All language subtitles for New Tricks S05E02 Final Curtain.DVDRip.NonHI.en.ACORN

Raised by a half of
1%, more than expected.

Shares in the Far East
followed Wall Street overnight

and rose sharply.

Attention will now focus on the
opening of the London market.

The Federal Reserve's move

has raised hopes of a
cut in U.K. interest rates.

Here's our economics
editor, Evan Davis.

Morning, Brian. Morning, Gerry.

- Hello.
- Yeah.

"Good morning, Sandra!
How are you today?"

"Why, I'm absolutely
cock-a-hoop!

Thank you very much for asking."

- Good morning.
- Good morning, Sandra.

Look, I know you miss Jack.
So do I. But he'll be back.

He just feels let down, and
you can't blame him for that.

- No. You can blame me.
- Stop it, Brian.

If I hadn't gone to pieces.

I stood up in that court
in front of all those people

and completely lost the plot.

No, if anyone's
to blame, it's me.

I mean, that business with Emily

made us look a
right bunch of mugs.

It was the system that
failed him, not his friends,

and he knows that.

Yeah. Suppose she's right.

I mean, he wouldn't want
to see us like this, would he?

Well, he'd want us
to, you know, carry on.

Bloody hell, Brian.
He's not dead!

Have you, uh, not got
anything you want to say to me?

♪ 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 ♪

Subtitling made
possible by Acorn Media

- Morning, Sandra.
- Good morning, sir.

Happy birthday.

Oh. Thank you.

Oh.

Thank you. Um...

Catherine Austin?

She's the ex-soap actress.

Used to play Maggie
Dawes in "Home County."

Excellent.

Well, thanks very much.
That's very kind of you.

No, no, no. It's not
a present. It's a case.

Oh, right.

I've got two others
for your team.

Look, Sandra, God knows

everyone feels terrible
about what happened to Jack.

Hanson should never have walked.

- Everyone knows that.
- But?

But at the end of the
day, you cannot ignore

Jack's subsequent behavior.

He can't just take time
off without clearing it.

- Whatever the circumstances.
- No room for sentimentality, eh?

No, there's no room
for unprofessionalism

in any of your team.

UCOS's reputation has been
somewhat tarnished recently,

to say the least.

If the unit is to be
taken seriously again,

we have to start
proving its worth.

- We will.
- Yeah, I've no doubt.

Anyway, it would be good
to give them the distraction.

Sir?

Um, about my birthday.

I think the boys have forgotten,

and, um, I'd rather
it stayed that way.

Yeah, of course. Got
any plans to celebrate?

No.

Come in.

Sorry. I had to take a call.

Hello.

Hello.

Gentlemen, I'd like you to meet
my nephew, James Strickland.

James is a recruit on

the High Potential Development
Scheme for graduates.

- The what?
- It's like a fast-track scheme.

- Fast track to where?
- Well, the top.

Uh, not quite, James.

Michael Austin.

Not that actor bloke who
was shot dead, live onstage.

March 13, 1992.

- Wimbledon Theatre.
- Correct.

At the opening performance
of "Death at the Masked Ball."

Michael Austin was costarring
with his wife, Helen Brownlow.

Now, towards the
end of the play,

Michael's Austin's
character, the butler,

is shot and killed by the lady
of the house, Miss Swathe,

played by Helen Brownlow.

Now, when Helen fired the
shot during the big performance,

the force from the blank

discharged a metal
fragment lodged in the barrel,

killing Michael
Austin instantly.

Now, this biography of Michael
by his daughter Catherine

is about to go on sale.

If you turn to page 101, you'll
see what all the fuss is about.

"Dear Michael, oops,
bang you're dead.

B.M."

- B.M.?
- Billy Morley, allegedly.

He, Austin, and Brownlow

were starring in the
production together.

If you turn over the page...

There's a smug-looking bugger.

Let's get him in
for questioning.

We can't. He died as a
result of Parkinson's in 1995.

- Was he a suspect at the time?
- No. No one was.

The incident was seen
as a tragic accident,

the assumption being

that the gun hadn't
been checked properly.

Now, the stage manager,
one Derek Bennett,

swore that the gun was
fine when he checked it.

But it came out that he
was a chronic alcoholic

whose judgment was
likely to have been impaired.

And someone
had to take the fall,

so he served two
years for manslaughter.

Seems a bit harsh.

Where's the original letter now?

We had it subpoenaed
from the book's publishers,

Royal and Brown.

Fingerprints and forensics

are currently trying
to eliminate anyone

who may have touched the
letter since Miss Austin found it.

Thankfully she had the foresight
to seal it in ziplock plastic.

And the early indication is

that there are only
eight sets of prints on it,

which should give us
a pretty good chance

of establishing whether
or not it's genuine.

Yeah, but hold on.

This says there were only
two sets of prints on the gun...

Helen Brownlow and
the stage manager.

So even if the letter was real

and we can prove that
this Morley bloke wrote it,

I mean, we can't hook him up
to the shooting without any prints.

So the best we've got is
charging one dead old geezer

for threatening another
dead old geezer.

What's the point in that?

This letter is new
evidence, Gerry,

so we're going to examine it.

Okay, we'll start with getting
Catherine Austin's fingerprints.

Yeah, and her agent, Mel Simons.

He sent the letter to
the book's publishers.

Now, I want you to give
the samples to James here.

As part of his induction,
he's going to act as liaison

between UCOS,
fingerprints, and forensics.

I'm at your service.

Does that go for all of us?

Yeah, of course.

Terrific. I'll have a
tea with two sugars.

You're Gerry
Standing, aren't you?

Good luck.

So, what was
Billy Morley giving?

Eh?

What character was he playing?

Oh, Mr. Swathe. Helen's husband.

"Giving"?

Yeah, it's an old
theatrical term.

Oh, I can't stand the theater.

You know, when I was at school

we had this brilliant
teacher, Mr. Higginbottom.

He used to be passionate
about Shakespeare.

He used to get us
to read it in class.

I mean out loud.

He'd say, "Come on,
lads. In your own accents.

Give it welly."

We'd do "Hamlet" and "King Lear"
and "Midsummer Night's Dream."

Oh, we were all enraptured.
It was quite magical.

Then we got taken to
this student production

of one of my favorites...
"Julius Caesar."

Oh, what a letdown. Dreadful.

Bunch of middle-class
prats poncing around in togas,

putting on these plummy accents

for an audience of
other middle-class prats.

- You know what I mean, Gerry.
- Oh, absolutely.

Total load of gaff.

Bloody hell. I hate London.

Ah, it's nice to come
up West, see the sights.

It's not a day trip, Gerry.

No, but Catherine Austin, eh?

I mean, fancy us rubbing
shoulders with the stars.

For Christ's sake,
she's a D-list celebrity,

not Julia Roberts.

She's more than likely
incredibly precious

and not a little jumped up,

but is not... and I repeat...
Not to be treated differently

from any other
member of the public.

I was 17 when I saw my dad die.

Were you in the audience?

Yeah, of course. It
was the opening night.

Oh, well, that must have
been pretty traumatic.

Yeah. Too right it was.

Can you tell us
about the letter?

That bastard
Billy Morley sent it.

Oh, you are saying that,
then? 'Cause it's just that...

We don't actually accuse anyone.

We just invite the reader to
draw their own conclusions.

Still, the implication
is crystal clear.

Bordering on libelous, even.

It's been checked
by a legal team.

How did you come into
possession of the letter?

I borrowed a box of props
from "Death at the Masked Ball."

For research purposes.

The letter was in there.

And when was that?

About 18 months ago.

The book was only ever supposed
to be about me and my dad

and about being on
telly and all of that.

I never expected
to find evidence

that Billy Morley murdered him.

Miss Austin, as
suspicious as the letter is,

it doesn't actually
prove anything.

What?

Are you serious?

His initials are on it.

Tell me about Billy Morley.

My dad hated him.

It was no real surprise when
he went all out to steal his wife.

Helen Brownlow. The black widow.

What, Billy and
Helen had an affair?

She was all over
Billy like a rash.

Had him twisted
'round her finger.

You know, she called him
and my dad "my two boys."

How did your dad
feel about that?

How do you think?

I just wanted to make him proud.

I don't expect
you to understand.

No, I do, as it happens.

Oh, my dear fellow, as I have
stated on numerous occasions,

I have not spoken to her since
she walked out of rehabilitation

and therefore I have
absolutely no comment to make,

and indeed it would be
quite improper of me to do so.

Yes, yes, you can print that.

Yeah, feel free as a bird.

I'm so terribly sorry, Mister...

Lane. Brian Lane.

Mel Simons.

How do?

Do you know, I seem to
spend the vast majority of my life

with a red-hot receiver
pressed to my ear.

I've got a sex scandal
to sweep under the carpet

and an actress
in an African slum

demanding a bigger
Winnebago and a macrobiotic diet.

Have you been
offered a hot beverage?

Because I can only imagine
the thirst one must acquire

while engaged in detection.

I'm fine, thank you.

I like to keep a very close
eye on my body temperature.

You're so right, dear Brian.

Because after all, we're only
given one vessel to inhabit.

Uh, I know you're here to
make an indelible impression

of my, uh... of my digits.

Yes, we need to check them

against any we
find on the letter.

Yeah, well, I mean,
anything that I can do

to uncover what really
happened to... to Michael.

- Your right hand first, please.
- Oh, right. There you are.

Now just relax it.

So am I to take it you don't
believe it was an accident?

Well, I think the... the letter

rather implies the
opposite, don't you?

Do you believe it might have
been sent by Billy Morley?

It makes absolute
sense in... in retrospect.

The man was a complete horror.

He made poor Michael's
existence a living hell.

You knew them both?

I know everyone, Mr. Lane.

And besides, Michael
was a client of mine

and a dear, dear friend.

I told him not to take the
role in "The Masked Ball."

Oh? Why?

It was too much, the three of
them working together again.

Michael, Billy, and Helen?

Right. Unhealthy.

Anyway, it was a
shockingly bad script.

More claptrap than "Mousetrap."

Oh.

Mel Simons.

Oh, my favorite dame!

Trouble with this case is we're
dealing with professional liars.

Well, that's what
they do for a living.

Bloody actors.

How are we supposed to know
when they're telling the truth?

They're a weird bunch, mate.

I hope to God that woman
hasn't got a slappable face.

That was Helen Brownlow's
agent. A Tiffany Barker, no less.

She's just granted
me an audience

with the grand dame of murder,
who is currently in Richmond

about to reprise the role of
the killer, would you believe?

- What, same play?
- Same play, same part.

Aye up. We're on.
Wimbledon Theatre.

I've just pulled up a list
of current employees.

There you are. Derek Bennett.

- The Derek Bennett?
- Stage manager?

The very same.

Only now he's head of
building maintenance.

So returning to the
scene of the crime.

Eh. It's a bit weird,
but it's not an offense.

Oh, here we go.

The savior of the
Metropolitan police force.

Oh!

Ah!

Sorry.

Let me just...
Excuse me. Just...

Oh, come here before
Detective Superintendent Pullman

nicks you for
wasting police time.

What's the story, James?

I've got good news.

What, they've lifted
the smoking ban?

Or you're being
fast-tracked back to Hendon?

No, Billy Morley was arrested

for possession of
cannabis in 1993,

so his prints are on file.

But they're not a match

to any of the samples
taken from the letter.

Seven of the eight
samples taken from the letter

have been identified.

Three of them were from
staff from the book's publisher,

so we're not
interested in those.

Ah, Mel Simons
and Catherine Austin.

These are the samples
that you took earlier today.

Whose are the other two?

Derek Bennett and
Helen Brownlow.

Both sets of prints are on file
from the original investigation.

Both are a perfect match.

Leaving only one set
of unidentified prints.

Have you dated
the letter itself?

Forensics say the paper dates

from around the
time of the production.

Looks like it's genuine.

Good. Okay, right.
Um, first things first.

We need to find out why

Bennett and Brownlow's
prints are on the letter.

Hold on. What
about Billy Morley?

He's the only one with a motive.

Yeah, well, you go
and see his wife, Jane.

She's another bloody actress.

Find out what she thinks went
on between Billy and Helen,

and I'll get Helen's
side of the story.

Brian, you take Derek Bennett.

Okay? Start of the second act.

Uh, ma'am?

Um...

- Detective Superintendent.
- Yes?

Tonight.

Um, w-well, I was
just wondering...

Well, I... I can take you
out for dinner if you liked.

Uh... Well, I-I don't...

Just to talk. You
know, about work.

I mean, there's lots of
things I'd like to ask you.

About your work.

About your work?

I'll show you how to work.

Sorry, James.

Bye-bye, James.

Hey, Sandra, you know
romance in the workplace

is very frowned upon.

Don't be stupid. It
was professional.

It wasn't like he was
asking me out on a date.

Anyway, I said no.

Why? Did the restaurant
not have a crèche?

Actually, if you must know,

there was a very good reason
why he asked me out tonight.

I can think of two!

Christ, you're like a
pair of kids. Grow up.

Oh, we're just having a joke.

Yeah, at my expense!
The hilarity is limitless.

Ooh!

Mark Antony's
speech to the crowd.

"Julius Caesar."

Act two, scene...
Act three, scene two.

Sorry.

Friends, Romans,
countrymen, lend me your ears!

I come to bury Caesar,
not to praise him.

The evil that men
do lives after them.

The good is oft
interred with their bones.

So let it be with Caesar!

The noble Brutus...

The noble... Sorry.

If you don't mind,
I'd like to start again.

It's nothing like I did it
in the mirror this morning.

I'm sure it wasn't.

That'll do. Thank you.

Why don't you use
your own voice more?

You've got that
lovely Northern accent.

He wouldn't let me.

Friends, Roman,
countrymen, lend me your ears.

I come to bury Caesar,
not to praise him.

Excuse me?

Sorry.

Excuse me. Who are you?

Brian. Brian Lane.

You're not on my sheet.

No. No, I wouldn't be.

Well, do you know the speech?

Certainly do.

Known it since I
were 12 year old.

Friends, Romans,
countrymen, lend me your ears!

I come to bury Caesar,
not to praise him.

The evil that men
do lives after them.

The good is oft
interred with their bones.

So let it be with Caesar!

What cause withholds
you, then, to mourn for him?

Oh, judgment.

Thou art fled to brutish beasts,

and men have lost their reason.

Bear with me.

My heart is in the
coffin there with Caesar.

And I must pause
till it come back to me.

Mm.

Sorry.

I was back in Hadley grammar
school there for a minute.

That was great.

I loved what you did
with the regional accent.

Thanks very much.

No, thank you. Um...

Listen, Brian, I know
you're not on my list,

but you showed us more
passion and emotion in five minutes

than we've seen all week.

There could be
some smaller roles

if you fancied
having a crack at it.

Think about it, and,
uh, we'll call you.

Derek... Derek Bennett?

Yeah.

Excuse me.

So tell me about your
husband, Mrs. Morley.

He died in 1995.

Yeah, so I understand.

Sorry.

Don't be. You didn't kill him.

God knows I'm not.

Would you like tea?

Or something stronger?

Well, strictly
speaking, I'm on duty.

Strictly speaking, you're not
actually a policeman, are you?

No.

I cannot go out on that stage
and pretend everything's okay.

Helen, you are a
wonderful actress.

It would be the
performance of a lifetime.

And if anyone
can do it, you can.

Let's give it one more go, yes?

"There is a knock at the
door. Sarah raises an eyebrow."

Hello, Inspector.
Please come in.

Detective
superintendent, actually.

Tiffany Barker.

How do you do?

This is my client.

I'm Helen Brownlow.

Mmm. A very nice
malt, Mrs. Morley.

Miss Morley. Thank my husband.

He was a connoisseur?

No. A rich alcoholic.

And now possibly a murderer too.

Life just gets
better and better.

I'd like to ask
you to think back.

Not to last weekend, I hope.

I was at a very naughty party.

No, a little further than that.

You mean to Michael's
death, don't you?

How did Billy react?

You remember that film

about the alien who
couldn't find a telephone?

And Drew Barrymore
gives it a geranium?

And when he dies,
the geranium wilts?

Uh, yeah.

Well, that's what
happened to Billy.

His flower drooped.

How do you mean?

Michael and Billy were two
sides of the same coin, sweetheart.

It was no coincidence they
were cast together so often.

Went up for all the same jobs.

It had always been
that way since RADA.

But it was as if one couldn't
exist without the other.

They were obsessed.

In fact, if I didn't
know firsthand

Billy was a womanizing pig,

I'd apply an undertone
of homoeroticism.

But what about Billy and Helen?

What, did he shag her?

You'd have to ask her that.

Billy was in love with
her. Everyone was.

But when Michael died, it
was like part of him died.

Yin lost its yang.

After that, Billy's
spirit was gone.

He had no fight in him.

He got very ill, very quickly.

Another?

Catherine Austin's
a busy little madam

with ideas above her station.

I mean, what's she done
since "Home County"?

Eaten crocodile bollocks
in the jungle, that's what.

She's not even a proper actress.

She's only worked
because of you and Michael.

Have you spoken to
her? I mean about all this?

Yes. Of course. Have you?

She hasn't spoken
to me for 16 years.

I shot her father dead.

By accident, I must stress.

16 years.

That's how long it's taken for
me to put my life back together.

Just as I have, here
she is with her book

and that ridiculous letter.

You are aware that we've
begun legal proceedings?

What do you think this is?

No, I mean proper legal action
with, um, lawyers and money.

Miss Brownlow, I'd
like you to explain

why we found several samples
of your fingerprints on the letter.

I've absolutely no idea.

It's obviously a fake.
There's no way in the world...

Miss Barker, you are really
beginning to piss me off.

Now, I've come here to speak
to Miss Brownlow, not you.

Could you leave
us alone, please?

- I'm sorry?
- You heard.

Something the matter?

No, no. No. It's
just that, uh...

Well, yes.

Yes, I do... I do
recognize it after all.

The... The motif on that
watermark is quite unmistakable.

You can't see it in
Catherine's book, see?

So you know its origin?

Yeah, without a
shadow of a doubt,

that sheet of paper came from
a pad that we used in the play.

And it was under my
jurisdiction at all times.

But why would your prints
be on this particular sheet?

Well, the last thing actors
need is any kind of distraction.

So before every rehearsal,

I would pull and tug
every sheet of that pad

to make sure that we
weren't going to be upstaged

by any rogue sheet of bloody A4.

So my prints would be
on every single page of it.

Attention to detail, Mr. Lane.

Something I expect you
understand in your line of work.

What about during the play?

Who would handle it then?

Helen Brownlow?

Oh, absolutely.

Literally hundreds of times.

See, we rehearsed
for six weeks in total,

and I had virtually
every prop from day one.

Who else?

Well, um, Helen's
character, Miss Swathe,

writes a note in it
and gives to the butler.

Played by Michael Austin.

Yeah. Who then delivers
it to the Earl of Heaton.

- Played by?
- Tommy Jackson.

Not a fan?

There's a certain
breed of actor, Mr. Lane,

who have more
confidence than talent.

Driven. Selfish. Capable
of being quite ruthless.

Tommy is and always
was one of them.

And, yes, he would
have handled the pad.

I don't suppose you
know where it is now.

Course I do.

It's in that box with all the
other things Catherine borrowed.

Do you really
believe it was Billy?

Well, that's what
I'm here to find out.

Am I to take it you don't?

A secret of a great performance
is not to act but to react.

To take that first impulse and
bring it to life in the moment.

My husband did just that.

He was a very gifted actor.

That's what first
drew me to him.

Talent is hugely
attractive, you know?

Tell me about your
relationship with Billy Morley.

We didn't have a relationship.

Are you implying something,
Detective Superintendent?

It's been suggested that
Billy was in love with you,

that it may have been mutual.

That's just a lie.

Catherine Austin remembers
her father in an idealistic way

and creates a false
reality to go with it.

Oh, I've... I've
skimmed the book.

It's It's a wonderful
piece of fiction.

You must remember
she was a child.

He was a man who wanted
to protect his daughter from...

From things she wouldn't
have wanted to see.

Such as?

Nobody's perfect, are they?

How were things between Michael
and Billy during the production?

Fine.

Catherine seems convinced
that they hated each other.

Actually, no.

Despite their differences,

they... they were both
consummate professionals.

What was Michael's
mood during rehearsals?

Fine.

- He didn't seem troubled?
- No.

And he never mentioned
being threatened?

No.

And did you see the letter?

Not till I read it in
that comic book, no.

Detective Superintendent,
I have a technical rehearsal

in 15 minutes.

I think I've been
more than generous

with my time and my
cooperation, don't you?

Yes.

Would you ask Tiffany
to come back in, please?

I'm, um... I'm sorry
to open old wounds.

Well, they never healed,
Detective Superintendent.

The gun was kept in a
locked box in the prop room.

When was the box opened?

Five minutes before
it was due to be used.

During act two, scene three.

I would set it on
this table here

and then went to join Michael,

who was waiting to
make his entrance.

- He's the mop and bucket?
- Correct.

Right, so he stood
there in the wings?

Yes, see, he was fitted
with a small explosive charge

that was connected to a
little blood pack on his chest

that he had to detonate
when Helen fired the gun.

So I checked to see
that it was rigged properly.

So the gun was left
unattended during this time?

Yes, but... but it
was only just there.

Now, I imagine it
was dark in the wings.

The lights were down,
people were dressed in black?

Correct.

So where was Billy
Morley at this point?

He was onstage.
He's the Greek column.

Right. So then what happened?

Well, Michael and I
watched the first half

of Helen's dinner-party
speech together.

- Which one was Helen again?
- She's the fig tree.

So who else was backstage?

The assistant stage managers,
a couple of technicians.

No cast?

No. No, they were all onstage.

Apart from Tommy Jackson,

who was on the other side of
the stage in the opposite wings.

You could see his Benson
& Hedges bobbing about.

So when did Helen
pick up the gun?

A few lines before
the end of the scene,

she would excuse herself
from the dinner table

and leave for her
secret rendezvous

with the Earl of Heaton, who
had just crossed the stage.

Whilst on her way,
she picks up the gun,

sweeps around the
back of the stage,

ready for her
scene with Michael.

Now, Derek...

How can you be so sure that
your memories are that clear?

You know, unclouded?

You get used to working pissed.

I was in complete control.

Anyway, I haven't
had a drink in 16 years.

I checked that gun
at least three times.

It was left unattended
for less than two minutes.

If that was negligence,
then I was guilty.

There's no way that Billy Morley

could have tampered
with that gun.

The letter came from
within the theater itself.

No, we shouldn't
waste our time with that.

I mean, this "feud" was
more like a bizarre friendship.

And if Billy and Helen
were at it, we'd know by now.

There are no
secrets at a theater.

Everyone knows
everyone's business.

Yeah, and Billy's
prints aren't on the letter

and were never on the gun.

And why would he leave his
initials? It doesn't make sense.

So are we looking for somebody
who hated Austin enough

to want him dead and
Billy enough to frame him?

Tommy Jackson.

- Peacemaker?
- Eh?

Oh, you remember "The
Peacemaker" in the '90s?

The TV detective.

Whoa! The dog's bollocks.

Yeah, that's what
Derek Bennett said.

Yeah.

Tommy was the young
star attraction of the show.

There was a lot of
bad blood, apparently.

Well, the theater's a
breeding ground for egos, innit?

It's notorious for it.

Anyway, I've tracked him down.

This week he's
working in Woking.

Easy for you to say.

We'll go and see him tomorrow.

Can I show you something?

Only if she shows you hers.

Ignore him.

Just got the typeface
analysis back from forensics.

Check this shit out. Uh, ma'am.

Look, the "B" and the "M" in the
words "BANG" and "MICHAEL"

do not match the initials
at the bottom of the page.

So these were added later.

Most likely, yeah.

Then we're talking
about two typewriters.

Okay. Cheers.

Oh, James...

Um, dinner tonight?

That would be lovely, thank you.

So, you heard. Two typewriters.
Means Billy Morley was framed.

You're not really going
out with that wet weekend?

Just fancy some
adult male company.

Hmm!

Besides, who wants to
be alone on their birthday?

Oh, f...

Oh, you should
have seen me Esther.

I got quite emotional.

I bet you were majestic.

The director said I was great.

I felt so free.

I'm really pleased

you've got this newfound
interest in the theater.

Yeah, got to get
cracking, though.

Learn all about the craft and
the language of the theater.

Maybe at last
we've got something

that we can do together.

You know, going
out, seeing plays.

No, no, no, no. I'm
talking about me.

Me studying to become an actor.

A professional actor.

Have you told the others
about your, um, career change?

No, no.

I don't want to say
anything just yet.

You know what Gerry's like.

Hi, Jack. It's Sandra.

Just wanted you to know
that I've been thinking of you.

And, uh, that's it, really.

Okay. Hope to see you soon.

Take care. Bye.

Thank you.

So tell me about you.

What do you mean?

Well, tell me about you.
Um, what did you study?

Media studies.

Oh, right. And then
you joined the Met?

You can have any degree

to get onto the High Potential
Development Scheme.

It doesn't matter.

I wanted a way into forensics.

So, what happened
to your interest in...

What was it? Television studies?

I combined the two.

Have you ever seen "CSI"?

Uh-huh.

And in the end
they found that out

that he died a
thousand miles away,

all because of a dust mite
the guy had in his eye socket.

I know that some people
think this is geeky and weird,

but I don't know.

I think it's really exciting.
Do you know what I mean?

Yeah, I mean, it's certainly
a fascinating discipline.

And it's advancing all the time.

There's this new thing
they're testing at the moment.

A way of analyzing fingerprints

that can tell you
how old they are

and even the sex of
the person that left them.

It's not officially
approved or anything yet,

but the technology is in place.

Now, Esther, I
want you to help me

with this actor's
trust exercise.

Put that down.

Now, I want you
to stand behind me.

Put your hands up like that.
Hold your hands up like that.

Right behind me.

And when I fall
back, you'll catch me.

Yeah? Trust exercise.

- Okay?
- Okay.

- Right.
- Right.

Thank you for dinner.

It was a real pleasure.

Bloody hell.

Aha-a-a-a!

What typewriter?

Act one, scene three.

"A Georgian study.
Mr. Swathe sits at a table.

On the table... A cigar
case and typewriter."

Come on, Derek.
Attention to detail.

Yeah. Yes, you're right.

It should be stored

with the rest of the
stuff from the production.

Could I have a quick look?

Helen Brownlow has disappeared.

Have you have any idea
where she might have gone?

None whatsoever.

This is completely
unheard of for Helen.

Though I ought to have
read the warning signs.

You left Helen in a
terrible state yesterday.

I simply conducted an interview

which your client was
quite happy to give.

What course of action she's
chosen to take since then

has absolutely
nothing to do with me.

But if I'm being
brutally honest,

her timing looks appalling.

I know! Tell me about it!

The show bloody
well goes up tonight!

When the press get hold of
this, they'll have a field day.

And I'll make sure you
and your team are hounded

as much as my client.

I'll give you a bell
if that's all right.

Shit! Shit!

- What's the matter?
- Where's Brian?

Don't know.

- Sorry.
- Get out of the way!

Mr. Jackson, I suppose
you know why we're here.

Course.

I've had a squint at the
book. I'm familiar with the case.

So, uh, what are
we working with?

What do we think we're
looking at? Murder?

That's what we've
come to talk to you about.

And we'll ask the
questions. So go on. Talk.

Yeah, we heard you
were having problems

with Michael Austin
and Billy Morley.

Handbags at ten bells.
Nothing I couldn't handle.

Though I see where you're
going with your line of questioning.

Yeah. Nice line of inquiry.

I would have done
exactly the same.

"Peacemaker," nimrod.

You do know you're not
actually a copper, don't you?

- Do you?
- But I was.

Yeah, so was I, you muppet.

I tell you what I'd have
my team working on.

Whether your suspect
had sent the letter or not,

to be involved with
the actual killing,

they would've had
to have tampered

with the actual shooter.

Well, Billy's got the
Parky's by then, ain't he?

I mean, his hands are
shaking like Bambi on the ice.

There's no way he
could have put that squib

into the barrel of the gun.

Check his meds.

Anyway, that ponce couldn't

squash a grape in a fruit
fight, you know what I mean?

So you don't think
Billy was involved?

Nah. No way.

Anyway, he's got three
movies lined up after the run.

I mean, they're all art
house, limited release.

You know, low-budget bollocks.
But they're movies all the same.

He's not gonna put
all that at risk, is he?

So who else would want
to threaten Michael Austin?

Well, who wouldn't?

Geezer was a right
pain in the harris.

I don't know how Helen put
up with him for all them years,

always pissing and moaning.

- What about?
- Oh, everything and anything.

I never met a more
self-centered geezer.

What about Helen Brownlow?

She's a good girl.
Great girl, Helen.

- Really?
- Really.

I mean, to tell you the truth,

Helen and Michael
fought like cat and dog

all the way through rehearsals.

I mean, the night
Mickey croaked it,

they were at it tooth and nail.

He was giving it all of
that, effing and blinding.

Couple of times it looked like

Austin was gonna
mug off the whole gig.

Such a bleeding drama queen.

Anyway I shall leave
you to mull that over.

I'm going for a slash.

Ah. Ah. Eh. Eeh. Ooh. Ah.

Ah. Ooh. Eeh. Eh. Ah!

Ah! Eeh. Eeh. Oh. Oh. Ah.

Ah. Ooh. Eeh. Eh. Ah!

Brian?

You all right?

What? Yeah, yeah. Fine, fine.

Just, uh, exercising the
organs of articulation, you know?

So how was Tommy Jackson?

Never meet your heroes.

Ah, the missing typewriter.

Yeah, James is on
his way now to get it.

Great.

Oh, yeah. How was last night?

Fine.

- So no sign of Helen, then?
- No.

- Well, what time do they go up?
- When does who go up where?

No, what time
does the show start?

Another technical term?

You know, Gerry,
you do seem to have

quite an intimate knowledge
of theatrical jargon.

No, it's just... Well,
just, you know.

Sorry?

All right, then.

When I was 18, I did a bit of
work for a theater company.

- Bloody hell.
- Oh, just a bit, you know?

Well, I never had you
figured for a thespian.

- He does like women.
- Heh heh.

Exactly! And that's why I
joined the Mile End Players.

12 raving fairies and me!

I cleaned up!

Got hold of the leading
lady. Yeah, Sarah Clacy.

Best-looking bird
in Bow. Ooh hoo.

So were you an actor?

No, I was a technician.
Did a bit of lighting and stuff.

What, did you never try acting?

Acting? Ugh.

Rather lick the
back of the fridge.

Hi. How is everyone?

Is this the typewriter
from the theater?

No. It's a kitten in a hat.

You know, I hate to say it,

but I think Tommy
Jackson may be right.

I don't see how we're
gonna prove anything.

Because anybody working
at the theater at that time

would have had
access to that typewriter.

If this letter was
sent to Michael Austin

and he handled it, why
aren't his prints on it?

- Because he never received it.
- Meaning?

Catherine Austin
has a book to sell.

She's got her father
up on a pedestal

and an obvious grudge
against Billy Morley.

Now, Catherine reckons
that she found the letter

in the box at the props lockup.

Where I found this typewriter.

Derek Bennett says he
left her in there on her own.

Well, she could have
written the letter herself

and then put the
typewriter back.

You know, faked the whole
thing to juice up her book.

Well, there's only
one way to find out.

Can I come?

No, you can get that
bloody typewriter to forensics.

Catherine, how long after
you started writing the book

did you discover the letter?

Couple of weeks. Two
months. I'm not too sure.

You still maintain you
found it in a storeroom

near the Wimbledon Theatre?

Yeah. Why?

Well, you see,
here's my problem.

At the time of
your father's death,

everything that was
used in that production

was gone through
with a fine-tooth comb.

Then it was put into storage
and remained there for 16 years.

So how come this
letter just turns up now?

I have no idea.

Catherine, do you
own a typewriter?

No. I don't. I use a computer.

What are you saying?
That I faked the letter?

No, no, no. We're
not saying anything.

We're just asking
you a few questions.

Well, the answer
is I don't know.

Wish I'd never seen it.

Wish I'd never agreed
to write the bloody book

in the first place.

- Agreed?
- Yeah. Wasn't my idea.

- Whose was it?
- Mel's. Mel Simons.

I wonder what
that's like, Gerry.

Performing when
folks are watching you.

Do what?

Acting. Onstage.
With an audience.

Oh, I wouldn't know,
mate. Wouldn't want to.

Yeah. Must be hard, though.

No, Sarah Clacy
said it's no big deal.

No?

No, she said, "All you've got
to do is mean what you say,

look the other
person in the eye,

and don't trip
over the furniture."

But what if you're like me?

You know, like I
was at Hanson's trial.

Well, I suppose that's
a bit like stage fright.

It's psychological, isn't it?

She used to say don't
prepare too much.

Just breathe out. Let it go.

That's what she
used to say, anyway.

Do you think Jack's coming back?

- Don't look good, does it?
- No.

- She's trying to hide it.
- Yeah, I know.

Listen, tonight, why
don't we take her out, eh?

Make amends for
ballsing up her birthday.

Yeah. Okay.

I'll give Jack a ring,
though. You never know.

Helen Brownlow has resurfaced.

Apparently uniform found her

wandering near the ponds
on Hampstead Heath.

They're pretty certain she was
about to do something stupid.

Bloody hell.

Yes, Detective
Superintendent Pullman.

Yeah.

Okay. Right.

No, James, I
can't talk right now.

Brian, I need you
to get back to UCOS.

I want you there when the
typewriter results come in.

How?

There's a Tube
around the corner.

- I'm not traveling on the Tube.
- Get a bus.

Good God. I only went out
to put things in perspective.

I often do.

This is ridiculous.
I'm perfectly fine.

And you don't have anything
to tell us that you didn't before?

Don't be absurd.

Helen, how are you?
How are you feeling now?

I told you I'm
perfectly all right.

I'm focused. I know
what must be done.

The play will go on.

Miss Brownlow, we have a witness

who swears they
heard a disturbance

in your dressing room on
the night that Michael died.

Some sort of fight.

Oh, is it unusual for
married couples to argue?

No, of course not.
Happens all the time.

But you told me the opposite.

You said that things were
good between you and Michael.

Yes, because
generally they were.

Yes, but Helen, this
happened on the day he died.

I just wonder why you didn't
think it was worth mentioning.

And what did you
argue about that night?

It was nothing.

Well, we heard it
happened all the time.

That Michael was
difficult to live with,

disagreeable and
high maintenance.

You know nothing about
my husband or our marriage.

He was my best
friend. And I killed him.

It should have been me.

Helen. Please.

Choose an animal to become.

Brian.

You're back. Where's Sandra?

Detective Superintendent
Pullman is out of the office.

Are the results in?

- When will Sandra be back?
- About now.

The results.

Cheers.

Ah! Perfect match.

Apart from the initials
B.M. Surprise, surprise.

But at least we know that
the main body of the letter

was typed on that machine.

Yeah, what we
don't know is when.

Catherine Austin. Billy Morley.

Helen Brownlow. Derek
Bennett. Tommy Jackson.

Maybe even Mel Simons.

They've all had access

to that typewriter and
that pad at some point.

I'm more interested in
the second typewriter

and who added the initials.

Who had access to the
letter outside the theater?

Mel Simons and Derek Bennett.

Do you remember that
thing I was telling you about?

The more detailed
fingerprint-analysis machine?

The one that can date-test them?

Yeah, vaguely.

Well, I used my uncle's
name, pulled some strings,

got them to run
the letter through it.

Go on.

Well, I got some
very exciting results.

Helen Brownlow, Tommy Jackson,

and Derek Bennett's
prints date from '92,

when the pad was
in use during the play.

Catherine Austin and
Mel Simons' both match up

from the time they say

they first discovered
the letter in 2006.

- But?
- But there are anomalies.

Both Derek Bennett and
Mel Simons have left prints

that predate that by
about a year... 2005.

So they're both lying about
when they came into contact with it.

Bingo!

No, hang on. Wait a minute.

Didn't you say that this thing
hadn't been approved yet?

Yeah.

So it's inadmissible
as evidence.

Yeah, but Simons and
Bennett won't know that.

Hey, now you're starting
to talk like a proper copper.

If it all goes tits-up,
I'll take the blame.

That's very noble of you.

But I think you'll
find that the blame

will rest squarely
on my shoulders.

Bring 'em in.

Four years ago we were
refurbishing the dressing rooms.

We tore out an old wardrobe
and... it was just there.

Must have been wedged
there all those years.

Couldn't believe it when I
opened it and saw what it was.

I'll tell you one thing.

It never had "B.M." written
on the bottom when I posted it.

- Posted it to who?
- Helen Brownlow.

I sent it anonymously,
care of her agent.

- Tiffany Barker?
- No. Mel Simons.

And what happened after you'd
posted the letter to Mr. Simons?

He rang me a year later,

asked if Catherine Austin could
come and look in the storeroom.

I knew then that
something had started.

Yeah. The book.

Derek, why didn't you
just take it to the police?

I was charged with manslaughter.

How seriously do you think
they would have taken it?

Look, whoever typed that
letter tampered with that gun.

I wanted Helen to see it.

It was important that she
knew it wasn't her fault.

What, more important than
clearing your own name?

What's going to happen now?

I just hope that
Mr. Simons remembers it

roughly the same way as you.

There's nothing to tell.

Really? That's interesting.

'Cause Tiffany Barker
said she sacked you.

Seemed to think it
was quite acrimonious.

Helen left my agency
by mutual consent.

There were some...
artistic differences.

Yeah. You were in love with
her, and she wasn't with you.

So when the letter
arrived in the post,

you saw a perfect opportunity
to profit from the split

and to exact some
sort of revenge, correct?

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

Whose idea was it to write
the book in the first place, Mel?

- Catherine's, of course.
- That's not what she says.

- She's lying.
- Oh, come on, Mel.

We both know that Catherine
is something of a lost soul.

She needs a guiding hand.
That's where you come in.

You gave it a whole year
after the letter arrived, though,

before you arranged for her

to borrow the stuff
from the production.

And then you slipped the
letter in the box. Am I right?

Prove it.

Well, that's the beautiful
thing, though, Mel.

We absolutely can

'cause your fingerprints
tell their own story.

Now, do we really need
to go to all the trouble

of getting a search warrant

to turn over your
home and your office

just to find a typewriter that
we all know is there somewhere?

Catherine had been
banging on for bloody years

about writing her memoirs.

Christ knows I
tried to put her off.

I mean, who the hell
would buy that shit?

I'd rather read a
notice of my own death.

She can barely
talk, let alone write.

And then when the
letter fell into my lap...

You planted the seed of making
the book more about her father.

Then you waited a
few weeks and, bang,

you slipped in the death threat.

Potential best seller.

10 out of 10, Miss Marple.

But you make it sound so easy.

I mean, my good woman,

I had to slip into that
storeroom undetected

like some geriatric cat burglar.

Espionage isn't easy at my
age, but it is marvelous fun.

Adding Billy Morley's initials

must have been the icing
on the cake, I presume?

Give that man a cigar.

Dead men can't fight back.

One of the world's nice
guys, aren't you, Mel?

I'm an agent, you cretin.

I saw a way of making money.

Is that a crime?

No. Not in itself.

But tampering with evidence is.

So is perverting the course
of justice, for that matter.

Well, whatever else
Mel Simons is guilty of,

it certainly isn't
rigging the gun.

No. Not even producing
the original letter.

Plus there's no proof that
Michael Austin ever received it.

Or if the gun was ever actually
bloody well tampered with.

I rang Jack before.

To see if he had
any pearls of wisdom.

So did I.

Yeah. Me too.

- No answer.
- Nah.

This is ridiculous.

Where you going?

To see Catherine Austin.
It's time we put this to bed.

I couldn't agree more.

It's me.

I need to know what
time I'm being picked up

for "Richard & Judy."

Come in.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Waste of bloody time.

At least on this occasion
we know the butler didn't do it.

- Bloody hell!
- What?

Well, help me!

Okay, well, what
are we looking for?

I don't know. Anything!

Of course!

What is it?

Well, what if he did do it?

- Who?
- The butler.

Look, in all these pictures,
the butler, he's wearing gloves.

He could have rigged the
gun and typed the letter himself.

- Suicide?
- Yeah.

Planted the letter to
make it look like murder.

Only for it not to be found.

Where's that writing pad?

Here, something's been written
on one of these missing pages.

- I'll take it down to forensics.
- Bollocks.

This is a job for old-fashioned
detective work, sunshine.

I preferred "Enter the Dragon."

- Sorry?
- Bruce Lee.

Oh, right.

I didn't really see
either of them.

That belonged to my
father. It was his favorite film.

Really? 'Cause most
people think it was his worst.

He didn't even finish i...

What?

"My dearest, darling,
deceitful Helen."

Get that.

- Unsolved Crime and Open...
- James? Put Brian on.

He's a bit busy right now.

Tell him I know what
happened to Michael.

So do we. It was an
elaborate suicide, wasn't it?

Tell Brian to meet me
at Richmond Theatre.

Tell him I think history
might be about to repeat itself.

And, no, you can't come.

Helen committed
the ultimate sin.

So she did sleep
with Billy after all?

No, she told Michael
that she thought Billy

was the better actor of the two.

You remember those
films Billy was about to do?

Well, Michael had been in
contention for the same roles.

When he found out
that Billy got them,

he flew into a rage.

And that's what they argued
about that night, him and Helen.

She told Michael
that he should retire,

that Billy deserved
those roles more than him.

He says in this

she might as well have
shot him through the heart.

- And then he made sure she did.
- Yeah.

Then Michael wrote
the suicide note

and then typed the death threat.

Shh! Quiet, please.

Which he left in
the dressing room

to try and create a...
a mystery, a legend.

Trouble is no one ever saw it.

Oh, bloody hell!

Stop! Police!

Oh, Inspector!

Do come in.

I have an imprint
of that letter.

"My dearest, darling, deceitful
Helen, I know the truth."

Please. Put down the gun.

Don't come any
closer, Inspector.

You can't blame
yourself for what he did.

I loved him. I killed him.

No. He killed himself.

To torture you.

And you're letting him win.

One last victory.

Do you know what it is to love
and hate in equal measure?

No, I can't say I do.

When I first met him, he
was so strong, so noble.

But he became jealous of
anyone who succeeded...

Of Billy, Tommy.

Jealousy changed
him. It ate him up.

And yet you stood by him.

And he repaid you
with a... a life of guilt.

I didn't know he was
going to kill himself.

Though he always threatened to.

I thought he loved
himself far too much

to actually go through with it.

Give me the gun.

Please.

I destroyed the note.

Not just for myself
but for Catherine too.

But the truth has a
way of coming out.

And as it did all
those years ago...

so now it does again.

I feel a bit sorry for her.

She did let Derek Bennett
serve two years for nothing.

I still don't get
how you knew...

That Austin had
rigged the gun himself.

- Bruce Lee.
- Huh?

Bruce Lee.

Catherine Austin had a poster
of "Game of Death" on her wall.

She said it was
Austin's favorite film.

And?

Well, in the film,
Lee plays an actor

who fakes his own assassination.

- Get away.
- Yeah. And that's not all.

'Cause in real life, Lee
actually died during filming.

Exact circumstances
are still a mystery,

but conspiracy theorists
claim it was murder.

Well, that is too
much of a coincidence.

Yeah, but how come you
know so much about Bruce Lee?

It's like a finger
pointing at the moon.

Concentrate on the finger

and you'll miss all
that heavenly glory.

Pub?

Hello, can we
have a pint of bitter,

dry white wine, and a
sparkling water, please?

Thanks.

I'm, uh, just gonna
give Esther a bell.

Got 10p?

Haven't you learned your lesson?

What?

All the deceit, the
agents, the love triangles.

It's hardly gonna go
down well with Esther, is it?

- Thought I'd find you in here.
- What's that supposed to mean?

Do you mind if I have a word?

Seriously, mate, don't go there.

I just want to say sorry.

That's okay. Don't
worry about it.

Cheers, mate.

- Let me get these.
- You sure you can afford it?

We don't want you running
up your student loan.

Oh, I assure you, this
will be my pleasure.

Mind how you go.

Oi!

♪ 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 ♪

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