All language subtitles for Bookish.S01E02.Slightly.Foxed.Part.2.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-RAWR_track3_[eng]

I'm Book and I run a bookshop.

You must be here about the job.

You know where I've come from,
don't you?

I have a little hobby
on the side

and I find it's taking me away
from the shop more and more.

Well, you must stay with us,
mustn't you?

Now that you've got the job.

What exactly is it you do?

I sell books.

Yeah, but that's not all, is it?

Yesterday, out there,
at the bomb site.

So, you don't think
they died in an air raid?

Inkerman Street was
already empty,

wasn't it, Mr. Baseheart?

Scheduled for demolition.

It's a chaotic world, Jack.

I have a system.

Do you think it was suicide?

Why would a chemist kill himself

with something as horrible
as prussic acid?

It's murder.

There's a daughter, isn't there?

A right money-grabbing
little cow.

And then she has the gall
to run off with him.

My dad was convinced
that Mickey was thieving.

Got the chemist's will through,
Sir.

Daughter doesn't get a bean.

This is a sacred charge,
you understand that?

I wouldn't ask this of you

if I didn't think
you were ready.

More than that,

that you were the one creature
on this earth

to whom I could entrust this.

This message must go to Trottie

and to no one else.
Is that clear?

Is that clear?

Good boy.

Off you go.

Morning.

Morning, Uh, Dog, stay.

Can I help you?

Oh...

yes.

With wallpaper, that is.
It's a little early for that.

For what?

Never mind.

I'm looking for a Mrs. Book.

You found her.

- Well, that's a crying shame.
- What is?

That you're married, that is.

Can I help you?

Yeah, yeah, your, uh...

Got a message from
your husband,

said you were having problems
with your alternator?

My...?

In the car.

It's what I do, you see, cars.

I see. And Mr. Book sent for
you, did he?

Yeah, yeah.

I mean, no idea why he didn't go
with someone more local,

but I'll not say no.

Got to go where the work is, right?

Quite.

Oh.

Got a light?

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Hang on.

- It's somewhere here.
- One minute.

Um...

Now where've
they gone?

They're in here somewhere...

It's always the last pocket
you look, in't it? Um...

Ah!

There we are.

Ta.

So, you are a mechanic, Mr...?

Mickey.

Mickey Hall.

And, uh, yeah, yeah,
I've got a garage.

Mile End.

All yours?

Well, no. Me and the, um...

Oh, yeah. Yeah, all mine.

I see.

Um...

If you'll excuse me a moment.

I need to lay my hands on a...

Well, find my car.

Right-o, yeah.

Well, I ain't going anywhere,
so, uh...

The very man!

Ah, good morning, Mrs. Book.

Ah, morning, Eric.

I wonder if you'd be an absolute
darling for me, Eric.

Anything for a lady.

As I recall, Sheila's
a proud owner

of a rather splendid Daimler.

- Yeah, she's got a car.
- Yeah, is she in?

Can I just pop in to ask to
borrow the car?

No need for that.
I'm sure she wouldn't mind.

It's just parked round the back.

I'll get the keys for you.

- Thank you.
- Yeah.

Hello?

- Hello?
- What's up?

Ah, puncture, I think.

As bald as Daddy.

I told him these wheels
won't get me to Cambridge.

I don't suppose you could
help me out?

It's not really my department.

I'm just looking after
the place.

I'd be most awfully grateful.

Oh, yeah, alright.

I'll see what Mickey's got.

Oh. Thanks ever so.

I mean, there must be a repair
kit back here somewhere.

I really appreciate this.

Mickey puts things in the most
random places.

What size do you need?

Ah, there we go.

Huh.

Slow down.

Hm.

Oh, my goodness!

Yeah, nothing wrong with that.

The alternator, I mean.

Your, your husband have trouble

starting it?

He didn't mention it.

Watch it you...

Maybe I should put my specs on.

Maybe.

Oh.

Well...

Thank you very much, Mr. Hall.

That was, uh, that was...
uh, quite a ride.

Yeah, not at all, love.

And, uh...

any time you... want to go
a bit further...

Sunday, maybe?

Hmm.

Desperately tempting
though that is,

I find I'm washing
my hair that evening.

Besides...

Besides?

I think perhaps your dance card

may soon be a little full.

Quick word, Mr. Hall.

Well, isn't this nice?

- Who are you?
- We thought, Mr. Hall,

that it was high time we had
a little chat.

Listen, I know my rights.

Oof. Straight out of the blocks.

Disappointing, dear me,
Mr. Hall,

one point deducted already.

Point? What are you
talking about?

Listen, you can't
stick anything on me.

There you go again.

- Hey?
- Textbook.

Quotidian.

Banal.

- What?
- Well, you see,

the Inspector and I have been

through this routine
a hundred times.

A thousand.

You have no idea
how tedious it is

having to listen to the same old
stock responses

from gnarly old lags

like something from
the music hall.

♪ Hold your hand out,
you naughty boy. ♪

♪ Hold your hand... ♪
Probably enough of that.

So, here's the question that
you would ask,

were it not for your fear of me
dinging you.

Why would I want to kill
poor Mr. Harkup?

Well, why would I?

I wouldn't hurt a fly.

I never did it!

But you admit to
going to the shop.

Yeah.

Yes. Alright,
I...I went there

to talk things through,
to reason with him.

Now me and Merula have got
a little one on the way.

Or did you go with
the express intention

of filching the jade
elephant and replacing it?

That's a dirty lie.

Oh, bravo.

Haven't heard that one
in a while.

Should have put copper
at the end, though.

- What?
- That's a dirty lie, copper,

you see, it's much more
effective.

But you ain't a copper, is you?

Oh, fair point. No, I ain't.

Isn't.

Aren't.

But I do have a special
letter from Churchill.

So? Anyway, you can't
prove that I did that.

No, but it's very probable,
you'll admit.

What happened then?

I waited outside the shop.

I knew he'd be in.

He never goes anywhere except
Mondays and Thursdays.

To play dominoes, down The Bull.

I waited till well after seven,

but there was no sign of him.

So, you went into the flat?

No sign of him.

- Burt first she come out.
- Who?

The char.

Mrs. Dredge.

Coming out the chemist
acting all shifty.

Yeah, well, you'd
know all about that.

She had something in her coat.

Trying her best
to keep it hidden.

Didn't let her
see me, obviously.

When was this?

About six.

Now, go on.

Then someone else come.

It's like Piccadilly Circus
on your lane, Book.

Couldn't see him properly,
what, with me eyes and that.

Oh, yes, we've heard
all about them.

But it was a him?

I do know the
difference, mister.

Your reputation precedes you.

He was all bundled up.

Scarf...

overcoat.

After he left...

I went to the flat.

The door was shut,
but I know my way around a lock.

So, in I went, and...

that's when I found him.

Merula's dad, that is.
Stone dead.

So naturally, you thought you
should call the police.

Well, that wouldn't have been
a very wise

thing to do, would it?

I almost just legged it.

And then I remembered
about the ornaments.

The jade figures.

Months ago, he told me about how
precious they was.

I...

I thought no one's gonna miss
one of them, are they?

Alas for you,
that wasn't quite the case.

Had my little chess set with me.

So, I swapped one.

Then I took off,
straight home, I swear.

I never killed Harkup!
I, I never even touched him.

- He was dead when I got there.
- Alright, son,

maybe you're telling the truth,
maybe you're not.

But let me assure you,
if you are lying,

if you think you can take
Scotland Yard for a ride,

I'll come down on you so hard,

you won't be able to see
straight till Christmas.

I'll throw the bloody book
at you.

Inspector.

Do we believe him?

Bent as Dog's hind leg.

Yeah, but I...is he
a murderer, though?

I need to think.

Do you have time to queue?

I'm planning a casserole.

This should stop
him moaning, love.

Ha! Chance would be
a fine thing.

Ah.

Come on, Enid, sharp now.

It's not gonna wrap itself.

Here you are.

She's new.

Out the way, you, we'll
be here all bleeding day.

Right... are you watching?

...Over, over, under, under.

- There we go, lovely.
- Thank you.

Bye.

Alright, come on then,
let's be having ya.

It's enough to
turn you vegetarian.

Now, our cat brought home
a pigeon the other night.

And?

Well, Mrs. Bliss
was sorely tempted.

We had plenty of pigeons
in the war.

Nothing wrong with
a bit of pigeon.

Yeah. Yeah, I know,
but now it's all over.

We... we want to aim a
bit higher, don't we?

We are all of us in the gutter,

but some of us are looking at
the starlings.

Right, bugger this.

Alright.

Excuse me.

Police business.
Coming through.

Coming through.
Police business.

Police business. Thank you.

Thank you. Sorry. Sorry, madam.

Police business.
Thank you very much.

Oi! Wait your bloody turn
like the rest of us!

I'm so sorry, Ma'am.
It's urgent police business.

One minute.
Oh, Madam, sorry,

if I could just ask you to take
a few steps outside?

It's, uh, it's urgent police
business.

- Afternoon, Eric.
- Afternoon, Sir.

Now, stewing steak.

I've kept it aside, Sir.

You are a prince amongst men.

Oh.

- You've got something just there.
- Hey?

Oh, excuse me.

Powdered egg.
Bit of a rushed breakfast.

How's Sheila?

Well, Sir. Well.

She's driven up to Sheffield.

-How nice.
- Family.

Yes.

Terrible about George Harkup.

Certainly is.

Mind you, uh,
I'll wager old Baseheart

won't shed any tears.

- Oh?
- They never got on.

Many a run-in during the Blitz.

Harkup was a stickler
for the rules.

Always on at Mr. Baseheart
for being too slack.

Blackout curtain showing
light, that sort of thing.

Won't be a tick.

Right, then. Where are we up to
with the murders?

Murder?

There's only one,
as far as I know.

Oh, yes.

Well, Mrs. Dredge says
she saw the chemist

at approximately six p.m.

- We have only her word for that.
- Yes.

Enid?

But Mickey Hall did say he saw
her leaving the shop

around that time
with something in her coat

she wanted to keep hidden.

And she has a strong motive,

now we know she inherits
the lot.

Uh-huh.

So, Harkup
appears to have died

somewhere between six and 10,

according to Dr. Calder.

An awful lot could have
happened in those four hours.

- Indeed.
- Now, we're...

we're presuming the killer
called round.

No, no sign of forced entry.

- So, Harkup knew them?
- Probably.

I've told you this before.

Hear me out, Mr. Harkup, please.

It's about Merula.

I suppose you'd
better come through.

So, he let them in.

There was some talk, chat.

Urgh.

The killer proceeds to pour
prussic acid down his throat.

Harkup croaks.

Literally, I should imagine.

But why did he take
just the one piece?

Why not...
why not grab the lot?

Then it would
look like burglary,

whereas he wanted to make it
look like suicide.

There we are, Sir.

Oh, bless you, Eric.

Oh, um, anything for Dog?

I spoil you.

You do.

Would you like it wrapped?

No, no, no, he won't mind.

Thank you. Toodle-pip.

Enjoy your day, gentlemen.

Cheerio.

Oh-oh, Beryl.

- Hello.
- Where've you been?

Mrs. Dredge has
motive and opportunity.

Mickey Hall,
motive and opportunity.

What about Merula?

Mickey says the bundled-up
stranger was a man.

Yeah, but then he would.

If they were in it together.

Did they know that Harkup was
going to disinherit them?

Hello, Jack.

Sir.

Ah, ah, ah.

Not for you.

What have you done?

Oh, I tidied up.

Tidied up?

Oh, dear.

Well, you said you wanted
things cataloguing,

so, I needed to put it in
proper order.

You've only done
these shelves so far?

Yeah, sorry.

It takes time, you know.

Thank God.

- Put it all back.
- Hey?

Put it all back just as it was.

I told you I have a system.

But you said that...

Catalogue it, I said,
not desecrate it.

Christ.

Book.

I'm sorry.

Least said soonest mended, eh?

zWell, I think I might have done
something right.

- You found something?
- Yeah, I have.

It's been cleaned recently.

The residue, you can see.

- That's remains of silver polish.
- Meaning?

Meaning that it got
into the ground recently.

Probably dropped.

Or... something far more
sinister.

What are you getting at?

- 1665, year of the plague.
- Yeah.

Very specifically
the year of the plague.

Not a year or two before.

Capital.

Too convenient.

Horribly.

Where better to hide
a tree than in a forest?

Eleven skeletons in the Plague
Pit from the 17th century.

And the 12th... from 1946.

Oh, bloody hell.

What you said earlier, murders.

- Plural.
- Yes.

Linked?

Oh, I should think so.

Top of the class, Jack.
Really, I should give you

the afternoon
off to go to the pub.

So, I will.

More specifically, The Bull,

where the late Mr. Harkup used
to play dominoes.

- Take Nora.
- Nora?

I believe you've met.

She's good at
this sort of thing.

You could learn a lot.

Ah.

Something?

Very much something.

What's this?

A list of addresses

and a very particular question.

I'd be ever so grateful
if you'd go

on a little field trip for me.

Alright.

If you cook tonight.

- I am. Casserole.
- Oh, casserole.

Very irregular, this.

Kiddies on the premises.

I'm not a kid.

Well, you look like one.

Appearances can
be very deceptive.

I'll have a drink if that's
what you're worried about.

That would make it worse.

Ah, she'll have a lemonade.

Oh, what?

And...

I'll have a bottle of Mild, please.

Alright.

Thanks.

- You'll have to get these.
- What?

I haven't got any money.

- What?
- I know.

Ask Mr. Book.

He'll advance you your wages.

There you are.

Thanks. Keep the change.

You were saying?

Mr. Harkup?

That's right, son.

Uh, every Monday and Thursday.

He'd sit just over there.

Yeah, Mr. Wellbeloved,
the butcher,

Mr. Baseheart, the ARP warden.

Mrs. Acres from the junk shop.

Mr. Quillian, the tailor.

It's like Happy Families.

- Mr. Toovey from the cobblers.
- Mr. Harkup?

Oh, God rest his soul.

Yeah.

Are you with the coppers, then?

In a manner of speaking.

I mean, I don't mind.

You know, I was in the...

in the force myself back
in the day.

Ah, poor old Harkup.

Didn't seem the type, you know,
to do himself in.

But then, do they ever?

I know.

We had a teacher,

life and soul, drowned herself

- in a weir over a man...
- How was he?

When you last saw him?

Well, that's the thing, you see.

I saw Mr. Harkup
just the day before.

- Oh?
- Yeah.

Very out of character, it was.

Yeah, he marched in here
in the middle of the day.

He was a man of
very regular habits.

So, it did seem a bit queer.

Yeah, seemed like he had
a lot on his mind.

Said he was sitting on a secret.

Obviously eating him up a bit.

Did you get it out of him?

The secret?

Ah, not at first, no.

"More than my life's worth,"
he said.

He said that?

His very words, son.

And the next day...

Dead.

Did he, um...

elaborate?

Yes, son.

Eventually, he did.

Now, Mr. Harkup was
a very upright citizen.

You see, he suspected

one of his pals was
cheating at spotties.

Spotties?

Spotties.

Dominoes.

Oh.

Well, that was smashing.

Book has his uses.

Better than what you're used to?

Oh, yeah.

So, uh, you were saying?

Scarlet Fever?

Well, that's what brought us
together, yes.

We met on the Scarlet Fever ward

when we were, what, both 12.

And so what?

You fell for each other
right from the off?

Uh, it wasn't
quite like that, no.

Oh.

Profitable day?

I'm not sure.

I put my foot right in it.

Oh?

I tried to tidy Mr. Book's
bookshelves.

Ah, oh.

I mean, I don't think I did too
much damage, but...

And then I was out and about
with Nora, detecting.

Well, it certainly put some
color in your cheeks.

So, go on then.

Well, if you didn't fall for
each other straight away,

when did you know?

You'll forgive me, my dear,
but we'll have to

know each other rather better

before such confidences
are exchanged.

Oh, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

I didn't mean to
overstep, but...

No, no. Not at all. You haven't.

I do hope we'll become
fast friends, Jack.

It's complicated.

That's all.

Book and I were
inseparable for years.

And then...

life got in the way.

Love is where it falls,
isn't that what they say?

I couldn't trouble you
for a light, could I?

Sorry, I...

I don't smoke.

Sure?

And were things
more than formal

between you and your employer?

I resent
that question, Inspector!

Nevertheless.

Well, I...

I won't deny there was
a degree of affection

between George...
between Mr. Harkup and myself.

If you've been doing for
someone all those years...

Well, that's my
point, Mrs. Dredge.

Is that all you were doing?

What my friend is
trying to suggest...

Yes, I know full well

what he's trying to suggest.

What he's trying
to elucidate, then,

is whether this affection took
any more tangible form.

Well, what's it got to do
with you?

Well, the fact is, Mrs. Dredge,

certain new facts
have come to light.

Mr. Harkup gave
the lot to you, love.

The shop, the goodwill,
his whole estate,

it's all yours.

Never!

Oh!

I didn't see that coming.

Everything?

Everything.

Is your son at home,
Mrs. Dredge?

Oh, he's upstairs in bed.

A late riser?

A war hero.

His Wellington came
down over Holland, '44.

Oh, um, I'm sorry.

Nothing to be sorry for.

He survived, didn't he?

Given that we don't believe
Mr. Harkup took his own life,

you can see why that leaves you
in a rather difficult position.

You never think I topped him?

The fact remains
you're in a rather

sticky position, Mrs. Dredge.

The, the, the new will was
properly signed

- and witnessed.
- Oh,

well, I don't know anything
about that!

But you could have done.

You could have found a draft
when you were cleaning

and decided to, you know,
speed things up a bit.

What, by knocking off Mr. H?

Yes.

Barmy.

No, it's her you should be
talking to.

Merula. And him.

Mickey Hall.
Have you nabbed him?

He is assisting us
with our enquiries.

Oh, well, good.
That's something, then.

In fact, Mr. Hall's
been most helpful.

- He has?
- Yes.

Yeah, most helpful.
In fact, he told us

that he saw you leaving
the chemist shop

the night of the murder.

Yeah, but here's
no mystery there.

I told you I saw him.

Leaving and trying your very
best to conceal something.

Bandages.

I told you, for Alf.

I wasn't trying to hide.

He lost a leg,
didn't he, your son?

H...h... how...?

One of them worn and creased,

the other almost completely
smooth.

His prosthesis must need
constant attention.

And painful, I should imagine.

Very, very painful.

Of course.

Painful enough for morphine.

Why didn't you just ask
Mr. Harkup to help?

I...I couldn't.

Alf needs more than he's ever
given by the doctor.

So, I...I...I nicked some extra.

Oh, I didn't think Mr. Harkup
would notice, but he did.

And he assumed Mickey Hall
must have done it.

I couldn't tell him it was me.

He was such a stickler,
you see, for the rules.

Well, well, how could
I tell him I'd...

had away with drugs
from his own shop?

You've no idea what
it's like, the pain.

My poor Alf.

So, you dropped in on
the pretext of getting bandages

and instead stole more morphine?

Right. And Mr. Harkup was
alive when you left him?

I swear on my son's life.

Mum? Muuuum!

If you'll excuse me.

Yes, of course.

Oh, and, uh...

when do I get it then?

Beg pardon?

The money.

Not her then.

No, life has hardened
Mrs. Dredge,

but not a killer, no.

Then who did it?

Them. Two murders, remember?

Them then.

Oh, look, I suppose it'd be
too straightforward

for you to just,
you know, just tell me.

It would be my...

well, no.

Not my pleasure.

You're going to need
backup, Inspector.

What... what...?

Oh, no, no sorry, uh,
we're just...

Oh, good evening, Sir.

Eric.

Oh, we're just closing,
I'm afraid.

That's alright.

How's Sheila?

Well, you asked
me that, Mr. Book.

Oh, yes, she's in Sheffield.

What day did she drive up there?

Oh, it was, um... Thursday.

Yes, Thursday.

I see.

Well, if there's anything
special

I can help you with, Sir,
you know,

I've got a lot on.

But she couldn't have
done that,

could she, Eric?

When Trottie borrowed
her car...

on Friday?

Aaargh!

Ah.

Ah.

Urgh.

Come on!

Come on, you.

Come on!

You... come on!

Come on!

Now then, Mr. Wellbeloved.

I didn't mean to do her in.

Go, go on.

Things hadn't been
right for some time.

Always rowing we were,

and then...

I met her.

- Enid.
- Oh, an old fool

and a young beauty.

It's, it's a very old tale.

When did you know, Mr. Book,

if you don't mind me asking?

I suspected right away that
something was off.

And that was confirmed
when I discovered that

some of the bones in
the Plague Pit were newer,

though you'd made an
effort to age them.

Gravy browning.

Sheila uses it on her legs.

I couldn't afford
to get her nylons.

Plus, the knife marks on them
are very distinctive.

I checked your handiwork.

That bone you gave me for Dog.

So, uh, for the sake of a future

with Miss Enid Clegg,

you sent your wife to
meet her maker.

You then found yourself
confronting

the murderer's oldest dilemma.

Getting rid of the corpse.

Should have been simple
for you,

not being a... a stranger

to the notion
of chopping things up.

Unfortunately, Inspector,
people can tell the difference

between the bones of hogs
and homo sapiens.

So, I think that after removing
the flesh

from your unfortunate wife,

flensing her,

you still needed to
dispose of her skeleton.

Which is where
the caustic soda comes in.

Precisely.
Freely available at any chemist.

Getting rid of a body, are you?

Oh...

Drains.

- Oh.
- It's for the drains, George.

Terrible pong.

Alkaline hydrolysis.

Is that what you were going for?

I'd read about it, see.

Funny the things
you pick up in this trade.

Caustic soda...
it dissolves flesh.

Uh, I'd used it before

to get rid of carcasses,
you know, but it...

it, it didn't work properly.

You know, lots of, um...

lots of bones left.

I...I didn't know what
to do, and then...

And then Baseheart mentioned
the skeletons that he'd found.

Strange to think

that if it wasn't for
the Luftwaffe,

we'd never have known
those poor devils

were under our feet
all these years.

Have you told the coppers?

Not just yet.

Well, no rush I suppose,
after 300 years.

Oh, I've put a tarp
over the crater.

- Yeah?
- Well...

you know what kids are like.

They'd probably run off with
the bones

and give 'em to a dog.

Yeah.

Anyway, cheerio.

Afternoon.

As I said, where better to
hide a tree than in a forest?

Who would notice?

Well, you.

Then...

there was this, of course.

Eric here, though
exhibiting a lively skill

at improvisation,

is not an imaginative man.

No offence.

No call for it in my game.

Meat is meat.

You rather overdid it

by planting the coin
in the plague pit.

That rang an alarm bell
straight away.

So, armed with a description
of our suspect,

my wife made a short
but instructive tour

of the local curio shops.

Oh, how, how'd you know
he hadn't gone

further afield to get the coin?

Unimaginative, remember?

Anyone conceiving so clumsy
a clue

would never stray far from
their own neighborhood.

Eric was very much in the frame

when I noticed the clincher...

in the queue... at the butcher's.

Noticed what?

Powdered egg.

Oh, you've, uh...

you've got something just there.

Hey?

'Scuse me.

Powdered egg.

Bit of a rushed breakfast.

Such an intimate thing to do.

With absolutely no
acknowledgement

from Mr. Wellbeloved.

A-ha, I thought.

A-ha.

How's Sheila?

Well, Sir. Well.

She's driven up to Sheffield.

- How nice.
- Family.

I enquired with Sheila's family
in Yorkshire.

They'd seen neither hide nor
hair of her, of course.

So, it all looked rosy.

And then?

I got the note.

I suspected
something of the kind.

Some sort of vague threat.

Urgent that we talk?

I don't want to have to take
this to the authorities.

I hope we can sort this
matter between ourselves.

George Harkup.

And you assumed
it was about the murder.

Well, of course.

What, and it wasn't?

No.

Well...

then what was it about?

Dominoes.

What?

Mr. Harkup was a stickler
for the rules, as we know.

He suspected you of cheating at
his favorite pastime.

- That's all it was.
- No, no, no, no, no.

No, it had to be a threat.

About Sheila, that...

What else could it be?

So?

What... what happened next?

I had an idea I could
buy him off.

With cash.

With beef.

So, you went round.

I was scared.

You know, scared of
what he might say.

What if he wouldn't
listen to reason?

And there was poison
everywhere, all round.

And... so, I...I...
I kept him talking.

I just need you
to tell the truth.

Yeah, but, but... George,
just take...

Tell the truth, Eric.

And then I took my chance.

I...I...I got hold of him.

And... and... and then
I poured the poison

down his throat.

Right.

You poisoned him, did you?

Oh, yes, oh, it was horrible.

Nothing else?

Hey?

You see, that's very
interesting, Eric.

Because before he was poisoned,

George Harkup was struck
over the head.

And the weapon left a bloody
residue in his hair.

You remember there was blood,
but no wound, Inspector?

Yes.

Dr. Calder analyzed it for me.

Cow's blood.

Ah.

And you would have
known that, Eric,

if you'd been the one
who'd hit him

- with a joint of beef.
- No...

Yeah, yes, no, no, no, no,
I remember now,

- no, I did hit him.
- I don't think so.

So, who did?

Enid.

Obviously, neglected to mention
the part

where she clobbered Mr. Harkup.

Was it her idea?

- From the start?
- No!

She was...

Enid found me...

after I'd strangled...

after Sheila died...

she just took charge.

I didn't know what to do.

Enid was so...

calm.

Methodical.

And...

we... we reckoned we was
gonna be okay until...

What the hell do we do now?

Leave this to me.

Ah.

Hurgh!

And then to finish the
job,

and make it look like suicide...

...she poured prussic acid

down poor Mr. Harkup's gullet.

Can't we just say that I did it?

Please.

I...I mean, I'll swing, won't I?
But Enid...

The law must take its course.

I'm sorry, Eric. I truly am.

But I'm even more sorry
for George Harkup.

And poor Sheila.

Oh.

Oh.

Right, formal charge done.
Sign out.

You'll be taken
to a holding cell.

Very good of you.

Thank Mrs. Book.

She said you might be a while.

Quite a tale.

Wish I could have sat in on it.

I'm pushing my luck as it is.

Miss Enid Clegg
is being brought in

for questioning now.

What exactly did
you do in the war?

It must have been pretty big
for you

to get that letter from
Churchill.

And for the Inspector to let you
have run of the shop like this.

Now, now, Jack, don't be nosy.

Where would the fun be

if everyone knew everything, eh?

Besides, I hardly have
the run of the place.

Not with laughing boy there
hovering the whole time.

He's just waiting for
his chance to collar me.

Slightest malfeasance.

Surely, you're a model of
respectability, Mr. Book.

You'd be surprised.

They got Ivor Novello
for his petrol coupons.

Alright, we're here.

Out you get.

Eric?

Eric!

Enid!

Oi! No, no... no contact.

- Can you...
- Enough of that!

Urgh.

- Urgh!
- That's enough of that...

- Urgh!
- Run for it, Eric!

- Love yer!
- Run!

Eric, don't be a fool, man.

Eric! After him!

- Oi, come back...
- Oh, hells bells.

Stop!

Eric!

Eric!

This way!

He's gone down here!

Eric!

Come out, man.

Don't be a fool.

- I think I see him!
- Eric!

You two, that way!

Come on.

Ah...

Oh.

Where did he go?

There.

Hang on!

The crater.

- This is...
- Was.

Inkerman Street.

Which means...

Mr. Baseheart's fastidiousness

has come good at last.

If the ruddy thing's
still working.

Alright, Wellbeloved.

Come quietly.

Can you see him?

There!

Eric! Stop!

Don't lose him!

I'm trying.

I'm going in.

Let me talk to him.

Where are you
going to run to, Eric?

There's nothing to be done.

Urgh.

Where will you go?

Eric?

Urgh.

Urgh.

You can give up today
or tomorrow, Eric.

It's inevitable.

The law must take its course.

That's what you said.

You're not stringing me up.

Eric, no!

No!

You shan't do that to me!

I've seen beasts go.

It's not always... kind.

Eric, stop.

What about Enid, hmm?

You're going to leave her
to face the rope alone?

You're right.

She did all this for me.

Yes.

All for me.

I can't leave her to
face the music, can I?

If we're gonna go,

we go together.

Aargh!

- No!
- Aaaaargh!

No!

For him the hemlock
shall distil.

For him the axe be bared.

For him the gibbet
shall be built.

For him the stake prepared.

I see him up there
with Mr. Book.

And then...

Wallop.

He just fell.
Dropped like stone.

I mean, he must have
broke his neck.

Sad business.

Mm.

Very sad.

Well, this is a treat.

Pineapple chunks.

Haven't had these
since before the war.

So, what now?

What do you mean?

We just go back
to selling books?

Well, that's the job,
Jack Just Jack.

Yeah, but that was...

Yeah.

Well, it was so bloody exciting.

Can't be like this all
the time, young man.

And anyway...

who are you?

You haven't really said.

Uh...

Jack Blunt.

I was brought up
in an orphanage.

Like I told you.

Made acquaintances
with the wrong sort.

- I did time for it.
- Oh?

Yeah, oh.

I was the driver for
a smash and grab

up Mayfair Way.

They got away with
a load of mink coats.

I got away with two years.

I missed the war.

Some of it, anyway.

And then...

I get a letter...

from the Prison Reform Society.

An address...

for a job.

- This address.
- Well, there we are then.

No need to mention it again.

Yeah, but why me?

Why'd you pick me?

- Altruism.
- What?

Giving a second chance to
someone

felt like the right
thing to do.

Yeah, but you don't
know me from Adam.

Oh, he was hopeless,
wasn't he, Trottie?

Always wandering around
the shop in the altogether.

Getting his fig leaf
trapped in the till.

I'm serious.

I mean, bloody hell, I am
grateful and all that, but...

It's nice here.

It's really nice, but...

Book's is a raft on the great
turbulency of life.

You mean books are a raft.

No, no, Book's,
this place, my shop.

Don't dwell on it, Jack.
Just accept it.

It's a second chance.

But why... me?

Why not?

You only live once.

But if you do it right,

once is enough.

Shakespeare.

Mae West.