All language subtitles for Inspector Morse - 05x01 - Second Time Around.Unspecified.English.orig.Addic7ed.com

(Birdsong)

(Rings doorbell)

Hello.

(Clock chimes)

RADlO: ..southeast of EngIand,
East AngIia and southern EngIand,

it wiII be sunny and warm right through.

Mist patches at first, winds Iight westerIy.

Maximum temperature 75 to 81,
and it wiII be cooI on the coasts.

West MidIands, South WaIes and North WaIes
rather cIoudy at times.

Dense fog patches...

(Mixer whirring)

When he retired two years ago, CharIie HiIIian
had been on the force for 40 years.

40 years which saw him go from ConstabIe

to Assistant Commissioner.

And the society which he served
has decided to honour him.

Well, now, we can do likewise.
We can honour him.

Hear, hear!

Not with gifts, nor medals, not with titles,

but simply by saying that
he was a much-valued colleague.

A good, honest man.

And a genuine friend.

Hear, hear!

l'm sure l speak for all those
who worked with him here in Oxford,

where his talents were first recognised,

and later in London,

where he's held in equally high regard.

LEWlS: The way he knocks it back,
it's a wonder he Iived to coIIect an OBE.

People in glass houses...

This is only a little light wine, sir.

- l know what it is.
- And it's only my second glass.

Sanctimony, Lewis.

Chief lnspector Morse.

- This is your sergeant, l'm told.
- Yes. Sergeant Lewis, Chief lnspector Dawson.

Pleased to meet you.
That was a very fine speech you gave.

- Charlie was a very fine policeman, Sergeant.
- l'm sure he was.

Must have seen a lot of changes -
technology, organisation.

And policing, Sergeant. ln Charlie's day,
it was an eye for an eye.

Now it's...

Well, still, it suits some.

Morse.

LEWlS: How Iong have you known him, sir?
Dawson?

We were Detective Sergeants together
when Hillian was Chief lnspector here.

When Hillian moved to London,
Dawson followed. They were very close.

Had a reputation as a hard man, didn't he?

Capital punishment, longer sentences.

lt would save a lot of time
if you came right out and asked, Lewis.

Just curious.

We met up for conferences, seminars,

usually on different sides of an argument.

- Conferences? You?
- Yes, Lewis.

ldeals come to torment us all at some stage.
Or should do.

Still, hardly grounds for disliking a person,
is it, sir?

No. We got along at one time.
Sorry to disappoint you.

(Hums to himself)

Must you?

Yes.

(Continues humming)

How was it?

lt was good.

Though how much he'II remember of it,
I have no idea.

(Dawson continues humming)

- (Dawson laughs)
- There, that should do it.

He really should be upstairs, you know.

l won't allow it.

You're not a boy any more, you know.

- What do you mean by that?
- l mean you have to look after yourself.

And if you don't, then l will. There's an end to it.

Where's my bag?

(Shattering glass)

(Glass breaks)

(Struggles for breath)

Not much doubt about how he got in, sir.

There's a nice footprint over by that window,
although it could be anybody's, l suppose.

Better get a cast made anyway,
check it against Charlie Hillian's shoes.

Right, sir.

- Sir?
- How's the old lady?

lt's Mrs Keelan, sir, the housekeeper.
She's a bit better.

She has a key, apparently, sir.
When she got here, she found this.

What about Chief lnspector Dawson?

He turned up shortly after us, sir.

CONSTABLE: Can I go inside, Sergeant?

- l could really do with a leak.
- No.

Get in the woods, man. There's plenty of trees.

l'm sorry.

That's all right.

l um... (Clears throat)

l came round to say goodbye.

l hadn't the chance last night. He was...

..very drunk.

lt was a weakness with him.

As you know.

Oh, you want details?

Yes.

Can it wait?

Thank you.

As far as she can tell, nothing's been taken.

l've had a look round upstairs.
No sign of any disturbance.

What about visitors to the cottage?

Only two. One's a local man - Terrence Mitchell.

He's been building a fence outside.

The other one's a Walter Major,
lives near Evesham, about 35 miles away...

Yes, l know where it is. Go on.

He's a writer. Been helping Mr Hillian
with a book, apparently.

- A book?
- That's what the old lady said.

All right. Listen, you take Dawson
back to his hotel

then have a word with this Mitchell.

l'll wait till they've finished here.

Didn't have long to enjoy his honour, did he, sir?

No.

Puts that kind of thing in perspective,
don't you think?

(Mrs Keelan sobs)

(Low chatter)

- Sir?
- Yes.

- lt may be nothing, sir.
- Just tell him!

I was...

over the way there and, well,
there was a car, sir. lt drove off fast.

We could radio for a chopper.
Couldn't have got far.

- Maybe get roadbIocks set up on major routes.
- Hang on, hang on.

l was just trying to be positive, sir.

l take it from all this excitement

- that you got the car's registration?
- Yes, sir.

Then check it out in the usual way.

That's quietly
and with at least the appearance of method.

(Excited chattering)

- What the hell's going on, sir?
- Quite a sight, isn't it?

Some of them have come back off leave.
Others have refused to go home after their shift.

- Everybody wants to get this bastard, Morse.
- What are they doing?

Checking Charlie's old cases,
tracing people he put away.

Well, forgive me, sir,
but won't that amount to quite a crowd?

Perhaps. But we leave no stone unturned
on this one, Morse. No stone.

- Mrs Mitchell?
- Yes.

Sergeant Lewis.

Police?

Well, what's wrong? We haven't done anything.

l just want to talk to Terrence, Mrs Mitchell.
Nobody's saying you've done anything.

- But what's it about?
- Well, if l could speak to Terrence.

l'll be about an hour.

You can come back if you want.

Thank you.

Terrence.

- You've frightened them away, Mother.
- I'm sorry.

This is Sergeant Lewis, Terrence.

He's a policeman.
He's come to ask you some questions.

Hello.

- Hello.
- Oh, that's very good. May I?

Terrence is dyslexic, Sergeant.

We always encouraged him to write

and put notes next to his drawings.

My own spelling's none too hot, l can tell you.

WeII, Terrence has other taIents,

- as you can see.
- Mother!

No, your mother's right. Thank you.

Perhaps you could tell us what it is
you want to know?

Of course.

Last night,

- can you teII me where you were, Terrence?
- He was with me.

- What, all night?
- Yes.

And Mr MitcheII, he was here too?

John left us years ago.

What's this about, Sergeant?

Well, it's bad news, actually, Terrence.

Mr Hillian.

He's dead.

Murdered.

But he can't be.

Why not, Terrence?

Because l saw him last week.

l'm afraid it's true.

He can't be.

He can't be.

lt must have been 1 1 :00 when we left the dinner.

We drove Charlie home. We couldn't have been
in the house above quarter of an hour.

Then we came straight back here.

l saw nothing unusual
either going in or coming out of the house.

Can you add anything to that,

Mrs Dawson?

No, no. Nothing, lnspector.

Why was he on the sofa?

Well, for God's sake, Morse,
what does it matter? ln bed, on the sofa!

Patrick, please!

Did you know he was writing a book?

Yes.

It was aIways an ambition with him.

Morse, l have to be in London tonight.
There are some things l have to see to.

But I can be back here tomorrow evening.

l'm not sure that's a good idea. Are you?

It couId get a bit crowded here.

Do you want me to beg, Morse?

Charles Hillian was a very lucky man.

Do you know that?

Then we must all hope
to be blessed with misfortune.

What?

Oh, that. No, not that.

Well...well, yes.

What I mean is, that couId have happened
at any time in his Iife.

He had a weak spot in the skull.

Paper-thin.

ReIativeIy speaking, of course.

A sIight knock in the right pIace

and dead as a dodo.

That's what happened last night.

There couId have been a struggIe.

He feII and...

when his head hit the fIoor,

whammo! Lights out!

Time of death?

1 :00, 1 :30.

Thank you.

Lights out? Whammo?

Are those medicaI terms, Doctor?

l prefer to keep things simple, Chief lnspector.

Especially when dealing with policemen.

What he said, sir... Maybe it was unintentional.

That doesn't help Hillian.

What about Mitchell?

Too sensitive a soul for that kind of thing.
An artist, sir.

Adolf Hitler dabbled in oils.
Did you know that, Lewis?

l thought he was more
of a watercolours man, actually.

Whatever.

Where was this ''sensitive soul'' at the time?

At home with his mother.
And you should see her, sir.

l'm afraid l've done something
rather stupid, Lewis.

- You, sir?
- Dawson asked to stay in Oxford. l agreed.

Many hands make light work.

Try too many cooks.
Something tells me it'll be more apt.

You never know, sir.

Well, l think l'll go for a walk. What about you?

l could start work on the report, sir, if you want.

- Good man.
- l mean, only if you want.

Well, why not? Procrastination is the thief
of time, since we're swapping proverbs.

Yes, sir.

See you later.

(Light piano music)
- The table's ready for you, madam.

Oh, thank you.

Good evening, Mrs Dawson.

Oh, Chief lnspector.

Are you on your own?

Yes, yes, l am.

Well, you can join me, if you'd like.

Thank you. That's very kind.

Oh. There's a call for lnspector Morse
from the Met.

Right. l'm coming through.

Agreeing to my husband's staying in Oxford
was very good of you.

Charlie meant a great deal to him.

l'm bound to say
it was against my better judgment.

We're not exactIy bosom friends, and...

l don't like the idea of not being trusted

- to do myjob.
- No, you'd be wrong to believe that, lnspector.

l mean, Patrick thinks
you're a very good detective.

A poor poIiceman and a very good detective.

Really?

l suppose half a compliment is better than none.

Yes.

What do you think of him?

- Mrs Dawson.
- No, onIy...

sometimes it is good

to get the view of a person you respect.

l think he's...a man with very strong views.

On the law, for one.

What it shouId be.

And I can respect that.

lt's his certainty that worries me.

And beyond politics?

l think he's become an unhappy man.

Yes.

l'm not saying...

No, no, l know that, l know.

lt would be simplistic indeed

to expIain a man's unhappiness
soIeIy in terms of his wife.

Or his happiness.

You see...

lf we'd had children...

Now, that...that was my fault.

Mrs Dawson.

(Rumble of thunder)

We seem to be empty. Shall l get us another?

Yes, why not? Yes.

Thank you.

Sir, where were you? l've been
in and out of every pub in Oxford.

- l think we've got him, sir.
- Who?

The man in the car. Hillian's killer.

Name's Frederick Redpath, aged 58.
Owns a bookshop in London.

When he was approached, he claimed he'd
gone to the south coast, nowhere near Oxford.

Now have a look at this, lnspector.

- What is it?
- A piece on Charlie Hillian.

Goes on about his OBE
and some book he was writing.

- He had this on him?
- Back of his wallet.

- Where have you got him?
- He's in the interview room, sir.

Your car was sighted outside the home
of Charles Hillian, Mr Redpath.

Why did you lie to the police about that?

That was silly, l know.

l was curious.

l slowed down to see what was going on.

And then l drove off.

You were a passer-by?

Yes.

This was found in your wallet.

lt's an article about Charles Hillian.

l own a bookshop.

l thought l might sell Mr Hillian's book
when it was published.

So you weren't just passing by?

Put that way, no.

l heard about the Hillian death on the radio.

l didn't want to become involved. l...

..didn't know l'd been seen.

It was a mistake, as I said.

ls it usual for a bookshop
to approach an author directly?

No.

l thought if l got in quick,
l could steal a march on my...

competitors.

Had you been to the cottage
before today, Mr Redpath?

No.

No, never.

We'll have to hold you for questioning,

Mr Redpath.
Sergeant Lewis wiII inform you of your rights.

And ours.

Could l borrow your shoes?

My shoes?

We made a cast of a footprint found
at the cottage. We'd like to make a comparison.

- What do you think?
- What do l think?

l've never heard so many lies.
lt was like sitting through an election campaign.

Maybe he's afraid, sir.
Maybe he didn't want to get involved.

Maybe.

l've seen him somewhere before, Lewis.

And l can't think where.

- l'd better take these.
- Oh, do it in the morning.

- lf it is his print, let him sweat on it overnight.
- Chief Inspector Morse!

lnspector Morse!

My name's Barbara Redpath.
You're holding my father.

Can l ask on what charge, please?

No charge as yet, Miss Redpath.

Then l demand that you release him
immediately. He's done nothing.

- Then he has nothing...
- Don't give me that buIIshit, pIease!

What you're saying is that he's innocent
but you're working on it.

Now, look here.

l'm investigating the murder
of a former policeman, Miss Redpath.

Your father was seen at the victim's cottage,

a fact he initiaIIy denied.

Now, why shouId he do that, I ask myseIf.

When l get an answer to that question,
l'll let him go.

Until then, he stays put.

Good night, Miss Redpath.

- Mr Majors?
- Yes.

Chief lnspector Morse, Thames Valley ClD.
Can l have a word?

Come in.

Down this way.

Have you moved here recently, Mr Majors?

lt does have that appearance,
doesn't it, lnspector?

lt's part of an estate, you know.

The family who own it are old aristocracy.

Well, the fag end of it, anyway.

The last in line let me have a short lease
on very generous terms.

Fancied it made him some sort of patron,
you see.

That was...ten years ago.

And you grew to like the place?

No. l grew poor, lnspector.

Too poor to live anywhere else.

And since l've never felt fully at home,
it seemed inappropriate to fully unpack.

(Coughs violently)

(Continues coughing)

l'd ask you to er...

excuse the mess, Chief lnspector,
but that would imply exception.

What you see is the rule.

You're lucky...you're lucky to find me home.

I've been in London, you see.

Came home a day earIy, as it happens.
Christ AImighty!

French.

- FashionabIe but badIy put together.
- Can l ask how long you've been away,

- Mr Majors?
- You can.

l left the night Charlie Hillian departed this life.

You can prove your whereabouts?

lf l have to.

At the moment, l don't see the need.
Am l a suspect?

You and the rest of the world, Mr Majors.

Oh, what a defIationary way of putting it.

AII my Iife, I've striven
to rise above the mass, Inspector.

Had you known Hillian long?

About a year. Since we...
since we started our collaboration.

You don't seem too upset about his death.

Don't l? Well...

l'm an instinctive optimist.
l believe in the resilience of the human spirit.

- Looking on the bright side and all that.
- There's a bright side to HiIIian's murder?

At a conservative estimate, l'd say...

sales up by ten per cent.

ls that a fact?

Oh...

l know what you're thinking, Chief lnspector.

Charlie Hillian,

the copper's copper, paragon, OBE.

- Tell me about the book.
- Oh, the...

Oh!

The great man's great cases, basically.

An above-average potboiIer,
if I do say so myseIf.

He kept notes throughout his career, you know.

The idea was one case equals one chapter.

Have you...impounded his notes?

Not yet.

Hillian has no family.

- Who gets his royaIties?
- Happily, l do, lnspector.

lf l'd popped off first, he'd have gotten mine.

He didn't exactly ''pop off'', did he?

l suppose not.

You'll think this a cliché, but...

don't leave town, will you?

Cliché, lnspector?

Shouldn't be surprised if l write that down.

I'II see myseIf out, Mr Majors.

- Sir...
- Oh, Lewis, for me?

No, for the sergeant and me, sir.

- l see.
- Sir, Redpath's shoe...

Matched the cast perfectly.

- Have you spoken to him?
- Not about that, no.

Better get on with it, then, hadn't we?

- What, now?
- Now.

- The teas will get cold.
- l don't have any tea.

Sergeant Lewis tells me that your shoe
fits the cast we made at the cottage, Mr Redpath.

Fits it perfectly.

Now, how could that be, if, as you say,
you were never there?

l don't know.

l take a standard size. There must be millions.

I don't know.

Mr Redpath, perhaps you don't appreciate
the seriousness of your position.

An ex-poIiceman has been murdered

and you're a very strong suspect.

l've killed no-one.

Then help us to prove that.

Tell us the truth
about why you went to visit Hillian.

Your daughter...

Barbara's here?

You've spoken to her?

Yes, and as you might expect, she's very upset.

You've spoken to her?

Yes.

l've told you everything, lnspector.

l have nothing more to say.

Why hasn't he asked for a lawyer, Lewis?

Redpath?

Why hasn't his daughter brought him one?
She seems the type that would.

Beats me. l explained his rights to him.

Yes.

Listen, l want to have a look at Hillian's notes.

Find out what time Dawson's due back
from London and meet him off the train.

l'm sure he'll want to get acquainted
with Redpath. Drink your tea before it gets cold.

(Shuffling of papers)

Well, well.

An inspector calls.

Mr Majors.

Put up your truncheon, lnspector.

All this is perfectly legal.

The excellent Mrs Keelan granted me access

on condition that l close the door
when l leave.

Your arrival is indeed fortuitous.

- Timely.
- Those are Hillian's notes?

ln one.

Brilliant. Though, to be precise,

these are only some
of the late Charlie's scratchings.

There's a chapter missing,

l'm happy to say.

A chapter gone.

Charlie Hillian may have been the cat's pyjamas
when it came to banging up the lawless,

but about the world of letters,
he knew bugger all.

- Mr Majors...
- Our dead sIeuth

had a most outlandish idea, lnspector.

That we should include in our book

a crime which had defied the very powers
of detection we were meant to be celebrating.

" An honest approach," he caIIed it.

Even convinced our pubIisher. I toId them,

success - that's what people want to read about.

(Burps)

They aIready know too much about faiIure,
most of them.

We argued.

Much bellowing to and fro.

Then honest Charlie Hillian
threatened to scrap the whole idea

if he didn't get his way.
With his demise came the...

..the opportunity to do something about it.

If you see what I mean.

- No notes, no chapter.
- OnIy I needn't have bothered, Inspector.

The bloody thing's gone
and l've you as a witness l didn't take it.

Now, isn't that wonderful?

What was the chapter about, Mr Majors?

lt was about...

a tragedy,

lnspector.

As dark as any.

1 7...1 8 years ago.

The murder of a child.

She was, I beIieve,

eight years oId.

Her name was...

Mary Lapsley.

The very same, Inspector.

You were invoIved?

Stupid.

Stupid.

? HAYDN: String quartet

(They all talk at once)

Je savais que je...

l think he's saying...

Where's Lewis?

He's gone to get Dawson, sir.

- Est-ce que vous avez...
- Did he say when he'd be back?

He's gone to fetch Mr Dawson off the London
train, sir. Should be getting in about now.

Morse reckons he's been lying through his teeth
since we brought him in.

And the footprint, is it a good match?

He could wear the cast
and not know the difference.

First, he said he was just passing. When we
showed him the clipping, he changed his mind.

You know, don't you?

Morse, does he think he's the one?

What is this, Morse?

What is this, you bastard?

- What's wrong?
- You little toerag!

Let him go!

Dawson, he didn't know!

l didn't know till now.
You kept us all away, remember?

Remember? I didn't see him
tiII the day he waIked out of here.

Now, think, man!

Hands off.

All right, all right, back upstairs.

Sorry, Morse.

lt was the shock of seeing him there.

Your apology would be better directed
to Sergeant Lewis.

- lt'll not be necessary.
- You must let me talk to him.

l know him better than anyone.

You can't, sir. You saw him just then.
He's a bloody madman.

Lewis.

Lay a finger on him and l'll finish you.

(Sustained beep)

Mary Lapsley.

She was eight years old, Lewis.

Eight years old and pretty as...

Even in death.

What shall l call you?

My name is Frederick Redpath.

lt has been for the past 1 1 years.

Redpath knew her.

She played with his daughter,

visited his house.

They had him in for a week.

Hillian, Dawson.

This place was electric.

There was talk of excess.

Particularly from Dawson.

We're both too old for...

..what we went through last time.

Yes.

She was in a boathouse

by a lake.

LocaI angIers used it.

Redpath...

Briers, as he was then,

was one of them.

DAWSON: You seem to have done very weII.

l am glad of that.

l found a knife in the boathouse.

lt turned out to be Redpath's.

He said he'd Iost it a year before the kiIIing.

Did you kill Charlie Hillian?

No.

l did not.

You said you found the knife, sir.

Was it you that found the little girl?

Yes.

Does it Iook bad for me?

Yes.

As bad as last time?

Yes.

l didn't do it.

Not then,

not now.

No.

Redpath - Briers -

claimed he was at home with his daughter
at the time of the killing.

She was upstairs asleep.

He never wavered from that.

So they had to Iet him go.

No-one eIse was ever heId for the murder.

He went to the cottage

at 2:30 in the afternoon.

He wanted to know what Charlie was
going to say about the Lapsley case.

There was no-one at home,
so he returned the foIIowing morning.

And you believe that?

Yes.

Hillian's notes on the Lapsley case are missing.

We've proved he was at the cottage.

Now he comes up with another lie
to cover himself.

You're wrong, Morse. Wrong.

I watched teIevision

till half past two.

Then...

l went into the kitchen
and made myself some tea.

And then...

Oh, dear.

Just take your time, Mrs Keelan.

That's right. Then the doorbell went.

And it was the dry-cIeaners
with Mr HiIIian's evening suit.

You were in the kitchen when the bell rang?

Yes.

CouId we go through, Mrs KeeIan,
to the kitchen?

l brought the suit in,

hung it up and then went on
mixing these scones.

l was still here when Mr Hillian got back

at four.

He went out to that dinner.

He asked me to stay Iate to do his ironing.

Did Mr Hillian have his key?

No, the doorbell rang.
He knew l was here,

you see.

Twice. She heard the bell ring twice.

The dry-cleaners and
when Hillian came back in the afternoon.

Not when Redpath says he rang.

(Cell door closes)

(Hammering)

LEWlS: I envy bIokes
that work with their hands, sir.

DAWSON: Have you spoken to him?

Yeah. His name's Mitchell.

From over on Fern Street.

l think it's time we had another chat
with Redpath, don't you?

Well, he won't be saying much
for a few days, lnspector.

And l want him to have complete rest.

He's sedated at the moment.

- Of course.
- He was very fortunate.

One more minute
and he would have been dead.

Yes, thank you.

For what you've done, Doctor.

- Quite a turn-up, sir.
- Wasn't it?

Do you reckon it was guilt that made him do it?

Come to gloat, lnspector?

Come to see him broken at last?

What a pity some PC PIod denied you aII
a compIete victory.

lf you're interested, Miss Redpath,

the doctor expects your father
to make a full recovery.

Miss Redpath.

Can we call a truce and talk?

- Do l have to?
- lt might help your father.

Did your father tell you
he was coming to Oxford?

No.

We live separately.

We see each other once or twice a week.

Did he mention Charles Hillian's book
to you at all?

Never.

But l can understand why it would concern him.

For five years, after Mary's murder,

my father was persecuted, lnspector.

He lost his job at the local library.

And when he moved to London,
it continued there.

No sooner had he started a job,
he'd be asked to leave.

No reasons would ever be given.

There'd be telephone calls.

When he picked up the phone,
no-one answered.

Then, suddenly, it stopped.

We had a bookstall by then.

lt did very well, so we moved into the shop.

But my father was always afraid
that the persecution would start again.

So we changed our name
from Briers to Redpath.

l've grown quite used to it.

You and Mary Lapsley.

You were friends?

lnseparable.

Mary had no father

and l had no mother.

She left when l was very young.

So we had a lot in common.

We used to wish our parents would marry,

so we could be sisters.

But her mother died when Mary was...

five years old.

- What about Mary's father?
- l never knew him.

lnspector, my father did not kill Mary.

He was at home with me at the time.

l'd come down with some bug or other.

- And you were asleep upstairs?
- Yes.

Well, thank you for talking to me, Miss Redpath.

Was l any help?

lt's early days.

The other policeman at the hospital.

Chief lnspector Dawson?

That's Dawson?

Yes.

How strange.

Well, he doesn't think my father killed Hillian.
Does he, lnspector?

No.

No, he doesn't.

Sir, Superintendent Strange
asked if you would drop in.

- Now?
- l think so, sir.

(Knock on door)

Ah, Morse, come in.

Please.

Sit down.

Chief Inspector Dawson

has some...

observations about Charlie's death,

which I think we ought to discuss.

Oh? Well, so long as it's borne in mind
that l'm in charge of the investigation.

Let's not allow personal feelings
to influence our judgment, Morse.

Chief lnspector.

My point is simpIe enough.

The missing chapter from the book points to a
connection between his death and Mary Lapsley.

l agree. The connection is Frederick Redpath.

Why would he go back the following day,
Morse? lt's irrational.

Murder is irrational. And murderers.

lf Charlie's killer and the killer of Mary Lapsley

are one and the same person,
he couId have read about the book,

as Redpath did, and feared what it might contain.

Something that might jog a memory,
something not made public

and which might point to him as the killer.
Anything.

With aII due respect, sir,

everything he says can apply to Redpath.

Good God, man!
You had him in for the Lapsley killing.

Frederick Redpath did not kill Mary Lapsley!

lf he had, l would have proved it.

That is perhaps the most arrogant statement
l've ever heard from a policeman.

Morse.

You don't think the murderer could have been
someone other than Redpath,

who could also be the Lapsley killer?

lt's possible, yes, sir,
but let's eliminate Redpath first.

Before we open an 1 8-year-old case.

And what about Majors?
He certainly had a motive.

He won't say where he was
at the time of the kiIIing.

DAWSON: That doesn't surprise me.

Why?

Charlie had me look him over
when he hired him.

He had an involvement with a married woman.
She's an artist and Catholic.

Refuses to divorce her husband.
You'll find he was with her at the time.

So, if you've no fundamental objections, Morse...

Not objections, sir.

Reservations.

There was an entire force on that investigation.

Every lead was checked and double-checked.

Except one.

There was an extract from a diary,
supposedly from the killer.

It was dismissed as the work of a crank.

And by Charlie Hillian, as l recall.

That's right. And on good grounds.

Well, then.

Chief lnspector Dawson tells me
he has some doubts about the diary, Morse.

As we've one of our own men in the morgue,
I think we shouId examine every possibiIity.

I'm having copies made
for yourseIf and Sergeant Lewis.

So...

we can meet here tomorrow morning.

? Senza mamma

? Bimbo, tu sei morto

? Le tue Iabbra

? Senza i baci miei

? ScoIoriron

? Fredde, fredde

? E chiudesti

? Bimbo

? GIi occhi beIIi

One sheet of paper.

502 words.

Posted in Reading, June 20th, 1 978.

It arrived here two days Iater.

502 words.

Yet three different typewriters were used,

one of which was not even on the market
at the time of the killing.

So, what can we concIude from that,
assuming it's genuine?

Written at the time of the killing,

typed up Iater to protect the kiIIer's identity.

''l am the killer of Mary Lapsley.''

''May God forgive me
for soon l shall be no more.''

Suicide or terminaI iIIness.

Why bother to conceal his identity?

He says little about the killing. He mostly
goes on about how he's feeling. But look at this.

"In the hut,

I didn't want to hurt her.

She got frightened and started screaming.

Briers' knife came into my hand
and l stabbed her.''

Now Iook at the Iine, "The poIice came today.
They found her Iast night."

I found her the night she was killed.

Yes, so you did.

So, he's given us a chronoIogy,
an important one.

We didn't connect the knife to Briers
until two days after the killing.

So how did the kiIIer know

it was Briers' knife at the time of the murder?

Yes. If it's a fraud, it's no probIem.

He couId have read about it,
heard some gossip even.

But he goes on. ''l think it was all right,
though. Nothing was said.''

Who said nothing? Let's go back a bit.

"There was bIood on her nice cIean dress

and some of it was on me.

l think they believed me, though.''

''l think they believed me, though.''

"Nothing was said."

- Someone knew.
- Someone aIways knows.

This was dismissed as a fraud, sir. Why?

The time span - five years after the killing.

More importantly, the reference
to Mary's nice clean dress.

Three witnesses who saw Mary before she died
all said her dress had been very dirty

- from the day's pIay.
- lt was.

So why bother with it now?

This kiIIer was confused.
He'djust committed a murder.

He didn't even notice he had blood
on his own clothes until later.

lt's just...possibilities, of course.

All the same, l think we should take a look.

Look where, sir? Where do we start?

Well, that's for you to decide, Morse.
You're in charge of the investigation.

And l'm sure...

Chief lnspector Dawson
will give you every assistance.

Where do we start, sir?

How the hell should l know?

Hang on a minute. l'm as unhappy as you are
about being bounced along this road.

But we've got to start somewhere, sir.

Yes, you're right. l'm sorry.

What do you make of it, Lewis?

Well, l think it's a fraud, sir.

l mean, why kill someone,
write about it in a diary,

keep it for five years,
then send it to the police?

Why indeed?

Still, we'd better go through the motions.

With Redpath in hospital,
we'd only be twiddling our thumbs.

Right, sir.

lf it was genuine, we'd want to find out
who knew about the knife, wouldn't we?

- Absolutely.
- l'll look at that.

The mother was dead, remember.

The girl lived with her grandmother.
See if you can trace her.

- lf she's still alive.
- l suppose Dawson could help us there.

No, we'll do it ourselves, Lewis.

The family lived in Fern Street.

- You can start there.
- Small world, sir.

- What?
- Fern Street. That's where Mitchell lives.

The fella that's building the fence for Hillian.

Really? You'll know the way, then.

lnspector.

Miss Redpath. Good of you to come.

What will you have?

Nothing, thanks. lt's a bit early.

So...

What can l do for you, lnspector?

Has your father ever talked to you
about Mary's murder?

A thousand times.

He was always looking for something
that would prove his innocence.

(Turns mower off)

Er, can l help at all?

Yeah, l'm trying to trace a Mrs Lapsley.

She used to Iive on this street.

Mrs LapsIey used to Iive here.
She's in a nursing home now.

The knife that killed Mary. Your father said
he lost it about a year before.

Who could have known it was his?

Any number of a dozen people.

Anglers at the lake often borrowed
each other's equipment.

AIthough...

Well, on the day he lost it,

he went back to look for it.

And he saw two people he knew there.

Across the Iake.

- He waved, they waved back.
- Who?

John Mitchell and his son Terrence.

- Did he tell the police this?
- Of course.

But the Mitchells couldn't remember it.

The Mitchells. Can you tell me about them?

- Thanks again.
- You're welcome.

You should have let him in, Mother.

We can't keep them out for ever.

(Doorbell)
? PUCClNl: Senza Mamma

? Bimbo, tu sei morto...

(Morse turns music down)

(Doorbell)

LEWlS: Where have you been?
l waited at the office for you.

l needed to think.
You're just in time to give me a hand.

Doing what?

Have you had foIk in or something?

No, these are cumulative, Lewis.

So, what's new?

Well, the grandmother's still with us.

She's in a nursing home.

l got the address off the bloke
that's living in her old house.

And guess who's living next door.

The Mitchells.

l went there first.

There was no answer.

l got the impression
there was somebody at home.

So, what about your day?

Redpath claimed that John and Terrence
Mitchell saw him looking for his knife

the day he lost it.

He told Dawson and Hillian.
Now, why didn't Dawson tell us?

Well, it didn't lead to anything at the time.

Probably didn't seem important.

Maybe.

What about the father, John Mitchell?

Walked out on them.

Are we still...going through the motions, sir?

Or do l detect a glimmer of interest?

Dry up, Lewis.

This is cosy.

lt's not your own home, of course,
but they try very hard.

Do you manage to keep in touch
with your old community?

Mrs MitcheII keeps me up to date.
My neighbour from Fern Street.

She tried to look after me while l was there
but it got too much for her.

Mrs Lapsley, after Mary died,

did anyone write or caII
to say that they were the kiIIer?

Naturally not, or l would have told the police.

There was that diary, of course.

But they said that was a fake.

Yes.

ls this Mary and her mother?

Yes.

- May I?
- Go on.

Your daughter was a very handsome woman,
Mrs Lapsley.

Yes.

And Mary favoured her, as you can see.

Who was Mary's father,

Mrs LapsIey?

You're very direct, lnspector.

I had a high regard for my daughter, Inspector.

She reared Mary on her own.

lt took her a year from her illness
to leave this earth.

And even then,
she wouldn't say who the father was.

Did she go on seeing the father
after Mary was born?

As far as l know, she went on seeing him
until she was taken ill.

Can l borrow this photograph, Mrs Lapsley?

l don't see what for.

They never asked for it when Mary was killed.

Why shouId you want it now?

Different policemen have different ideas,
Mrs Lapsley.

Tell me what you see. Stick to the foreground.

Well, there's the mother, child,

picnic basket.

Everything.

The mother's handbag.

A little girl sitting on a jacket.

- A man's jacket?
- What man?

- The father.
- More than likely.

Now, tell me, Lewis...

who are the first people you'd want to interview
in a child murder?

Well, the parents, sir.
Brothers and sisters, if there were any.

And yet HiIIian and Dawson
showed no interest in that photograph.

- Maybe they weren't as observant as we two.
- We three, Lewis.

Mrs Lapsley could see the significance.

That's why she wasn't too keen
on letting us have it.

You don't suspect her of anything, surely?

Only of trying to keep her daughter's secret.

WeII, it's no professionaIjob, that's for sure.

Oh, there on the jacket...inside pocket.

I think it's a taiIor's IabeI.

Yes.

- Can you do anything with it?
- I can try.

How long will it take?

With a bit of Iuck, I shouId be abIe to have
something for you by tomorrow morning.

? Opera plays

(Knock on door)

You wanted to see me?

Oh, yes, yes.

(Turns music off)

l often wonder where l'd be
if l hadn't moved to London.

Sitting there, perhaps.

You can have no regrets, surely?

lt was the right move.

Well, the investigation - is it going well?

l wouldn't say so.

You'll get there, Morse.

You're a good detective.

But a bad poIiceman?

l think so, yes.

The Iaw is our onIy weapon, Morse.

Good poIicemen have no wish
to see it weakened.

l work with what's laid down.

Neutral? You're hardly that, Morse.
Your views are known.

l hope you didn't come here to have a debate,
Chief lnspector.

Redpath's cIaim about the knife,

that the Mitchells saw him looking for it...

Yes?

You never mentioned it.

The Mitchells both said
they couldn't remember it.

I saw Mary's grandmother today.

She gave us a photograph
of Mary sitting on a man's jacket.

She would have been...four years old at the time.

Why didn't you and HiIIian pursue the father?

He wasn't around.

Mary's grandmother says he was.

He saw Mary's mother right up until she fell ill.

Yes, but that was some time before the murder,
as l remember it.

He was obviously a married man.

Suppose his wife had found out about the child?

Suppose she kiIIed her out ofjeaIousy?

Suppose he killed her?
Didn't that occur to you?

Charlie didn't think it was important.

- Why?
- You'd have to ask CharIie that, Morse.

l really can't remember why.

What will you do with the photograph?

l'm getting it blown up.
There's a label on the inside l'd like to see.

Good.

l'd quite like to come along,

if you have no objection.

l'm seeing it in the morning.

Right.

There are two items of interest.

Here at the IapeI.

See? It Iooks Iike a badge of some sort.

Jutting out. Square or oblong.
Then there's the label.

AII I can get are the words "ruths" and "Oxford".

Now, the R in "ruths" is Iower case,

which suggests we're seeing
part of the name. The rest's probably hidden

by the foIds in thejacket

- or the shadow cast by the IittIe girI.
DAWSON: Carruths.

What?

Carruths.

Small tailor, family business in St Giles.

Just the sort of place
to keep a record of measurements.

- What about this badge?
- That's aII you're going to see, I'm afraid.

lt was taken at Blackpool

in 1 969.

How can you tell that?

lt was written on the back of the original.

Are you sure this is the place?

This is where Dawson said.

(Music and chatter)

lt just had to be better as a tailor's.

Oh, l don't know. l think it's quite nice, myself.

Of course, it not being a taiIor's shop any more

rather stitches up our inquiry.

Please, Lewis.

Sorry.

l was thinking,

you know you said Redpath was persecuted
for five years after the murder?

- Yes?
- WeII, it's five years after the murder

that the diary showed up.

Go on.

Well, that's it, really.

This is the last day we'll concern ourselves
with the diary, Lewis,

which gives you tiII tomorrow to come up with
something a bit more enticing than that.

(Knock on door)
- Come in.

Oh, erm...

- Sorry, no-one said you had a visitor.
- Oh, it's all right. You can come in.

This is my friend Mrs Mitchell.

Oh.

You've met my sergeant. Twice, almost.

Yes, well...we were out the second time.

My neighbour told me he'd called.

That's right. He said that he'd called
looking for you, Rose.

But he'd... He gave him the address, so er...

Well, l let it pass.

Well, l suppose l'd better be going.

- So soon?
- l'll be back in a day or two if you need anything.

- Look after yourself.
- And you.

You frightened her, Inspector.

- l'm sorry.
- Oh, it's not your fault.

She's afraid of her own shadow, poor thing.

No wonder, with the life she's had.

Her son was committed
when he was 20, you know.

Some kind of breakdown, they said.

Breakdown!

A prisoner in his own house, the boy was.
And he was knocked about.

- I couId hear it sometimes.
- By his father?

Of course.

Then, after he puts his son in a mental hospital,
he ups and goes,

without so much as a by-your-Ieave.

So, lnspector, why have you come?

Oh, your photograph.

The jacket was tailored in Oxford.
That's all l could find.

But it was him, wasn't it?

Yes.

It was the Iast time Jane, my daughter,
took Mary on hoIiday with her.

Mary was growing up, you see.

Why is it so important to you?

It wasn't at the time.

lt could have been a very great help,
Mrs Lapsley.

You mean it might help catch Mary's murderer?

l can't say that.

But...

it might?

lt might.

WeII, he did give her something that day.

The day that photo was taken,
he gave Mary something.

It's in that IittIe bIack box.

You can open it if you want.

- He gave her this?
- That's right.

You said your daughter took
other holidays, Mrs Lapsley.

Can you remember where?

Not offhand.

I've kept her postcards, though.

May l borrow them?

lf they'll help. And the badge?

l won't need the badge, Mrs Lapsley.

We should have brought some tackle, sir.
This is amazing.

Did you call the neighbour?

As soon as l got your message.

He hasn't spoken to Mrs Mitchell in over a week

and certainly not about my second visit.
She was lying, sir.

l suppose you can get used to most things.

But not that.

Not a kiddy.

No.

John Mitchell

drove his son to a breakdown,

hardly let him out of the house,

and walked out on both of them.

And it aII happened five years after...

..this.

Go on.

Touché, Lewis.

John Mitchell,

1 4 Fern Street, Oxford.

ls that right?

- That's him.
- Right.

Good grief!

How the mighty have fallen.

- What is it?
- According to this,

he served his apprenticeship as a draughtsman,

worked at his trade for 1 6 years,

then gave it up to become a night-shift cleaner.

- Maybe he was sacked.
- Oh, no, it's right here.

''Left voluntarily. Benefit suspended.''

Do you have the name
of the cleaning company?

Cowan's Cleaning Services.

- 270 Finsbury Road.
- Thank you.

Thanks very much.

You're welcome. Have a nice day.

Frank!

Frank's been with us donkey's years.

- Mr Cowan.
- Chief lnspector Morse, Frank Parks.

This is Sergeant Lewis, Frank.

- How do you do?
- They want to know about a John Mitchell.

He used to work for us.

l'm sorry, when did you say, lnspector?

He left 1 3 years ago.

He worked here for four-and-a-half years.

Yeah.

l remember Mitchell.

Can you tell us anything about him, Mr Parks?

l doubt it. He was a quiet bloke.

Kept himseIf apart.

- That's it, reaIIy.
- Why did he leave?

Don't know. Lots of blokes came and went then.

Thank you, Mr Parks.

- Mr Cowan.
- I'm sorry we couIdn't heIp.

You've heIped enough.

Tell me,

- do you operate in Reading?
- No.

Oh, we did then, Mr Cowan. Couple of offices.

It wasn't paying, so your dad puIIed us out.

Thanks again.

lt adds up, sir. lt all adds up.

- What does?
- Mitchell.

The diaries were typed on three machines.
He'd have been surrounded by them.

Posted in Reading. You heard what Parks said.

- Yes.
- Well, wherever he is now,

he's probably still working.

We only have to go back
to the employment people and trace him.

We're going back to the office, Lewis.

But we could trace him.

l said the office!

lf we don't put a trace on Mitchell,
it'll be gross negligence.

You're questioning my judgment, Lewis.
l can't have that.

You what? Are you serious?

You're owed some leave. Am l right?

Yes.

Then I'd Iike you to take it.

Leave? Have you gone mad?
We're getting close.

To the girl's killer, maybe to Hillian's.

You don't know
what you're talking about, Sergeant.

I think I do.

l think John Mitchell did find Redpath's knife.
And he used it to kill the girl.

His famiIy found out and kept quiet.
But for how Iong?

Maybe he could be sure about his wife,
but not the son. That's why he kept him at home.

But he maItreats him.

The Iad winds up in an institution.

A place where Mitchell can't control him,
a place where he might say anything.

So then Mitchell sends this diary to the police,

hoping to make us believe
the killer's dead or dying.

Anything the son says then
can be dismissed as lunatic ravings.

OnIy HiIIian comes out, says the diary's a fraud.

So MitcheII takes off, never to be seen again,

except by Hillian maybe on the night he died.

Well, Mitchell would be a lot more anxious
about Hillian's book than Redpath.

And how long has it taken you
to get there, Lewis?

A couple of days. Since we got the diary.

I don't beIieve this.

Good God.

You... You're jealous, aren't you?

You can't stand the idea of Dawson being right.

He's proved his point about the diary.
You hate it.

- Take your leave, Sergeant.
- No, sir, l'm not taking any leave.

And if you insist,
l'll go in front of Strange with it right now.

So, what about this trace on Mitchell?

Why not take a short cut?

Why not ask his wife where he is?

Sounds fair. When?

Not yet.

(Lewis sighs)

? HAYDN: String quartet

You've done well, Morse. You've done very well.

Not me. You and Sergeant Lewis.

Your conviction about the diary,

Lewis's organisation of the facts.

- You've got yourself a good man there.
- Yes, l think so.

What about Redpath?

Well, it's almost certain he didn't murder the girl,

which makes it seem less likely
that he killed Charlie.

Yes.

His daughter says he was persecuted
for five years following Mary's death.

His visit to Charlie looks as if it had more to do
with safeguarding his new identity

than concealing his guilt.

Then we have cleared an innocent man.
A tremendous achievement, don't you think?

Yes, l do.

- Now, what about the guilty man?
- Mitchell?

l don't know.

l thought his wife might know where he is.

She's protected him all these years.

They may even be in touch.

Why not go and ask her?

That's what the Super says.

And?

Two things, really.

l think it would be fitting if...if you handled it.

And the other?

l don't think l'd know how.

Oxford's gentrified you, Morse. Made you soft.

Police! Open up!

Open up!

Come on, open up!

Open up!

Mrs Mitchell.

What the hell is going on?

Nothing for you to worry about, sir.
Just get back inside.

We know you're in there.

We have to let them in, Mother.
Can't you see? lt's no use.

For God's sake, no. Not if you love me, Terrence.

- They'll go away. You'll see, they'll go.
- We know you're there.

What's he waiting for? Kick it in.

Do it.

Do it, man!

What are you doing?

- You can't do this!
- We've come about the murder of Mary Lapsley.

Mary LapsIey, remember?

1 8 years ago. You remember.

He killed her and you knew about it, didn't you?
Didn't you, you bitch?

You knew about it and you protected him.
Your husband murdered her.

- Yes.
- No, Mother...

- Your husband killed her, didn't he?
- Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!

(Mrs Mitchell sobs)

- You didn't ask her where he is.
- What?

Her husband. You didn't ask her where he is.

TERRENCE: He Ieft us 1 3 years ago.

That's the truth. Now leave her alone.

What's happened here, sir, l just want to say,
l think it's a disgrace. And so will a jury.

What do you know about it?
These are criminals, animals.

l want them arrested, Morse. Both of them.

There'll be time enough for that, Chief lnspector.

It's over, Father.

- lt's over.
- Morse?

The police think they know
who killed Mary Lapsley, Mr Redpath.

lt was John Mitchell.

(Laughs)

Can't you people ever get it right, lnspector?

Go on, Mr Redpath.

What are you saying?

l'm so very sorry.

l've lived every second of that day

over and over,

re-running what I said and to whom,

who said what to me.

There was a doctor called at the library
to return some books.

Two beIonged to John MitcheII.

The books were overdue.

And Mitchell had asked the doctor
to bring them in.

He couldn't do it himself
because he was in bed, ill,

with the same virus
that Barbara and the others had contracted.

The doctor

had just come from Mitchell's house, Morse.

John Mitchell couldn't have killed the girl.

? PUCClNl: ''Senza Mamma'' from Suor Angelica

? Senza Mamma

? Bimbo, tu sei morto

? Le tue Iabbra

? Senza i baci miei

? ScoIoriron

? Fredde, fredde

? E chiudesti

? Bimbo, gIi occhi beIIi...

Chief lnspector Morse.

Am l... Am l going blind
or is it really dark out here?

Mr Majors, l'm sorry, this is very important.

Monumentally so, l hope.

? ..potendo carezzarmi

? Le manine componesti in croce!

? E tu sei morto

? Senza sapere quanto t'amava

? Questa tua mamma!

? Ora che sei un angeIo deI cieIo...

Terrence.

Your father didn't kill Mary, did he?

He was in bed, ill, at the time.

''Her nice clean dress.''

ls that how you remember it?

Yes.

l didn't mean to kill her.

At school, the girls laughed at me.

Thought I was stupid.

l only wanted to touch her.

l wrote it in my diary to remind myself
of the terrible thing l'd done.

Father found it when l went into hospital.

- l didn't mean to kill her.
- And Mr Hillian?

Mr Majors saw you outside when he and HiIIian
were arguing about the book.

l couldn't be sure what was in it.

l knew about his party
and thought that would be my chance.

But there were people there.

l waited.

l could see Mr Hillian was drunk
when they brought him home...

Why did your father beat you?

He tried to protect me.

He took his job
so he could watch me during the day.

At night, it was to be Mother's turn,
but she'd...fall asleep and l'd go out.

lf he found out...

Mother doesn't know about Mr Hillian?

No.

Father was afraid of what l might say in hospital.

So he sent the diary to make
the police think the killer was dead.

That way, it would be all right if l said anything.

He typed it because of my writing.

Well done, Lewis.
Do you know where your father is, Terrence?

He went out one night and never came back.

We thought it had all gotten too much for him.

But he was a good man, lnspector.

- l'm sure he was, Terrence.
- Terrence!

Terrence!

Terrence!

Shit!

(Distant voices)

And they brought young chiIdren to him
that he shouId touch them.

And his discipIes rebuked those
that brought them.

But when Jesus saw it, he was much displeased
and said unto them,

''Suffer the little children to come unto me
and forbid them not,

for of such is the kingdom of God.

I say unto you,

whosoever shaII not receive
the kingdom of God as a IittIe chiId,

he shaII not enter therein."

And he took them up in his arms,

put his hands upon them

and bIessed them.

LEWlS: HeIIo, Mrs Dawson.
Is Chief Inspector Dawson in, pIease?

Sergeant.

Morse.

You look as if something's the matter. ls it?

l'd like to speak to you alone, Chief lnspector.

Er, well...what is it?

Of course you can't speak to him alone.
Whatever for?

- Please, Dawson.
- You heard my wife.

- Lewis.
- Sir...

Go on, Lewis!

We're here to arrest you, sir,

- for the murder of John Mitchell.
- Don't be ridiculous.

You don't have to say anything
unless you wish to do so,

but anything you say may be given in evidence.

Alone, Dawson.

- PIease.
- No, Patrick!

- lt's all right. Get out! Take him with you!
- l don't think so.

You see, in a few days, we cleared up a crime

that an entire police force
couldn't solve 1 8 years ago.

l said you were a good detective, Morse.

lt wasn't detection. lt was the diary.

You knew it was genuine.

You found that out 1 3 years ago.

So you set us up and watched us go.

Second time around, straight to John Mitchell.

You held back about the Mitchells
seeing Redpath look for his knife,

but you knew we'd find out about that
sooner or Iater.

The diary was dismissed by everyone
as a fake, Morse.

Oh, yes. Dismissed by CharIie HiIIian.

By Lewis and me.

But not you.

Because we Iacked your great incentive,
didn't we?

To find the man that killed your daughter.

What are you saying?

Daughter?

Patrick, what is he saying?

Where did you get that?

lt's mine. The one you gave Mary Lapsley
is still with her grandmother.

I was there, remember, at BIackpooI, 1969.

We were both in debates on er...hanging,

- if l recall.
- There were any number of delegates there.

Not all wearing jackets tailored in Oxford.

Mrs Lapsley also has the postcards
her daughter sent from her annual holiday.

The dates and venue correspond
with the Police Federation Conferences.

MRS DAWSON: Oh, God.

A chiId.

You never said she had a child.

lt's not true.

Tell her it's not true.

Tell her Mary's not your daughter.

No.

No.

But it doesn't prove l killed Mitchell.

You wanted us to think twice about Redpath.

You wanted him off the hook.

So you gave us Mitchell.

Then we'd know Redpath was not a killer.

That he went to Charlie Hillian's
to safeguard his new identity,

not because he was guilty of any crime.

Why would l risk so much for Redpath?

Because you persecuted him after Mary died.

For five years.

Until the diary turned up
and you discovered the truth.

You punished an innocent man
and here was a chance for restitution.

- He is innocent, Morse.
- Yes.

And so am l. This whole thing is preposterous.

l wish it were.

John Mitchell did not kill Mary.

lt was his son, Terrence.

And he killed Hillian.

Now, how will you put that right?

No, that...that's silly. You heard her, the mother.

Terrence Mitchell signed a confession
this morning.

But...he admitted it.

He said he did it.

- He told me he did it.
- Who told you?

l had lost the only two people l ever really loved.

I was prepared to marry Jane
but she wouIdn't have it.

She said that it would hurt...

She even forbade me to visit her
when she was ill. Can you imagine that?

When she died,

l consoled myself with Mary.

I'd watch her from a distance,
at schooI, pIaying in the garden.

And then she was taken from me.

Charlie knew about Mary.

But he went up against the diary.

How many times I read it.

Then I remembered the knife.

What if Mitchell had found it?
So l started watching Mitchell.

And I found out about thejob. It aII made sense.

The typewriters, an office cIeaner.

So l decided to confront him with it, to ask him.

And he admitted it straightaway.

He said it was him. He said it was an accident.

The more he spoke, the less l heard.

l thought Mary's killer was sitting next to me.

l thought about what he would get
when he came out - 1 5 or 20 years.

And I couIdn't stand the thought of that.
So I just kept on

beating him until he stopped breathing.

And then l buried him.

He admitted it, Morse.

Why would he do that?

Because he loved his son,
just as you loved your daughter.

She should have been found by me.

Not you.

She shouId have been heId by mejust once.

Not sent to lie on some...

..slab.

She should have been held.

Perhaps she was.

l got it wrong, didn't l?

About the father? That's understandable.

Not about that. You know what l mean.

Oh, you mean about me.

My professional jealousy, my gross negligence.

Yes, l'd say you were some way off the mark.

No need to rub it in.

Checkmate.

l'll never learn.

There's time.

He must have loved them very much.

He did.

lf John Mitchell had been guilty,

would Dawson have been right?

lf you'd asked me that the day
they brought Mary's body home,

l'd have said yes.

But now?

I think I'd Iike to spend
some time aIone, Inspector.

Of course.

l think you could have let her win the chess, sir.

That's the worst kind of deception, Lewis.

That badge of yours.

Why did you keep it?

Vanity, l suppose.

lt was my first public speech.

Did you win?

No. We lost.