Original subtitles

I could have been late again.

Who's the parent here?

Maybe she'll get herself a new alarm clock.

Maybe you should think about getting yourself up in the morning.

Yes, Your Highness.

What was that all about?

Good.

That's Don Green.

Don Kevin.

Nice colour there.

Good, Kirsty. Well done.

But remember, it's the idea of the shape rather than the shape itself we're

looking for.

I mean, look at the tree out there.

Is it standing straight?

Yes. And yet there's not a straight line on it anywhere.

That's what you have to capture, Kirsty.

The contradiction between the form and the content.

Oh, right.

Got it, son.

Good.

That's good, Darren.

I waited an hour last night.

This is about you, Ryan.

Not me.

I've been to art school.

I don't need a portfolio.

I'm sorry.

Okay.

Hey.

This is good, by the way.

Very good.

You can do better.

Is that you?

Yeah.

Look, just leave me alone.

Please.

He's bound to feel it the day.

Maybe he should go up and see him.

Aye.

Aye, baby.

Right, son.

Do you want to talk?

No, I'm away at Glenda.

I want to speak to Tony again.

Tony!

Somebody wants to see you.

How are you?

Fine, McLean.

McLean?

Who are you after?

You.

Go on then, big man.

Wait! You're just like her.

Pathetic. Now get lost, you hear me?

Go on!

Come on.

Hi.

I'm at the school.

I've left this stuff here.

Look, I'll get back to you, okay?

Anyone there?

Thank you.

John Marrett. Evening, sir. Have you bumped the investigating officer?

Not a heavy presence for a suicide, Mr. Buck. Aye, if you say so.

At them now.

I hope you're right.

I'm right.

Aye, you're always right.

I hope you don't drag me all the way up here just for this. No, sir. There's a

good chance it's the boy's mobile, though.

All right, get it checked out pronto.

Yes, sir.

So, what's the story, Robbie?

Two theories. One, he comes up here last night, stands on the edge, jumps.

Or he wasn't alone. There was a fight, maybe, and the boy slams off the edge

here.

He fell on his back, but his jacket's ripped at the front, and there are

on his arms not caused by the fall.

I'm afraid it's impossible.

We're in the middle of preparations for the exams.

I don't think you appreciate the gravity of that.

There, you see, I have a parents' night tomorrow and it's a new intake the week

after. Yeah, well, I would put that on hold.

We need to interview all the staff, all the pupils.

Glasgow Grammar is the most successful school in the city. I won't let school

business be jeopardised, however tragic the accident.

I'm sorry, Miss Ford, but the way things are looking, this was no accident.

When was the last time you saw him alive?

Yesterday.

I knew he was worried about art school, but this...

Best student I'd had in years.

Did he speak of any arguments or enemies he had?

No.

He was very popular.

He was a lovely lad.

Lovely.

He didn't have any girlfriends that I knew of.

No girlfriends?

You sure about that?

He had friends that were girls.

I was his friend.

We all were.

So, who were his enemies?

I don't know anymore.

But, sorry, I've got to go.

Listen, Kirsty, here's my card.

If anything occurs to you, you give me a call, OK?

You got anything?

Mr Popular, that's what they say.

No drink, no drugs.

That's about it, but I've got another dozen I sort of speak to inside.

OK, you carry on with that.

Jackie and I are off to visit the boys' home.

What do you think you're doing?

Well, maybe Darren finds it helpful talking about Ryan.

You! On your way!

I'm going to watch you lick me. And I'll do you for obstruction, mate!

Now get yourself off these premises!

It's all right, Chief Inspector. Mr Marriott has my full permission.

Excuse me?

His editor sent his daughter here. He's very sympathetic.

He's given me full assurances.

Aye, right.

Come on.

Let's go where we won't be disturbed.

You don't have to, Darren.

Mr Morrison's right, Darren. You don't have to. But you do have my permission.

You're playing a dangerous game here.

That man's a journalist. He'd sell his granny for a byline.

Tell me, Inspector, is your manner an affectation or were you just born

Michael, could I have a word?

All right, let's get on with it.

Jackie.

Hardly Glasgow grammar country, is it?

Number 21 on the left, sir.

This is him.

His first day at school.

He got a scholarship. He was the only boy in the whole scheme.

Never a moment's bother all the time he was here.

So Ryan didn't always live with you?

His mother walked out when he was tiny.

He lived with his father, our son George.

He was about ten.

It was very close.

And what happened to your son?

He's dead, Mr Burke.

Sorry to hear that.

Culpable homicide, they called it.

But he was murdered right enough.

He was knifed in a fight.

Left him bleed to death.

And now Ryan.

Well, for someone with no enemies, you had a dark imagination.

Forensic boys are coming over.

Go through this place with the proverbial.

Names, diaries, and check the story of the father's death.

Yes, sir, I know the form.

Briefing at five, OK?

You were in the same class.

I've told you, I don't know anything.

Well, you were chatting away to that journalist back there.

Well, maybe he asked nicer.

What time did you leave school yesterday?

Normal time, after lessons.

And did you come back?

Me? Yeah, come back here later.

What exactly are you accusing him of? Mum, I want to go home.

It's all right, son.

What the hell have you been doing to him?

He's just lost one of his friends.

Sorry, your name is?

Eddie Drummond. I'm his stepfather.

And this is Darren's mother, Melanie.

Ah, could you wait outside, please?

We're waiting nowhere.

Come on, Darren, you're going home.

I'm not finished.

You are so finished.

You want to talk to him, you do it in our presence.

And there'll be a lawyer there, too.

Michael. Hi.

How's your teaching?

It's good.

Well, that's good, then, eh?

Bye.

Who's that guy?

Eddie Drummond. The painter.

Right, I'm away.

No, you don't.

Get a life, eh? You're staying right here.

Let him go.

Oh, you are not serious.

Leave it, Ed.

When will you be back?

Who knows?

I need 20.

Thought he's better.

Ryan's father was killed by a Tony Gow.

Gow? The hard man stays in Bardenny. That's the one.

He lived half a mile away from Ryan and he was released from jail last Thursday.

And it's him.

Come on, it's you. Your bus break, then. Sorry, sir.

Have you seen this?

There were no drugs.

Ryan's blood test.

They got it on the way up.

Cocaine.

179 milligrams per litre.

How did these vultures get into this before us?

Who's writing this crap?

John Marriott. The guy at the school. Glasgow's most outspoken journalist. I

soon going to wish he wasn't.

Robbie, you're with me. Stuart, keep on with Ryan's phone. Jackie, get me

chapter and verse on that cow character.

You wait here. If you see Marriott, I'll hang on to you.

Yes, but they're my bollocks, darling, not yours. We run with the Marriott

story. Look, it's going to be sub judice in hours.

Keep what we've got, use it at the trial.

What bloody trial? They don't even know who killed the kid yet.

Mr Morgan.

Just walk in here.

BPI Buck, Strathclyde Police. Where's John Marriott?

I'm the editor. He can speak to me, not him.

I've got a warrant here to seize any information he has relating to the

suspected murder of Ryan George Maclean.

He's not due in till 12. You'll get him at his flat.

Address?

Please.

Oh,

have a nice day.

Jackie.

What have you got?

Fifth number called Ryan's mobile three times on the day he died.

Untraceable? It's a pay -as -you -go. Offered cash three months ago.

Ryan had the number recorded on his phone as Nelson.

Is that one of the kids at school?

No. So what happens when you call him?

Nothing. No message.

Just goes straight to voicemail.

Get her in the back, Robbie. I don't trust this bathroom. Right.

Mr Marriott, open up!

Mr Marriott!

Sorry boss.

Single stab wound, no sign of the weapon.

No sure time of death, but looks like 11, 12 last night.

Well, whoever he was, he knew him.

Looked like he invited them in.

Seems he's been taking photographs, but there's no film in the camera.

Any processing slips?

No, not yet.

Sir, you better see this.

I tried to read that.

And? Pizza.

So, what's the theory, sir? A maniac with a poncho and a stuffed crust?

I checked his messages.

He got a text last night at 10 .42.

Get on quick.

Wear new shirt.

Want to give you good shig.

Shig, what is that, garlic?

I'm not much of a texty, you understand, but I think it translates as get home

quick, wear new shirt, want to give you a good shig.

You know, shag. Aye, all right, all right, I've got the picture.

So who's Prenton?

I don't know.

Well, get it over to technical support. I want to know who made that call.

They only work weekdays.

Then phone them and offer them overtime.

Text them if you have to.

So we're treating this as a new inquiry, sir. No link to Ryan?

Yeah, but let's not rule anything out just yet, Jackie.

Who found him?

We did.

Were there any obvious clues?

I'm sorry, Mr Morgan, I'm here interviewing you as a witness, not copy.

I want to know what stories he was working on.

Oh, the school.

He is a great...

Was.

A great investigative reporter, but people don't get killed for writing

school. I think you have to remember there was a suspected murder at the

We're not talking about league tables here.

Now, we'll be taking papers from everyone. If there's anything you can

anything at all, no matter how insignificant it might seem, we want to

I've trusted up that a bit, Danny.

John Marriott, award -winning journalist, is only described as a

field. Respect for his investigative prowess has poured in from devastated

colleagues... Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on, stop!

But... But nothing, this is a murder investigation, not an editorial

Would you please leave? But I have to get this clean... I don't give a damn!

Enough!

Any info from the hacks at the citizen office?

Well, didn't get any photographs or copy. There are no clues from the staff

his flat yet either.

We're still collecting statements from his colleagues, but they're saying

nothing about his private life.

They're journalists, for God's sake. It's their job to know about other

business.

Stuart, any joy tracing that text message?

Nothing yet.

I want his lover found, OK?

What about the school?

Well, he was only there five minutes. What could he have found out that we

didn't? I took that darn drumming boy away for a tete -a -tete.

Yeah, the artist's son.

Could be that's where the drugs info's coming from.

I think we should go round there and have a chat.

Sir, records sign this up.

Tony Gow? He's out of the frame, surely.

Is he?

Ten years for Bardini knife killer. Written by John Marriott.

This is well past its sell -by date.

I plunged the boy's fever.

I admitted it in court seven years ago and I admit it now.

It was his knife.

I took it off him. I plunged him.

Adios amoebas.

What else?

Nothing else.

I'd done my time.

And you'd a party to celebrate getting out of jail for murder?

I'm sentimental.

It was culpable homicide, by the way. Did you see Ryan McLean that night?

Look, here's the beef.

The boy Ryan comes to the door. He squares up to me.

I told him to beat it.

He goes.

And you didn't touch him?

A bit of a slap.

Define slap.

I shoved him against the rail.

Scared him enough to make him go.

How?

I grabbed him.

Ripped his jacket. That's all.

And then what?

Then nothing.

He left.

It was a party. I got pissed and fell over.

Twenty people saved me. Sir?

Most you can do me for smoking African woodbines.

You can kiss the book on that.

You can kiss my arse. Alibi?

What?

His alibi, sir.

It holds up.

He was at the party all night.

Shit.

Tell us about John Marriott.

Who's he?

The journalist who covered your trial.

A big fan, was he?

He was murdered last night.

No.

Mean city, eh?

And where were you between ten and midnight?

Oh, you should know.

How the hell should we know?

I get lifted for drunken disorder late at night.

I spend the night in a cell on Pitt Street.

Oh, it's a fair cop.

OK, thanks.

Anything from TFU in the text message for the mystery girlfriend?

Hee -haw.

Are they in some kind of bloody go -slow there?

Phone them on the Ella, every Ella. Remind them this is a murder inquiry.

I think they're doing their best, boss.

These arrive from Marriott's flat. Special delivery.

They're just snapshots.

Not much of a photographer.

Isn't he?

Look at these.

That's the drumming boy.

I think John Marriott was following him.

And this one?

He's clocked him.

And that's the last one?

Who's this guy with Dad?

I can't place him.

Well, I know who can.

Robbie, come on.

What is this? A flat or a factory?

Nouveau gauche, apparently.

Door!

Door!

Jesus.

There's nobody even here in this house.

Yeah.

Take the lift to the third floor.

Who is it? I don't know. Never heard.

Mr Drummond.

Matthew Buck, Strathclyde CID.

An honour to meet you, sir. An honour.

Thanks. Do you mind if we come in? We need a wee word with Darren. Look, I've

told your partner.

Caught your last show at the fruit market.

Stunning it was.

Stunning.

Which way's the... This way.

Amazing. I have to confess to certain ignorance of figurative art.

I'm more of a post -modernist myself, you know, shocker than you and all that.

Of course, my way is I can only afford prints.

You see the Jeff Koons last month?

Well, actually, I'm not, yeah.

Tad overrated, if you ask me. A jumped -up illustrator, frankly.

Well, you know, you're absolutely right.

Ah, but this, this is fantastic.

That's a study for you to look at, isn't it?

Yeah.

I mean...

Charcoal. You know, Madonna's got the original.

I clue that one. Darren.

Sorry? Your stepson.

Darren, can I talk to him?

They should think I've got no routine questions. We're asking all his

classmates.

Yeah, OK.

OK.

Do you want a coffee?

Oh, yeah, a wee espresso would be tip -top.

What did you tell Mr Marriott, the journalist?

I never told him anything.

You were talking to him at the school.

We saw you, remember?

Why don't you ask him?

You obviously don't read the papers, Darren.

John Marriott's dead.

Murdered. Here they are.

Murdered? Who's that?

Who is it?

What the hell's going on?

Did you not phone the lawyer?

Who is it, Darren? Tell me!

It's Nelson.

Nelson?

Of course.

Jamie Nelson, that wee junkie from Bardenny. I beg your pardon, my son

nothing about these people.

I'm afraid you're mistaken, Mrs Drummond.

I can't believe him, that he knows nothing.

He's got no option.

His mother's got him wrapped up tighter than a newborn.

Yeah. You know, I can see Jamie Nelson mixing with Ryan McLean, but he's small

fry. Doesn't go without killing hacks in the bathtubs. Well, maybe he can tell

us who did.

Ryan McLean was from a poor area.

So that's why he was anti -drugs, is it?

You can't control the students when they're off the premises.

Ah, good job, young Ryan's gone.

Wouldn't want him contaminating your other wee darling, though, would we? I

don't like your tone, Chief Inspector.

And I don't like the way you run your school.

Now, what about Darren Drummond? If you can prove that Darren's involved, he'll

be expelled.

Oh, that's your way of helping the kid, is it?

Expelling them? You're wrong about Darren. He's a good student.

No, what you mean is, he's from a good family and you don't want to know. Just

because you saw him with this Nelson character doesn't mean to say that he's

drugs. Yeah, caught now.

You have no evidence linking any of this to Glasgow Grammar.

Right, let's not vote. We've got a name for the Faith and Mary photograph.

Jamie Nelson.

There you go.

What? Ryan's phone.

The last number to call him before he died was someone called Nelson.

Well, now we get to meet him.

Robbie here's already had the pleasure.

Yeah, Nelson hangs out with the crew around town here at football pitches.

Uniform of check, they're having a kick about just now, so it shouldn't be too

hard to pick him up. Of course, one sight of us and he'll be off like a two

-ball rocket.

So let's go in there with a game plan.

Another word?

Captain, it's not predictable.

Fancy a smoke, mate?

Oh, aye right. Back with the throat.

Hello, Jamie. Pleased to meet you.

You were dealing coke at Glasgow Grammar, weren't you? Says who?

Says me.

Ryan McLean's body was full of the bloody stuff.

No comment.

He owed you, didn't he?

Didn't he?

Everything okay, sir?

Yeah, yeah. Just reading him his rights.

So that's why you were phoning?

It had his chance.

I couldn't wait any longer.

So you followed Ryan up to the roof to get the money he owed and then he just

fell off?

He was freaked out before I got there.

He'd been in a fight or something.

His jacket was all torn.

Aye, right.

I wanted to scare him. I admit that.

But I only go to the doorway. As soon as he saw me, he just backed off.

Can you watch?

What about the journalist?

That bastard Darren Drummond grasped me up to him.

Took photos.

What did you do?

I never done nothing.

I liked it.

Do a lot of running, do you, Jamie?

Honest, Mr Burke.

I'm telling you the truth.

I don't know anything about journalists.

And I didn't kill Ryan.

If you lie to me, son, I'll have you farting through your ears.

Do you believe him?

I think if he had killed Ryan, he'd have come up with a better story than he

just fell off.

Yeah. So we let him go? No, I can't think of any choice.

Forensics match for accidental death, and you said yourself he's not capable

killing a journalist.

Make sure he doesn't go very far.

Just don't worry. The else does not go to the imagination.

Get home quick.

Want to give you a good... Don't even go there.

You know that feeling when everything clicks into play?

Not recently, no.

You've got to try from the text message and marry its lover.

It's a cracker.

You're absolutely certain about that?

What was the address?

I'm glad you're so confident.

Right, you deal with her husband. Keep it low -key, I'll get her out, we'll

her back to the station, OK?

OK. Right, let's go.

Can I help you?

This is Morgan.

This is Philippa Morgan?

Yes. DCI Buck, Strathclyde Police.

Are you the owner of a mobile telephone number 07700900004?

Yes, yes I am. What's the problem?

We'd like to speak to you in connection with an investigation we're carrying

out. Oh, no, you've got the wrong end of the stick. I don't use the damn thing.

Hate bloody phones.

My husband uses it.

Your husband?

Yes, Daniel.

Daniel!

What the hell have you been up to this time?

Mr Morgan, I'm not here to pass judgment on anyone.

I simply want to find out who killed John Marriott.

difficult for you. If you'd like some time to compose yourself.

No, no, no, I'll be fine.

It's just things seem a little bleak at the moment.

How long have you and Mary been lovers?

Six years.

Nearly seven.

So it was no casual fling there?

Casual?

We were in love.

Obviously it was difficult for us.

Your wife?

My wife and I have an arrangement. She doesn't interfere with my life, nor I

with hers.

And where were you on Friday night?

Oh, please. Answer the question.

I was here.

Alone? With Philippa, watching television.

Lovely room.

My wife's a collector.

That's how we met.

In another life, I was an art critic. I know. I've read your CV.

Can I ask you again? Where were you on Friday night?

I told you, I was here!

I think we'd better carry this on at the station. Come on.

Let's go.

Ted!

Pippa! Tell them!

Tell them!

Every penny is hers.

Her old man ran the paper.

Got all the shares.

And she's adamant he wasn't with her on Friday?

Mm -hm.

But his ears in debt.

Gambling.

Big tab to three different casinos.

So where did that leave us?

Neither him or his wife lying about the night of the murder.

So, Friday night.

Did you have anything special planned?

No. John Marriott did.

Did he?

And you arranged to meet him at his flat.

I've never been to his flat.

He'd only just moved in.

We found a text on his mobile from his lover.

Time, place, he even told him what to wear.

I'm sorry, I don't quite catch your drift. It came from your mobile.

Is that it?

I don't have it. I lost it.

I reckon it was stolen from my briefcase.

When?

Wednesday, Thursday.

Why would somebody steal your phone and arrange to meet your boyfriend?

Well, I don't know.

Someone from work.

A joke.

Your wife's a wealthy woman, by all accounts.

It's hardly a secret.

Canny family, too.

Anything happens to her, it all reverts to them.

Even on divorce.

So? Well, maybe John was getting impatient.

Putting pressure on you to leave your wife.

No, it wasn't like that.

It must be hard for you to come out after all this time.

John was quite happy with the way it was.

It suited us.

Well, we've only got your word for that, haven't we, Mr Morgan?

And John's not exactly in a position to confirm that, is he?

No alibi.

Perfect motive.

Money. Sex.

Certainly a heady brew.

I wanted to listen to her.

Note that Mr Morgan requested a solicitor ad.

50 no -tricks.

Noted. Request denied.

You can only hold me for six hours.

And I'm going to use every bloody one of them, believe you me.

Now let's get back to the beginning, shall we?

You said that on the night John was killed, you were watching TV with your

What were you watching?

Would you mind telling me what's going on here?

Press conference tomorrow at nine.

For God's sake, man, there's more things to light than coffee.

Your editor's been helping us with our inquiries.

For how much longer?

About 30 seconds.

You're such a shit.

What did you say?

Forget it.

I don't kill people.

I don't go around dealing to kids or bribing others for stories. I'm doing a

difficult job to the best of my limited ability.

Now listen here. No, you listen!

I've been up since 6 .30 this morning. Your colleagues lying in the mortuary

with a killer running loose. So, hey, yeah, I might be a shit, but I'm being a

shit on your behalf.

Now, get out of my sight.

Danny? Not now, Ben. Please.

Not now.

Have you been here all night?

Not quite.

Out of the house to house.

I tell you, if I read another empty statement, I'm going to scream.

Have you got Morgan's transcript from last night? Eh, boss would have it fly.

Can I see that, sir?

There's nothing there. It's a sweet bugger all in 20 different ways.

Here. What?

I've never been to his flat.

He just moved in.

And? The fingerprint report came through.

The briefcase. The one he said he lost.

It was in Marriott's lap.

Keep lying and we can prove it.

What the hell is he?

There's no cars around, sir.

You're sure he's not at the office?

No, we checked. Haven't seen him.

Something's not right here.

Check round the back.

my fault.

No, I really don't think you should blame yourself.

I lied.

He was with me all Friday night.

Nothing to do with John Murray's death.

Then why did you tell us he wasn't with you?

The truth.

I wanted him to feel the same pain that I had.

Because he was having an affair with another man?

No.

An affair is when you discover your husband showering more than once a day.

Fear is when you find a number you don't recognise on the phone, Bill.

Then what do you mean?

I'm talking about seven years of knowing your husband loved someone else.

I mean, really loved them.

Knowing in your heart of hearts that whatever happened, he came second.

But you still loved him?

Very fond of him.

Fond enough to provide him with an alibi?

Daniel was with me for the whole of Friday night.

Swear that on my mother's grave.

He's ready.

It could be lying.

What if she did it?

What if she killed her husband's lover?

Look at her suit.

There's no passion there.

Being fond of somebody doesn't turn you into a killer.

She's no more a murderer than you are.

So someone trying to frame him?

If they are, they're trying to do much more than that.

They're trying to break him into two. Looks like they managed.

You've got all his files and you've already got his computer.

You probably know more about Joe and Marriott than I do.

I still need to talk to you again.

You've already interviewed me. Maybe this time you won't withhold vital

information.

I didn't think Danny Bean John's lover was anything to do with you.

Meaning you didn't want your boss to think you were telling tales.

That's absurd.

Well, now you've installed yourself in his office, you can speak freely.

He's made me acting editor.

And I'm sure you accepted reluctantly.

Now let's get back to Marriott.

Yes. Billy Peters?

Mr Peters, yes.

D .I. Ross.

We were chatting.

D .I. Come back with a superintendent, son.

I need to talk now.

I don't know what tree you jumped out of, but you do not come to my house and

show me disrespect.

Understand? Listen, just take a look at this photograph, will you?

I don't know the boy.

Jamie Nelson.

Well, it's been good to talk.

He's the dealer. You supply him. Sorry, I'm a security consultant.

Only thing I supply is bouncers.

Goodbye. We'll be back.

All right, I'll dance at your wedding.

Whoa, what?

Jesus.

Right, you guys are in big trouble. I'm a police officer.

Yeah, so are we.

Go.

It's a murder inquiry, and I want to check out the main player. Billy Peters

our caller.

Aye, well, one of his dealings was up to his neck in a murder.

Who, this guy?

Jamie Nelson?

Small fry.

He's involved in the killing of John Marriott, a journalist.

So? What have you got that links him to Peters?

Billy Peters supplies half the South Side, right? He's killed before. He'd

out a rival like Swart and a fly. So you've got nothing?

I've got reasonable grounds, mate. We've watched Peters for months. We're not

screwing it up just because you're pissing in the wind.

Yeah, but if we can link Peters with Nelson... Aye, if.

Look, pal, I don't care about Nelson.

Leave Piers alone.

All right, fellas, all right. A couple of wires got crossed, that's all. Let's

not make a big deal about it, eh?

Hi, Robbie.

She told me you were looking for a transfer to the drug squad.

Basic stuff, Robbie.

You check before you go after a big fish like Peter's. Aye, like you would.

You've let him know that we're watching.

He just wants to rattle his cage.

Aye, maybe so.

But if Peter's ordered Mary his death, this might make him tie up a loose end.

What, you mean Nelson?

Aye, exactly. He's in there somewhere.

Now, do the legwork. Bring him in.

Hey, get Stuart to pick you up, would you?

Oh, where are you off to?

The drumming boy. He's a -talking to.

It's not convenient.

I'd like to speak to Darren now, please.

If it's that important, come back later.

But Darren's not going anywhere. We've grounded him.

It'll just take a minute.

I said no.

Your son could be in danger, Mrs Drummond. Now, I'm more than happy to

but I thought you'd want to put your safety first.

Tonight, two American boys holiday the Falaraki World. I hear you're grounded.

Shock news for club rep Natalie.

What's it to you? Darren?

It's fine, Mrs Drummond.

Have you heard any more from Jamie Nelson?

This isn't kid stuff, Darren.

What do you think?

Yeah, and I'm not a kid.

I just smoke a bit of dope, nothing heavy.

Nelson's scared.

He's on the run and he could be dangerous.

Now, have you heard from him?

This is important, Darren.

He called yesterday.

I cut him off.

How much do you owe? 200.

Come on, we'll be late.

Ed and I agreed we'd pay it.

You don't know what you're dealing with here, Mrs Drummond. What else can we do?

Can you give him a 24 -hour guard?

Well, I... Exactly.

So you'll leave us with no other option.

There are priorities of manpower. Yeah, well, maybe when you can give us some

practical help, we will listen to your sermonising.

You hear from Nelson again, call me right away.

Understood.

Well, you were long gone, Boris.

I might as well have been.

The drumming boy, I wanted an overnight guard.

No go with the top corridor.

I'd have been as well asking for a year's sabbatical.

Do you want me to be around there? No, no, I'll be fine tonight.

I'll batter down Patterson's door first thing.

I don't have to go.

It's okay.

I need you at the gallery.

Here you, brat.

I'm just going to go and hang down.

Oh no.

One more.

Oh no.

Ed?

He's not here.

No. No, Mel. No, Mel.

No!

No!

No!

No!

How

are

your priorities now?

Back him down here.

How long?

I'll call this straight away.

Get out of here!

You have to leave him there.

Melanie, please.

Once her boss left, we... We were out.

He seemed fine.

I'm a bit worried, maybe, but... But he was fine.

Please, don't.

Don't make me leave him.

Please, don't. Please, I promise you won't give it to him.

I don't want to leave him.

Wait for her.

I'll take her.

Oh, for God's sake!

Give me some space!

Please!

So what's the consensus?

Suicide? I think it was murder.

What about the syringe in his arm?

Did you see any track mark?

Darren wasn't even a user.

I saw that boy last night. There's no way in the world he'd be protecting his

own life.

We keep a tight lid on this till we know what we're dealing with.

If this could lead to the press to help me out.

Let us through, let us through now. You can't tell us what to

print and what not to, you know. I'm asking for some respect and sensitivity.

No, you're not.

You're just trying to cover up your guilt.

That boy needed your protection.

Making headlines out of him won't help. You told me you were just trying to do

your job. Well, so am I.

I'm just trying to tell the truth as I see it.

Do you know the cause of death yet?

I'm afraid you won't be the first to know.

Could do a lot worse than me, you know.

A lot worse.

Pure heroin.

Death was instant.

But there was no prints on the syringe.

No print?

Doctor says he was unconscious within seconds.

He couldn't have used it and then wiped it clean.

Somebody stood over him.

Injected him.

Billy Peters.

He's done it before.

Top two grassers in the 90s, both found dead. Who did?

Would he have stabbed Marty?

He's capable of killing anyone who gets in his way.

Trouble is, he's untouchable. Wouldn't dirty his hands himself.

I bet he's not known for confession either.

So how do we get him?

Jamie Nelson, that's how.

Find him.

I don't care how. Find him.

You can't.

No.

Sir, what do you reckon to this?

Stuart, we're away after Nelson.

Well, this might help to find him.

What can you see?

A couple of kids on the street. So what?

Well, if we can identify this street, we'll have Nelson's hangout.

Proper policing means proper legwork.

Boss told me to give it a go.

Oh. Well, I'm off to catch Nelson.

Don't overdo it while I'm away.

Can we now agree that this school has a drugs problem?

Is that why Darren was killed?

We're not sure.

We do know he was mixed with some real lowlife.

Isn't that right, Miss Ford?

I have found no evidence of any other student involved with drugs.

You saw no evidence that Darren was involved either?

And you knew Darren was mixing with these people, Chief Inspector, and yet

boy was still killed?

I'm not here to enter into recriminations, Miss Ford.

Now, are you saying my students are in danger?

This is just awful.

Poor Melanie.

You know her?

We were at art school together.

This photograph of James Nelson will be issued as a poster.

If you should come near the school, you must get in touch immediately.

No joy.

No, not a sign.

You know, he must be involved in this. He disappeared so quickly.

Are you listening to me, Stuart?

I might have something here.

I'll have to definitely go with something. I'm sore feet and I need for

caffeine.

Sir, it's Stuart.

I think I might be able to find Nelson.

It's our gals, Pete. I know it is.

The amusement arcade?

What? Under Central Station, it's where the Neds hang out. He's right, you know.

It's a perfect place for Nelson. Let's go.

Calm down, Robbie. These people are dangerous.

If we're going to do this, we do it right.

Matt, you got a minute?

Sure.

Get some backup.

I want everybody in street clothes. Briefing in 15 minutes.

I hear you asked for a watch on the drumming boy last night.

Couldn't get approval.

Why didn't you call me at home? Because you wouldn't have given me permission

either.

Look, the drug theory was me and Robbie shoehorning motivate a massive loose

end. Wanting him watched with just pure instinct.

But now it looks like you were right.

Yeah. With hindsight, we can all wish we had trusted instinct. There's no point

looking back. We're still a boy dead, Val. And you think Nelson's the key to

getting Peter? It looks that way.

Nelson's the one you've already had in? Yeah, I know how it looks. I'm not

having a go, Matt, but if this is down to Peter's and he thinks you're getting

close, he could kill again.

Yeah, I know that.

If you have any more instincts about people needing protection, you find me,

okay?

Okay.

You okay?

That white car, Jackie.

How long has it been there?

I'm not sure.

The drumming boy?

Wasn't my fault.

Run a check on the reg number.

He's heading for the arcade.

Right, I've got him.

Looks like they're dealing.

Go, go, go!

Tommy!

Get him out of the car! Get him out of the car! Get him out of the car! Get him

out of the car! Get him out of the car!

Get him out of the car!

Thank

you,

Mr Ross.

You were with Nelson when we picked him up.

I've got nothing. So this will know where the devil's dandruff then.

This isn't the movies, son.

Taking the Fifth Amendment's not an option.

OK, we can find out your name later.

I know why you won't talk.

Can't I say I blame you?

Billy Peters will put the fear of God into me too.

I mean, supplying drugs is one thing, but two murders.

Two cold -blooded murders.

What?

Murders? John Marriott and Darren Drummond.

Who?

I don't even know them.

You're Peter's lieutenant.

Jamie Nelson hasn't got the bottle for the wet work, but you have.

You're wrong.

Peters won't keep you in flash cars in jail, mate.

Two murders means two life sentences.

Think you can handle that?

Are you prepared to let Peters walk free while you rot inside?

Get stopped.

I don't even know where Darren was.

You've already admitted you were on the roof the night Ryan died.

Now, if we can put you at Darren's, What are the journalists?

Then we've got you, Jamie.

Come on, Jamie.

No more running, eh?

What are you scared of, son, eh?

Morning, folks.

Morning, sir.

So, what have we got?

A strung -out junkie that's been up all night. And a major dealer that can't

even tell her the name.

Still say Nelson's no killer.

I'd rather check on that dealer's number plate.

Got it.

The connection between Nelson and Billy Peter.

Your superintendent, I presume?

DCI Buck, Mr Peters.

So what's it about now?

I've got a TV licence and the road tax is paid.

Would that be in a white sports car?

You're the registered keeper, Billy.

Registration Y748YHM. What is this?

What, are you trying to say it's not registered to you?

No, it's Mitch's.

Must be one of your best men to deserve a car like that.

Mitch doesn't work for me.

No, no, no, of course not. No, you just bought him a car.

Stop messing around.

Mitch is my son.

So what's this all about?

Recognise them?

No. They were onto you and now they're dead.

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

I'm talking about two premeditated and brutal murders.

I've never killed anybody.

This is nonsense.

Your son, Mitch.

It was Mitch that screwed up, wasn't it?

Some deal went wrong, Marriott found out about it and you tidied up the mess.

Look, I don't know what you're on, mate, but you're well wide on the mark. Am I?

Mitch doesn't deal anything.

He's a student.

We caught him with enough eckies and coke to put him away for seven years,

Billy.

You're lying.

This is a wind -up.

Where's my lawyer?

Where does he get his gear, by the way? He doesn't have any gear.

He goes to college.

He's studying to be an architect.

We've got him, Billy.

We've got him and we're going to do him and he can kiss his architect's degree

bye -bye.

You're lying.

It's not true.

I don't think you know your son at all.

What do you reckon?

Well, if he's kidding on, he's fooled me.

Jackie, where's Nelson?

Stuart's bringing him up.

OK, you're first cracking him.

He's a feminine charm.

Now, that'll work.

No go with Peter?

Two to four. I think there's nothing about the murder.

So what's the problem?

The problem is I believe him. So what now?

The drug's twerking at him.

Maybe he's a son of Leverie's doing some sort of deal.

It's a good result, Matt.

Still no catch on the killers, is it? If this isn't drug -related, what is it?

Oh, God knows.

I thought Jamie Nelson could shed some light.

It's true.

Mitch was terrified that his dad would find out.

Mr Peter didn't know he was dealing.

What about Darren Drummond?

Did he have a fallout with Mitch?

Mitch never even met Darren.

Look, Darren was my contact at school.

That was it.

And the journalist in the photos?

Are you kidding?

Mitch would have beat the shit out of me if he'd have found out that I'd been

spotted.

Mitch has got nothing to do with this.

Neither has his da.

Is that all you know?

Yeah.

Can I have my methadone now?

He's hiding something.

All right, Sergeant, he's messed you around enough. We're charged and he'll

murdered. Oh, no, no.

James, Patrick, Nelson, you're charged. They're on the fifth floor. No, please,

wait, wait.

Then stop pissing us around!

I've told you the truth.

Ah, but not all of it.

Have you, Jamie?

Have you?

The night Darren died, I was outside watching the house.

Why was that?

I just wanted my money.

I was going to go inside, but somebody got here before me.

Who? I don't know.

It was called outside, so I left.

Did you see his face?

No, just the back of him.

You can have this, son.

But first, you're going to have to concentrate, OK?

OK.

If you couldn't see, you must have heard. What did you hear?

Think hard.

I don't know.

I don't know what I'm in.

I held him at the door.

That's good, son.

What did he say?

I can't hear.

I knew him, though, because he went straight in.

So, darling, you're easy.

Yeah, same as Maria.

Well, Nelson's confession puts the tin lid on it. We can forget the drugs

You believe him?

Yeah, I believe him, all right.

The only thing we have now is that Darren and Marriott both knew they'd

So where does that leave us?

Jackie and me go back to Glasgow Grammar. You and Fraser get down to the

office. Do what?

Rattle those journalist cages.

Somebody somewhere's lying through their bloody teeth.

Even if Darren's death wasn't due to drugs, he was still involved with them,

wasn't he?

Yes, he was.

I was naive not to listen.

I'm sorry.

We still need your help to catch Darren and John Marriott's killer.

Meaning what exactly?

Meaning all lines of inquiry are open.

My officers will have to re -interview your staff and pupils.

But I thought I'd already told you everything.

I know, but this is really important.

We still really need your help.

So you haven't caught whoever killed Darren?

I don't want you to worry about that. You're going to be perfectly safe.

Look, I need to ask you again about Darren. Is that OK?

Good. So, you were friends?

Kind of.

Well, we were in the same class.

Did you like him?

Yeah. Are you sure?

Well, he was full of himself, you know? Thought he was dead trendy because his

stepdad being an artist and all that.

Did they get on?

I think so.

He was closer to his mum.

He was always calling her on his mobile.

She was lovely.

Is lovely.

Yeah. Yes, she is.

She must be so upset.

Are you interested in the neoclassicists?

I'm more interested in Darren Drummond.

Poor kid.

Do you want to know?

What did you think of him?

Darren and I didn't always see eye to eye.

Why was that?

He was one of the kids who imagined the world would unfold at his feet.

Did he say anything to you about John Marriott, anything that could have

them?

You said it was drugs.

No, I'm afraid not.

Not a clue, then.

Darren was difficult.

Unlike Ryan.

Ryan, he was... He would have been great.

I feel so guilty.

Why? Because I feel worse about Ryan's death than Darren's.

Sorry, sir, that's all the people's statements.

Right, we'd best be off.

Thanks, Mrs Morris.

Well, there's nothing new in this lot.

Kids are still scared.

But they're clueless.

Well, it's somewhere, somewhere between the school and the bloody paper. Sorry,

I almost forgot.

I found this stuff in Darren Darklocker.

The painting, sir.

I thought about taking it round, but then I...

Really couldn't pick it.

No, no, he did absolutely the right thing.

I'll take it.

Do you want me to give that back to his mother, son?

No, I'll go.

You don't have to.

Yeah, Jackie.

I do.

You've no shame, have you?

We only buried him yesterday.

I'm truly sorry for your loss, Mr Drummond.

Please believe me.

You mean if we put in a complaint, you will be? Ed, please.

I didn't have to come here.

I chose to.

To solve your conscience?

Maybe so.

Yeah.

Well, if it's absolution you're looking for, forget it.

Wait, don't touch that.

Whose is it?

It's not Darren's.

No, we've got Darren's phone.

The people have already looked at it.

Aye, Buck here.

Yeah, all right, Robbie. I'll be right over.

You should be going.

No, I can't leave you to do all this.

I'm fine with it.

Maybe I should cancel.

No, it's okay.

You go.

No, I don't just mean the meeting.

The exhibition, everything.

Don't do that.

Darren would laugh at you for even thinking it.

Do you mean that?

Yes, I do.

Are you sure?

You take care.

Stuart.

See if you can get a hold of our charger. Get this fired up, find out

it. Yes, sir. What are they?

In our office.

So, what have you got for me?

Well, McLaughlin here has just been telling me what the killings are all

Oh, yeah?

According to you, it was drugs, wasn't it?

Drugs war, drugs horror, drugs death.

Well, never confuse what a journalist writes with what they believe.

Oh, I never have.

So, if it wasn't drugs, what was it?

I've already told him.

Tell me.

Sex. Sex?

No, you've lost me.

Well, ask yourself this.

How come my predecessor was so successful at everything except killing

What do you mean?

Ask him how long that car engine was switched on before you lot found him.

Sir, I don't need to check this.

I know this number.

This is Daniel Morgan's phone.

Here, I'll text you all the statements on Morgan's suicide attempt.

Yes, sir.

Jackie, Matt here. Get over to Morgan's place now.

No, now. I'll see you there in ten. All right? Bye.

Robbie, go for Morgan's alibi for the night of Marius' death.

What about Darren? Yeah, him too.

Meet me back at the office at six.

So why would Darren have Morgan's phone?

I don't know, but I intend to find out.

I'm not denying it's my phone.

Then why would Darren Drummond have it?

You're having the faintest idea.

I told you, it was stolen.

Oh, wait a minute.

So where were you on Monday night when Darren was murdered?

Oh, for pity's sake. The man's been on sedatives since John died.

He hasn't been able to make a cup of tea.

Look, I'll talk to them. I've got nothing to hide.

I was here the whole time.

Now, what night was it you... Uh, Monday.

I'm sorry, my memory's... Monday.

Beth was here, going over the week's work.

That's right.

Beth?

Yes. She was here till about nine, then she left.

He had never left the house.

Can I see your car?

In the name of God. Pippa, let them. Just let them.

The tank's full.

What's he implying?

There's been a suggestion he didn't really mean to kill himself.

Let me tell you this.

It was pure fluke you found him.

I never go into this garage, never.

If you hadn't come along that day, you'd be dead.

Well, it was pretty convincing.

Ah, it was.

Listen, you go back to the office. There's something I want to check up on.

Do you need a hand?

No, no, I'll do it my own.

What I want from you is a story, you know? With a beginning, middle and end,

that order.

What you gave me was 750 words of what I did in my heart.

What are you on? Whatever it is, there could be a damn sight less poisonous

you. Where were you late last Friday?

Here, working.

Surrounded by 30 other hacks.

He'll confirm it.

Then why did you try to drop Morgan in the shit?

You want the truth?

I get the feeling that'd be an alien concept around here.

I heard he was coming back to work.

And you wanted his job?

Yes.

You can get off your high horse.

Oh, really? I heard you filled Mike Jardine's shoes while he was still

them.

We're all climbing up the same greasy pole, Matt. It's just some of us, some

us don't kid ourselves.

Look, why don't we just calm down here?

Let's have a drink.

I've got no time to drink.

I mean, I just don't know how you do it. All those dead bodies.

Some say the bodies are the most beautiful in there.

Well, some are nuts.

No, no, no, sadly.

There you are.

Look at that wee Rosetti there. Now, he made her feel you look beautiful.

Ah, well, that's exactly my point. I mean, she was his girlfriend, and he

painted her when she was alive.

There's no beauty in death, unless you're an artist.

An artist?

What? Art.

It's art.

What is?

Try, uh, death and art.

Four million, five hundred thousand and fifty -five lines.

It's actually a bit quicker.

It's only because of the information you put in. Oh, yeah.

Try, um, try artist portraying death.

One million, nine hundred thousand.

Yeah, it's a W, though.

Jackie, come and look at this.

This is a French guy, Marat. He was a journalist.

Well, that's weird.

Isn't it just?

Apparently he was killed to help him write an article in support of the

Revolution.

So do you think Marat was killed to shut him up too?

What about Darren? No, no, we're both in a break.

Let's come back in the morning and look at it with fresh eyes.

OK.

See you.

Yeah, see you, Jack.

Did you get home, sir?

Oh, yeah, yeah. Couldn't sleep.

Jackie, come here. Look what I've found here.

Hey, Ed, isn't it?

What?

Remember we went to the Drummond house?

The mother was sitting right there.

Look at the boy's body.

They're virtually identical.

So, what's the link?

They're both neoclassical.

Oh, my God.

What?

As they are, teacher.

Looks like your friends tipped him off.

Yes, I'd be bloody miles away by now.

Sir.

Seriously weird.

He kills them and lays them out to mimic paintings?

I don't get it.

He's got a vision.

Somewhere in this there's meaning.

A design.

Whatever it is, it makes perfect sense to him.

Please, who's in charge here?

The school secretary said that you were looking for Michael. He's not turned up

at school.

What's going on?

I'm sorry, Miss Ford, this is a crime scene. Michael Morrison disappeared.

What? Why would Michael disappear?

You can't think Michael's responsible.

I'm afraid there's no question that he is. We believe he's killed twice

Why? Sarah, you'd better see this.

It's from the early 80s. A review by Daniel Morgan on our man.

Michael did know Morgan.

It was Morgan's review that closed Michael's exhibition down.

He never painted another thing.

I thought I knew him.

We were good colleagues.

Forensic. I can't believe he's done this.

Michael's a very clever man, Chief Inspector. He thinks things through.

Oh, I think we realise that.

No. Michael's like no other teacher I've ever met.

He's got all his lessons planned for the next five years.

Meaning whatever's next is already set in stone.

I'd say so.

He killed Marriott to get at Morgan.

He killed Darren to get at the Drummonds.

It's the mother.

He was out to hurt the mother.

Her only child?

Exactly. That'd be a thing. Make your enemy suffer. Kill the thing they love

most. So who's going to be the next victim?

Let's get some more light.

Lucy.

Didn't Eddie Drummond paint that?

It's Melanie.

He's going to kill Melanie.

Michael never forgave me.

I've killed my own son.

I've killed Dad.

Please, Mel.

That's just not true.

Forgave you for what?

At art school, Michael and I used to go out.

Then I fell in love with Eddie.

Michael was devastated. He wouldn't leave me alone.

Was he violent to you in any way?

No, no, just upset.

We were only kids.

You know what it's like at that age. It feels like the end of the world.

Eddie and I didn't even stay together.

I won a scholarship and over to Florence.

And to my undying shame, I left Mel behind.

Ten years later, he came back a star.

I'd had Darren by then and we got back together.

That was that?

Yes.

Tell them the rest.

For God's sake, Mel.

It'll come out. Tell them.

You owe it to Darren.

If there's anything else you want to tell me, now's the time.

It's nonsense.

He accused me of copying his work.

Absolute rubbish. He was talking rubbish.

He was a bitter, bitter man.

Michael claimed he did some sketches of the St. Lucie at college.

When I went over to Florence, it was the St. Lucie triptych that, well, set

me on the road to here.

Where is he now?

We're not sure.

I'm sorry, Mrs Drummond, but of good reason to believe he intends to kill you

next.

Let him.

I don't care anymore.

Don't say that.

If anything happened to you... Don't worry.

We'll offer protection until he's caught.

We'll do everything in our power to bring him in, but... But what?

If there's one thing this man has, it's patience.

He's waited 20 years now. You can't spend the next 20 looking over your

shoulder. What are you suggesting?

We draw him out.

Meaning what?

Have you postponed opening to your exhibition?

No. We talked it over.

It's important to Ed.

He shouldn't lose everything because of Darren's... I understand there's a

launch event on Friday.

At the gallery?

He'd never get away with it. He doesn't want to get away with it, not anymore.

Oh, this is sick.

I won't have milk to eat the risk.

I think that's for me to decide.

Is that how you're lighting it?

Eh?

You can't light that with one spot.

That was flown by Madonna, for God's sake.

It's all we've got, mate.

And that's not straight.

Get these lamps changed to a softer colour.

Get that straightened up.

And while you're at it, mop that floor in.

Aye. Right.

All set?

Everyone's in position.

There's no way he can get in without us knowing. We don't relax.

Morrison's twisted.

He'll have planned whatever it is to perfection.

What's Mel?

Look, she's already in.

Don't worry, she's safe.

It is a great pleasure to welcome back our former student, Ed Drummond.

Stuart, should we get the light?

I like my work to talk for me.

Relax.

Legend has it that Lucy was a girl from a village in Italy, passionately pursued

by a man who fell in love with her beautiful eyes.

He raved about them, couldn't sleep from thinking about them.

He pursued her relentlessly... ..till she couldn't stand anymore.

So she plucked out her eyes and handed them to him on a plate.

Throughout the ages, Lucy has been portrayed as...

Meek, docile, sexless.

But my look had to be stunningly beautiful.

Bold and brave.

Sargent once said, every time I paint a portrait, I lose a friend.

Well, I gained a wife.

My motto.

Melanie Drummond.

He's not going to show?

Doesn't look like it.

Can I go now?

Of course.

Two of my officers will see you home.

Mr Drummond?

I know I'm going to have to stay on.

I'm in the exhibition. It's the complete mess. I have to... Yeah.

Bango, is that theory?

No, no. The theory's fine.

We just didn't get her, Summer.

I hope you know what you're doing.

Yeah.

So do I.

Well, you've certainly got a nerve.

It's all right, Jackie. Just give us a minute, will you?

I'm not here to apologise, you know.

I wouldn't believe you if you did.

I was only doing my job.

And stopping me doing mine.

We might have caught the killer if you hadn't warned him we had front page

spread.

Look, how about I take you for a drink?

I'm kind of busy right now.

Maybe another time.

We've checked, Mrs Drummond, they're never insecure.

Can I get you anything?

No.

No, no, fine. Thank you.

OK.

I'll be just outside, then.

Stay alert, Robbie. We'll be with you in ten.

Are you still there, Tommy?

She was needing an arm -rounder when she left that building tonight.

Old Drummond cared about with his bloody exhibition.

Yeah, well, he certainly loves himself, that's for sure.

We got it wrong.

The thing Drummond loves most isn't Melanie, it's himself.

It's not Melanie, it's after it's Drummond.

Come on!

You just wait here for the backup, alright?

Let's stop this now.

It's all right, Inspector.

I've done what I wanted to do.

Take him to the car.

Mr Drummond!

Mr Drummond!

Mr Drummond!

Mr Drummond, are you hurt?

A whole life's work.

Why didn't you

just kill me?

Come on, let's get out of here.

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