on.

Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey, come on.

Your silence cost people's lives.
You bastard!

Shut up.

You're under arrest.

You're real brave scaring
a young girl like that, aren't you?

Means to an end.

Get us a rum and a smoke
like a good man.

It's a government building.
No smoking.

That's right.

Well, that's a shame.

That's a real shame. I was gonna swap
you this key for a rum and a smoke.

Now, why would we want that?

Because this is a very important key.

This belongs to 13a Pelham Lane.

Up the back of the derelict factories
near the markets. You know it?

This key opens room 116.

It's a very important room.

You better not be stuffing us around.

What number are we looking for?

116.

What the hell is this?

OK. Get to liaison AS AP.

Sarge?

Er, I wanted to apologise
for whingeing at you earlier on.

I was just feeling sorry for myself.

Sparkes won't keep it up forever.

Well, if he gave me something
half-interesting to do

I'd make him all the coffee he wants.

Hmm. I'm sure
he'll work that out eventually.

Are you still working?

We've had a development.

Anything I can do?

What's she doing here?

Seven fires in nine years.

The psychiatrist, Sean McCready,
his children were the first.

Then Craig and Natalie Pierce's
children, they were the last.

All of these kids...

...all dead.

Why kill the kids?

Why come back
and torment the parents?

You think I'm some kind
of multiple offender, do you?

Aren't you?

This isn't a trophy room.
It's a crime profile wall.

This is an office.

He didn't kill any of these children.
He's trying to work out who did.

Yay!