All language subtitles for This.Is.Not.a.Murder.Mystery.S01E06.The.Survivor.1080p.ALL4.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H.264-RAWR_track3_[eng]

We can't locate DCI Thistlethwaite.

THEY CLAMOUR
What? No way.

There are police
everywhere on the estate.

The main detective went missing.

Two of my friends are dead.

Actually, I think
we can use the free promo.

You know what promo is?

If his teeth match his dental
records,

this would be Tobias George James,
the 12th Lord Denver.

Whatever the specifics of it,
let him rest.

Quant!

The killer...

He was planning all of it.

He wasn't even hiding it.

The man we are
looking for is Man Ray.

Those nails.
They're not even mine.

I'm innocent.

The case is closed, DCI Quant.
Full stop.

Thank you for stopping by, Michael.

Let's go out there
and let's grab the world...

Sir?
You might want to come see this.

What the hell?!

And what do you paint?

I actually do paint the reality
of today, but my own version of it.

Elaborate.

Well, 'seeing'
usually means you open your eyes

and you look at the outside world.

But you can see another way.

You can close your eyes
and then look into your inner world.

I believe it's best to keep one eye
closed and look inside.

And the other eye -
you have it fixed on reality.

What is going on around in this
crazy world right now?

That's a rather clear message, no?

I guess so.

Then why did you arrest Man Ray?

Why did...?

Why do you think?

We caught him
with the bloody murder weapon.

The killer is playing with us.

Again.

He's probably watching us right now.

The wrong man is in prison, Quant.

I can't get Man Ray
off the hook for this, OK?

The higher-ups,
they want him to go down.

And so does Lord James.

He's not getting out of that cell.

Until we find the real killer.

Where are the bodies?
HE PANTS

Thistle...

He mentioned the possibility
of hidden passages.

Maybe. Yes. Probably.

I mean, the cooks and staff
have been in the kitchen

working all evening.

They must have seen anyone
that doesn't belong there.

Definitely not anyone carrying
three dead bodies.

There's got to be two people.

Surely.

A killer and an assistant.

Or two killers.

Sorry...

The exhibition is about to start.

None of the guests can
know about this, sir.

He's right.

And we have to keep it that way.

We can't have a panic on our hands.

I'll protect the guests,
guard the dinner

and the exhibition with some
constables. OK?

Thank you, miss.

This is a very important night
for Lord James.

Please, tell Georgette I'll be late.

I need to dig a little deeper.

DC Quant? Yes?

Look...

I don't need to tell you to be
careful by now.

OK? But please...

...be careful.

CHIT–CHAT

So what is it about reality
that inspires you?

I don't paint reality,
Ms Guggenheim.

I paint dreams.

Oh, fascinating.

Dreams, really?

Yes. Wet ones, I hope.

Oh, Ms Cunard!

GLASS TINGS

As much as good food and fine wine
has restored your minds,

I would like to relax
yourselves even further.

You may have read the gutter
press this week

and come across certain unfortunate
events that transpired at my estate.

Nobody stops death

when it comes knocking at the door
in whatever form or guise.

It is with the greatest regret that
I remember my dear cousin

Sheila and our joint friend Nash.

May they rest in peace.

Respect is also due to the detective
who tried to keep us safe.

His sacrifice did lead
to the ultimate capture

of our unfortunate murderer.

The killer turned out to be
one of my favourite artists.

A giant of 20th-century art.

Mr Man Ray.

It wasn't me.
I'm afraid he has gone to the devil.

It wasn't me.

Shut up!
That's what you lot always say.

Let me out, you relentless bastards!
Release me at once!

Release me!

Which won't diminish the importance
nor the value of his work,

I can assure you.

On the contrary, My Lord.

He's white hot.

LAUGHTER

DCI QUANT SNEEZES

For way too long, Man Ray has been
focused on themes of death

and destruction.

His art is simply stupendous.

Frightening, profound and beautiful.

Now you will see it exhibited,

be prepared to be shocked
out of your comfort zones.

Brilliant.

Oh, I'm loving this intrigue.

It is of my opinion that an artist
can never go too far.

Except when he,
like our Man Ray obviously did...

...when he crosses...

...to the other world.

There is no way back from that
side of the Styx.

But as you know, every cloud has
a silver lining.

And Man Ray's demise means
that peace

and prosperity has
returned to West Dean.

We are back to where we were.

Where we would like to reside.

In a perfect world,
West Dean will always be this.

No applause.

I hereby invite you to a very
private viewing of the new

and visionary names in art.

Follow me to Monkton House.

CHATTERING

We need to get more bread
in that oven.

Can I have some pepper, please?

Be careful how much
you're putting in there.

Have you really been living here
for years?

You sound concerned.

I don't think I like this place.

I know, my friend.

One moment, it seduces you...

...and then it grabs you by the
throat.

Welcome to West Dean.

Where is Georgette?

I think she's got a headache.

I think Rene is making up
for lost time, eh?

Rene?

You are aware of the situation,
aren't you?

My bank is this close to seizing
this entire estate.

Fully aware.

Wait a few more hours, and once
I start selling these works,

you'll remember who the boss
is around here.

I'll be happily waiting for that.

In the meantime, enjoy another
glass of champagne, Babington.

It's on me.

Quite a place.

Sure. On a budget.

Exactly.

CHATTERING

Welcome to the
Surrealist Dream House,

where reality is broken,
where day is night.

And nothing is as it seems,
and vice versa.

BAND PLAYS JAZZ

Is this yours as well?

Yes, it is, Peggy. Yes, it is.

This symbolises prenatal life.

The memories
I have from my mother's womb.

Yes, touch it. Touch it.
Can I?

Yes, you'll feel eggstasy.

Oh, wow. You see?

It's eggstraordinary.

You're a very eggsperimented artist.
Thank you very much.

Is it eggspensive? It is.

I'm afraid it is.

Eggsquisite.

You are eggstremely funny.

Will you write about this, Dr Freud?

I'd rather dream about it
and then I write about the dreams

or perhaps the nightmares, but,
uh...

Let's have a look at the killer's
work, would you?

Killer?

I'll buy the egg.

Is it even on sale?

By all means, if you so desire.

50,000.

A breeze to impress my friends
in my museum back in New York.

Yes, you're not the only one
with your own museum, you know.

But I have the best art.

Not forever.

I'll buy the lot!

There's always more where
that came from.

You see, it takes a particular
talent to spot great talent.

You, my friend,
just throw dollars at it.

But I'm the one catching
those dollars.

Hm-hm.

Bloody good show.
Hmm. Cheers to that.

What does it mean?

'This is not a pipe.'

Yes, but its true meaning?

Well, it's not a pipe.

It's a painting of a pipe,
a representation thereof.

That sounds like the mortgage
business.

You think you buy a house,
but we, the bank, actually own it.

THEY LAUGH

YELLING

SCREAMING

Open the gate!

Help us! Help us, please!

Calm down.

I'm sorry for the drama.

What is going on?

Please don't kill us.

Did you just lock us up, Magritte?

No, I did not.

And nobody is getting killed
tonight.

At least not for now.

I'll have you killed before you
even touch us.

There's no need.

I'm quite nervous as it is.

It's the first murder case
I've ever solved.

Are you all right, Magritte?

PEOPLE COUGHING

The question is -
do you want to know?

Know what?

Who the killer is.

The mind behind this madness.

Manny is in jail.

It's not him?

Seriously, Sal? You think he did all
this from his prison cell?

Perhaps, if he had help...

Let's have it, then!
Out with it!

OK.

Let's start with the first murder,
Sheila.

As some of you may know,
I woke up next to the victim.

What many of you may not know

is that the murder scene was
choreographed

as one of my paintings, Les Amants.

Which was at that time safely
locked into my room.

The lab test has shown that both
Sheila and I were heavily drugged.

The wine we drank that night was
laced with laudanum.

The same laudanum the Dalis use to
fall asleep every night.

Very interesting.

What? Is sleeping a crime now?

But as a result, I was incapable
of committing the murder,

let alone get the scenography right.

Thanks to DC Quant.

She understood this before
anyone else.

So the question becomes -

who knew about a painting not yet
shown to anyone here in England?

THEY MURMUR

It was me.

Ladies and gentlemen, my agent,
Edouard Leon Theodore Mesens,

who some of you may know for his
fine manners and sober personality.

That's for sure.

Pushing your work is my job,
Magritte.

True. But the fact is,
ELT photographed this painting

when it was still
in my studio in Brussels.

He then sent those pictures
by post to this address.

He later rang a number at West Dean
to talk to Lord James about my work.

I don't remember that.

All of this to try and convince
Lord James to invite a lowly

painter as myself to this
exclusive event.

Someone in this house picked up
ELT's pictures of the painting

and it could have been any one
of the artists present that night.

It could have been both the Dalis...

Manny. Lee. Max.

What?

Even Nash.

It could have been anybody.

Great detecting.

No, he's starting to make sense.
Let him talk.

Continue.

Let's move forward to the second
murder, shall we? Nash.

We first thought Nash overdosed
on opium.

But, no, Nash was shot
with a glass gun using salt bullets.

That's quite a genius method.

Looks like a small bullet hole.

There's no bullet in the brain.

No exit wound in the skull.

Owner of this gun?

Lee Miller.

SHOT FIRED

Again with the toy gun. Really?

I know you didn't kill Nash,
dear Lee.

You had no motive whatsoever.

Except that your Man Ray had
a little affair with Sheila.

And got her pregnant.

He told you that? Yes.

We are friends, Lee.

What do you think? That men don't
share our dirty little secrets?

Ooh, I'm loving this show.

Well...
His dirty secret was a dirty lie.

Nash was the boy's real father.

What?

It's true.

He found out a couple of days ago
when he arrived at the estate.

Such a sad life the little boy had.

And to die like that...

What do you know about that
child's death, Mr Dali?

Oh, more than most of us.

Dali was the man who tried to
save this child.

And you're a hero for doing so.

How do you know all of that?

The money.

But if that's OK, I'm going
to come back to that later.

Let's finish this murder first.

Because if neither Lee nor Man Ray
killed Nash, then who did?

Nash was shot through the nose
using salt bullets.

What does this tell us?

Well, the same as the murder of
Sheila.

This is not about efficient killing.

This is about making a statement.

Murder...

...as a work of art.

GUNSHOT

It is hard work to kill,
even when it's done.

How to deal with the bodies has
always fascinated me.

Carrying them around.

Disposing of them.

So there has to be a practical
side to the killings.

We are all walking here freely.

How could the killer do his job
without being seen?

I think our third victim
came to the same conclusion.

DCI Thistlethwaite.

The man who almost ruined
our killer's plan.

He understood there had to be
a practical aspect

to the logistics of these killings.

He went on a search, came too close
and had to be killed on the spot.

But this was a necessity.

This wasn't part of the killer's
overall artistic view, no.

So the killer used a secondary
murder weapon.

A fake version of Man Ray's
gruesome art piece Le Cadeau.

Isn't that right, DC Quant?

A disturbing work of art combined
with snake venom...

In the eyes of the killer -
an improvised masterplan.

But he made a mistake.

The original version of Man Ray's
Le Cadeau

has 14 nails sticking out of it.

The killer only used 11.

What?

The officers arresting Man Ray
missed this detail

and took home the fake version
placed there by the killer.

No, no, no.

Those nails, they're not even mine.

Put your tool down
and get your hands behind your back.

I knew Man could never have
done all those things.

And yet he complied with the three
things a detective always looks for.

Means, motive and opportunity.

Jealousy? A very strong motive.

Being lied to? Very painful.

It was a big surprise when Sheila's
fortune didn't go to Nash,

her lover, father of her child.

Also, Sheila's inheritance didn't
go to her only cousin

and closest relative...

...Lord James.

I'll have to admit,
I had a fit of pique when I'd heard.

But it couldn't have gone to
a better person.

It went to...

...Dali.

MURMURING

Oh, he didn't know.

As he didn't know until yesterday,
he had no motive whatsoever.

But why?

Salva helped his friends
that day in Spain.

Didn't he?

He lied to the police about
the situation in which he found

little Seb and his parents.

So there would be no investigation.

THUNDER RUMBLES

Wake up!

He later visited Sheila's estate,

but refused her money that you
considered blood money

to ease your conscience.

He's not responding.

It's because of you.

I saw it coming.

I never wanted this.

Don't touch him! No!

Give him to me!

Stop it.

THUNDER RUMBLES

GROANING

A truly horrific scene,

yet you still acted fast
and got rid of all the evidence.

But Sheila had you already
included in her will as sole heir.

And you inherited three million
thanks to Gala's signature.

Someone else in this house...

...is desperately in need of money.

Am I right...

...Lord James?

James?
Would you elaborate, DC Quant?

Um...

It struck us that the financial
situation of the estate is pitiful.

An investigation into Lord James'
finances led to the discovery

that several poor investments were
made into a failed project.

Today, a heavy mortgage
weighs on all her assets.

I mean, the interest alone can
barely be paid.

It is my belief that Lord James
needs the profits of this

very party to pay back her
creditors.

Oh, please.

What's money?

To you, it means everything.

But to me, it's just sad.

And, yes, we've recently had some
lean years,

but this family is about centuries,
not years.

We've survived wars,
disease and crisis,

and we will survive this too.

I am Lord James, seventh generation.

And anyone that thinks that
I would kill for some money,

is not making a fool of me,
but of themselves.

I believe you, My Lord.

I mean, who am I to doubt you?

I know you love us.
You love us all.

But you love Max Ernst just a little
bit more, don't you?

He's been staying on this estate for
years, paying absolutely nothing.

So what?

During all these years, he had more
than enough time to visit

every little corner of this estate.

Inside...

...and outside.

Just like this 'trompe l'oeil'
technique in his own studio.

That's...

That's not my work, obviously.

But I kind of like it.

The light on the side of the tree
there is well captured.

That's not an easy trick to learn.

Anonymous was not bad at his craft,
so...

I just kept it
and gave it a silly name.

Doors Of Perception.

PEOPLE GASP

What?

I didn't know that.
I believe you.

The answers to
all of your questions...

...or better - the only question...

...lies down there.

So, if you would like to follow me?

Welcome to the true
exhibition of the evening.

The first installation on your right
is my first murder.

Nobody touches anything!

The beautiful
but deceitful Ms Sheila Legge.

Oh, how she lied.

You didn't think this was worth
showing me before, no?

I only just discovered it.

We need everyone out of here
and this place locked down.

There's evidence everywhere.

Nash, so hopped up on cocaine
that he never felt a thing.

This is now a Scotland Yard
crime scene.

The third unfortunate murder is...

...of course DCI Thistlethwaite.

Revolting and yet...

...beautiful.

One of the most haunting
installations that I've ever seen.

I invite you to witness my final
installation.

Who is this artist?

Who is this monster?

And where is it?

Right there.

When I overheard my manager ELT
talk to someone

in the hallway recently,

I discovered that someone amongst us
was more than we thought.

A failed artist.

A flop.

But in his own eyes,
a misunderstood genius,

forced to witness the so-called
greats put on a big show here.

I wouldn't claim to be an artist,
but thank you for thinking

so highly of me.

So this man wanted to show us
who the greatest truly was.

My dearest friends.

May I present to you...

...the killer of West Dean.

GUESTS GASP

Archibald Jukes.

Sarabande in E Minor
by Handel

Open it. Get it open now.
He's suffocating.

Quickly!

Get back, everyone, now!

Over here.

Try the other side.

He's dying in there.

It won't open.

He can't get any air.
Open it!

Oh, God!

By the time you hear
this,

I shall have already departed
this world.

Get back, everyone.

Consider this my final gift.

Get back now! This is a crime scene.

Where art and oblivion...

...dance together...

...in a mortal harmony...

Farewell.

It's not as simple as it seems.

In surrealist art, we constantly
want to play with the question -

is it a dream, or real?

A joke or a tragedy?

Well, fuck me.
What was that?

A terrible, awful thing.
No...

Well... Yes, of course it was,
but what a thrilling ride.

Can you feel your heart beating,
Peggy?

Isn't that what we want?

To live? We eat, drink, fuck. Fine.

But getting so close to death
that you can taste it.

Lick it.

That's what it feels to be
truly alive.

Well, I'm glad you had a good time.

Quiet now.

No-one must know how depraved I am.

Is that you?

Lee? Man? It's me.

I'm released.

Apologies, sir. A cup of coffee?
Brandy?

Who did it? They got the bastard?

It was the butler, Jukes.

He killed himself in front
of everyone.

Some kind of obsession with
being a mad artist.

Or some other bullshit.

Oh, God, we got locked in with
a murderous amateur.

He makes the rest of us look normal.

I am so happy you're not hurt.

I can survive on my own.

Hey, look.

I-I'm sorry for everything.

I love you.

I truly do.

Stay put.

Comb your hair.

Brush your teeth.

I'm coming to get you out of there.

I am counting down the seconds.

Oh! Big night.

What for?

Art.

It's not about art, ELT.

Don't you get it?

Money?

History.

Goodbye, ELT.

Safe travels.

There you go.

You're quiet.

Come on, Salva.

Haven't we had enough
drama for a week?

You lied to me.

I didn't.

And now I think, with a nice
bit of money in the bank...

...we deserve a long holiday.

What is this?

RMS Queen Mary to New York?

We're leaving the old continent,
my dear.

I don't trust this Hitler
and his Nazis one bit.

Thanks to our new friend,
Nancy Cunard.

Staterooms.

President's suites.

Ah, by the way,
she bought all your works.

All of it?

Yes. Top dollar.

Hmm...

I think I might love you more
than I hate you.

Hmm.

Lord James! Lord James!

ALL TALK AT ONCE

Certainly. The pain remains.

This week, friends and family
met their end

at what should have been
a celebration of art and love.

Their loss will always be
felt at West Dean.

My Lord, Manchester Guardian.

What do you have to say
about persistent

rumours about your financial
situation?

Some say not much remains
of your fortune.

Will you be out in the cold this
winter, My Lord?

Are you broke?

Those who move the world

will always be the subject of
speculation and nonsense.

Usually coming from those with
nothing to lose and no dreams.

All that negativity stops
at the gates of this estate.

In here, we celebrate only
the beauty of human beings.

Lord James...

Nicely done.

Congratulations.

It doesn't feel like a celebration
with all of this death, but...

I'll be glad I'll be back home,
and just paint.

I'll leave the detecting to you.

Still, I appreciate your
artistic touch.

The way you transformed from
an amateur detective

to solving this devilish puzzle,
it's impressive.

This doesn't feel like a victory
either, does it?

Why not?

Work's not quite done.

I think there's more.

Wait. What do you mean?

It's just a feeling I have.

If you're in Brussels, let me know.

Magritte, what feeling?

HE SIGHS

Why was Jukes able to
have his own way?

Lord James is such a powerful person
and he's just a little worm.

Maybe she knew about it.

Or he had something on her.

I thought the exact same thing.

You have a theory?

Lord Denver disappeared.

Declared dead after some time.

Lord James becomes heiress
after his death.

Gets all this.

Only...

...there's not much left.

Debt. Bad investments.

And there was no corpse

until our frogman pulled
that skeleton out the lake.

You think she killed her brother?

I can't prove it, but...

I think Jukes knew the truth
of Lord Denver's death.

And if so,
he had gold in his hands...

...and he dictated the law to his
boss.

I don't know.

I mean, Lord James thought Jukes was
just this strange,

frustrated little man

who was too sad and insecure to do
anything other than serve.

She never thought he would go
so far, but once he did...

It was too late.

The guests were already arriving,

and she desperately needed
those guests.

I'll talk to her,
when she's recovered from this.

Yeah, well,
I wouldn't wait too long with that.

She must know every secret
on this estate.

You want to come with me?

No. No, I need to go home now.

You'll figure it out.
I understand.

Magritte? Uh, one second.

No. No, no, no.

Yes. Oh, I can't.

Thistle had no relatives or
children.

I think he would have liked
the idea.

Please.

You sure? Go on.

What do you think?

It makes sense.

Thank you.

It's OK.

Take care.

Goodbye.

SHE EXHALES

GUNSHOT

GURGLING

With the compliments
of Archibald Jukes, My Lord.

GUNSHOT

SHE GASPS

And this one is from Lord Denver.

GUNSHOT

LOUD THUD

Lord Denver...

...took me in, gave me a second
chance when nobody else would.

No. Please.

GASPING

GUNSHOT

SHE PANTS

Subtitles by Red Bee Media