Original subtitles

No one to talk with, all by myself.

No one to walk with, but I'm happy on the shelf.

Ain't misbehaving, saving my love for you, for you,

for you, for you.

I know for certain, the one I love, I'm through with

flirting with you.

Slinging off Ain't misbehaving Saving my love for you

Like Jack Horner

In the corner Don't go nowhere What

do I care Your kisses I was waiting for

for God's sake.

Ain't just me and my radio.

Ain't me. Well, there we are.

Wealth, wealth, happiness.

Leave a message for God's sake.

Good morning, sir.

Relaxing weekend, Lewis?

Yes, thanks, sir.

Just as well.

He's not too pleased with life today?

He's not going to be too pleased with me, either.

Tired, sir?

Yes.

Why's that?

Lack of sleep.

Tried pills? No.

There's a lot of, um, earth or something under his fingernails.

Farmer? Gardener?

Big strong hands.

No identification.

Fourteen pounds in his pocket.

Um... It's almost as if he just popped out for a minute.

Yeah, the middle of nowhere.

Quite. He's been dead for a few days.

Well, he certainly hadn't popped here on Friday.

There was a woman here walking a dog -right path. And he certainly wasn't

Saturday or Sunday.

How do you know?

If you hadn't been to sunny Yorkshire for the weekend, you'd know. It poured

with rain here. The body is dry.

It's been kept somewhere.

I was wondering, sir.

Chance of a chart at some point.

Who will?

You and me.

I suppose so. What about?

Oh, well, we've got a bit more time.

That's everything apart from litter and stuff.

We'll go through the litter as well.

Looks like a logo for something.

A garage.

C .T.

Autos. How do you know? They service my car.

When we get there, I'd like you to conduct the interview, Lewis.

Right.

Why, it's right in the point of our hearing.

But that doesn't mean to say it's one of our customers, does it? I mean, that

sets a reason, doesn't it?

Well, yeah, that's right. Mind you, I can't really be certain about that.

Oh, can I?

No, right. Hang on a minute.

It may not be a customer here, sir.

They give a lot out as gifts.

If it were a customer, how would we find out which one, I ask you?

I know that one, Bernard.

Why, it'd be a different kind of a story if he wanted his car serviced in a

hurry. Never mind him at the minute. He's not sleeping too well. Listen, if

was a customer... You know, I was looking at that. I'd say that that could

great key.

Possibly a motorcycle key there.

Sir, I found him.

He owned a Vincent Black Shadow.

His name is Harry Field.

After I finally found the right worksheet, everyone remembered him

I'm surprised you didn't know him, sir.

I reckon he was a bit of a character.

Morning. Morning.

Do you know them? I'm not listening.

Neighbor, new Mr. Field by sight. I haven't seen much of him.

He mentioned hearing a car in the small hours one morning last week.

High -performance car, he thought.

Here's our man when he was very much alive.

Don't step there. That's acid.

Someone threw it at this painting.

I wonder who did that.

Whoever did it had a key. No break -in.

He doubtless expected to be wearing it again.

His paints.

Here we are again, Lewis.

Putting together the last moments of a complete stranger's life.

Showing more concern for him than we would when he was alive.

He wasn't our problem when he was alive, was he?

It's me. I'm going to work. My head feels like a bucket.

Call if you're not coming back.

Hello, lad.

Look, what's this about?

What's his name?

You were pretty tight when you rang, you know.

He's a shit of the first water, as you know of old.

Look, I don't want things to turn...

You said you'd be back yesterday. I waited and I cooked something.

You... Shit!

What do I have to do, eh?

Call the police to find you?

I'm afraid the police have fun.

Yes? Mrs. Field?

Oh, no.

Drink.

I knew it would get him one way or the other.

Hope he was as drunk as a skunk.

Hope he didn't know what was happening.

God, why?

The last thing he heard from me was me c...

I don't think he ever heard that message, Mrs. Field. The tape hadn't

played by us. Because he'd phoned to say he'd be back on Friday.

I waited.

I made something.

I was angry because I'd made the effort and he hadn't.

I'm pathetic.

I really don't think he got that message.

I'll never really know, will I?

Not for certain.

Give me something to think about.

When did you last see him?

Him?

I last saw him... one week ago yesterday.

The early hours of last Sunday.

He'd gone to the studio.

He couldn't sleep.

Too much brandy.

His heart was racing.

We'd been to a party.

A week ago.

I don't hear any details of the accident.

No description of the bike. What happened to the other driver.

I just... He was here.

No, I just... Mrs Field.

Your husband wasn't involved in a road accident.

It's a Vincent Black Shadow motorbike.

O -A -F -749.

Well, Black, what do you think?

We need to find it as soon as possible.

Harry's father.

He's away traveling in Spain.

Do you know who he's talking about?

No.

Someone seems to be phoning your husband but not leaving any message. Would you

have any idea?

Did anyone phone for him here on Sunday?

No.

So you didn't see him for seven days?

Look, don't read anything that.

We were like that.

Very 60s, even at 50, Harry used to say.

He used to like to keep going after some parties.

If he said it's going down rather well tonight, he knew you'd lost him for

a week.

He needed to go off sometimes.

Drown the demon, darling.

That's why when he actually telephoned on Thursday...

I really expected him home the following day.

Did he say where he'd been?

No, it was a message on the answer phone when I got home from work.

He just said, hello, it's me, I'll be back tomorrow.

All I could do was curse him for not being.

God, how bloody suburban.

Why would someone keep telephoning Harry's studio and yet steadfastly

leave a message?

Could have been his dad from Spain having difficulty getting through.

If I'd tried to get through five times, I'd have mentioned it.

And I'd have been annoyed. He sounded quite relaxed.

Whoever kept ringing needed to speak to Harry urgently.

Someone who would only speak to him personally.

Of course, it might have been someone just wanting to make sure he wasn't

The jar of acid, yes. I was wondering about that.

Here.

What have you noticed about those?

No clothes on.

No clothes on.

No clothes on. You're in the faces, man.

It's all the same person.

All right.

And no clothes on.

You okay?

I think I might have got on with Harry Field.

I used to idle my hours away doing this sort of thing when I was a student.

What's that?

Ventosa viri restavit.

That's translated by Harry for a Mr.

and Mrs. Parker of Ohio as springtime brings respite from wintery storms.

Really?

Frantic report. Of course, in Latin, the letter V is pronounced W.

And therefore this motto would read, when toes are weary, rest a bit.

You've got it wrong, had he?

No.

No, Lucy, he was making it up.

Joke genealogy.

Hedaldry. It seems Harry had a sideline.

Felix nocturne exponendo.

What are you telling for?

Translating for the vipers of Chicago as happy the man daring to go out into the

darkness.

What's it really mean?

At night, put the cat out.

He was a lad, wasn't he?

He certainly enjoyed a joke.

He didn't like wearing a crash helmet either.

Oh, you're early.

It's a habit, I'm afraid.

You did say one, didn't you?

Yes, yes, I'm sorry.

Can you drink on duty?

I mean, is that all right?

I don't usually drink at lunchtime.

Well, I don't drink much at all.

We catch.

I don't like pubs.

We found this at the studio.

Oh.

I assume they were all phony.

We were broke.

As needs must.

Well, what do they expect for £30 plus postage and packing?

We didn't make anything out of it. Well, nothing to speak of.

Most of the money was exchanged for claret.

It was Harry's idea.

That it was what everybody wanted, deep down.

Feeling they had a history.

He gave them one.

Even if in translation it meant sup up and have another.

Did he sell much of his own work?

No.

Cleaning, restoration, fag -end work, he called it.

He minded about that? Of course he minded.

Tried to be a painter.

How would you like to go back to point duty?

Who modelled for him?

No -one.

He couldn't afford it.

Hello, Helen.

Early lunch today?

Yes.

We found his crash helmet in the studio.

Oh.

I see from the police computer he was one fine for not wearing one.

Years ago.

God, haven't you got anything better to keep on record?

25 quid and warned not to do it again.

He asked the court if he could wear a turban and claimed to be a thief.

He had to sneak out like a schoolboy and...

Blades around on his after dark.

The reason I mention it is because he was found in the middle of nowhere.

He could have ridden there, but we haven't found the bike.

Do you have any idea where he might have been going?

Or who he might have been meeting? No.

I told you.

When did you visit the studio last?

We went to pick up some wine for the party, Saturday night.

He kept it all the way out there, did he?

Well, he drank it.

He didn't happen to check his answering machine, did he?

There were no messages.

How do you know?

The message received light wasn't on.

You remember that clearly?

I'll never forget it now, will I?

Harry looked at the machine and said, There, you see?

Nobody loved me.

I received a forensic report this morning.

Well,

it contradicts some of the information you gave me.

What do you mean?

The telephone call you say you received from Harry on Thursday evening.

I say I received.

I wish I hadn't wiped the bloody tape.

So do I.

According to my forensic report, Harry had been dead four days by then.

for God's sake.

How does a dead man telephone his wife?

Tape recording.

Made by who?

Person or persons unknown.

But how?

I was rather hoping you'd have a few ideas.

Oh, one springs to mind.

Mrs. Field never got a call from him.

Well, why should she lie about it?

Well, I don't know yet.

But forensics got no reason to lie to us, have they?

Wouldn't have thought so.

Do you know what I always do after I've had my car serviced, Lewis?

Probably go for a drink.

I do.

I go for a run in it, and I shop for a drink.

It's a very satisfying, pleasurable thing to do.

And didn't the perceptive Gordon at the garage say that Harry was unusually

sober when he picked up his motorcycle?

He'd have wanted a drink.

He would also have wanted to try out his motorcycle.

He didn't wear a crash helmet, which means that he went out after dark.

The wood of the cross is the tree of knowledge.

It's not terribly funny, is it?

It's not, then.

I'd say Harry went to a pub.

Where?

Well, he'd want to be far enough out of town so he could enjoy his ride in

peace, but not too far, in case he had to wobble home.

It's a tribute to country living.

What's it?

The fact that the bike is still here.

The question is, how did Harry get from here to where we found him?

Afternoon. Afternoon, sir.

Yeah.

Did you report it?

I came across it, sir.

Ah.

How long has it been here?

Oh, uh, since, uh, since a week ago yesterday.

I was going to report it.

You're probably very busy.

Lewis?

Do you know this man?

Was going to report it.

He had his eye on it for himself. Three months unclaimed and then have it for

his own.

Harry certainly didn't leave that bike by choice. Something happened here.

Could he keep it as unclaimed lost property?

Don't insurance companies stop looking after three months?

Well, surely it would still be theft.

What does Pace say about it?

Paste it.

The Police and Criminal Evidence Act.

It's on your desk.

When a CID sergeant starts reading that particular publication, it can mean one

of two things.

He hasn't got enough work to do, or his wife wants him to be an inspector.

Well.

Who goes first?

Me, I suppose.

Look, sir, I don't want you to think for a minute that I'm unhappy with my work.

No, no, I hadn't thought that.

And I didn't want to talk about it until we'd had a chance for a natter, you

know. I mean, I really would value your opinion.

About being sent back into uniform?

I don't think it's thought of like that anymore, actually.

I want to get on, sir.

I mean, obviously, there's the money side of things as well.

What were the kids growing up?

Spending a fortune every time you turn round.

Inflation going up all the time. Well, you know.

And I want a bit of responsibility.

In the traffic division, are there enough patrolmen on the bypass? Is the

-way system working well enough on market days? It's a challenge.

I was expecting something like this.

Through flow of vehicles, that sort of thing.

Is that what you want to do?

I might not pass the exam.

Even if I did, it could be months before there's a promotion vacancy.

The thing is that I have to have your recommendation.

And what I need to know is... Do you think I'm good enough to be recommended

promotion?

I'm sorry to tell you, Lewis.

That the answer to that Is yes

Thank you

I was calling Mrs. Field.

Hold on, old lad. Kelly!

Strange man on the phone.

Yes? Mrs. Field, it's Mort.

It's the week.

Harry left a thousand for the bar bill.

Come over.

Everybody else has.

Oh, yes.

Right.

Right, thank you.

nothing. Any more for any more.

Hi. Good evening.

Over here.

Please, scotch. Tony, scotch.

Chelsea Arts Club ball.

New Year's Eve, 1969.

There's a cigarette in his hand.

He just wandered the length of the King's Road looking for those.

Dressed as a chicken?

Dressed as a chicken.

I only smoked consulate then.

He went into full puff before he found them.

Pool of the mountains, dreamy. Went like a bull when he got back.

Bloody idiot.

I need the adapter for the video. I used it on the bill last time.

Got everything?

Yes.

Tony's one of Harry's oldest friends.

You're looking particularly lovely tonight, Marv.

Pass the sick bag, Alice.

Mr Doyle is a teacher, isn't he?

Yes, but his wife has the lolly.

Lots of jewellery shops.

She's a semi -invalid.

Nerves more than anything.

The only thing Harry wanted him for was to cover his overdraft.

Password is health, wealth, and happiness.

Do you know it?

It's Mr.

Morse, dear friend.

Oh, sure.

Come in.

Would you tell him Lewis is here? I'll help you.

Harry and I were at this wine festival in Cumberland.

Now, Harry... I've been there. There's a wonderful bridge across the river.

Very amusing story.

Lewis?

I phoned in. They said you'd come here.

I, uh, brought my car, sir.

Thank you, Lewis.

Anything useful?

Not really. There's a man called Tony Doyle. What?

Shut up, Julie.

Ellie, come on.

We'll have a good laugh at me next.

God, I'll never end up in that potato.

I have a feeling you won't, Lewis.

Well, here's what you expected.

Hurry.

More bitter, I think.

Yes, I did. I bloody did.

I have to go home, I think, before the furniture goes over. Now, come on,

darling. I think you ought to go home, too.

I bloody loved it.

with, like, shaking hands with an empty glass.

Yeah.

Fancy a field, do you, Tom?

Was it something I said?

Got a drink?

I, uh, I don't seem to have been without one all evening.

Party, isn't it?

Everybody got a good look at me when I was younger.

Matisse?

Only thing Harry could think of at the time.

As he was that way for inspiration, we get an overdraft.

Everything Harry did is like something else, like some other painter.

Bingo.

He used to find himself a topper sometimes.

That's how he felt about it.

No style of his own.

Good at parties, though.

Dead or alive.

Helen?

Yes, Morse.

Did he forge anything?

I'll come quiet, guv.

What of Bonnie and Clyde you all think we were?

More old lad.

The evidence.

A whistler.

What's the sentence?

Next 20 years by myself?

Murrayfield. Some friends.

A lot of backbiting going on.

Nobody had a good word for Tony Doyle.

He played the host a lot, didn't he?

Cross my mind, there might be... You know.

Cross mine, too.

Morning.

How are you?

Tired.

Know the feeling.

Tried pills?

Hate pills.

Same here.

It's good of you to see me so early.

Oh, I'm always in early.

Make sure they haven't axed the course overnight.

That's why I can't sleep, I'm sure it is.

I need your opinion on this. It's, um... Well, you see what you think.

Glad to.

Come on.

What's it supposed to be? It's a whistler. A variation on the golden

Who told you that?

You haven't bought this, have you?

It isn't a whistler?

No. No.

It's...

It's terrible.

Never pass for a whistler.

Clearly the painter was no forger there.

Well, certainly not a good one.

It's been sort of chucked together.

Rather duff pastiche. Where did you get it?

At a wake.

Not surprised.

I always used to enjoy art at school.

Beat maths.

Touch and go sort of life, isn't it? Painting.

Did you never fancy doing it professionally yourself?

What do you mean?

Like Mr Field did.

Mr Field cleaned paintings for a living.

I got the impression he was a bit of a guru.

The way people used to flock around him.

He was a cabaret act.

Much money in cleaning pictures, isn't it?

I wouldn't know. I don't have to do it.

I saw some of his paintings.

He was very good, wasn't he?

He has a style that appeals to you, does he, Sergeant?

You wouldn't have much time for it, I guess. What with the marking and all you

teachers have to do.

You share the view of Bernard Shaw and Harry Field, do you, Sergeant? Those who

can do, those who can't teach.

Well, that's what he said about you, was it?

You wouldn't happen to know who this model is, would you?

No. He painted her a lot.

Could be a place in a magazine. He copied so much.

Did he now?

I've picked up a bit of stuff.

I hope it was a good wake.

He would have been delighted.

I'm sure he was delighted.

I started to get God suddenly.

No, sorry. Outside, please.

Is it Mr. Field?

That's right, old son.

I'm Detective Sergeant Lewis.

Do you have children?

I do, sir.

You will take care of this work, won't you?

Oh, we will.

I'm very sorry, sir.

I had to come here, get near to him for a little while.

He was always very good to the Smith family.

Any ideas who hated him enough to want to kill him?

Oh, dear.

Every picture tells a story.

Sir, there was a message from you on your son's answering machine.

What's that?

Something about a shit of the first water.

Who would that have been? Don't know.

So many about these days.

I have to go AWOL rather a lot these days. It's so depressing having to look

it.

God, I hate orange juice and apple.

You saw quite a bit of Harry, didn't you?

I owned Aladdin's cave. Your wish is my command, oh, Harry.

It was usually the only discount he wanted.

He didn't mention a new commission, did he?

Not to me.

Mind you, it was Kenny about giving me that sort of info. I might have asked

a payment of his bill.

It was probably a large landscape.

Really?

Well, he might well have been commissioned. He wouldn't have done that

thing from choice. He hated landscapes.

But if the money was right.

He preferred people.

I used to tell him he painted them well because he liked them.

He told me I was a sentimental old bugger.

Let's go and toast him.

Thanks.

Is it as dry as you... It is dry.

Lightish. Lightish, yes.

Good.

Harry loved it.

I noticed he had a case or two.

Le Grand Cru.

A Rolls -Royce taste on a mini -ingham.

I bet that's pretty firm, isn't it?

It is.

Good finish.

Very good.

So, where did Harry get his money?

Oh, he always pulled something out of the hat.

He sailed close to the wind all the time.

I practically had to put a leash on him when we were at that wine festival at

Cahors.

I dread to think what he spent after I went.

He stayed on? Yes, ten days or so.

A break.

Did some painting.

Who did he paint?

How do you mean?

You said he hated landscapes.

Hello, Harry.

I got your note.

Is he not in yet?

He's been and gone.

Gone where?

London.

Well, he never told me.

You can sit in here and study pace for a bit.

Keep the loo free for the rest of us.

You're a wag on your tail.

You didn't tell me you were going to London.

Well, not joined at the hip, Lewis.

Sorry.

It was just a thought. I couldn't sleep.

I've got something to show you, Lewis.

I almost turned into a detective today.

I had an idea about the girl in the paintings.

I recognised the tower in one of them, the one where she's being lifted up into

the air.

I thought maybe the houses in the picture were where she lived.

When I got there, the place was nothing like the picture.

Painters have an annoying habit of painting what they see rather than

actually there, I'm afraid.

Doyle reckoned Harry had copied her out of a magazine.

He thought he should paint her so often.

I thought that.

Almost obsessively, you could say.

Hmm.

He once told his wife he'd been a forger.

But I'm reliably informed he didn't have the skill.

But he was up to something.

I went to the College of Arms in London.

Lignum Crucis Arbors Gentii.

I thought it was a little ponderous to be one of Harry's own.

I spoke to a gentleman known as the Blue Mantle Perthivan.

Really? He's a herald.

The motto was taken by the Fitzwilliam family of Oxford in 1437.

Their house was burnt down in 1734.

The new home was built in 1750.

Harry was just beginning a painting of it. Now, the Fitzwilliams are long gone,

but oddly enough, the present owner is a customer of classic touring autos.

Paul Eugene Earl.

And 300 yards from where Harry's motorcycle was found is the back of the

estate.

Why don't you get yourself a proper job?

George Drummond.

What are you doing here?

Not wearing a long hat.

I'm not getting spat at.

How are you doing?

All right.

How's life on the outside?

Fancy a uniform?

And I know what time I'll be home.

Old Grumpy just went in.

What's it about?

Oh, you know.

No.

Nice house. Oh, well.

You're in luck.

He's flogging it.

8 .2 million he wants for it.

Not bad for a place he normally only uses twice a year.

Christmas and the week before Wimbledon.

Mr. Morse.

Paul Earle.

Sorry to keep you waiting. We were racing.

He went off the road.

Or was he pushed?

Carl!

Carl, call me. What can I do for you?

I'm trying to trade... I'll be there.

movements of a man called Harry Field.

Get the drain brush.

Who?

Harry Field.

Do you know anyone of that name?

No.

He appears to have been about to start work on a painting of his house. He was

professional painter.

I wondered whether he'd been commissioned by you.

The last time someone in my family commissioned a picture of a house was my

grandfather.

The painter was Cézanne.

You know Cézanne.

I have a photograph of the man.

Rings, no bells.

Telephone.

Simon Collier.

I'm coming, I'm coming.

He may have been nearby last week. Were you at home?

Only on Monday.

We were in Zurich, Canada.

Where were we last week after Monday?

Zurich on Tuesday, Wednesday at the house.

Not Christchurch.

My own house in France.

Thursday in London.

With your Minister for the Arts.

On Friday I flew to Scotland with friends.

As you see, very busy life.

Sorry, I can't help you.

Could I show this photograph to your staff?

But is it very important?

They are busy. I'm investigating a murder, sir.

Near here.

Well, the body was found 15 miles away, but the victim's motorcycle was found

nearby.

I see.

A Vincent Black Shadow.

A classic.

When did you hear this?

Paul Earl.

He only used classic touring autos twice.

and he wasn't introduced to them by Harry Field.

There's no connection there.

And on the day Mrs. Field says she received the phone message from Harry,

was in London.

With the Minister for the Arts?

Yeah.

Why Earl's house?

The paintings?

I don't... Well, he could have just copied it from a magazine like he did

girl. The house exists, Lewis.

The girl doesn't.

Why are these dues always on the hottest night of the year?

Rogues in uniforms impress the honoured guest, sir.

And they help disguise the begging bowls.

That's the chance for the area of expertise, isn't it?

So, what was he?

Sergeant Lewis, sir.

What about him? He wants to try for promotion.

I'm not surprised.

I was wondering if he'd necessarily have to go to another division if he passed

his examination.

Well, I imagine he'd want to.

Why?

Well... Well... Well, let's face it, Morse. He doesn't get much change out of

you, does he?

I'm amazed he stayed so long, the way you talk to him.

How do I talk to him?

Well... In your way, I suppose.

Dismissively. Nonsense.

Well, you know best, don't you?

You've had a very good officer there, Morse.

There aren't too many like Lewis.

You'll miss him.

Still, it is life, isn't it?

This malt's too peaty for you.

I'm getting the hang of it.

Driving?

No, I got a lift from the chief superintendent. He's going to the

do. Oh, your friend Earl's probably there.

You know, he's talking about donating two million to finance a new chair.

No, I didn't know that.

A lot of gowns have been washed and ironed since that was announced.

Anyway, look, there aren't a lot of photographs.

It's been one of the finest.

Renaissance collection you've never seen.

I was rather circumspect about who saw what.

Dodgy prominence of all the stuff acquired during the war.

Read Nazi loot.

Anyway, these are what I'll want to see if the collection ever does get here.

Absolutely wonderful.

Absolutely priceless.

What is it?

It, Morse, is the only known portrait of Giovanni Bellini by Elbrecht Dürer.

Tempera on panel.

Do you know, it had been in Earl's father's collection for years before

had the presence of mind to clean it and they discovered what they'd got.

When was that?

Forty -odd years ago.

Earl's father gloated over the collection for the rest of his life.

Is Earl selling this?

No.

It's his father's memorial.

No, he's, uh... He's offering to lease it to this country for ten years.

All he's asking in return is five million.

Yepolo by the yard.

That's a superb collection.

But would a quarter of a million people a year pay two pounds each to see it?

The air lobby in Whitehorse says yes.

Who is she?

Jane Marriott.

I tried to reach you last night.

I was studying the Renaissance.

Couldn't be the bloke who built this London.

Oh, good work, Lewis.

Very good.

Are they married?

Sit down. No, I'm fine.

Who told you about me?

My sergeant found you.

For one of Harry's paintings.

Pick it up in a minute.

Was it the booze that killed him?

Or four?

Not drunk.

Poor old Harry.

How did you meet him?

Through my teacher at school.

Tony Doyle.

They're mates.

I'd done some... I shouldn't say, really. I was only 15.

No, it was all right, really.

I did some posing for Tony.

Some photos for his work.

Well, he said they were.

Harry saw some of them, and he wanted to paint me.

He paid me. It was all right.

How did you get on with Harry?

Great.

He done some really nice pictures.

My mum's got one up in her house.

Do you have any of them?

No.

You seen any of them?

Yes.

Seen me stripped, then.

His wife must be upset.

Yes.

Did you ever meet her?

No.

We talked about Renat.

I don't think she could have kids.

Lucky.

Why did he paint you so often?

I was his model.

Did he ever mention someone called Earl?

Who?

Did you ever meet Harry?

No.

He was...

He was very generous.

A really nice man.

Told great jokes.

Well, you'll always have a happy memory of him.

Yeah.

Poor bloke.

Made me look better than I am, didn't he?

Did me a right favour there.

It's only Doyle does now, huh?

Why lie?

I don't like to think about it.

Well done, Liz, finally.

You all right, eh?

Depressed.

I've got to go and be presented sponsorship for next year's course.

He dropped a hint at the Chancellor's bash. There might be a little something

for us.

Can't help thinking it's all PR balls.

Go and work your charm, Ian.

It's not charm they want more. It's obedience.

Woof.

Woof.

Restoring some of his old gear.

Table tennis.

Fancy a game of Louis Elsa?

Ian Matthews found me this. It says, Anne's painting of Earl's home in

Apparently they sell for 80p.

Very nice.

It's 30 kilometres from the town of Cahors.

That's where Harry Field went last year for the wine festival.

Interesting, isn't it?

I saw Harry's dad.

Had a game of table tennis with him.

He used to play a lot with Harry.

Kept the table. He beat me, actually.

Paul Earl's name meant nothing to him.

He says Harry would have mentioned Earl to him if he'd known him. They were very

close.

Only Doyle's name touched a nerve, though. Didn't like him at all.

Nor did Harry.

Did he say why?

Yeah. The bourbon.

Fairly damning.

I've been wondering about the money Doyle kept lending Harry. Why would

that?

Well, if he was having an affair with Helen Field, it could be conscience, I

suppose.

Harry knew about Doyle's taste in teenage girls.

And was blackmailing him. No, not Harry's style.

I think Doyle's still at it.

Really?

Blackmail wasn't Harry's style. Anyway, what sort of money are we talking about?

Twenty here, fifty there.

Over a long period of time, though, from what people say.

Yes, but even so.

Harry probably resented having to borrow from Doyle at all.

You don't know your wife's having an affair. Your friend's loans must seem

annoyingly generous.

So how did Harry afford his Grand Cru wines? People like Harry just do lose.

Not everyone has a jar for the gas, a jar for the rent.

Did you know Doyle's wife's very wealthy?

From a long line of jewellers.

That's how he can afford to run an Aston Martin on the school teacher's salary.

And the car, heard outside Harry's studio in the early hours of the

sounded like a specialist car.

Powerful engine.

Possibly Paul Earle's Ferrari.

Then Paul Earle wasn't having an affair with Harry's wife.

Doyle isn't a killer.

Hello, this is the number for Harry and Helen Field.

Sorry not to be about.

Leave a message after the tone.

Hello, this is Harry.

I'll be home tomorrow.

Leave a message after the tone.

Hello, this is Harry.

I'll be home tomorrow.

They're saying it must have been kids.

Why not spontaneous combustion?

Why not the wrath of God?

Hello, I'm afraid Paul Earl cannot take your call right now. If you'd like to

leave your name and number after the tone, he'll get back to you as soon as

possible. Thank you.

Sir? Hello, Lewis.

I've looked into Harry Field's bank account.

He wasn't broke.

An £18 ,000 cash deposit in June this year.

Unfortunately, no corresponding withdrawal from Tony Doyle's account.

I said Harry wasn't a blackmailer.

Bit of a dark horse about his finances, though.

I wonder if Paul Earl was in England during June.

He usually comes over the week before Wimbledon. George Drummond, the security

man, told me.

What would Earl give Harry 18 ,000 quid for?

Certainly not for a painting of the house.

Cezanne didn't earn that much, and he was good at landscapes.

It would have taken Harry two minutes, drunk or sober, to get from the pub to

here, across the field to the house.

Surprise visit?

Possible, Lewis, possible.

What was Harry doing here?

Why should a hut in a remote part of the estate suddenly burst into flames?

I suspect that's where they hid Harry's body for a week. And that's why he was

dry when we found him.

I think we should speak to Mr. Earl again, formally this time.

I want a search warrant.

I want to see Earl and his staff.

Writer. Right now, I want a drink.

Why was he alone?

It wasn't unusual. He often went out to do things alone.

Meet people?

People you knew nothing about?

I don't know.

Were you over here in June?

Yes.

Wimbledon.

How many extension telephones are there here?

Why?

Um, here.

Paul's office, the bedroom.

A copy of the Cezanne.

Hello, this is Harry.

I'll be home tomorrow.

Mr. Earl mentioned Harry Field to me.

Did you know him well?

My English.

I cannot...

Anything?

No.

Forensic thinks some sort of spike was used.

Except for the spinal cord.

More accuracy than force, they say.

And, uh, give them out on the road 30 feet long.

Must have braked pretty hard for something.

We should look at the, um... The burnout hut. Already tormented. Right.

Good. Yes, very good.

No more? Morning, sir.

Well, we've got a very important corpse on our hands.

Yes, I preferred him as a stackback.

What's this about you putting your papers in?

Who told you that tale?

I'm thinking about trying for promotion.

Look, I'm busy. Any chance of putting in a word for me, Remorse?

About what?

Replacing you.

Excuse me.

I had a meeting with you. I didn't know it!

Aye, well, I'm afraid it's off.

How long has your firm been retained to lobby on behalf

of Paul Earle?

Oh, we've been on this particular project for about a year.

It's all very much under wraps until three months ago. I think the Guardian

hold of it first.

How was he to work for?

Charming.

Uncompromising.

How were you doing for him?

Well, we had the Minister for the Arts seriously considering the proposition.

We had a couple of tame MPs we retained pressing for it.

In Parliament?

Well, certainly in the corridors of that building. It's why I've stayed on here.

There's some correspondence I really should retrieve.

Actually, five million pounds to hire such a wonderful collection was really

rather a good deal for the good old British taxpayer.

You've seen it, then?

No, no, I just had to sell the idea of it coming here.

I'm sure the good old British taxpayer would be delighted to save Mr Earl the

cost of housing and insuring it.

They were getting the chance to see it, though. Not if they lived in Newcastle.

What is that?

Lavatory clean.

It's been more than cleaned, Lewis.

It's been disinfected.

Harry Field.

Did you scrub the car clean after you'd been in it?

He's lying.

Bill's secretary's organised a solicitor for him.

Coming up from London.

And he's just sitting there waiting to be released.

We won't get a word out of him. He's too much to lose.

Well, how many people do you think it took to throw a body over that bridge?

First you want me job, now me office.

That's me job, you see.

I've just shown somebody in.

Mr. McCabe, solicitor for the German bloke you've got.

Oh, and a voter phone call for you.

Getting a car phone?

Yeah, for me Ferrari.

Are you the investigating officer?

One of them.

If you'd like to wait at the reception.

I don't think so. I've driven up from London for this.

Have you been charged?

No. Do you intend to charge him?

I couldn't say.

Then back off. Perhaps I should remind you that under the provision of the

police and criminal evidence... Don't you remind me.

It's in my pocket.

The Vodafone bill here.

One call listed from that car phone on the day Harry was last seen.

Guess where they phoned?

To the house.

Earl's own number.

Right.

At 20 .57, a time when Harry could easily have been in the area.

The secretary assures me that Earl didn't go out at all that day.

So why would he go to the garage, pick up the car phone, and phone his own home

100 yards away?

If Harry had tried the front gate, security would have stopped him.

Coming in via the fields would have brought him out near the garage.

Now, what if Earl and our highland German Carl saw him?

What?

Confrontation, demands, or placatory words from Earl, more likely.

Harry's message to his wife was recorded and phoned to her four days after he

died.

If you heard your wife's recorded message, you'd assume you were speaking

your home.

But I think he was speaking to a tape in Earl's office.

A hundred yards away.

If I'm right,

Harry Field phoned in the alibi for his own murder.

It never proved that, sir.

Not unless Harry speaks to us from beyond the grave.

Do you want a drink?

No, thank you.

I don't usually at this time, but... Did Tony Doyle throw acid over Harry's

work?

A car was heard in the early hours near the studio.

The acid attack was a petty, vindictive act, in my opinion. Oh.

Character assessment and accusations.

Tony didn't kill Harry if I thought you were driving up. He wouldn't have been

capable. Oh, that was loaded.

Why don't you ask Tony?

My sergeant will be doing that.

Oh, separate interrogations, they go.

You've probably been talking to Maddy or Freddie or Julia or one of the other

bloody diminutives. It's a peculiar bunch, aren't they?

What? You don't have to be a gentleman about it, Mort. I know what they think.

Did they tell you Harry was impotent by any chance?

No -one said anything.

Oh, well, I expect he said it was my tubes or something.

We had a bit of an upsy -dounsy marriage, Harry and I.

Yes, I know. Oh, good. I'm glad you know, too.

The more, the merrier.

Sorry, Mawson.

It's just very hard to...

You'll

have guessed about my heady romance with Mr Doyle.

We packed it in some time ago.

He didn't want to risk being thrown out and losing the house and after Martin.

Harry knew.

Tony was always lending him money.

Harry said he felt like a pimp. He might as well behave like one.

No, Tony didn't chuck the acid.

I did.

You'll have seen my portrait at the studio.

Which one?

The one with the old punks through it. Which do you think?

Harry did it after we'd been at Tony's party.

He knew how much it meant to me.

That's why I did it, I suppose.

He just grabbed it off the wall there and took it.

He'd seen me laughing with Tony at the party.

I like to think he was jealous, but it was probably just the brandy.

I phoned Tony, asked him to get it back for me.

He drove to the studio, realised he might get the same treatment as the

painting, and drove straight back.

My lancelot.

So, Monday night, 11 .30, drunk, I walked into the studio and did the dirty

deed. just to show it wasn't all one -way traffic.

And a week later, you arrived and told me he was dead.

I always thought Harry and I would have time to agree terms for peace before

our old age.

It's always later than you think, isn't it?

Thank you, darling.

Matisse.

Goya.

Yeah, he never could paint heads on nudes.

Just like your chap.

Manet.

Bonnard.

Ingres.

And Magritte.

Terrorist hand lifting her up.

It's called Dangerous Relationships.

Why did he choose that picture?

All these pictures of her lovingly painted until the last one.

Something changed his mind about her.

Hello, Sir. Hello.

It wasn't Doyle. The acid.

I know.

Mrs. Field. Yes.

Did he tell you that?

Yeah. Couldn't wait to clear himself.

Her Lancelot.

I think Harry was right about that gentleman.

He also confirmed their alibi for the night Harry died.

Doyle and Mrs. Field booked a double room at the Beverly House Hotel, checked

out the next morning.

They go there regularly.

Who painted this one?

That's his wife. Harry painted it, I suppose.

No doubt.

It's rather good.

You know, conventional art school stuff, you know.

Harry had no time for other painters.

The house is full of his work and no one else's.

So who would he respect enough?

Who would mean enough to him?

Chateau Lafitte 28.

Happy days before life became complicated.

That's Harry's mother.

And a young boy growing up to be murdered.

A Cézanne with a citron.

Paul Earle's home.

We've been studying the wrong paintings and the wrong painter, Lewis.

We've been admiring your work, Mr. Field.

This is Chief Inspector Morse, Harry. Oh!

Oh, thank you.

The portrait of Helen.

Dear Helen.

And of Harry.

And his mother.

Yes.

Harry loves... Loved that picture of the tooth.

Tried many times to copy it.

The copy of the Cézanne you have.

Pastiche. Of course.

Something composed of parts borrowed. Your work?

Long time ago.

So you knew Paul Earl.

Very briefly.

Two golden rules of forgery, Mr... Maud.

Spontaneity and never do Raphael.

Spontaneity was something Harris simply didn't have in his work. He tried too

hard.

Gentili Bellini by Giovanni Bellini.

Or is it?

You've studied it.

I have indeed.

Would it be foolish to suggest it's not unlike the Durer painting of Giovanni

Bellini in the Earl collection?

But they were brothers.

There would be a family likeness.

I was thinking of the composition.

Oh! A compliment to the master.

Durer admired Bellini greatly.

The collection will still come to this country.

The Earl Foundation will get their five million.

I think that's very unlikely.

Why?

Because the Duras were manufactured by the late Oliver Irwin, M

.A., and me.

in the presence of... Alan Sturgeon, marry me!

Owen and I worked for Earl's father at the house near Coward,

restoring, cleaning.

The old man admired our work.

Our pain didn't die the moment it hit the canvas.

And one afternoon, he brought in some 15th -century wooden altarpiece. None of

them of any great interest. Most Ron Poplar, some online.

But, but, it led to a discussion about religious

painting to painters who travelled widely and inevitably to Dürer's

Bellini.

Oh, really? Encourage this.

It was logical.

Dürer was a great admirer of Bellini.

Thought to meet him. He could have painted him. Should have.

One could say he was remiss not to.

We corrected his omission.

The paint Owen made up stank like a fruit and vegetable store.

We decided we could not hand in a pristine piece of work, though Owen, who

of Van Megeren's phenolformaldehyde medium,

Made up the paint we intended using to show restoration work.

Fake a good Durham and then fake sloppy restoration work.

Coming, eh?

There always has to be something for the expert to say, ah, ah, about.

Perfection simply isn't good enough.

The Durer.

Who authenticated the work?

Andreas Solman, an acknowledged expert, but 73 at the time.

His father was a cunning man.

He knew Solman had always believed that Durer must have painted Bellini.

Our timing was perfect.

The war had ended.

Salman felt that the world was now free from tyranny.

And from the rubble of an emotionally and physically devastated Germany.

An undiscovered durée.

Renaissance.

Of course, the thing is not for sale, and therefore it will never...

Some have expressed doubts about it, but witness our Bellini.

People want to marvel.

Fake only disappoints.

When found out?

You're a very fine artist.

Or a Liberace of art. I demonstrated the Dura. The proceeds paid for my

house.

There's always going to be a home for young Harry.

Something certain for him.

His mother died when he was ten.

He needed... What was Harry really

like? He wanted to do good work, but it just wasn't there.

He was a disappointed man.

It's very hard to be content when you can't achieve.

But he did achieve in the end.

He found a cause.

And he died for it.

Harry knew that the Earl Collection, the vast majority of it, was put together

through theft and forgery. Of course, he knew.

Earl hired Harry to clean up the work I had done 40 years before.

Had to be Harry, because Harry knew about the duels.

But when it came to duping this country, Harry, my son, the glorious Trump, God

bless him, refused to stay silent, and he was right.

People have gazed upon the count of it and been told it was a privilege to do

for far too long.

But you created the beast.

Did you kill Paul Earl?

A dangerous disease requires a desperate remedy.

There's no need to kill Harry. It wasn't fair.

Harry didn't want anything for himself.

But Earl was defending his father's honour.

And Harry was trying to salvage some for his.

Did Earl admit to killing Harry?

No, but he did it.

How do you know? I know.

He did it.

The evidence is all... He must have done it.

And Durer must have painted Bellini.

We'll not see them again.

There's a buyer for the place.

We've got to get back to the house in France. There's been a fire.

Paintings destroyed?

Only three or four, apparently.

I'm sure they were very well insured.

Schoffer wanted to tell me all about it. I don't know why.

Because he knew you'd tell me.

I heard the French bloke was dead.

Yes.

His hand in the picture?

Yeah.

Harry was full of stuff like that.

The French bloke was going to buy some paintings.

We were going to do all right out of him.

Harry sent me to meet him.

He didn't want pictures.

He fancied the model.

He was into all that.

Not as expensive as paintings.

I told him the bloke thought his pictures were junk.

And we had a great big row.

He got upset and started drinking.

He said he corrupted everything.

I said he'd make a good pimp.

He was crying when I left.

I came back a bit later.

The place was empty.

Then I noticed it changed my face.

He'd just gone.

To see Paul Earl?

I think he probably did.

Well, not on a white horse.

On a bloody great black motorbike.

What's that make him?

My avenging angel?

If we hadn't have had that row, he'd still be here, wouldn't he?

Why couldn't you have told me before?

What? Say that I'd been with a rich bloke?

My word against his?

I could say he's got a mole on his back. That'd stand up in court, wouldn't it?

Beware all thieves and imitators of other people's labor and talents.

Laying your audacious hands upon our work.

I thought that's it.

Albrecht Durer.

In 1511.

How does it feel to have been right all the time, sir?

Frustrating. I'll never prove conclusively that Earl did it.

We've got time on our side.

Something might turn up.

I'm told it's always later than you'd think.

The road goes on and on.

With others, follow the two jam.

How about me going on and on, sir?

Exactly.

Exactly.

I've been having a bit of a rethink.

The missus reckoned I'd be miserable, and I'm not sure how it would suit me

at the moment.

Maybe I'll give myself another year.