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Talk about Soho prices.

£4.50 for a cheese toasty!

It's a panini.

It's a rip-off.

Oh, hey, did I tell you Mark's got engaged?

Congratulations.

He's bringing Theresa... That's his fiancée...

Round for Sunday lunch next week.

Huh, you'll be a nervous wreck, then.

Why? He's not the one marrying her, is he?

And this cheese smells.

It's supposed to. It's Gorgonzola.

No, but he's welcoming her to the family.

It's a very delicate thing.

Actually, I've thought of a really nice way to do it.

Good for you.

This is the scene of the crime.

Look at the state of this place.

Yeah, well, it's not finished yet.

Now, in 1987, Stuart Sharpe was killed

whilst working late

at his brothers' photographic studio here.

That's what I'm making for her.

A photo montage, for her computer.

What?

Of pictures of Mark when he was a little lad.

He sustained head injuries whilst tackling an assailant

who was thought to be robbing the premises.

Yeah, Brian, that's a really nice idea.

Yeah?

Several items went missing,

including an expensive camera and some rolls of film.

"York Road Regeneration Project.

A fully pedestrianized retail area."

More shops, that's all we need.

Do you know, I can remember

when shopping was just a thing you had to do.

Now it's a bloody hobby.

Everybody wandering around like zombies looking at stuff.

Well, it's better than what was here before.

I think most people would prefer

to see a delicatessen or a boutique

than a peep show or a sex shop.

Depends what you're shopping for.

Anyway, last week, contractors were stripping out this place

when they made a discovery.

Hidden in the vents in the toilets were the stolen items.

The serial number on the camera confirmed where they came from,

the photographer's studio.

Now this really pisses me off.

The Old Trout used to be

a proper good, old-fashioned boozer.

Full of charm and character.

Full of prostitutes and pimps, as I remember.

Yeah, that's what I mean by character.

It's still better than cheap lager and wide-screen TVs.

Oi, oi, what you doing?

Oi, listen, that's a bit of London's heritage

you've just thrown away there.

Gerry!

♪ It's all right, it's okay ♪

♪ Doesn't really matter if you're old and gray ♪

♪ It's all right, I say it's okay ♪

♪ Listen to what I say ♪

♪ It's all right, doing fine ♪

♪ Doesn't really matter if the sun don't shine ♪

♪ It's all right, I say it's okay ♪

♪ We're getting to the end of the day ♪

No, I'm taking it home with me tonight.

Hi, Dad.

Hello, Emily.

Can I have a word?

- Yeah. - Excuse me, ma'am.

Yeah, you can have several. Oh, here, take that in for us.

- She called him "Dad." - I noticed.

He's not told her, then.

I think he's waiting for the right time.

So my inspector called me in for a chat today,

and he's offered to fast track my promotion.

Oh, wow, that's terrific.

I thought so. If I carry on at this speed,

I could make detective superintendent before I'm 40.

Well, if that's what you want.

Anyway, he suggested I get a more experienced copper on side,

like a mentor.

So, obviously, I thought of you.

Do you reckon you could put a good word in for me

with Detective Superintendent Pullman?

Oh.

29th of September 1987.

Stuart was working through the night here at Sharpe's Images.

Which is something he often did

because during the day, he was at art college.

Oh, they'd been robbed on four previous occasions.

Well, then, open late, one person on the premises.

Must have been an easy target for any passing smackhead.

Yeah, but this was the first time there was any violence.

What we now know is that after the attack,

the assailant ran 50 yards to The Old Trout pub here

and stashed the stuff.

Hang on. 29th of September.

That was the Soho Vice Raids, wasn't it?

The killer would have been right in the middle of it.

There must have been police everywhere.

That's right.

They were turning over all the knocking shops.

Yep, Stuart was killed whilst Soho was virtually locked down.

So no wonder the killer didn't want to be found

with a bag full of stolen goods.

Yeah, but why didn't he come back for it later?

I mean, he could have sold it on when everything had calmed down.

Yeah, the camera.

But they also found an empty 35mm film canister

and 1 1 rolls of used film,

including the one in the camera.

Which is odd, because only nine were reported missing.

No resalable value on those.

Forensics are analyzing the DNA and fingerprints as we speak.

However, they have given us something in the interim.

So, how was your Emily, then?

Oh, terrific. Yeah.

She just wanted a bit of fatherly advice, you know.

Forensics have developed these for us. There we go.

Bloody hell, there's hundreds of them.

264, to be precise.

That's 1 1 rolls of film times 24 exposures.

The murderer swiped everything that was due to be processed

that night.

So maybe he wasn't interested in cash.

Well, he couldn't have been interested in these.

It's only weddings and christenings,

as far as I can see.

A report of what was due to be processed that night

showed the usual family stuff, couple of commercial jobs,

that kind of thing.

But then the original investigating team

traced and questioned all those clients

and came up with nothing.

But when forensics developed the film in the camera,

this is what they found.

Fashion shoot.

Cor blimey, you wouldn't want that

on your mantelpiece, would you?

Especially this one.

Well, what's on the other roll?

Ah!

Hello. Caught in the act.

So, who took these?

A private detective?

Yeah, that's what I'm thinking.

So it could be that the killer stole all the films

in order to prevent them from being processed.

Yeah, but which one?

The bloke getting the needle,

or the other one getting a handful?

Well, that's what we've got to find out.

Now, Stuart worked with his two older brothers,

Kevin and Roland.

So we need to talk to them. Let's start with Roland.

Me and Kev did our training with Dad,

but Stuart, he had real talent.

He was studying photography at college.

We could never send him on wedding jobs.

He'd start out all right,

then he'd get fascinated by something in the churchyard.

Come back with all these gorgeous shots of gravestones,

none of the bride.

Then I assume that these fitted Stuart's usual style.

They're from the film found in his camera.

Well, Stuart never let anyone else borrow his camera, never.

Do you recognize the man?

- No. - What do you make of these?

These are from another film found with the camera.

They weren't on the processing docket that night.

Hmm, they're my other brother, Kevin's.

They're out of focus, badly framed.

Yeah, he thought he'd have a go at being a paparazzo.

Thought that's where the money was.

- What about those two? - God only knows.

You'll have to ask Kevin.

His wife said he'd definitely be here

and to look for an old blue Fiesta or something.

Oh, there you go. Look at that.

- Oh, dear. - Cheap.

Yeah, yeah.

No, look he hasn't come out yet.

When he comes, then I'll get the shot.

Then I'll be back at the office, all right? All right.

- What do you want? - Kevin Sharpe?

We need to speak to you about your brother's murder.

Look, can it wait?

I've been hiding here all week,

and I can't afford to miss this shot.

The sooner you talk to us,

the sooner you can get back to it.

I don't believe it. Look, it's him.

Who is it?

I don't know. Probably some reality-TV idiot.

Oh, bollocks!

You all right?

Does it bloody well look like it?

You're not very good at this, are you?

Come on. Up you get. Come on.

Got something to show you.

Recognize them?

Where did you get these?

They were found in a toilet in a pub.

We suspect that Stuart's murderer put them there.

Who are they?

Well, the bird is Candy March, Page 3 stunner,

and he's Denny Clacy, first division footballer.

You're kidding!

I didn't recognize him out of focus.

Clacy.

Denny Clacy.

Denny Clacy had his debut at Leeds United

in Billy Bremner's '85 side.

Then he was transferred in '86 to Chelsea.

He picked up the nickname "Psycho,"

because he was a dirty fouling bastard.

Yeah and he deserved that injury and all.

Ruptured his cruciate ligament, never played again.

Where is he now?

Got no idea.

Thank you. You see, that's the information I actually needed.

Not the Alan Hansen impression.

Ooh!

The lab's have finished looking at the forensic evidence.

There's no fingerprints, but they have got a DNA sample.

Any match on the database?

No, but we know we're looking for a bloke.

Because the sample they found came from semen.

It was on most of the items.

Semen? Where did that come from?

Cor blimey, Sandra, I know it's been awhile,

- but even you must... - Shut up!

I mean, how did it get on the items?

Well, it must have got there

before it was stashed in the vent.

It's eight feet up a wall.

Anyway, the lab's have ruled Stuart or his brothers out

as the source.

They compared the DNA from the blood found at the crime scene.

Well, there was no suggestion in the autopsy

that Stuart was sexually assaulted,

so assuming it was the killer...

Maybe he got overcome with excitement.

So, we're looking for a sick... Will you grow up?

We're looking for a sick bastard

who gets his kicks from violence.

Like, what's his name?

- Denny Clacy. - Yeah, him.

I think I've got something.

You know, the Soho Vice Raids were on all the news programs.

Well, I rang the BBC archives,

and they've uploaded this for me.

Tonight Soho has been the scene

of one of the most extensive vice raids in London's history.

Dozens of premises have been searched

and several arrests have been made

on charges relating to drugs and prostitution.

Westminster Council have issued a statement calling this

"a shot across the bows of criminality and vice in Soho."

Now, this is just the edited piece.

The BBC archivist is transferring

a couple of hours of raw footage for us.

So, we might see The Old Trout.

Or Stuart's killer.

Get rid of the trout, Gerry.

Oh, it gives me desk a certain olde worlde charm.

It's more likely to give you woodworm.

Don't you think we should return these photos?

It's what we're supposed to do with stolen property, isn't it?

It'll be nice to put a smile on somebody's face for a change.

Maybe we should follow up on them.

Just because they're family photos

doesn't mean they're innocuous.

Fine, but don't spend all week on it.

All right, we'll do it in the morning, shall we?

All right, I'll pick you up about 9:00.

I'm not making breakfast.

Oh, why not?

They're like a couple of old women.

Hi, Dad.

Hello, Ems.

Now, you're just in time to buy your old man a very nice drink.

- Oh, actually, I... - Hi, Emily.

Come through.

It's my first mentoring session.

I'll see you later.

Shut the door. Take a seat.

How's it going?

We've only just started.

Oh, good.

I just thought two heads were better than one.

Oh, look at Mark there.

Ah, so sweet.

It's lovely, Brian.

Now all I have to do is pop 'em onto a disk

and then make a cover for it.

He'll be chuffed to bits.

Esther?

Hmm?

You notice anything about these pictures?

No. Should I have?

I appear in hardly any of them.

You were the one taking the pictures.

Not always.

I wasn't on that holiday in Rhyll.

You were working.

Now, these potatoes, do you want them boiled or mashed?

Okay, you've had some good results.

There's some really great stuff in here,

but what I'd really like to see

is how you work beyond your remit.

Utilizing staff resources.

- Ah, resources. - Gerry, was there something?

Yeah.

At the end of the day, there's only one thing that counts,

and that's how many collars you've felt.

It's not as simple as that.

Yes, it is. Or it should be.

All this mentoring stuff is just corporate doublespeak.

She's showing that she can work with the system

and make it work for her.

Yeah, well, it's a load of bollocks.

Things have changed a bit since your day.

I can't just take the DAC out for a pint

and hope he tips me the wink for a promotion.

Oh, so, you're saying things haven't changed at all.

It's not what you know. It's who you know.

- Actually... - No, no, no.

You used me to get the in with Sandra.

Actually, I could have approached

Detective Superintendent Pullman directly,

but I paid you the courtesy of speaking to you first.

Because I didn't want you to feel pushed out.

You don't owe me anything.

You're right. I don't.

I think I'm in the wrong place.

- Gerry... - Good night.

Do you fancy a drink?

Gerry thinks I don't know where he keeps

his secret bottle of Scotch.

Cheers.

Have you calmed down a bit yet?

No, still fuming.

He was just being a dad.

By irritating and embarrassing me?

Yeah, that's what dads do.

I wouldn't know.

Is this for the Sharpe case?

Yes, it is.

I take it you're focusing on the junkie.

Yeah, and the footballer

with his hands full of a Page 3 girl's boobs.

Hmm.

What about the fashion shots?

They're from a model agency.

We're not sure they're relevant.

Really?

What about this?

That could just be coincidence.

It could be the same bloke.

Yeah, possibly.

They don't actually live here, you know.

- What? - Male models.

I don't want you getting your hopes up.

Hi. Can I help?

Hello, yeah, we need to speak to Penny and Patrick Martin.

Yeah. Come through.

- Hold on, hold on. - Cheers.

- There you go. - Thanks.

Didn't think any of the blokes in here would help.

No, one of them might break a nail.

There you go.

Thanks.

Would you like to come through?

Certainly would.

We need to know who this model is.

Do you remember him?

It's Chris Parr.

Really nice guy, very professional.

He was on our books for about three years.

Is he in some sort of trouble?

We'd like to rule him out of inquiries

into the murder of Stuart Sharpe.

- From Sharpe Images? - Yes.

It was terrible what happened.

Yes, it was, so I'm sure you'll appreciate

that we have to follow up all potential leads.

Would you have Chris Parr's last known address?

Of course.

No problem at all.

Great.

Oh, you do child models as well?

Listen, I must show you a photograph of my grandson.

Put it away, Gerry.

- Patrick, she's here again. - I can see that.

No, it's not.

Mum, Mum, what are you doing here?

No, will you leave those?

No, they're not... It's my job, all right?

Look, I'm sorry. She's not stopping.

I'm helping.

No, but you're not helping, though, are you?

You're making things worse. Will you just leave it?

Look, we discussed this. Let me just take you home.

No, it's boring in that bloody flat.

Brenda, you don't work here anymore!

Come on, let's go home.

Yes, yes.

I bet you never thought you'd see them again.

No, I didn't.

Your wife will be pleased, eh?

I'd have to find her first.

I've not clapped eyes on the cheating bitch in 15 years.

Anything else I can do for you?

No, no, I think that's everything.

Thanks very much.

I don't want to do this anymore.

We're just upsetting people.

She seemed happy enough to get the photos.

So we could remind her about her dead son?

Well, that was the shock.

In all my years in the police,

I never knocked on a door bearing good news.

It was always bad.

Road accidents, people killed in pub fights, missing kids.

Yeah, well, we've all done it.

Yeah, I thought this would be different.

Some people would be happy to see old faces, happy times.

Some of them have been.

Well, most haven't.

We've had death, divorce.

Oh, well, into all our lives a little rain must fall.

A little rain?

Jack, it's pissing down.

I can see why you were worried about these,

but they're not what they seem.

Then what are they, Mr. Parr?

An art college project.

I was in the same year as Stuart.

You mean they're set up?

They're very convincing.

'Cause Stuart was a good photographer.

We were given an exhibition title... Decay.

We had to produce something in our preferred medium

which expressed that concept.

And what did you produce?

Oh, God, this is embarrassing.

You have to remember we were 19-year-old pretentious tossers.

We'll bear that in mind.

I made an installation.

It was a pile of rubbish.

Couldn't have been that bad.

No, no, it was pile of rubbish.

Banana skins, old newspapers, that sort of thing.

Like I said, pretentious twaddle,

but the tutors loved it.

Shame they never saw these, though. These are good.

Who's the little girl?

Oh, it's my niece, Chelsea.

My sister was there. She was just out of shot.

Look, I promise you nothing untoward was going on.

I often modeled for Stuart.

In return, he would take commercial shots for me

for my portfolio.

So, what did you want to be?

A model or an artist?

An artist.

I only modeled just to earn enough for materials.

Yeah, but modeling's got to be a lot more lucrative

than flogging canvases.

- Gerry. - He's right.

But, then, I didn't make that much from modeling either.

- Come on. - No, seriously.

Modeling's one of those professions

where men earn less than women.

Luckily, the canvases started to sell.

They're really beautiful.

Thanks.

- May I? - Sure, yeah.

At the moment, faces fascinate me.

I like strong features.

Beautiful eyes, mouths, a good nose.

I'm quite into ears.

Well, I think that's all pretty clear.

I'd like a number for your sister.

And I'd also like you to take a DNA test

so we can rule you out of our inquiries.

Anything I can do to help.

I'm glad you're looking into Stuart's death.

He was a genuinely nice guy.

He didn't deserve to go the way he did.

Here, my sister's number.

Thanks.

And that's a leaflet to my exhibition.

I'm opening my studio to the public for a couple of nights.

I hope it goes well.

I mean, I don't know if you're interested in art, but...

Yeah, thanks.

Bye.

He seemed a nice bloke.

Yeah.

You ought to give him a little tug.

Grow up, Gerry.

So, how did you get on with Emily last night after I left?

After you stormed out, you mean.

I didn't storm.

I left because I felt I wasn't wanted.

Gerry, I promise I'll give her good advice.

Yeah, that's what I'm worried about.

What's that supposed to mean?

Well, not everyone's the same, are they?

What might be right for you might not be right for her.

I think I've done okay.

Well, that's a matter of opinion.

Excuse me?

Look, Sandra, there is more to life than chasing a higher rank.

Yeah, I know that.

- Do you? - Yes!

All right, then let me ask you this.

When was the last time you went out?

I go out all the time.

No, no, put it another way.

How many of your friends aren't me, Brian, and Jack?

Oh, come on.

You know what the job's like. Especially for women.

You have to work three, four times harder than anyone else.

Yeah, that's right, but is it worth it?

- Haven't you got any regrets? - No.

That you'd never kept a bit of time for yourself?

Had a family?

No, I haven't.

And what about relationships

that haven't been a complete disaster?

- Hah, you're the expert on that. - Exactly.

And that's why if Emily had come to me,

I would have told her how hard it was going to be for her.

I would have told her about the drinking, the divorces.

And I would have told her the truth.

Oh, would you? 'Cause you haven't so far.

Come on, Brian. Last one.

Well, these are christening pictures.

So?

Well, lots can happen to babies.

Just shove them through the letter box.

I can't face another one.

Oh, come on, Brian.

Pull yourself together. We've got a job to do.

Can I help you?

Oh, Mrs. Bathley-Jones?

Yes.

My name is Halford. This is Brian Lane.

We're with the Metropolitan Police,

and I think these are yours.

Is everything okay?

What a lovely surprise.

I'd forgotten all about these.

Thank you so much.

Please come in.

Thank you.

We were so disappointed

when we heard we wouldn't be getting our pictures

Oh, thank you.

But then we heard Roland's brother was dead.

Oh, you knew Roland.

Through my old job.

I was a model until I met my husband, Anthony.

Didn't he approve of your line of business, then?

No, nothing like that.

I packed it all in to have babies.

How many children do you have?

Just Martina, but she was worth giving it all up for.

Although, if it hadn't been for modeling, I wouldn't have her.

My agent, Patrick Martin, introduced me to Anthony.

You were with the Reflect Agency?

That's right.

Patrick and his wife, Penny, were Martina's godparents.

And more.

Thank you.

Patrick saved Martina's life.

- Oh. - How?

Martina has a rare blood type,

so when she needed a transfusion after an operation,

it was panic stations.

Thankfully, Patrick is the same type and happily donated.

Well, that one was all happy families.

Oh, aye, apart from the bit where the daughter nearly died.

Oh, for God's sake, Brian.

Maybe you should tell me what this is really about.

What do you mean?

Well, yesterday you were fine, cheerful,

all excited about Mark's engagement

and your photo project thing.

Aah!

Is there something wrong with the photos, then?

I wasn't in any of them.

Well, that's because you were behind the camera.

No. I just wasn't there.

All the big occasions, most of the small ones.

I was conspicuous by my absence.

Oh, you were working.

Or boozing.

Or just avoiding going home full stop.

Yes, well, there's nothing you can do about that now.

No, you're right.

There isn't.

Brian? Where are you going?

Come on, get in the car.

Oh, bollocks.

Mrs. Clacy.

Yeah, uh, my name's Gerry Standing.

I'm working for the Metropolitan Police.

Where's Brian?

In the pit of despair, apparently.

He's not in a very good way.

Anything we can do?

Not really.

I'll go around, see Esther later.

See if she wants anything.

Okay, well, keep me informed.

It's an incestuous business, this photography.

Eh?

We've just taken back some photos of a christening

and the baby is the goddaughter

of Penny and Patrick Martin of the Reflect Model Agency.

The mother was one of their models.

Oh.

That was Denny Clacy's ex-wife.

They got divorced in August '87.

Six months after the murder.

Oh, do we know why?

Nope, she wouldn't say.

She said Denny would have to explain.

But she did give me his address.

Here we are.

Oh, this can't be it.

Number 8.

No, no, no, no, no.

Look, look.

Footballers who are called "Psycho" do not become florists.

They have pubs or sports shops.

Maybe you should have been a careers officer, Gerry.

Because you have very strong opinions

on what people should or shouldn't do for a living.

Look, all I'm saying is I...

No, I know what you're saying.

You're saying that men can't be florists.

I think you'll find that we can. Can I help you?

Denny Clacy?

Yeah.

Oh.

Oh, it's an honor to meet you.

Whoa, Psycho! Ha ha!

So, you're saying that this woman had nothing to do

with the breakdown of your marriage?

Not directly, no.

So, there were other women?

No. Just Candy.

I'm sorry. I'm not being very clear.

I wanted that picture taken. I wanted it in the paper.

Why?

So that no one would think I was gay.

Why would they think that?

Because I am gay.

But you played for Chelsea.

Yeah, I know. Shocking, isn't it?

We get everywhere nowadays.

No, no, I'm not saying...

It's all right. It's all right.

I thought that football would sort me out.

Although, if marriage hadn't done the trick,

I don't know why I thought that spending half my life

with fit, athletic men would.

That's why I was such a dirty player.

I was always overcompensating.

And word of your sexuality had got out?

Well, sort of. There was a rumor knocking about

that I was cheating on my wife, Marie.

But no one had sussed out that it was with a bloke.

What? Candy was a bloke?

No, no, no, no. She was all woman.

Real tits and all if you're interested.

Which he probably is.

Ha.

So I hired Candy,

made sure Kevin Sharpe got a shot for the Sundays,

to put everyone off the scent.

That's a bit elaborate, isn't it?

You got to understand.

I spent my playing career being called a black bastard

and having banana skins chucked at me

whilst skinheads made monkey noises.

Can you imagine what would have happened

if they'd found out that I was a poof?

But the pictures of you and Candy never made the papers.

Well, after that, it didn't matter.

I sat my wife down,

and I told her that there was going to be a story.

And she said, "What, is it about you being gay?"

- She knew? - Of course she did.

Marie wasn't stupid, poor cow.

After that, I got the injury.

Which was the best thing that ever happened to me,

because it meant that I could stop pretending.

I dropped out of the public eye, got divorced.

I got this place, and I've never been happier.

I talked to Marie, and she backed up his story.

Still seems pretty bitter about it all.

I don't blame her.

I asked Denny for a DNA sample, but I think we can rule him out.

The lab called while you were out.

There's no match with Chris Parr's DNA.

Good.

Well, not good.

You know what I mean.

So, we've got two sets of incriminating photos

and nowhere to go.

Of course Kevin Sharpe could have crossed someone else.

Yeah, maybe that's what was in the empty canister.

Yeah, maybe the murderer picked up all the unprocessed film.

Took it to The Old Trout and went through it at his leisure

and then kept what he wanted and binned what he didn't.

Yeah, I suppose.

The films were all labeled, weren't they?

Empty canister wasn't.

Yeah, but all the film we've seen

is a different make to the canister.

So the only actual evidence we have is the DNA.

And the newsreels of the Soho raid.

Oh, the new footage that Brian ordered is here.

Do you want to look?

Yeah, great.

Soho has seen many changes and transitions in its history.

Sharpe Images.

Sorry, Sue. Someone walked in the shot.

- Behind me? Over here? - Yeah.

Hold on.

What?

Watch that bloke there.

Sorry, Sue.

He's changing his mind.

Yeah, 'cause he realizes there are cameras.

That is Johnny Jones.

Who?

Oh, a Soho legend.

King of mucky books and filthy videos.

He could get you anything you wanted,

whatever your preference.

Big women, hairy women, black, white.

Dirty little sod.

But he wasn't only into pornography.

He dabbled in dealing and pimping.

If he saw anything at Sharpe Images,

there's no way he would come forward.

Okay, let's track him down, then.

There's no need.

He's doing 10 years in Wandsworth.

Right, let's go.

Hang on. He'll still be there in the morning, won't he?

Yeah, but I thought you'd wanted to crack on.

Contrary to popular belief,

I have a life outside this place, Gerry.

We'll bring him here in the morning.

Detective Superintendent. You came.

- Hi. - Hey.

Actually, I wanted to let you know that the tests have showed

that your DNA doesn't match the DNA sample from the crime scene.

No, I never doubted it.

Good.

Can I get you a drink?

Yeah, white wine, please.

Thank you.

How's he doing?

Shh, he's upstairs.

He's not too good.

Refusing to eat, won't speak to me.

Won't even let the dog near him.

Oh, sorry, Esther. I think I made things worse.

Oh, don't be silly.

You can't cause these...

These episodes, they just happen.

To start blaming yourself,

it's not going to do anybody any good.

Do you want a cup of tea?

Thanks.

I know he's looking forward to meeting Mark's girl on Sunday.

Maybe that'll bring him round.

I don't know. I don't think so.

Oh, dear.

I see what you mean.

Nothing a bit of sticky tape won't fix.

- Bye. - See you.

I know absolutely nothing about art.

I just like what I like.

Sandra, have you ever sat for anyone?

For a portrait?

- Thanks, Chris. - No, I haven't.

You remember what I said I looked for in a subject?

Yeah, great ears.

So would you be offended if I said you had great ears?

I'm still not sure about this.

Look, it's just paper and charcoal.

I can rip it up if you don't like it.

I promise.

Why faces?

Because it's the only part of our body

we're happy to expose all the time.

Which is ridiculous.

Why ridiculous?

Because it's the part of our body which gives us away.

Well, you must know that.

How many times have you looked into someone's face

and known they're innocent?

Or guilty.

Nah, our faces betray us.

You're not making me feel any more comfortable about this,

actually.

Don't worry. You're not giving anything away.

Now finished.

Tell me what you think.

You don't like it.

Well, deal's a deal.

No, no, no. Don't.

Governor, they bought Johnny Jones in.

They've taken him to the interview room.

Okay, give me a minute.

Any news on Brian?

Yeah. No change.

Ow!

Mind out treat me gentle.

Hello, mate, how are you?

- Gerry Standing. - How are you, Johnny?

Are you behind this little day trip?

Yeah, I am, as it happens.

Well, thank you. I needed a change of scenery.

Do you want to take a seat, Mr. Jones?

Over there.

Here, Gerry, are you still on the gaspers, mate?

Yeah, I am, but I can't help you.

Whole place, no smoking.

Bloody hell, how do you manage?

Mr. Jones, we need to talk to you

about the night of the 29th September, 1987.

Do me a favor,

I can't remember what I had for dinner last night,

let alone 20 years ago.

No, you'd remember this.

The night of the Soho raids.

Oh, yeah, busy evening.

You visited, or tried to visit, Sharpe Images that night.

How do you know that?

- Tell me why. - I was working.

You were dealing to the Sharpe brothers?

No, I was picking up.

Me and a couple of people had an arrangement

with the older brother.

- Roland? - Could have been.

For a nominal fee,

my suppliers would drop packages at his place during the day

so that I could pick 'em up during the night

when they were processing.

What sort of packages?

Well, I'd like to say lollipops.

Come on, Johnny.

Coke for my girls, mainly,

but that night,

the place was crawling with reporters and filth.

I mean, officers of the law, like yourself.

And I only got as far as the front door

before I realized I should smile

because I was on "Candid Camera."

It was a shame about Stuart.

The Sharpes had been on York Road for years.

And our little arrangement wasn't doing anyone any harm.

Were any other dealers availing themselves

of Roland Sharpe's valuable community service?

I would imagine so, but I never really asked.

There's a certain etiquette one has to observe

to avoid getting a kick in the bollocks.

But I will say that the place was generally quite busy

through the night.

What is this? Cutbacks?

Don't I get so much as a cup of tea or a biscuit?

I'll tell you what,

you give us a quick cheek scrape for a DNA test,

I'll sort something out for you.

Are you sure?

Look, I don't know.

I thought it was a way of protecting us

after all the robberies.

We had to do something

if we were going to carry on with the overnight processing.

I'm sorry. I don't follow the logic.

How was inviting dealers into the place protecting you?

Because drug dealers don't crap on their own doorstep.

Kept an eye on the place, warned people off.

Well, put it this way, they did a better job than your lot.

Up to the point when your brother was killed.

How did it start?

I think it was Johnny approached me first.

He said we could make a lot of money

from a no-questions-asked service.

Yeah, word got around, you know.

Weren't just dealers.

What do you mean?

There was a sex shop,

used to drop off videos for their shyer clients.

You didn't have to be Barry Norman to work out

what was on those.

Um, then there was a model agency, Reflect.

They used to do the occasional drop-off.

Of what?

Well, that was a weird one that was.

At first, I thought it was fruit and flowers.

Sorry?

On a fashion shoot, to keep the models happy,

sometimes the photographers would provide them

with little pharmaceutical treats.

They went down on the expenses as fruit and flowers.

Huh.

Anyway, someone from the Martins' office

used to come round every now and again

and had a little paper bag.

- Who? - I don't know.

It definitely wasn't one of the models.

What was in the bag?

Well, it wasn't drugs or nothing 'cause I had a sneak look once.

It was a 35mm film canister.

What's so weird about that?

You regularly developed film for them.

Yeah, but not these ones, we didn't.

It was sealed.

Now, look, look, I have no idea what was in that canister,

all right, honest.

Of course the first thing that springs to mind is pornography.

But enough about you and your problems.

Pornography is the obvious thing.

Something hardcore, illegal.

Otherwise, they'd have just made a deal with Roland

for the processing, wouldn't they?

Well, maybe some of the models were involved.

I mean, that Chris Parr said

that modeling didn't pay very well.

Or maybe the Martins showed them a way

to make a bit of pin money.

Their names are all over this investigation.

Well, why don't we start with the girl who made the drop?

- Brenda, Sean's mad mum. - Yeah.

Yeah, all right, I'll have a word.

She's very fragile.

Yeah, I... Oh, I've had an idea.

And you two better go and see Chris Parr.

Jack, get rid of it.

Where is he?

He's in here.

Oh, yeah.

All right, come on.

I've come to pick you up. We need you back at work.

I'm busy.

Yeah, you look it.

Come on!

I said no.

All right. You're the boss.

Come on, Scamp. Come on.

You know, your Esther is a lovely woman.

She never complains and I bet she never did,

not even when Mark was little and you were barely there.

Well, not that I'm criticizing. I mean, who am I to criticize?

It's just I know how it was.

There was always another case to work, another drink.

That's what it was like.

We didn't know any better, did we?

Didn't know what we were putting our families through.

But when you realize...

that's a tough day.

And all you can do is promise faithfully

that it'll never happen again.

If you can help it.

Brian, basically, we're old bill.

I'll get your coat.

I won't be much use.

No, probably not, but it's worth a try.

Come on.

She won't speak to anyone when she's like this.

Mum, there's someone here to see you.

Hello, Brenda.

Do you remember me? Gerry?

I brought someone to see you, my friend Brian.

Brian, why don't you have a word with her?

Oh, go on, please, mate. It'll really help, honestly.

Sean, shall we leave them to it?

Hello, what's this?

Prozac, paroxetine.

No surprises here, then.

Oh, sertraline.

I always liked that.

Makes things fuzzy.

Yeah, that's why I liked it.

This you?

Uh, yeah, yeah, my mum gave up everything for me.

I got ill when I was a kid,

and I was in and out of hospital.

Yeah, what was wrong with you?

Leukemia.

Oh, blimey.

Yeah, well, I mean, they couldn't find

a bone-marrow donor at first.

Some rare blood type or something. I don't know.

Everyone came forward to see if they were the right match.

But, uh... Even Mr. Martin did.

Oh, well, that's nice of him.

Well, yeah, I mean, me and Mum owe Mr. and Mrs. Martin a lot.

Mrs. Martin was the one who gave me the job,

you know, when Mum went funny.

Listen, Sean, you shouldn't look after your mum on your own.

You need help.

What about your dad?

I never knew the guy.

I mean, it's always been just me and Mum.

And then you went to work at the Reflect Agency.

I was a secretary there.

- Were you? - A good one.

You liked your job, then?

Oh, I loved it.

All the lovely people, especially Patrick.

And did you sometimes run errands for Patrick?

You know, like dropping stuff off?

Of course! I was Patrick's Girl Friday.

Were you?

That's what he called me.

Did you ever make deliveries to Sharpe Images in Soho?

Sometimes.

Deliveries in little brown bags?

I can't tell you.

Why not, Brenda? What was in the bags?

I'm not telling.

They'll take him away from me.

Who?

Sean?

No, love, he's 22.

It's not going to happen, Brenda.

I promise you.

Patrick was just trying to help.

He has such a big heart.

Those little canisters made a lot of people happy.

They helped them have beautiful children, like my Sean.

How?

What was in the canisters?

Sperm.

I beg your pardon.

Patrick ran a sperm bank. It was really clever.

The models got a little bit of extra cash.

And the women got a beautiful baby.

Guaranteed.

I'm sorry?

Beautiful people make beautiful babies.

Hey, I was hoping to see you today.

Mr. Parr, we'd like you to assist us further

with our inquiries.

- Come in. - Thank you.

You said that being a male model didn't pay well.

Sometimes I did odd jobs.

The Reflect Agency?

Sometimes.

What sort of odd jobs?

Pornography?

Good God, no.

Is that really what you think of me?

Gerry.

Are you sure?

Yeah.

Thanks. We'll see you back in the office.

Bye.

I think you need to tell us everything.

About what?

Your odd jobs.

Oh, God, it seemed like a really good idea at the time,

but afterwards I felt terrible.

And I, honestly... I only did it once.

Who first approached you?

Patrick Martin.

But you have to understand that some women see models

on the pages of magazines

and they assume that clothes

aren't the only things we're selling.

I mean, the agency was approached all the time.

How much did you charge?

£200, but I really needed the money.

Where did the transaction take place?

Well, we went out to dinner,

and that was as far as it was supposed to go.

But she had booked a hotel, I'd had a drink.

So, we, um...

we got down to business.

So you delivered it fresh?

I'm sorry?

- The sperm. - What sperm?

Gerry has just told me

that Patrick Martin runs a sperm bank.

I wasn't one of the sperm donors.

I was an escort.

Okay, so, assuming the killer wasn't after the camera

or the undeveloped film,

why would anyone kill for a sperm sample?

Could...

Could the sperm donor have had a change of heart

about anonymously fathering a child

and tried to get his contribution back?

That's a possibility.

What about that Stuart?

Maybe he found out what Patrick was up to

and tried to blackmail him.

Again, possible.

I tell you what,

I thought I'd heard and seen most things,

but an illegal sperm bank?

Actually, the Martins haven't broken the law.

You only have to be licensed if it's frozen sperm.

Get away.

No, that's right,

and anyway even if it was a crime,

the only witness we have so far is Brenda

and she's a bit doolally.

Actually, I think Brian and I

may have spoken to one of Patrick's customers.

Mrs. Bathley-Jones, why could neither you nor your husband

donate blood for Martina's operation?

I told you. Martina has a very rare blood group.

We weren't the right type.

Is your husband Martina's natural father?

Did you use a sperm donor found for you by Patrick Martin?

You can't tell Anthony. He'd be heartbroken.

Could you just talk us through the transaction?

A transaction? You make it sound so clinical.

It wasn't like that.

Then tell us how it was.

I was getting desperate.

All I wanted was a child.

That's how I ended up telling Patrick

what I was going through.

He offered to help.

And along came Martina.

She's the best thing that ever happened to us.

After he helped me,

I asked if he could help some friends of mine.

So you helped Patrick to build up his business.

Mrs. Bathley-Jones, we'd like you to make a statement.

No, that's not possible.

I don't want this to be common knowledge.

Neither do we.

I can't help you.

Okay, then I'm afraid you'll have to help us in another way.

Diane, lovely to see you.

How's Martina?

Just wonderful.

She's home this weekend. You should pop round.

I might just do that.

So, what can I do for you?

This is Emily, a friend of mine.

Hi.

She has a problem.

I think you might be able to help her.

I'm not happy about this.

So you've said.

Several times.

Did you even think of clearing it with her superiors?

Of course I did.

And since when have you been so picky about things?

I thought you were above it all.

I don't run a sperm bank anymore.

But there are plenty in London.

I know. I've been to them all.

You are aware that the law concerning sperm donation

changed last year.

I read something about that.

Now artificially conceived children

have the right to trace their father.

And it's had quite an effect.

Absolutely. The waiting lists are ridiculous.

So, when Diane confided in me about Martina...

Please don't be angry with her.

I made her bring me here.

Is there any way you can help?

I don't know.

I would be so grateful.

I'd be happy to reimburse any expenses.

I don't think so.

I don't expect you to understand,

but I don't just want a baby on a whim.

I need a child.

I've never felt so strongly about anything in my life.

I think I might be able to help you.

She's a good cop, Gerry.

A real dad would be proud of her.

She's got it.

Hello, again.

Can I help you?

I hope so.

I'd like you to talk me through a transaction that was just made

between yourself and one of my officers.

Your officer?

We know about the sperm bank, Mr. Martin.

There's nothing wrong with helping women have children.

Desperate women.

Desperate enough to kill?

We believe that Stuart Sharpe's murder

was linked to one of your deliveries.

So, who did the sample come from?

Fine. We'll do it the hard way.

I'll seize every bank statement,

every record for the last 25 years.

I'll contact every model that's ever been on your books.

Any woman that's ever written a check for you.

How's that for discretion?

You can't do that.

Oh, I can, and I will.

How many of these children are yours?

All of them.

- Give it to me! - Sorry?

Give it to me! Give it to me!

It's not starting all over again.

Hang on!

You're under arrest for assaulting a police officer.

Em, are you all right?

You do not have to say anything.

But it may harm your defense

if you do not mention when questioned

something which you later rely on in court.

Anything you do say may be given in evidence.

- Where were you? - Level four.

We said level five.

- Get some backup. - Thank you.

Come here, you.

I'm a grown woman and a trained police officer.

If I can't look after myself, no one can.

It won't stop me worrying.

I know.

And I appreciate it.

Really?

No, it drives me mental,

but I'll try and get used to it.

Okay, then, I'll try and back off a bit.

Can I say one more thing?

Just one?

Don't let this job run your life.

Work to live, not the other way round.

But I love my job.

Yeah, I know you do,

but I promise you it won't love you back.

Do you understand?

I think so.

Good.

I'll give you a bell, okay?

Patrick always told me

that it didn't matter that I couldn't have children.

He said I was enough for him.

But he lied.

How did you know that Patrick had fathered all the children?

Patrick has a rare blood group, AB negative.

When Martina nearly died,

the first thing he did was to offer to give blood.

Everyone thought he was being very thoughtful and heroic.

And he did it again when Sean was ill.

I spoke to Brenda, and she confessed

that she'd gone to Patrick behind my back.

Brenda wasn't fit to bring up a child.

You've seen her.

That's when I knew it had gone too far.

He was... He was addicted to having children.

I had to stop him.

So you went to Sharpe Images.

I had to start somewhere.

I told the guy I was picking up photos,

and while he was in the back, I searched the place,

but he caught me.

I needed to get away,

so I pushed him.

Hard.

And he hit his head?

I was just so angry with Patrick.

But it was Stuart who got in the way.

The CPS have decided to charge Penny Martin with manslaughter.

What about Patrick?

He hasn't done anything illegal.

Can't we get him on a fraud charge?

The damage outstrips the benefits, Gerry.

Sometimes ignorance is bliss.

Ah, ah.

I didn't think I'd see you again.

Is this an official visit?

Okay, ground rules.

Go on.

My job comes first.

Same with me.

I don't do soppy phone calls in the middle of a working day.

I don't even answer the phone.

I don't want to meet your family.

I don't want to meet yours.

Anything else?

Yeah.

I don't pay for sex.

Shame,

'cause I have a special offer on this week.

Buy one, get one free.

Well, I do love a bargain.

♪ It's all right, it's okay ♪

♪ Doesn't really matter if you're old and gray ♪

♪ It's all right, I say it's okay ♪

♪ Listen to what I say ♪

♪ It's all right, doing fine ♪

♪ Doesn't really matter if the sun don't shine ♪

♪ It's all right, I say it's okay ♪

♪ We're getting to the end of the day ♪

♪ High tech, low tech, take your pick ♪

♪ 'Cause you can't teach an old dog a brand-new trick ♪

♪ I don't care what anybody says ♪

♪ At the end of the day ♪

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