All language subtitles for Lewis - 3x02 - The Quality of Mercy.HDTV.bia.en

PORTIA: Is your name Shylock?
SHYLOCK: Shylock is my name.

PORTIA: Of a strange nature
is this suit you follow,

yet in such rule that
the Venetian law
cannot impugn you as you do proceed.

You stand within his danger,
do you not?

ANTONIO: Aye, so he says.

PORTIA: Do you confess the bond?

ANTONIO: I do.

PORTIA: Then must the Jew be
merciful.

SHYLOCK: On what compulsion, must I?
Tell me that.

PORTIA: The quality of mercy is not
strain'd.

It droppeth as the gentle rain
from heaven
upon the place beneath.

It is twice blest.

It blesseth him that gives and him
that takes.

'Tis mightiest in the mightiest.

It becomes the throned monarch
better than his crown.

Do you need any help with your
luggage, Mr Monkford?

No, thanks, I'll leave them here.
One of us will pick them up later.

Bobby.

Thank you, sir.

This way, sir.
Thank you.

Shylock, dear heart, not too Jewish.

When we're doing Fiddler On The
Roof, we'll let you know.

Portia, in the trial scene,

the most famous
in the whole of the drama,

you are pleading for a man's life.

You're not trying to sell
the court a time share in Spain.

Antonio, sweet Antonio,

think about the story.

This man is demanding a pound of
human flesh. Human flesh.

No more. No less.

You should be petrified.

At the moment,
you seem to be mildly concerned.

I must obviously try harder to be
petrified.

Happy birthday, bonnie lass.

We've got two previews today.
Two chances to get this thing right.

Before the critics and agents
descend like a pack of wolves

on our humble fold tomorrow evening.

Don't worry about this afternoon.

The audience will be friends,
family, ex-lovers

and the odd civilian
who might come in out of the rain.

It's open air.
They'll still get wet.

Metaphorically.

Metaphorically,
"the rain it raineth every day".

Wrong play.

The bottom line is, this production
could make or break all of us.

Though it isn't obvious from
the unprofessional way
you're going about it.

Being late for rehearsals is
a cardinal sin.

I was finishing an essay!
That's no excuse.

The question is, where do you all
expect to be in ten years' time?

Well?

I shall be home in Iran.

I hope to be occupying
a senior position in government.

I'll probably still be here,
teaching all the stuff
I'm learning at the moment.

I'll be enjoying a three-in-a-bed
sex romp in Hollywood, probably.

You see? Richard understands.

Is Amanda Costello coming?

I believe the Blessed Amanda
is going to honour us with her
presence.

Good. The woman owes us a favour.

It's only a preview. We don't open
for real until tomorrow night.

I'm leaving town this evening,
so it's my only chance.

It's a sentimental thing.

I was at this college a thousand
years before you were born.

Ah, well, look on the bright side.
The tickets are half price.

Thank you.

Hello!
Hey!

It's very good of you to come.
It'll probably be a total shambles.

Oh, it's the function of a preview
to be a shambles.

This is my only window.
I'm singing madrigals tonight

and I can't make your first night -
I'm chairing a debate on Moliere.

The punishment for some sin I have
no recollection of committing.

Oh, what a shame.

Amanda is coming tomorrow night.
That's very brave of her.

Excuse me. I need to be nice to
someone.

Hi, Joe.

How are you?
Word-perfect.

As usual.

Oh, never mind.

Richard's a perfect Shylock.
I'm sure we can still be friends.

Sorry.

Hello. How are you?

Who do you have to sleep with
to get out of this production, eh?

You tell us!

Don't worry, Richard.

I'm sure you'll steal all
the notices,

as befitting a star of
your magnitude.

I have a question.

When Sir John Gielgud gave
his celebrated Hamlet here in...

1673,

where did he park his bike?

What are you doing here, Phil?
Oh, you know me, darling.

It's my gritty proletarian roots.

I enjoy blood sports,
bare-knuckle boxing,

hare coursing...students doing
Shakespeare.

Phillip, who would be likely
to steal such a bicycle?

That's a fair point.

I'll probably just dump it
and steal a better one, eh?

Hi, guys. Just dropped by to say,
"Break a leg."

I'm surprised you didn't want
to break both of my legs.

Thank you, Mrs Monkford.
Have a nice day.

Any charge for the late-comers?

Not if the late-comer is a professor
who's on the telly.

Thank you.

# ..or in the heart or in the head?

# How begot?

# How nourished?

# Reply

# Reply

# It is engender'd in the eyes

# With gazing fed and fancy dies

# In the cradle, where it lies

# Let us all ring fancy's knell...

Reza, have you seen Richard?
He's on in five.

The green room? Toilet?

Standing in a corner,
trying to remember his lines?

Or under a stone
having a last-minute fix?

I've tried them all.

I don't know.

Ladies and gentlemen, please forgive
this break in transmission,

but a member of the cast has been
taken ill.

If we could crave your patience
for ten minutes or so,

we'll take an early interval

and make a further announcement,
when we have a clearer idea of the
situation.

The bar is open.

Thank you so much.

Excuse me.

Look, I've no idea what's going on,
but I'm giving a lecture in...

..well, five minutes ago.
And you are?

James Alderson.
Professor James Alderson.

Archaeologist.
Very good.

I've seen you on BBC4.

If you could just leave us some
contact details.

Thank you.

A single stab wound to the heart.

With?
A very sharp knife.

According to the 12-year-old stage
manager,
it's the one they used in the play.

They use a real knife?
Well, only to threaten.

Nobody gets murdered.

It's the Merchant Of Venice.

That's...the one with
the pound of flesh?

Uh-huh.

Got it.

I've lined up everybody
beside the bar,

ready for names, addresses and
witness statements.

Do we know who she is?
Emma Golding.

Director. She is very keen to jump
the queue.

I'll see you later in the bar.

Emma Golding? Yes.
Detective Inspector Lewis.

I gather you wanted to be first in
line to give your witness statement.

I didn't witness anything.
I was just standing at the back.

It's a bit delicate.
Don't worry. I can do delicate.

We're supposed to open
tomorrow night.

We've got lots of agents and critics
coming.

And?

Is it all right
if we still go ahead?

Without Shylock?

Hamlet without the Prince.

I've got another actor ready
and waiting. Joe Myers.

He took the trouble to learn the
part and then I didn't cast him.

I see.

Do actors kill to get parts?

Some would. If they could get away
with it.

You don't seem very upset.

I'm sorry. The thing is...

my mother does some bereavement
counselling.

She says one way of dealing
with the loss of somebody close

is to focus on practical matters
and let the grief take its time.

I'll try and remember that.

Leave it with me.

Thank you.

Mr...
Monkford. Simon Monkford.

Your connection with the play?
None whatsoever. I wanted to see it.

I came in off the street
and bought a ticket.

That one.

I sat there and didn't move.

I don't know what this is all about,
but I guess that ticket is my alibi.

There you go, sir.
Do you live in Oxford?

Just passing through.
Staying at The Randolph.

But I'm leaving town this evening.
Round about now, actually.

Leave an address and number.
No worries.

All yours.
Thanks, sir.

Right. Name?

I found this note on the body.

"Neither a borrower
nor a lender be."

Shakespeare?
Hamlet.

Wrong play.

Well, this is Oxford.

Don't I bloody know it.

Might I collect my suitcases?

Erm, sorry, sir,
your wife collected them earlier.

I don't have a wife.

A blond lady.
She was here about three o'clock.

I have a girlfriend with dark hair.
She was here with me last night.

But I've never had a blond wife

and I'm sure I'd remember a thing
like that.

Ah...

Would you like to speak to
the manager?

I think that would be
a very good idea.

What have you done with them all?
Executive decision.

I sent the actors and their nearest
and dearest to the green room

in the main building and let
the more obvious civilians go home.

Names and addresses?
Yeah. Of course.

And I know when Richard Scott was
murdered.

You do?

Act III, Scene 2.

Known to Shakespearean scholars the
world over as "the casket scene".

Let me guess. Shylock is in the
scene before...

And the one after, which is when
they couldn't find him backstage

and the panic set in.

LEWIS: Practical matters first.

For obvious reasons, tonight's
preview is cancelled.

Whether you proceed with the official
opening tomorrow night

is something that needs to be
decided.

I think most of us would like
the show to go on,
after all the work we've done.

Does it have to?
Yes, dear, I think it has to.

It's what Richard would have wanted,
I'm sure.

Is it right you're word-perfect?

To the last dot and comma.

Even the nuances have nuances.

But we want you all to stick
around for a couple of hours.

We need to speak to you
individually.

I told Mr Lewis it wouldn't be
a problem,

since we'd be here for rehearsals
under...

Normal circumstances?

Quite so.

I'm not sure I can remember
"normal circumstances".

Yes?
May I go first?

I'm singing madrigals in a choir
this evening.

How do you fit into the scheme of
things?

Professor Denise Gregson.

I'm Emma's head of department.
And my landlady.

So please be very nice to her.

We're always very nice to everybody.

Emma Golding is your student?
Postgraduate.

Just done a huge doctorate on where
the English theatre all went wrong.

She's very young, of course,
but her writing is extraordinary.

Her dissertation is probably
the best I've ever read.

And you're her landlady?
I've got a big, old Victorian house.

When my husband grew up and left,
I decided to fill it with students.

"Neither a borrower
nor a lender be."

It's Polonius in Hamlet.
What about it?

It was written on a piece of paper
found next to Richard Scott's body.

Oh.

Is that funny?

It's ironic,
in the proper sense of the word.

Richard had an expensive lifestyle

and owed money to everybody
in the cast.

Probably to everybody in Oxford.

The idea of him playing
a moneylender was totally bizarre.

Might that be a clue?

..thwarted my bargains,
cooled my friends,

heated mine enemies,
and what's his reason?

"I am a Jew."

Hath not a Jew eyes?

Hath not a Jew hands,

organs, dimensions, senses,

passions...
Affections.

You left out "affections".

..affections, passions,

fed with the same food,
hurt with the same weap...

Oh, bugger. Sorry, Joe.

I need to take this. Carry on.
You're doing fine.

Yes?

It's true.

Your guess is as good as mine.

OK. Your guess is probably better
than mine.

Can we speak later? I'm still trying
to put on a show here.

..winter and summer,
as a Christian is? Yeah.

If you prick us,

do we not bleed?

If you tickle us,

do we not laugh?

If you poison us, do we not die,
and if you wrong us, shall we not...

Either way, my advice is keep well
away from the Rialto Bridge.

That's not funny.
I'm not laughing.

It is mildly amusing.

But it's not a patch on "How did
you enjoy the play, Mrs Lincoln?"

But not bad for
an archaeology student.

Shut up, Phil, for God's sake.

Nice one.

Sorry to interrupt. Does anybody
else have to get away early?

- Yeah. I've got a bar job.
- You're not involved?

No, I'm just a groupie. I hang out
with the stars of tomorrow.

Philip Beaumont?

The name might not mean much to you
now,

but give it time,
it'll mean even less.

You're a student?
I was.

Now I'm a drop-out.

Why?

I'm a working-class lout
from the north of England.

They let me in to balance
the intake.

I thought I could win the class war,
but I was misinformed.

Why were you here this afternoon?

I worked with the company
at the Edinburgh Festival.

As an actor?

No. I wrote a play
and they produced it.

They made a mess of it,
but, hell, nobody is perfect.

- So you're a writer?
- The jury is still out on that one.

How did you get on with
Richard Scott?

Richard was just a little...

ambitious, over-privileged child,
like most of the others.

Ambitious in what way?

We're all chancers,

all looking for the Oxbridge
short-cut into showbusiness.

- Does it work?
- Ask yourself.

Beyond The Fringe. Monty Python.

Do you think you'd have heard of
any of those
if they'd gone to Huddersfield Poly?

Did you lend money to Richard Scott?

I've got a 15-grand overdraft,
three part-time jobs, an allotment

and I sleep in an airing cupboard
at the Professor's penitentiary.

Professor Gregson's house?
Yeah. It's my penance.

Somewhere along the line, I probably
said "balls" to the witch doctor.

I know it's a silly question,
but do you like anybody in Oxford?

Can I get back to you on that one?

What do we think about that lad?

Might be worth a punt.

Embittered Northerner
with a chip on both shoulders.

Except he was sitting in the
audience at the time of the murder.

Along with 20 other people,
all watching the play.

A man called Monkford tells me
it's all rather casual,

a lot of coming and going.

Beaumont could have sneaked out,
done the deed and sneaked back in.

So could any of the other 20
in the audience. True.

Is it sneaked or snuck?

Sir.

Did you like Richard Scott?
Not very much.

He was a spoilt child.

Did you lend him money?
Yes.

Did he repay you?

No.

You don't sound very worried
about that.

I come from a very wealthy Iranian
family.

How else would a dusky foreigner
be here at Oxford?

So please don't categorise me
as an Arab stereotype.

I wouldn't dream of it.

Thank you.

Isabel Dawson. Second year. History.
Playing Portia. Yes.

I have to do
the quality of mercy speech

and make it sound like nobody has
heard it before.

Tell us about Richard Scott.

He was a brilliant actor.

He was always borrowing money.
He never borrowed any from me.

I assume you couldn't afford it.

He mostly borrowed
from the other guys.

With the women,
he always said he'd take it in kind.

You mean, sexually?
He thought he was God's gift.

And was he?
Not to me.

In the time-honoured phrase,
he didn't even get to first base.

But he didn't go short...
if you see what I mean.

I'm told you're all very ambitious.
Are YOU?

Not very.
Emma doesn't understand it.

Says I need therapy.

This way, sir.

Joe Myers... You're taking over
the part of Shylock.

For my sins.

Do you have sins?
Many and various,

but they don't include murder.

Why did you come to the performance
this afternoon?

I wanted to see him fail.

Why?
The man was a waste of space.

A good actor, apparently.
Which made it worse.

The thing is...

Don't make the mistake of thinking
we're all here

because we want to create a lovely
work of art.

We're all here
because we're self-centred.

On the make.
So we've been told.

You could take all the envy
and jealousy in this company,

feed it into the National Grid
and light up the whole country.

Is that what you want to hear?
It's what we keep hearing.

Thank you.

From what we've been told, nobody
liked Richard Scott very much.

He borrowed money from the men.

He tried to seduce all the women.

That's a fair summary.

And yet you worked with him.
He had a redeeming feature.

Talent.

Even a touch of genius.

We took a show to the Edinburgh
Festival. He stole the notices.

"The next Olivier."
All that kind of thing.

How did that go down
with the rest of the company?

Most people were not thrilled
to bits.

Some of us went out
and bought wax effigies.

So he's playing Shylock,

the most famous Jewish character
in the whole of drama

and you've got an Iranian
in the company.

Whatever else this was,
it wasn't a racist crime.

Richard wasn't even Jewish.

He was a womaniser, apparently.

Did you and he...?

We had a bit of a fling. Way back.

But it didn't add up to
a hill of beans.

Another one.
Another one what?

Another quote from an old movie.

With Beaumont, it was Casablanca
and Some Like It Hot.

I had a bit of a fling with Phil
as well. Also way back.

We'd play this game.

We'd have entire conversations
in quotes from classic movies.

Do you have a lot of flings?

This is Oxford.
About average, I'd say.

What is it about the theatre?

How come people end up
hating each other?

Vanity.

You all want to be rich and famous.

Famous will do.

Here's a question.

For the last 50 years,
who's run the British theatre?

I don't know. Give in.

Men. Oxbridge boys.

Well, to be precise, mostly
Cambridge,

if you'll pardon the expression.

And you're going to change all that?
Damn right.

This production is my calling card
into the business.

That's why it is so important
for me.

You probably think
I'm being totally heartless, but...

Focus on the practicalities
to keep the grief at bay?

As Samuel Beckett didn't quite say,
the tears will come, anyway.

HATHAWAY: A scary woman,
that Emma Golding.

You reckon?
Yeah.

Killer potential?
That's a different matter.

Murder your leading man the night
before your show opens?
Doesn't make sense.

The front page of the tabloids.
Could sell a lot of tickets.

My mother used to go to the theatre
on a Monday.

Two for the price of one
on a Monday.

They don't do that any more, sir.

No, I don't suppose they do.

Hi, sweetheart.
Amanda's back in town.

When can we meet? I need all the
dirt. Only the best quality will do.

Well, it may be murder and mayhem
to you, darling,

but it's bread and butter to me.

Thank you.

Thanks.
You're welcome.

For you, sir.
Cheers.

What is that? Tonic water
on the rocks with a slice of lemon.

Tonic water?
Mm.

I'm detoxing.

Tonic water on the rocks is
a preferred drink
of recovering alcoholics.

Plus, it gives one a sort of
spurious glamour.

I'll bear that in mind. In case I
ever need any "spurious glamour".

Mr Lewis.

Good to see you again.
And you.

May I?
Of course.

This is my sergeant,
James Hathaway. Hi.

Graham Wilkinson.

Are you still second-in-command
here?

Yes.
Waiting patiently for the big job.

I know the feeling.

I was wondering
whether I could pick your brains.

If you can find them.
It's been a long day.

We might have been the victims
of a scam.

What sort of scam?

A man leaves his luggage
with the porter,
says it's to be collected later.

While he's away, a woman claiming
to be his wife turns up.

Scatty-woman performance, says
he's been called away on business,

he's got the ticket and can she
collect the cases for him?

An hour later, the man turns up,
denies having a wife

and generally hits the roof.
Could all be true.

Except I've heard of two or three
similar cases on the grapevine.

You report it to the police.

The victim, so-called, files a claim
for the contents of the cases

and the hotel's insurance
pays him off.

How much money are we talking about?
£3,000? £4,000?

Does he have a name, this man?

Simon Monkford.
Those are his contact details.

I know Simon Monkford.
YOU do?

Mid-40s? Well-dressed?
Yes.

He was at the theatre this
afternoon. Gave me his ticket.

Very nice of him.

No. He gave me his ticket and said,
"That's my alibi."

It was almost as if...

well, not the first time in his life
he'd needed an alibi.

And that's what we have so far.

Why would money be a motive?

Because the lad had debts
all over the place.

What did he spend it on?

According to Dr Hobson, most of it
went up his nose in powder form.

And sex?

He borrowed money from the men
and tried to screw all the women.

Hm, sounds a real charmer.

Dare I ask you about art?

They all wanna be stars.

No cure for that.

Forensics?

57 varieties of fingerprint
on the murder weapon,

but it's in the play,

so all sorts of people
have been touching it.

There's some dirt on the handle,

but the backstage area is in
a garden,
so that's not much help either.

Ooh. A minor celebrity
in the audience.

I didn't notice any celebrity.
Professor Alderson.

Ah, the archaeologist. Apparently,
one of his students is in the play.

Hathaway said he'd been on BBC4.
What does he do?

People dig holes
and he talks about what they dig up.

Where is the divine sergeant?

High Wycombe.
Oh, joy. Oh, rapture.

Morning. Sorry to bother you.

I'm looking for a man called
Simon Monkford.

I see.
Sergeant Hathaway. Oxford Police.

Mr Monkford gave this
as his address.

Oh, did he?

Well, I'm not sure...
You do know Mr Monkford?

Yes. He's my brother.

Invite the sergeant in, Christine.

We've been lifelong friends
since yesterday afternoon.

Thank you, Mr Monkford.

Is it about that business
at the theatre?

No, not entirely,

but if you have anything to add
to your original statement...

That's just it. I was reading
about it in the paper.

Oh, may I?

It's a desperately sad story
and I wish I could help,

but I was just watching the play.

Did you say there was something else
you wanted to talk about?

Mm. Suitcases.

Suitcases?

Well...

I don't understand why you'd stay
overnight in a hotel in Oxford,

when your sister here
lives half an hour's drive away

and why take two suitcases
for a single overnight?

Were you the lady in the blond wig?

May I take a look inside?
Go ahead. They're not locked.

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

Bless him, he's never been very good
at anything.

I thought you should all know
what's happening today.

After discussions with your director
and the college authorities,

it's been agreed that tonight's
performance will go ahead as planned.

We'll be making this area
available all day for rehearsals...

May I say, on behalf of the company,

how grateful we are for the
co-operation from Inspector Lewis
and his team.

However, this remains a crime scene

and we reserve the right

to make a nuisance of ourselves
at any time...

Who are you?

Amanda Costello.
Now tell me what you're doing here.

I'm a friend of the family.

A student?
I finished my degree two years ago.

She's a critic.
A journalist?

Freelance. I'll work for anybody
who treats me right.

Amanda's here to review the play.

And I'll probably write
a piece about the production.

The show must go on.
That always goes down well.

"Alas Poor Shylock." Is that you?

I didn't write the headline. That
would be some cheapskate sub-editor.

But the rest?
Substantially, yes.

Including the bit that says,

"The police are exploring a number
of motives,

including the possibility
that the murder could be linked

to artistic differences
within the company"?

That's pure invention.

The official police statement never
even mentioned motives at all.

It simply stated the fact of
the murder. Nothing more.

Should are police are ruling out
artistic differences

as a possible motive?

These people have work to do.

You and I will find
a nice, quiet corner

and you can tell me all about
your friends in the family.

Without the aid of that tape
recorder in your bag.

- He's good, isn't he?
- So is she.

I scored that thirty-all.

You'll be held in custody
pending further inquiries,

though I guess you're probably
familiar with the procedure.

Yes. Only the names change
and each time I'm a little older.

And you've got to find a murderer.

You say you're a friend of the
family. Tell me about the family.

Where would you like me to start?

Start with Richard Scott.

What have the others told you?

That he was heavily in debt,
apparently, because of a drug habit,

and determined to seduce any woman
who came within reach.

Sounds about right.

Did nobody mention the thieving?
Why don't YOU tell me about that?

It sort of blew up
at the Edinburgh Festival.

Things went missing
from dressing rooms and digs.

Whoa. Can you be more precise
about these things?

Money from wallets and handbags.

A couple of mobiles.
Phil Beaumont's laptop.

Did anybody report this?
Not as far as I know.

I was reviewing ten shows a day,
so I only know the gossip.

Tell me about the gossip.

Somebody challenged him about it.

It turned into some sort of fight
in the bar at the Assembly Rooms.

A fight between?
Rich and Rezvani, our token Iranian.

How do you fit into the family?

When I was here, I won the Student
Journalist of the Year award.

The last couple of years
I've been freelancing
in the big bad world out there.

I started as a theatre critic.

But you'll turn your hand
to a murder story

if it's in the family.
Professionally, I have no choice.

OK.
That's done you and Richard Scott.

Maybe you'd like to turn your eye
on some of the others.

Like?

Emma Golding.
She seems to run the show.

Emma's brilliant.
I think she's too big for Oxford.

But don't tell Denise Gregson I said
so. Emma's her blue-eyed girl.

This is Professor Gregson,

who also plays landlady
to a lot of the students?

Waifs and strays are her speciality.

Mind you, some of them refer to it
as Alcatraz.

I must rush. People to catch up
with. Tales to tell.

See you later, maybe.
Sure.

Who's your new friend?
A journalist. She wrote that.

Trustworthy?
Absolutely not.

Good.
How was your conman?

Fifth rate. He's sitting in a cell
while we check his previous.

There might be a lot of it.

He's a sort of professional charmer.
Takes one to know...

Lewis.

OK. I'll be there.

Richard Scott's mother has arrived.

Thanks, Mrs Scott.

Why do people die before their time?
It's not right.

I know that very well.

Oh, I suppose you would in your line
of work.

(I suppose.)

When he was little...

Richard was always dressing up
in funny clothes.

At parties and such.

Funny clothes and silly voices.

Did you know about his way of life
here in Oxford?

Not really.

I haven't even been to the house.

He let us come and see him
in the plays.

But that was all.

I didn't mean the plays.

If you mean the drugs,

yes, I knew about that.

I think it started as a kind of
Dutch-courage thing.

He was actually quite nervous
about going on stage.

Well...

He was nervous about
a lot of things.

He wasn't really at home
with other people.

And it sometimes came across as...

..aggression, I suppose.

A sort of...

..defence against the world.

Well, we all need that
from time to time.

But even so...

My son was a mess, Mr Lewis.

But he didn't deserve this.

He deserved a better...

..ending.

I think we all do.

Thank you for... Thank you for
listening to me.

Hello, Professor Gregson.

Do come in.
Thank you.

Through here.

As I said, my husband grew up
and left home

and it seemed a pity to waste
such a big house.

So you filled it with students?
Yes.

This was poor Richard's room.

Where did he get his computer?
The V&A?

It's an old one I blagged for him.

What happened to the laptop
he stole in Edinburgh?

I wasn't in Edinburgh.
As far as I'm aware,
nothing was ever proved.

I'm an old-fashioned liberal.
Innocent until proved guilty.

Is that why you called him
"poor Richard"?

They're all children when they come
to Oxford.
Some of them just can't handle it.

Trust me, Richard was one of
nature's victims.

He certainly is now.

Phil Beaumont says he lives in
"an airing cupboard" here.

A touch of hyperbole,
but he is a writer.

I can show you, if you like.
Please.

He used to share a double room here
with Emma, when they were a couple.

And then, when they split...

The room at the top of the stairs.
He doesn't keep his door locked?

He doesn't believe in
private property,

therefore doesn't believe in
locking doors.

Why did he drop out?
Phil's a throwback.

He thinks the entire universe is
a capitalist conspiracy
against the working class.

He even calls it "ca-pit-alist".

It's rather endearing in a way.

Does he really have an allotment?
Yes.

I think it belonged to his uncle.

Richard used to tease him about it.

He'd say, "I know you want to get in
touch with your proletarian roots,

but you don't do that by growing
carrots."

So, can I ask you,
is Mr Gregson still around?

Yes, he's still in Oxford,
but he's not called Gregson.

I kept my own name when we married.

And he kept his own name?
Professor James Alderson.

He should be on your list.
He was at the play yesterday.

Arrived late, of course.

Ladies and gentlemen.

For reasons
you will all be aware of,

the part of Shylock will be played
tonight by Joe Myers.

But we are dedicating
this performance

to the family,

friends

and the gigantic, but sadly
unfulfilled talent

of the late Richard Scott.

We thank you.
CLAPPING

In sooth,
I know not why I am so sad.

It wearies me.

You say it wearies you.

But how I caught it, found it
or came by it...

..what stuff 'tis made of,

whereof it is borne,

I am to learn...

'Hello. Hello?'

Hello.
'Hi, is that Sergeant Hathaway?'

Yes. Can I speak to
Inspector Wallis, please?

'What's it in connection with?'

He's listed as the arresting officer
in a case involving Simon Monkford.

'Yeah. Yeah. That's right.'

Am I right in assuming Mr Monkford
operates under different names?

'Yeah. Hold on.'

Hello?

Is your name Shylock?
Shylock is my name.

Of a strange nature is this suit
you follow,

yet in such rule
that the Venetian law
cannot impugn you as you do proceed.

You stand within his danger,
do you not?

Aye, so he says.

Do you confess the bond?

I do.

Then must the Jew be merciful.

On what compulsion, must I?
Tell me that.

The quality of mercy is not
strain'd.

It droppeth as the gentle rain
from heaven upon the place beneath.

'Tis twice blest.

It blesseth him that gives
and him that takes.

'Tis mightiest in the mightiest.

It becomes the throned monarch
better than his crown.

We've got our version of the story
of your life.

Tell me your version.
It might save us a lot of time.

Thrown out of school. Well, two
schools, if we're being pernickety.

Thrown out of Oxford.

Tried the military.

I had a little misunderstanding
over mess funds.

Failed as a racing driver.
Failed in the City.

As you can see, I'm not desperately
good at petty crime, either.

But always non-violent.
I'll say that in my favour.

What about the five-year gap?

There's a gap of five years
in your record.

I ran away to Canada
to start a new life.

Why?

In simple terms, because some nasty
men were chasing me.

Canada is a long way away
and the Canadians are nice people.

And how was your new life in Canada?

Depressingly similar to the old one.

AUDIENCE: Bravo! Bravo!

Well done.

Bravo!

Well done.
Bravo!

Bravo.
Well done.

Well done. Superb!

I've no idea what you're going
to write about us

and this is not to be construed
as a bribe,

but we're all going for a drink
at Prospero's Bar.

I wouldn't miss it for the world.
Brilliant.

Emma, that was lovely.
Thank you.

You are coming to Prospero's, Phil?

If somebody else is paying.

Professor Alderson?
Will Denise be there?

She's meeting us there.

I'm not sure I'm grown up enough.
Come on. Come for a bevy!

..the logistics of putting on
a production of this size...

OK.
Honestly? Honestly?

Quite good.
Quite?

No, I think that in the second
act...

A top-up?

Everyone.

First of all,

thank you for a wonderful
performance
under difficult circumstances.

But, before we do anything else,
I'd like to propose a toast.

To our dear departed Richard Scott.

May he rest in peace.

Peace will be a new experience
for him.

To Richard.
To Richard.

Well, well.

Another front-page story on the way?

Trust me, this one will run and run.

WOMAN: 'What was the name again?'
Simon Monkford.

Also known as Sean Matthews.

'OK. Got that.'

He would have been with you in
Toronto from January 2003
to January of this year,

if he's telling the truth,
which is a 50:50 shot.

'What time is it over there?'

What, here?
'Yeah.'

Erm, one-ish in the morning.

'Don't you guys sleep?'

No, no. We never sleep.
We always get our man.

Except when it's a woman or...

an occasional transsexual. What?

'Let me see what I can do.
I'll get back to you.'

I appreciate that. Thank you.

Hathaway.

Yeah, I'll be there immediately.

Do we know who it is?

Amanda Costello. The journalist.

Alas poor Amanda.

It's the small hours of the morning
and you were still at your desk.

I was waiting for the Royal Canadian
Mounted Police to return a call.

Tell me later. Let's go to work.

Hi. The story so far?

The barman brought down the empties,

saw the body and called the police.

Cause of death?
She's been strangled.

With?

Well, it's a bit primitive,
but probably a piece of string.

Sounds very definite.
Still round her neck.

And I found this.

"I will lead them up and down."

Another Shakespeare quote?

Puck. A Midsummer Night's Dream.

Someone is playing games with us.

Scott was accused of stealing
and there was a fight.

All highly theatrical.
Yeah, there's a reason for that.

I'm still trying to work out who was
sleeping with who and in what order.

We can eliminate one possibility.
Make my day.

Amanda Costello. She gave the play
a four-star review.

What does that eliminate?

That one of the cast overheard her
phoning in her copy to the paper,

didn't like what they'd heard,
so decided he'd have his revenge.

Or her revenge.

What century are you living in?

Journalists don't phone in copy
any more.

They do it electronically
on their BlackBerries.

Did she have a BlackBerry?
Had it with her at the theatre.

Where is it now?
I've no idea.

It wasn't with the body and it wasn't
in her room at the hotel.

Strikes me
it would be worth finding.

The trouble is, these actors,

they're like some old-fashioned
criminal gang.

Close-knit. Incestuous.

The cardinal sin is grassing on
your mates.

Like the police force.

I'll pretend I didn't hear that.

I'll be back in an hour.

Terry Bainbridge.

You edit the student paper?
One of them. The best, naturally.

Amanda Costello was a previous
editor?

Yeah. Yeah, it's weird.
She was in here yesterday afternoon.

Doing what?

Checking up on some stuff she wrote
while she was here, she said.
No idea what.

Were you at Edinburgh in the summer?

No. Erm...

I had a holiday job in Skegness.

But she stirred things up a bit,
didn't she?

It's what she did best. Stirring.

Her speciality?
Mm.

I can show you.

I've been checking out her files
for the obit.

There's one of her reviews.

Joe Myers in Richard III.

"Joe Myers played the King

as if somebody else
had already played the Ace."

That's very clever!

Stolen from George Bernard Shaw,
I believe.

She always said stealing was all
right if you stole from the best.

Do you have anything from Edinburgh?
Yeah.

Emma Golding took two productions
to the Festival.

A modern-dress version
of Timon of Athens reset in Beirut.

And a new play by Phil Beaumont.

The lad who dropped out?

Let me show you.

It was called The Road To Nowhere.

What was that about?

No idea. And I did see it.

But what Amanda wrote was,

"We were promised a cross between
Harold Pinter and John Osborne."

"We were given a cross between
Harold Steptoe and Sharon Osbourne."

Oh, I bet that went down well with
the troops.

She also had a good nose for dirt.

She wrote an anonymous column called
Gossip From The Forest.

This was her finest hour.

"All is not well
with one of Oxford's dream couples."

"We hear that the police were called
to a domestic incident

involving two of our most eminent
academics."

"Who, we wonder,
will get custody of the spade?"

The spade?

As in archaeology? This is Professor
Gregson and Professor Alderson?

Yeah.

What was their reaction?
I have no idea.

Your guess is as good as mine
or maybe better.

Apparently Amanda said last night
she was waiting on something big.

Any idea what that might have been?

No idea, but it would have been
investigative journalism.

Also known as "muckraking".

Five years ago,
your brother went to Canada. Yes.

He says he was on the run.
He's been on the run all his life.

Canada is a long way to run.
He could have come here.

He... Erm...

He had some sort of breakdown.

A nervous breakdown?

Are they still called that
or is it post-traumatic stress?

Anyway, it was something like that.

So, there was a trauma?

He was a bit vague about it.

But it was some sort of
car accident.

He was driving and I think he might
hae hit somebody.

That made it worse.
He was proud of his driving.

He wanted to drive racing cars
for a living at one point.

Where did this happen?

In London. Somewhere in
the West End, I think.

Do you remember the date?
Oh, yes, easily.

It was my birthday. December 19th.

The phone rang. I heard his voice.
I assumed it was a birthday call.

It was obvious something was wrong.

Sorry. Erm... Thank you very much.
You've been very helpful.

You're very thoughtful.

It's because I'm thinking.

Serves me right for asking.

Can we come in?

Of course. This is common land.
It belongs to the people.

So, what can I do for you?

I've got some nice potatoes,
but the carrots need another week.

We'd like you to tell us about
Edinburgh.

It's a big city in Scotland.

You had a play on at the Festival
there.

Amanda Costello blasted it
out of the water

and last night she was murdered.

If writers murdered critics
because of bad reviews,
there'd be no critics left.

It might be worth trying...

We're detectives
and we detect a possible motive.

Why would I wait till now?

If I was the murdering kind,
I'd have done it then,

before she could wreck
any more careers.

Did she wreck yours?
Don't be daft.

I haven't got a career. Yet.

Do you use a lot of string?

As much as is necessary.
That's a weird question.

- Weirder ones where that came from.
- Excellent. I like weird.

We're told Richard Scott stole your
laptop while you were in Edinburgh.

Nothing was ever proved.

He was a light-fingered bastard
with a drug habit, but...

I've gone back to pen and paper.

Good enough for Shakespeare,
good enough for me.

We asked you whether you actually
liked anyone in Oxford.

You said you'd get back to us.

Shall I do it now?
Go ahead.

We all arrive here as innocent,
fresh-faced 18-, 19-year-olds.

Then the place corrupts us.

It's a rat race, it's poisonous

and it doesn't make for very nice
people.

Is that why nobody cries?

Sorry?

Two of your friends are murdered.
Nobody seems very upset.

I'm not crying because I didn't like
either of them.

As for the rest...

I don't know, perhaps weeping
isn't considered cool.

The people on these allotments,
are they nice?

Yes. Because we're only competing
with the earth

and we know we're going to lose.

Where to?

We're going to a pile of dirt
beside the A34.

Here's someone else who uses string.
Well, there's a lot of it about.

Sorry to disturb you while you're
busy, Professor Alderson.

Don't worry.

In this line of work, time is not of
the essence.

You can probably guess why
we're here.

Did you go to the party after the
show last night?

Yes. I popped in
for half an hour or so,

just to give moral support to young
Antonio here.

Good afternoon, gentlemen.

But you didn't go
to Professor Gregson's afterwards?

No, no. I'm persona non grata.

No doubt Denise has given you
the stock line,

"I grew up and left home."

It has been mentioned.

We were also told
that your marriage was mentioned

in the gossip column
of a student newspaper.

Police were called to an incident.

We were shouting at each other
and a neighbour got worried.

In our defence, we were both under
a lot of pressure at work.

You have to get your ration
of firsts.

It's not just primary schools
that have league tables these days.

We all have to tick our boxes,
don't we?

Did these arguments
ever get violent?

We were sometimes near the edge.
But we never tipped over.

Ah, thanks, Sue.

Cheers. Great.

I've asked for back copies of
all the student papers

with contributions from
Amanda Costello,

including anonymous gossip.

A busy girl.
Oh, yeah.

A muckraker in the great tradition.

Dishing the dirt on fellow students
and members of staff.

Also, a thief.

She stole some of her best lines.

"Joe Myers played the King

as though someone else
had already played the Ace."

George Bernard Shaw.

PHONE RINGS

Inspector Lewis.

Yeah, he's here.

Hang on.

The Metropolitan Police want a word.

Hi.

Did you find out anything?

Well, it's the answer I expected.

I'm just not sure whether it's
the answer I wanted. Thank you.

What's all that about?

Simon Monkford. Conman.
The early years.

Is that all?

Yeah. For now.
There are complications.

Inspector Lewis.

Ah, right.

OK. We'll be right there.

There's been a break-in
at Professor Gregson's house.

Anyone hurt?
Apparently not,

but there's a bit of a mess.

You stay here. Carry on with these.

You're better at all this than I am.

What? And you're better at messes?

I have my moments.

Oh!
Sorry, sir.

They seem to have targeted my study.

Nowhere else?
Nowhere else.

I don't lock my door,
so once you're inside the house,

it would be alarmingly easy.

Who else has keys to the front door?

All the people who live here
and who have lived here in the past.

There must be dozens of keys
round Oxford.

Do you have anything valuable?

A computer. A CD player.

Some of the books, I suppose.

We'll have our Forensics people
check it over.

When they've finished, maybe
you can let us know

if there's anything vital missing.

They were obviously looking for
something. Any idea what it was?

None whatsoever.

Is this connected with these ghastly
things that have been happening?

Chances are.

Horrible.
Amanda was my student too.

Really? Was she brilliant?

Oh, yes, in her own way.

Damaged as a human being,
but totally brilliant at her work.

Afternoon.

Five years ago,

on December 19th,

you were a driving a car
along Oxford Street in London.

The car was being used
as a getaway vehicle

following a robbery on the premises
of a building society.

The car did, indeed, get away,

but not before it mounted
the pavement,
hitting a woman who died later.

It was you driving, wasn't it?

Yes.

Did you ever wonder about
the identity

of the woman that you killed?

Honest answer. No, I didn't.

I thought it would be easier to deal
with if she remained anonymous.

Well, her name was...

Mrs Valerie Lewis.

And she was married
to Inspector Robert Lewis,

my boss.

So maybe you'd like to deal
with that.

Hi.
All right?

Come in.

Oh. What's this?
Hot news from High Wycombe?

In a sense, yes.
I need to ask your advice.

Isn't that Inspector Lewis's
responsibility?

It's about Inspector Lewis.

Tell me.

Simon Monkford,
the conman that we have in custody,

he was driving the car that killed
Mrs Lewis.

Oh, my God.

You're absolutely sure about this?
Mm-hm.

The only legal question is whether
it's murder or manslaughter.

That's not the only question.

Should I tell him when he's halfway
through a murder inquiry?

Why not?

The last time I mentioned his wife,
he jumped down my throat.

He's made it very clear
his marriage is a total no-go area.

He doesn't talk to anybody
about it.

I think it all depends on the state
of your personal and professional
relationship with him.

Hm.
Are you not sure what that is?

Well, not always, no.

Why is that, do you think?

Well, he's a lovely guy.

Everyone likes him.
He's just very...

..private.

You get the feeling there's a lot
going on in his head

which he doesn't want to share.

And you're not exactly a breezy
extrovert yourself, are you?

No.

Maybe the two of you should join
some encounter group,

get in touch with your true
feelings.

That was a joke.

The serious answer...

There's only one reliable way
to find out about any relationship.

Test it to destruction.

Excuse me.

Oh, it's him.
It could be your moment.

Hello.

I'll be right there.

He wants a second opinion on a mess.

Good luck.

Thanks.

What's the problem?

I need you to take a look at this.
Something about it doesn't stack up.

I'll be in the kitchen taking tea
with the inmates.

So, you're pretty sure nothing was
taken?

Seemingly not. I might miss the odd
paperclip or pen in a day or two,

but, as far as I can tell, it's
totally without meaning or purpose.

Like life.

Maybe somebody's making mischief
for its own sake?

The sort of pranks
students get up to.

Haven't we got as much mischief
as we can cope with at the moment?

Is that the sort of thing students
do, make a mess of your study?

They do some mad things, but I have
to confess, this is a first.

If it were anyone who lives here,
they'd be instantly homeless.

Have I walked into an Agatha moment?
An Agatha moment?

Agatha Christie. She gathers all
the suspects together in one room

and the detective says something
really clever...

And the murderer makes a run for it.

Generally through the French
windows, which we have not got.

Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you,

but I'm going to finish my tea
and disappear back to work.

I need a drink.
You've just had a cup of tea.

It was a herbal.
You do need a drink!

So, what did you think of the mess?

Not the real thing.
Exactly.

It's the kind of mess
you can tidy up in half an hour.

Not a professional job, either.

There was some Dresden untouched,
a couple of watercolours on the wall

and what looked like some valuable
first editions.

A proper vandal would have smashed
all the Dresden

and peed all over the floor at least.

Conclusion?

A gentle warning
for the good professor?

Unless she did it herself

and depicted herself as a victim,
perhaps.

Anyway...

What have you been up to all day?

Ploughing through old student
journalism

and trying to make a case
for Joe Myers as our killer.

The Myers that's taken over playing
Shylock?

Why?

The quotations - from Hamlet
and A Midsummer Night's Dream.

Myers is the only one in our gang
who was in both productions.

Each time Amanda Costello singled
him out for special attention
in print.

He murders two people and leaves
clues incriminating himself?

Doesn't make sense.

So then someone is trying
to stitch him up.

She gave me two lousy reviews,
therefore I murdered the woman?

Is that the case
for the prosecution?

Are you a lousy actor?

Two agents who came to see the show
the other night want to sign me up,

so, no,
I don't think I'm a lousy actor.

So why was she so vindictive?

She fancied me
and I didn't fancy her.

Would it help us to know who,
if anyone, you did fancy?

I don't know whether it helps,
but the answer's Richard Scott.

And was your love requited?

Is that relevant to your inquiries?

We have no way of telling.

Occasionally.

I could make out a case.
A gay lovers' quarrel.

Joe Myers kills Richard Scott.

Amanda Costello makes an educated
guess as to what's happened

and confronts Myers with it
at the first-night party.

He says, "Let's talk about this
quietly in the cellar."

But you'll say, "Did he fetch
a piece of string with him,
on the off-chance?"

What do you reckon?
You usually have an opinion.

Sir, there is something else
you need to know.

Sounds exciting.

You're not getting married?
No.

Sir, it's about Simon Monkford.

What about him?

How long have you known?
Since the call from the Met.

Is that what that was?
The final confirmation.

Date. Place. Time.
Why the hell didn't you tell me then?

Because the last time I mentioned
her, you made it clear I wasn't to.

This is different.
This is purely professional.

How can that be?
What were you frightened of?

That I might go barging in and batter
the living daylights out of the man?

I'd be tempted
under the circumstances.

Maybe I'd be tempted too,
but it wouldn't happen.

Shall I tell you why?
Why?

Because you're a good cop
and you'd stop me.

As it is, all you've proved is,
you don't really know me.

You don't know yourself either.

Do you want to speak to him?
No.

I just want to look at him.

That's him?
Mm-hm.

I don't know what I expected to see.

So...bloody ordinary.

She deserved better.

Come on. Let's do some proper work.

Do you realise all our student
suspects have websites?

Of course I have.

Time was you had a fountain pen.
Now you have a website.

Emma Golding's comes complete with
a copy of her dissertation.

According to Professor Gregson,
the finest piece of English prose

since the King James Bible.

What's it about?

"20th-Century Drama -
a View from The Lower Depths."

Will it keep you quiet for an hour?

At a rough guess,
I'd say 40 days and 40 nights.

I'm popping down to the theatre.
With a view to what?

We're up against
a conspiracy of silence,
even though they talk all the time.

I'm going to have a one-to-one
with the only one that shed a tear.

I'm on in a minute.

I'll be very quick.

What is it? A few routine questions?

Questions, certainly.

You'll have to tell me whether
they're routine or not.

Like, for instance,
when Richard Scott was murdered,

you were the only one that showed
any emotion.

The rest...

Not a tear between the lot of them.
Why was that?

Shock, I suppose.

It's the first time I've been close
to somebody who's died,

so I cried a bit.

I suppose the others were trying
to be cool and sophisticated.
I'm no good at that.

I didn't like Richard that much,

but when you've acted with someone,
it makes a sort of bond.

Probably like you and your sergeant.

Is that silly?
I've heard sillier things.

What really happened in Edinburgh?

Sorry?

We've heard all sorts of
half-baked accounts

of your adventures at the Festival.

Sex, drugs and rock and roll,
I guess.

Richard stealing from you all
and getting thumped for his pains.

What was it that really mattered?

It wasn't about sex or drugs

and I don't know for sure
why it was important,

but everybody went ape-shit when
Phil Beaumont's laptop disappeared.

Phil being the one who sits in the
corner watching everyone,

writing it all down.

Five minutes, Isabel.

I'm sorry.

May I go to Venice now?
Of course.

Have a nice time.

Oh, Robbie, erm...

Did he tell you...about Monkford?

Eventually.

Did you know all the time?

He consulted me about...

whether to tell you and when.

That was thoughtful.

So, are you two still friends?

Interesting question.

We're colleagues.

"Work mates",
they'd say in the Northeast.

We don't swap comics every week,

and he listens to weird music,
but he's a damn good cop.

He's just a bit young
and, I suppose,

enigmatic, he's...

..private.

He says much the same about you.

That's ridiculous.
There's nothing enigmatic about me.

So, tell me, honestly, are you OK?

Honest answer. I don't know.

So I'll just throw myself into my
work and see if that makes me OK.

You just walked in
on a eureka moment.

You've found something?

I have. This is from Emma Golding's
dissertation.

"Those eminent men and occasional
women who dwell on Mount Olympus,

sharing profound
philosophical reflections,

invariably do so with their eyes

looking up to heaven, whether they
believe in its existence or not.

Once in a while, why do they not
cast their eyes downwards

to the shanty towns and slums at
the foot of their blessed mountain

from which flow their security
and prosperity?"

Takes a bright lass to write stuff
like that.

Mm-hm.

Where does eureka come in?

About a year and a half ago,

Phil Beaumont wrote an article
in the student newspaper

saying that, basically,
"all life is shit",

but he did end with the self-same
paragraph about Mount Olympus.

Therefore what?

Phil Beaumont helped Emma
with her dissertation?

They're a couple. Why not?
What couples do.

What about if he wrote
the entire thing?

Hm, an academic star,
with plans to run the country one day

if nobody stops her,

and the piece of work that gave her
lift-off was...what, stolen?

We don't know, but it could be
a valuable blackmailing weapon.

"Sorry, darling,
you stole the whole thing,

but I won't mention it again, if you
chuck a little cheque in the post."

You reckon that's what
Richard Scott did? It's possible.

What about Phil Beaumont?

He knows what really happened.

Why is nobody murdering HIM?
Well, maybe he is careful.

And Professor Gregson.
What about her?

Well, if it comes out that people
have been awarded doctorates

for other people's work,

her career would soon start
to unravel.

Sergeant Nicholson called
from Sheffield?

Yeah, that's his mobile number.
He wants you to call him back.

In the morning.

Right.
I'm ready to talk to Monkford now.

Come with me?
Yeah.

Inspector Lewis.

Ah.

Would it help if I said

I'm...truly sorry?

No. Nothing helps.

In which case, may I offer you
a proposition?

Try me.

I was in the theatre the afternoon
that young man was murdered.

I saw various people leaving
at the...time in question.

I'd be happy to give evidence,
if that would help you.

What would you get out of all this?

The nice warm feeling that comes
with being a good citizen?

Drop the murder charge and I'll
plead guilty to manslaughter.

You're trying to do a deal with me?
It's not that simple.

I'll tell you what's simple.

We put you in court, as a prosecution
witness, with your record,

any defence counsel would tear you
to shreds inside 30 seconds.

Sorry. I simply thought...
You don't have the right to think!

We'll decide on the charges.

I don't do deals with people
like you.

Take me away from this man.
Sir.

So, have a look at that and come
and see me again on Thursday.

Gentlemen.

You told us that Emma Golding
is a brilliant scholar.

She is. That her dissertation
is the best you'd read.

The greatest thing since...
Please. Don't say "sliced bread".

Sliced bread is an abomination.
I will not have it in my house.

Did she write it herself?

That really is a grey area.

I don't see that it is at all grey.

Did she write it?
Or did Phil Beaumont write it?

They were a couple at the time,
so he probably had an input.

It's very difficult for university
teachers these days.

We're more familiar
with OUR difficulties.

I've just set some first-years
an essay on Thomas Hardy.

They'll go straight onto the net,
Google Thomas Hardy

and find 10,000, 20,000 entries.

The bright ones will pick and mix
all the best bits

and throw in the odd spelling error
to make it look authentic

and I'm supposed to sort out the
original thinkers from the looters.

But I will say this about
Emma's dissertation.

None of it was stolen
from the internet.

It was all her own work.
Or Phil Beaumont's work.

As I say, he probably had an input.
You must ask THEM.

We're going to.

Hi, guys. What can I get you?

We'll have two coffees.

But, before you do that,
tell us something.

Did you write Emma Golding's
dissertation?

Yes.

- All of it?
- Yeah.

Because I'm a better writer
than she is.

I'm just about the best
on the block.

Isn't that against the rules?
Probably.

Mind you, Oxford works mostly
on unwritten rules,

so there might not be any!

I just thought it was funny.

Emma and I were a couple at the
time, soulmates, or so I thought.

I was dropping out anyway,
so it seemed like fun
to take the piss out of the system.

Sticking up two fingers
as a farewell gesture.

- Soulmates?
- Yeah. For a while.

But I finished the dissertation and
she found herself another soulmate.

Amazing, really.

That would be Richard Scott?
Yeah.

Who stole your laptop in Edinburgh.
So I'm told.

You'd have said there wasn't enough
evidence.

- But the dissertation was it?
- Yeah.

Along with two unfinished novels,
a stage play,

my diary and a couple of dirty
limericks.

Your diary?

Yeah. My Oxford journal.

Is that something
you were planning on publishing?

No chance!

It was a bit...
you might say, "warts and all".

I even named the warts.

Was there anything there that could
have led to Richard Scott's death

or Amanda Costello's?

I suppose it's possible. It was
a secret diary. That was the point.

But you'd have to know
where to look.

Where should WE be looking?
MOBILE RINGS

Well, like the man says in the
movie, "Follow the money."

Hathaway.

We'll be there in ten minutes.

Do you still want those coffees?
Yeah.

But not today.
Good choice.

Where are we in ten minutes?
Back to base.

Forensics have come through
with some interesting conclusions.

We know that Richard Scott
was murdered with that knife.

It was a really good clue,
finding it sticking in his chest.

But now we know that Amanda Costello
was strangled using this string

and both weapons have identical
traces of soil on them.

From Phil Beaumont's allotment?
I wouldn't bet against it.

So, whoever stabbed Richard Scott
was wearing gardening gloves?

It's a persuasive idea.

But you still come back to who takes
a piece of string
to a first-night party,

on the off-chance of needing to
murder someone with it?

But this is the icing on the cake.

The two quotations from Shakespeare
we found next to the bodies

were both written on an old-style
typewriter with a carbon ribbon.

Phil Beaumont had a typewriter
in his room.

Yeah, but he never locked his room,
so anybody could have used it.

We need to talk to Emma Golding.

Get her take on cheating her way
to a doctorate.

Ask her about her ex-soulmate.

And I think...
What?

I think we're being too nice
to these kids.

We should be behaving
more like coppers.

Shake their tree.
See what drops out.

Hello, Emma.

I hope it's important.
I'm meeting an agent in London.

And we're investigating two murders.

Shall we walk together?

Tell us about cheating your way
to a doctorate.

No idea what you mean.

Your last major piece of work
was written for you by Phil Beaumont.

Can you manage on your own?

Or have you lined up another soulmate
already?

You said this was a murder
investigation

or have you diversified into
copyright law?

We're exceedingly versatile
and very thorough.

Meaning?

We're going to start by searching
Professor Gregson's house
from top to bottom,

not forgetting the places you live,
work and the places you have fun.

And what on earth do you hope
to find?

We want to test out
Amanda's big story.

Well, here's my big story.

I don't give a toss about
my doctorate or Oxford University.

If this agent comes up with the
right deal,

I'll be out of here by the end of
the week. All right?

We get the gist.

Thank you for sparing the time.
MOBILE RINGS

Let's go and frighten the children.

Inspector Lewis.

Oh, Sergeant Nicholson.

Yeah. Thanks for getting back to me.

Listen, a simple question.

A couple of years ago,
when you were down here in Oxford,

you were called out to a domestic
incident, a couple of academics.

Yeah. Can you tell me anything
you remember about that?

SIREN WAILS

Any joy?
No typewriters.

But I did find some intriguing
bank statements.

No sign of Beaumont's laptop either.

Professor Gregson rang.

She said she assumes there will be
receipts for anything you take away.

Where is Professor Gregson?
Is she teaching?

Teaching? Most unlikely.

We need to look somewhere else.

I think I can guess.
I should hope so.

Professor Gregson.

It would be foolish to deny it.

Perhaps you'd like to tell us
what you've been doing here,

while Sergeant Hathaway does his
duty and searches the tool shed.

I suppose this is the moment when
I say, "I can explain everything."

I hope you will.
It's very simple.

I borrowed some secateurs from Phil
to prune the roses in my garden

and I decided to return them
in person.

Phil Beaumont lives at your house!

You could have returned the secateurs
over breakfast.

I know. It sounds illogical, but...

Was this a sudden impulse
or more premeditated?

You've lost me there.

Did you decide,
when you got up this morning,

"This afternoon,
I'll return Phil's secateurs" -

and therefore take them with you
to college?

Or did you decide much later?

Maybe Emma called to say
we were going to search her house.

Odd. You sound so like a policeman.

That's because I am a bloody
policeman.

I found these.

What's more,
I think we were meant to find them.

Shall we start again?

You're the "bloody policeman".

I am a policeman.

But I'm operating on a pretty short
fuse, so be warned.

I've had to put up with a lot of
Oxford bollocks on this case,
theatrical jealousy.

Maybe sex. Maybe drugs.

But it isn't, is it?

It's about one thing only.

Your academic career.

Emma Golding has just completed
her doctorate here, hasn't she?

Even though you knew
it was Phil Beaumont who wrote it.

Now Phil, who despises this place
anyway, doesn't give a toss.

Neither does Emma.

She'll be out of here
by the end of the week.

Who needs academic qualifications
to work in the theatre?

The only person that cares about
any of this...is you.

Is it wrong to care about
my students?

I would have thought
that was a good thing.

You paid Phil Beaumont £5,000
to keep his mouth shut.

That, I suggest, is not a good thing.

We've seen his bank statements.

Unfortunately, the whole story
was in Phil's diary on his laptop.

So when Richard found it, he realised
he had you right over a barrel.

I hate to state the obvious...

but I'm not the murdering kind.

Not according to
Sergeant Nicholson of Sheffield.

Who the hell is Sergeant Nicholson
of Sheffield?

When you met him,
he was a humble PC, here in Oxford.

He was called out to a domestic
erm...

disturbance.

A report
from one of your neighbours.

Apparently, you went for your
then-husband with a knife.

He being a nice, liberal-minded
Oxford don

decided not to bring charges.
Well, he always was spineless.

Let's assume that you murdered
Richard Scott and Amanda Costello.

Why Amanda?

Because she was one of the family,
one of your blue-eyed girls.

She knew what you were up to.

But that wasn't much of a story, was
it? A bit of academic naughtiness.

Maybe a couple of paragraphs
on page seven.

But the minute Richard was murdered,

straight to the front page.

She had a good, big story.

She boasted about it
at the first-night party.

All I have ever done
is try to help my students.

If you like students that much,
why try to implicate them?

Why try to pin it on Phil Beaumont?

Or Joe Myers, come to that,

with those ridiculous quotations
from Shakespeare?

Theoretically, if I were a murderer,

I'd do all I could
to implicate other people.

It's basic common sense.

What happened to Beaumont's laptop?

It's in the river.

ISABEL: The quality of mercy
is not strain'd.

It droppeth as the gentle rain
from heaven upon the place beneath.

It is twice blest.

It blesseth him that gives
and him that takes.

'Tis mightiest in the mightiest.

It becomes the throned monarch
better than his crown.

Simon Monkford, you are indicted
on one count of manslaughter.

Do you plead guilty or not guilty?

Guilty.

Please be seated.

Thank you...for coming with me.

That's OK.

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