All language subtitles for Endeavour - 08x03 - Terminus.ION10.English.C.updated.Addic7ed.com

All right, yes, please, and thank you.

All aboard for the last bus.

That's it, move right along down inside.

- Oh, wait!
- All right, darling, hop on.

- Bleeding brass monkeys.
- Ta for waiting.

Always room for one more on top.

_

_

Yes, please.

Any more for Mrs Moore?

How far are you going, then, love?
All the way, is it?

Chipping Compton, the end of the route.

Turning around here for Oxford.

End of the route!

All passengers alight, please!

You'll be all right a minute?

Call of nature.

Geez...

_

_

_

You'll get frostbite.

Hey?

You're flying tonight.

Come on, then, let's get going.

The body was found by the local beat
man just after 6:00.

Do we know who he was?

Professor Patrick Stanton.

Going by an envelope in his pocket
and the maths papers in his case,

he was a don at Wolsey College.

The wallet's untouched,
so it doesn't look to be a robbery.

There's a bus ticket in his pocket

that says he boarded the 33
at stage two in town.

Does he live out this way?

The beat man doesn't recognise him
as local.

So, visiting someone, maybe.

He'd have to be, wouldn't he?

Bugger all else here,
except for the boneyard.

And it's a bit late for leaving flowers.

We'll see if door to door
gives us anyone who knows him.

Doctor...

What have we got?

Given the temperature overnight,

it's quite difficult to offer a
precise time.

But most likely the time of death
was between 10:00 and midnight.

Cause of death
would appear to be loss of blood...

...as the result of a number of stab
wounds.

I'll be able to say exactly
which have been fatal

after the postmortem.

What's that with his eyes?

Someone's carved a cross into each one.

Some sort of religious nutcase?

Oh...

Do you think, Sergeant?

It struck me as perhaps more clown-like.

I don't think Billy Smart's
will pack in many looking like that.

The kids would run out screaming.

Signs and wonders, Chief Inspector.

Signs and wonders.

Something right up Morse's apse...

...I'd have thought.

Not with you this morning?

No, he's, erm...

...rung in sick.

Ah.

Yes, well, there's a lot of it about
this time of year.

Unless there's anything else,
shall we say two o'clock?

According to the Master of Wolsey,
Professor Stanton was well-liked.

He'd been at the college for six years

and lived alone in North Oxford.

- What about family?
- A sister in Swanage.

Other than that, a single man
without an enemy in the world,

as far as we can make out.

And where's Morse in all of this?

One can generally depend upon him
to contribute something useful.

He's off sick, sir.

He was off sick several days last
month, wasn't he?

- Is he seeing anyone?
- Not that I know, sir.

He's just a bit run down, I expect.

I'm no fool, Thursday. And nor are you.

He's not been himself for quite some
time.

That Venice business, presumably.

He blames himself, sir, for...

Well, for everything, really.

It's nearly a year.

If he can't pull himself out of it...

Wasn't there talk about a transfer
to Kidlington at some stage,

a change of scene,
leave all this behind?

There was, sir, but...

Well, to be honest, I've just got
used to having him around.

We're officers, Thursday.

The men come first, always.

Whatever the personal cost.

Well...

This was a sustained attack.

The majority of the wounds...

Sergeant.

...where to the front and back of the
torso.

The wounds penetrated the aorta,

the descending thoracic
and abdominal areas.

Another, the left ventricle of the
heart.

He really didn't stand a chance of
recovery from either.

Anything on the weapon?

A large single-bladed knife
about eight to 12 inches in length.

Right or left-handed?

The injuries to the eyes aside,

these were stabbing wounds,
rather than slashes.

But more likely right than left.

Doctor.

- So, what have we got there?
- Not much.

Just his work papers, which he looks
to be marking up in red ink.

And an envelope addressed
to Stanton at Wolsey.

Sent the day before yesterday.

How did you make out
at Chipping Compton?

It's a bit of a dead-and-alive hole.

He wasn't known to anyone of the locals.

At least, nobody recognised his name
or description.

So, what was he doing there, then?

Oxford 2831.

May I speak to Mr Thursday?

No. No, he's at work.

This is Mrs Thursday.

Doesn't ring a bell.

We've a ticket that
says he was on your bus.

He may have been.
But I don't remember him.

Many left on board
when you got to Chipping Compton?

One or two maybe.

- Could you describe them?
- The usual, innit?

Business types, academics,
the odd drunk,

courting couples, old people, students.

Anyone else?

I don't watch them
thinking there's going to be a quiz.

- What about you, Mr Peckett?
- I don't see much from the cab.

And it was foggy.

We was crawling all the way back.

We didn't get back till gone two.

Can anyone vouch for you?

One of the mechanics on the night
shift, maybe.

And whoever you've got at home,
presumably.

My mother-in-law don't sleep so good,

so I took her in her tea when
I got home.

What about you, Mr Grant?

No fear. No little scrubber's
got a ball and chain on me yet.

Well, if you run into any passengers
you recognise from last night,

just point them out to DS Strange here.

He'll be travelling with you this
evening.

All right.

All right.

- What do you make to them?
- The driver seems decent enough.

I wouldn't give you
two bob for Quasimodo.

No, me, neither.

Show Stanton's face around
to as many passengers as you can,

see if it jogs any memories.

He was on that bus long enough.
Somebody will have seen him.

Excuse me, gentlemen...

Are either of you a DCI Thursday
from Castle Gate Police Station?

- Yeah, that's me.
- There's a phone call for you.

- DCI Thursday.
- Ah, Thursday.

The Control Room did try to reach
you in the car.

Your wife telephoned.

Asked if you could drop by home.
She said it's of some urgency.

Thank you, sir.

- Win?
- Front room.

What's going on?

He's not hurt,
that's the first thing to say.

- That we know of.
- What do you mean?

It's Sam.

A man called, a Captain Stanhope
from his unit,

his regiment over there.

I wrote it all down.

- He wants to know if we've heard from him.
- He's missing?

Absent without leave, his officer said.

He had an afternoon pass yesterday,
apparently,

and he didn't return to barracks.

They don't know where he is.

Hello, matey.

I wasn't sure we'd see you today.

- Feeling better?
- Yeah, much.

Where's, er...?

- The old man?
- Mm-hm.

Oh, of course, you won't have heard,
will you?

What?

He was last seen in a city bar,
according to his CO.

He may have got involved with a
local girl.

A lot of the lads have, apparently.

But nobody knows who she is.

He might have gone AWOL over her,
but it'd be out of character.

If you need to go out there...

Thank you, sir, but the officer said
I'd just be one more thing

for them to worry about.

Well, you're to take whatever
compassionate leave you need.

Mrs Thursday will want you home, I'm
sure.

Win's got our Joan
looking after her, sir.

I don't think she'd want me
under her feet as well.

I'm better here, to be honest, working.

Whatever you think best, of course.

A couple of passengers have come forward

to help us build a picture
of who else was on the bus.

So far, we've got a business type in
a bowler, moustache, 40s.

A girl, 20s, in a PVC mac
and white go-go boots.

A drunk, medium height, medium
build, clerk type, 30s possibly.

A younger man,
a student type reading a book.

And an elderly woman, retired maybe.

And where was the envelope?

Inside the breast pocket of his jacket.

And there was nothing in it, no
letter or...?

What's there is there, matey.

Not much of a speller, though,
was he, for a don?

Which with a "y".

You're in, then. Feeling better?

- Oh, any news on Sam?
- No. No news.

- What was the matter with you yesterday?
- Just something I ate.

- Maybe you should get a checkup.
- Oh, no, no. I'm much better.

Really. Well, better than this chap.

What's the story with the eyes?

Saw something he shouldn't have, maybe.

Any idea what he was doing at
Chipping Compton

at that time of the night?

No. He has a place in North Oxford,

but nobody we spoke to there
could shed any light.

Well, he must have been meeting someone.

What do the bus crew say?

Not much. They didn't remember him.

Right, so, according to the crime board,

the bus was back at the depot gone two.

- Does that chime with the Bundy clock?
- Which?

Well, there'll be a Bundy clock
here at the terminus.

The conductor turns it with his key
and gets his card punched.

It's to prove the bus was there
when they say it was.

I'd think checking
that would be a priority.

Would you?

Well, funnily enough,
we were a man down yesterday,

which left us short-handed. So...

We did manage to make some headway,
matey.

Even without you there
to oversee our efforts.

We don't need someone coming in wise
after the event

to mark our homework.

No.

I can, erm...

I can go and check Stanton's rooms
at Wolsey

if you think it would help.

Yeah, if you like.

He had a mate killed.

Right beside him.

A fellow from his unit.

A sniper at a checkpoint.

A reprisal for what happened at
Ballymurphy over the summer.

Maybe that knocked him.

It would knock anyone, wouldn't it,
seeing a mate go like that?

Reprisals...
I thought we'd done with all that.

You don't expect it, is all,
not in peacetime.

It was a policing job as much as
anything,

stop one lot killing another lot.

We went in to keep people safe.

That's why Sam was there,
to keep them safe.

Now they're...

I don't understand.

- What did you miss?
- Mm?

Well, besides my sparkling company
and witty repartee...

...it's all in the report.

Yes, yes, yes, I've read the report.

- But I want to hear it from you.
- Not a great deal to tell.

Death by exsanguination

as a result of multiple stab wounds
fore and aft.

Oh, and the crosses carved on his
eyes, of course.

Cheers.

Now, there was one curiosity.

His last meal.

A surfeit of mints, the one with a hole.

Presumably to mask the stink
from a bellyful of five-star brandy.

Maybe he was the soak on the bus.

Strange said the conductor mentioned
there was a drunk,

30s, average height and build.
It could have been him.

Morse, come in.

I was just, er, passing.

- Have you heard?
- Of course.

How's, er...?

And you?

I don't know.

It's silly, I...

I always thought if something
happened, then I would know.

You know, feel it...

...somehow.

He's always been my little brother,
you know.

Like, when we were kids,

if he had a fall or was getting
duffed up in the playground,

I'd know and I'd get to him.

And, yeah, now I can't.

Well, if you need anything.

Well, if there's anything I can do.

Oh, Morse. I thought I heard someone.

Ah, Mrs Thursday, I just...

- I just came by.
- Oh, that's good of you.

We're all right, thank you.

We don't need checking up on.

And if we did...

...it's Fred who should be here
himself, not sending his men round.

- Mum...!
- Oh, no, I wasn't sent,

Mrs Thursday.

No.

Well...

- She's not herself.
- Oh, please, you don't...

Well...

...you know where I am.

Morse...

Keep an eye on Dad.

Of course.

- Thursday.
- It's Strange, sir.

This Bundy clock Morse was asking about.

There was an issue due to the
weather, apparently.

The conductor reported
the hatch was frozen shut.

- On the level, do you think?
- It was a cold night.

Freezing fog and a bit of sleet
earlier in the evening.

It did freeze shut,
according to the bus inspector.

And another dose set for later.

Heavy snow this time,
according to the wireless.

Yeah. I'm going to stick on here.

Show Stanton's face around.

Right.

I'll take it from here, thank you.

_

Just back from Stanton's.

Er, I found a letter which matches
the envelope found on his body.

There's a message on it.

W-S-W-3-M-A?

West south-west something, possibly?

You've four weeks' leave owing.

Mr Bright thinks you should take it
now. And so do I.

Deal with...

...whatever you need to deal with.

The force has people who can help,
if you need it, places you can go.

What, erm...?

What do you mean, places I can go?
Sir, what are you talking about?

Christ...

You want me to spell it out?

I told you, the drink's a good
servant, but a poor master.

I picked your coat up
from where you dropped it.

And this fell out of the pocket.

- What, a bus ticket?
- Look at the route.

Yes, it's...

It's the 33 that I take home from
work sometimes.

Look at the date. It's two nights ago.

It says you boarded at fare stage four.

That's off The Broad.

Your home stop would be Broadwood
Avenue, wouldn't it?

- That's fare stage 19.
- Mm-hm.

The bottom number gives a running total

of all the tickets sold that day.

Your number's 4,493.

Patrick Stanton's...

...is 4,479.

He boarded at fare stage two.

You were on the same bus
as the murder victim

and you didn't say anything.

If you hadn't been so drunk,
we'd have a credible witness.

Excuse me?

Excuse me?

- Yes, mate?
- Did you just say Green Lane?

Next stop. I ride a motorbike, myself.

Excuse me,
have we passed Broadwood Avenue?

Unless the driver's changed the
route, yes, mate.

You don't remember, do you?

You're the drunk on the bus
that we've been looking for!

You've grazed yourself.

- Those stairs are slippy.
- I know.

Bad enough in the dry. But when
they're wet, they're murder.

- Will you be all right?
- Oh, yeah, fine. Thank you.

My old man was a devil for the drink.

It's what did for him in the end.

I'd hate to see you go the same way.

You're young. You're smart.

Break the habit, before it breaks you.

He was wearing cufflinks.

Stanton. Erm...

Silver...

...cufflinks.

With some kind of a number on them.

- Cufflinks?
- Yeah, I've...

I've just remembered it.

There's a place down in Sussex
run by a fella called Wain.

A kind of health farm.

Very discrete. He'll see you right.

There's no shame in needing help.

I don't need help.

As you like. But I'm signing you off
all the same.

I've got enough on my plate with...

Take the four weeks, or don't come back.

I can't use you in this shape.

So far, we've got a girl,
20s, in a PVC mac

and white go-go boots.

Good evening and welcome,
ladies and gentlemen. Come aboard.

That's it.

- Chipping Compton, is it?
- Yep.

I remember you from the other night.
I never forget a pretty face.

- Someone there to meet you, is there?
- Yes, my boyfriend.

Is he?

Well, I hope he's got a nice, warm car.

Cos you don't want to be out there
in all that cold and snow

freezing your little you-know-what
off, do you?

Is everyone all right?

I think so.

My head.

You'd better let me take a look at that.

It's perfectly all right, I'm a
doctor. My name is Nicholls.

There, now.

Does anyone have a lighter?

Thank you.

No, no, it looks worse than it is.

Head wounds always bleed very heavily.

Just watch out for concussion.

If you feel giddy or sick,
let me know, yes?

- Is anyone else hurt?
- No.

I've got a broken heart.
You can fix that if you like.

Now, now...

Everybody all right?

Your conductor's taken a bit of a knock.

But everyone else seems to be faring OK.

How about the passengers downstairs?

Everybody came up for the warmth.

- Driver, what happened?
- Black ice, sir.

I tried to hold her,
but she wouldn't respond.

We're stuck in a snowdrift,
and the engine's conked out.

Can you fix it?

I'm a driver, not a mechanic.

- Someone will have to go for help.
- Volunteering, are you, squire?

No, I'm not. He's the driver.
His first duty is to the passengers.

My first duty is to the Oxford &
District Bus Corporation.

- That means this vehicle.
- Well, someone will need to go.

After you, then, Captain Oates!

Look, arguing isn't going to help
anything.

Is it?

Where are we?

The next stop would've been
for Narracott Halt,

for the station there.

- What's that, about a mile away?
- Nearer two.

But you can't go out there, chief.
Not in this weather.

You wouldn't get 200 yards.

So, the last stop was Tafferton
Park, is that right?

What of it?

Well, nothing.

Just we can't be far from
Tafferton Park Hotel.

- I used to work there as a waitress.
- Tafferton Park?

Didn't it close down after that...

- ...business?
- What business?

The Loomis case. An escaped lunatic
gate-crashed a fancy dress do.

- Killed a whole load of people.
- Grisly affair, as I recall.

Well, there might be a phone there.

After all this time, the wires will
have been cut, surely.

Well, it's got to be better than
sitting here,

catching our death of cold.

We should stay with the bus.
Somebody'll come out.

- I say, put it to a vote.
- We're not in Athens now.

Vote all you like.

But this is my bus
and I'm staying with her.

And if you've all got any sense,
you'll do the same thing.

Well, I'd say that rather settles it.

Are you sure you know the way from here?

I recognise the lamp-post. It's not far.

- Here, you'd better have this.
- Well, you lead, we'll follow.

Still here, Thursday?

Thought you'd have been away long since.

Just, er...

...waiting on Strange, sir.

He's on the 33.

Oh...

Well, perhaps...

Perhaps I'll wait with you.
Unless you've any objection.

None, sir.

But he could be some time.
The weather looks to have set in.

You might be better getting home
while you can.

I find there's less cause to hurry
back these days.

Supper for one and The World About Us.

My table talk was hardly scintillating

when there was someone there to hear it.

Now, I imagine, it's rather less so.

And certainly one-sided.

I'll be glad of your company, then, sir.

- I don't suppose there's any...?
- Of Sam?

Er, no, sir. No. Not yet.

Well, that's something, perhaps.

Yes, sir, that's something.

We're nearly there!

I told you it was a waste of time.

Look, give me the torch
and I'll go round the side.

Thank you.

Do you see that? Nobody listens to me.

Come in, come in.

- Come on.
- Well done.

- Strewth...
- Now, there's no electricity.

But do you know if there's an
emergency generator, Miss...?

Travers, Linda.

I think there is a generator block
among the cabins.

- Can you show me?
- Of course, if you like.

Right, I'll get a fire lit.

What about the phone?

That's what we've come here for, innit?

It's dead.

I told you we should've
stayed with the bus.

We're in the dry, that's something.

There should be a box of candles
somewhere.

We'd put a few out of an evening
for the guests.

Mr Churchyard said it made things cosy.

- Who's Mr Churchyard?
- Er, he was the manager.

Perhaps we should introduce ourselves.

I really can't see there's any call
for needless familiarity.

Get you!

If we're going to be
here any length of time.

Hopefully, we won't be.

I can't imagine we'll be sending
each other Christmas cards.

Ah...

It's all right, lady, I don't mind.

I have manners, even if others ain't.

Norbert Hobbs.
But my friends, they call me Nobby.

Mrs Bruce-Potter.

Post Mistress, retired.

- And what do you do?
- It's like the Queen Mum.

And what do you do?

A bit of this, a bit of that.
Jack of all trades, you might say.

What a man of mystery you are, Mr Hobbs.

I'm Richard Blake.

My friends call me Richie.
I'm a student.

Mrs Watson, Elsie.

Percy Walsh. I'm also retired.

Previously with the Exam Board.

Linda Travers, shop assistant.

I'm John Peckett.

And this is my conductor Les.

Very well, if you must know,
my name is Yeager.

Lawrence Yeager. And I'm a solicitor.

Morse.

Just Morse?

That's right.

It's settling.

They said it would.

He'll come home, Mum.

Oh, I know he will.

I know.

There should be more in the stores.

- I can have a look, if you like.
- I'll come with you.

There might be some painkillers
that I can give to our conductor.

Or we can go together in a moment.

Then Miss Travers might show us
where the generator block is.

So, this is where it all happened.

- All what happened?
- The massacre. The Loomis boy.

- Oh, I've never heard of him.
- Posh boy, wasn't he?

Some private school or other.
He went off his head

and tried to do for one of the
teachers. So they put him away.

Yeah, Strangmoor he ended up,
Headington Hill.

A year later, Loomis and another
prisoner escaped from a van

taking them back to hospital from court.

Loomis made his way here, killed a guest

and went round in the dead man's
fancy dress

murdering anyone that took his eye.

You seem to know a lot about it.

I read a book on it
by a fella called Fitzowen.

I don't think it's something to
dwell on this evening.

We've got to do something to pass
the time.

Might as well be a story round the
campfire.

- God, my head!
- Maybe you should lie down, Les, huh?

What became of him, Loomis?

He was caught and sent back to
Strangmoor, I believe.

He was. Only, before the case came
to trial, he killed himself.

That's a horrible story.

And I don't know why anyone would
want to tell it here and now.

Miss Travers was a waitress here,
weren't you?

For all we know,
it happened during her time.

Right, which way's the bar?

Presumably, there is one.

If I might suggest we all stay
together for the moment.

What, in case the bogeyman gets us?

Miss Travers, after you.

Mind your step.

- When were you last here?
- Oh, a long time ago.

I only did six months or something.

If I remember, this should be it.

The place is like the Marie Celeste.

As if whoever was here
had just stepped out for a minute.

How long did you say it'd been closed?

Erm, eight years it must be now.

February '63.

Is that when you were here?

It's not really something I like to
talk about.

No, of course not.

I'm sorry.
That was thoughtless of me to ask.

Here they are.

There's not many left, but they
should last us if we're careful.

If you give me a light...

...I'll find my own way back

if you want to push on
and see about the generator.

Hm...

- Right, which way?
- To the right.

Bingo...!

Oh, lovely.

- Are you all right?
- Yeah.

So, have you any idea
how this thing works?

Not really.

Well, how difficult can it be?

I'm sure she wasn't being rude,
Dr Nicholls, earlier.

No, I know. It's only natural people
are curious.

But they wouldn't be
if they'd been here.

Yeah, I'm sure.

I was 14.

My mum and dad let me do a little
bit of waitressing for pocket money.

We didn't really know what was going
on for a while.

People just disappeared.
One of the guests, a waitress.

You just thought they were off
enjoying themselves somewhere.

But he'd got them.
Even poor Mr Churchyard.

And then the police were here and...

...they got him.

The place closed down that night
and never reopened.

Well...

...who'd want to come here?

Gruesome business, Thursday.

Something about it rings a bell, sir.

But I'm damned if I know what it is.

An old case, perhaps?

If it is, it wasn't one of mine.

You're back early.

The service has been cancelled
due to the snow.

- All quiet, Sergeant?
- Dead as, sir.

I rode the outbound 33
out to the terminus,

stayed aboard,
and came all the way back again.

At least the late's been cancelled.
Saved you the bother of changing.

No late service, maybe.
But there was a 33 still running.

Morse was on it.

Morse was?

He's on leave as of this afternoon.

Well, he was there, sir.

I don't think he saw me.

But I saw him.

Maybe he was just catching the bus
home, like a civilian.

- It goes by his way, doesn't it?
- It does, sir.

In any event, he's left his car in
the yard.

Perhaps he didn't fancy his chances
behind the wheel in this weather.

And I can't say as I blame him.

No, sir.

Well, if all your strays are
gathered in, Thursday,

- I might cut along home.
- Yes, sir.

I'll just give the case another pipeful.

I wouldn't leave it too late, sir.
The roads are getting pretty bad.

And the wireless says this is set
to go through till morning at least.

Mind how you go.

Do you want to give it a try?

Ah!

You were on the 33 bus, weren't you,
the night before last? So was I.

Yeah, I was meeting my boyfriend
at Chipping Compton.

He lives in Henley,
but he drives up to meet me halfway.

Did you hear about that chap
that was found dead?

- It was in all the papers.
- Yeah, I read about it.

Did you see him on the bus?

I don't know. I might have done
if I knew what he looked like.

But when you got off at Chipping
Compton you didn't see him?

I fell asleep.

And when I woke up, the bus was empty.

It was only the conductor shouting
for "all change"

that brought me round.

- Shall we get back to the others?
- Yes, let's.

Any luck?

Oh, I say, well done.

Where's everyone else?

The conductor wasn't feeling very well.

Bang on his head, I suppose.
The driver took him upstairs

to see if there was somewhere
he could lie down.

That's more like it.

No, no, there's someone else.
Erm, Mr Hobbs.

He went to find the bar.

Oh...

So, you got the lights working, then.

- How's your conductor?
- Not too good.

Him have a bad headache.
But I settled him down.

The fella not back with the drinks yet?

No. No, not yet.

Someone's carved crosses on his eyes.

Signs and wonders, Chief Inspector.

Signs and wonders.

Miss Frazil, DCI Thursday.

I wonder if I could pick your brains.

It's about an old County case,
eight years ago.

A rather disturbed young man
called Warren Loomis.

Stop.

What do you mean, he's not there?

Well, there's a broken bottle on the
floor behind the bar...

...and fresh blood on the mirror.

So, him drop a bottle.

Maybe he cut himself and went to
clean up.

Or maybe he thought better of
staying here and went for help.

That's unlikely, I would have
thought, without his overcoat.

I can help you find him,
if you're worried.

No, I can manage, thank you.

Please, all just try to stay together.

At least until I return.

Well, he's a funny so-and-so, isn't he?

- Highly-strung, I would have said.
- He's a drunk.

What, you couldn't smell it on him?

You can't go round saying things
like that about people.

There was a broken bottle, wasn't there?

He's a drunkard. I'm telling you.

My conductor knew him straight off.

He was on the bus two nights back.

Didn't even know what day of the
week it was, let alone his stop.

She knows.
You must have seen him. Tell them.

Oh, I don't remember, really.

He took a stumble down the stairs
getting off.

- Any sign?
- Er, no.

No, not yet.

Probably just having a bit of an
explore, er...

...wouldn't you think?

Perhaps.

Cowley Bus Depot.
Driver Faradoon speaking.

Has the last 33 out running
returned to the depot?

No, sir. We've had reports
the roads around Chipping Compton

are impassable, so she might be a while.

If she gets back at all.

What are the passengers meant to do?

They'll just have to sit tight
and wait it out.

Was there anything else, sir?

If that 33 comes back,

could you get word to Detective
Chief Inspector Thursday

at Castle Gate?

Certainly.

- Goodnight, then, sir.
- Goodnight.

Regular run for you, is it,
the 33 route?

No, not particularly.

You?

I was coming out to Haddonfield
to visit an old pal.

Oh, yes?

You don't think something
really has happened to him, do you?

I don't know.

So, what's your line, Mr Morse?

I'm a civil servant.

- Oh, yes?
- Mm-hm.

What department?

I only ask because quite a few of my
boys went into the Civil Service.

Your boys?

Oh, my former pupils.

I was a teacher before the Exam Board.

Coldwater.

Netherbridge. Gunderby.

Oh, there you are.

- Did you find him yet?
- No. No, not yet.

What are you up to?

I left my refreshment on the bus.

I can't go through to the morning
without no food in my belly.

And I thought Les might want something.

But I'll be damned if I can find an
opener.

Well, I think you should... I think
you should go back to the hall.

Look...

...I don't mean to disrespect
a passenger, huh?

But you mind your business...

...and I will mind mine. All right?

I just meant until we find Mr Hobbs.

I think you should be careful,
that's all.

Of what, now?

There was a passenger murdered off
the 33 bus,

wasn't there, the night before last?

- Your bus.
- Uh-huh, yes.

The same bus
you were drunk as a lord on.

So, if anyone wants to be careful,
I would say it's you.

This Hobbs has probably gone back
into town for all we know.

And you carrying on like he's murdered!

What are you trying to do
to my passengers, huh?

Are you trying to scare them half to
death?

I never wanted him to go in the Army.

That's all your talk.

Giving him ideas.

"The war this, the war that."

- Winny...
- He shouldn't be out there.

What's it his business with these
people?

I mean, who are they to us anyway?

He should be home, here!

- Win...
- No!

If anything's happened to him,
you're responsible.

Not them.

They don't know any better.

I wonder if any of you do!

Do you like Hawkwind?

I don't know.

- What's that?
- They're a band.

I saw them in the summer
at this festival down in Somerset.

- They've just got a new album out.
- Oh.

Any luck?

- No, I'm afraid not.
- Nope, nothing.

Excuse me.

Hey, man, I'm not sure
you should be doing that.

That's a man's private things.

The damned cheek.

Ah...

Dad...

It's not only Sam, is it?

Jim Strange saw Morse on the 33
earlier this evening.

It's, er, not got back to the depot.

- What with the weather and...
- You're not worried, are you?

He's not been right.

- He came by earlier.
- Who, Morse?

This afternoon.

Just to see if there was anything
he could do.

Your mum never said.

She's not herself.

Thank you.

Miss Frazil. You know our daughter Joan.

Of course. Hello.

Er, would you like a cup of tea?

Oh, erm...

I fancy Miss Frazil
would sooner something stronger.

- Whisky do you?
- Always. Thank you.

How are you?

Really, there's no need
for you to come out...

...in weather like this.
A phone call would have done.

I'm rather afraid it wouldn't.

Does anyone play cards?

We could kill an hour or two

with bridge or canasta
if anyone fancied it.

Do you have any cards?

No, but...

I mean, it's a hotel, isn't it?

They must have cards.

They keep all the cards and games
in the library bar.

I can fetch a pack, if you like.

It might take our minds off the
situation.

- I don't think you should go.
- It's all right.

I know my way around.

I'll be back before you know it.

Well, if we're stretching our legs,
where did you say the ladies was?

You saw the letter that drunken
busybody Morse pulled out.

What do you think's happened?

To Hobbs? I haven't the faintest.

But if you're asking me to put my
shirt on it, which you rather are,

I'd say somebody's got it in for us.

- Wouldn't you?
- All of us, you mean?

All of us who are left.

I'll watch your back if you watch mine.

But herkos odonton, hm?

Mind if I join you?

Er, snooker isn't really a game for
three, Mr Blake.

I'm happy to watch.

As may be.

But one might not be happy to be
watched.

You might put Mr Yeager off his
stroke. And that would never do.

Bugger you, then.

I wondered where you'd got to.

- Are you all right?
- Mm-hm.

What do you, er...?
What do you make of this?

I don't know.

I suppose it looks rather like
a tallyman's account book

or that of a debt collector.

Though I would expect to see a
list of monies owed,

and that's not there.

Why? What am I meant to make of it?

I don't know.
It's what I found in Mr Hobbs' coat.

Yes, well, you should probably
replace it, shouldn't you?

I doubt it has any bearing
on his whereabouts.

And I can't think he'll thank you
for rifling his pockets.

Besides...

...it's not done to take things
that don't belong to one.

Didn't your mother ever tell you that?

Oh, God...

You really are in a bad way, aren't you?

So, looking at contemporary accounts,

it seems that, on the night in question,

Warren Loomis and another patient,
Flavian Creech,

were being brought back

from respective committal hearings
to Strangmoor

when the vehicle they were
travelling in went off the road.

Creech?

- That's, erm...
- The Beast of Belgravia.

AKA The Devourer,
self-styled Apostle Of Hell.

Murderer, necrophile and alleged
cannibal.

- Good to his mother, no doubt.
- He kept her head in a hat box.

The psychiatrist who first examined him

described Creech as the most
dangerous man he'd ever met.

A creature wholly without conscience.

I remember.

"The epitome of evil,"
wasn't that the phrase?

Yet, he clearly had a liking
for the Loomis boy

and took him under his wing
at Strangmoor.

Did they engineer the crash, you
think, or was that just bad luck?

Never established.

Weather was poor, much like tonight.

February '63, the Big Freeze. Icy roads.

It's a wonder any of the party guests

managed to get to Tafferton Park at all.

In hindsight, I imagine they rather
wished they hadn't.

Any luck?

With Hobbs? No. No, not yet.

He's done a bunk. I told you.

Probably didn't fancy spending
the rest of the night in this khazi.

Oh...

I say!

That's Johnny Divine, isn't it?

His eyes! His eyes!

- What's happened to his eyes?!
- Oh, my God!

You're safe here. You're all right.

- It's going to be all right.
- It's not all right, though, is it?

What the hell are
you telling her that for?!

Control yourself.

Don't give me bloody orders!
You've no authority here, Mr Morse!

Detective Sergeant Morse, Thames Valley.

Well, if you're a policeman,

why didn't you say anything before now?

Because I was hoping that I wouldn't
have to.

What is going on?

- Mr Hobbs has been killed.
- Killed?

He's in the ballroom with his throat cut

and crosses carved into his face
where his eyes should be!

His eyes!

It's like what happened to Mr
Churchyard. That night with Loomis,

that's what he did!

Loomis is dead, though, isn't he?
He died. He killed himself.

So, either there's some lunatic

creeping around the hotel that we
don't know about,

or whoever did that...

- You can't mean it's one of us.
- It stands to reason, doesn't it?

I'm...

I'm going to look at the generator.

I suggest you all stay within sight
of each other until I return.

What if something happens to you?
Why should you take the risk?

He's a policeman.
It's what he's paid for, right?

Yes, that's right,
it's what I'm paid for, Mr Yeager.

_

How is she, Doctor?

Out cold.

She's had a terrible shock, Mr Blake.

Sleep and rest is the best thing for
her.

Anybody coming with me to check on Les?

I can, if you like.

No, no, don't worry, Mrs Bruce-Potter.

I should see how his head's doing.

But, erm, I'd be glad if you'd keep
an eye on Miss Travers.

- Of course.
- I'll keep you company.

The three of us, then...

...for safety.

- Is he upstairs?
- Yes, follow me.

If you all think I'm going to sit here

waiting to be picked off by
this bloody madman,

you've got another thing coming.

Morse said we should stick together.

I don't need anybody's permission
to defend myself.

If somebody wants to come for me...

...they'll get more than they
bargained for.

I'm going to find Sergeant Morse.

Er...

You're leaving?

I'll send back help.

For everyone.

I'm sure none of us want to be here
any more than you, Mrs Watson.

But in this weather,
you'll catch your death.

I'll take my chances.

I can't stay here.

Right, this way.

It wasn't locked when I checked on him.

Les?

It's John. Open the door.

Maybe he's taken a turn for the
worse. You'll have to put it in.

I can't do that. It's private property.

Les!

Can you hear me?

Open the door!

Thank heavens.

Perhaps we should wait for the
police officer,

if something's happened.

I'm just a retired teacher.

I don't have the authority for
something like this.

Sergeant Morse should be here.

Where is everybody?

What were they doing leaving the
girl alone? For God's sake...!

Is this all of you?

Er, looks that way.

Miss Travers...

- What's going on?
- It's all right.

You fell asleep.
You've had a nasty shock.

- I want to go home.
- We need to see about Les.

We just went to check on him,
but his door was locked.

I could stay with her,
if you can go with Mr Peckett.

No, we'll all go together. All of us.

As County pieced it together,
the first victim that night

was a guest named Roland Parker,
who was found dead in his room.

And it was Parker's fancy dress outfit

which Loomis put on to move freely
amongst the other guests.

Where the hell has he gone?

He must've gone out of the window.

He was in no fit shape for that,
hey, Doc?

You saw the state of him.

He'd had a bang on the head, Mr
Peckett. That was all.

Well, something has happened.
I am telling you.

So, what do you think you're looking
at with Stanton?

Someone emulating Loomis' handiwork.

It's odd, though, isn't it?

Of all the victims at Tafferton Park
that night...

...only Churchyard
had crosses carved onto his eyes.

What are you thinking?

Could Creech have been there with
Loomis, do you think?

No reply from Morse's.

But according to the operator,

the snow's brought down cables
all over town.

Jim's going to look in on his place
to see if he's back.

Right.

- Mr Blake?
- Are you all right?

- Oh, my God!
- Are you OK?

Fetch the blankets!

Get him by the fire, we must get him
warmed through.

- He's frozen half to death.
- Right, come on, this way.

I went to find you.

- I lost my way.
- Me?

I didn't think I was going to get back.

I waved. Didn't you see me?

I saw one of you.

- I thought you'd come out after me.
- Sit down.

You didn't recognise who it was?

It was just a shadow in the snow.

Well, fingers crossed,
they'll find their own way back.

And if not,
then we can send out a search party.

Er, Dr Nicholls, we should let him
settle,

then you and I go and examine
Mr Hobbs' body.

- All right?
- Yes.

- Thanks for coming.
- I'm not sure I've been any help.

If you want to get to the bottom of
this,

there's only one person left alive

who knows what truly happened
at Tafferton Park.

And that's Flavian Creech.

- Goodnight.
- Goodnight.

I have to see a patient
at Strangmoor Hospital.

It's urgent.

Who's this for?

Morse?

It's Sam you should be out there
looking for.

That's who you should "have to",
your own.

Our son.

My son! Not somebody else's!

Why aren't you over there?

I'll tell you why.
Because you're a coward!

That's why.

- If anything's happened to him...
- Mum, don't say that.

You keep out of this! I'll say what
I please in my own house.

And I will thank you not to take sides!

I'm not one of those women at work
that you think you can talk down to.

You think you know it all with your
books

and your courses and your clever ideas.

And where did that get you? Leamington!

- Don't. Please...
- What does that mean?

Never mind what it means!

You weren't so bloody clever there,
were you?

No.

I'm your mother, and you will give
me the respect that I'm due!

Well, go if you're going.

And if you are going,
don't bother coming back.

Because I'm sick of the sight of you!

She doesn't mean it.

Yeah, she does.

And she's right.

Doing nothing.

Bearing it.
That takes a different kind of guts.

But I'm no good at sitting and
waiting, never have been.

If I could do something to help find
Sam...

Of course you would.
She knows that. We all know that.

I'd tear the world down
to bring him home safe.

Give it my last breath.

But I can't.
There's nothing I can do. Nothing.

And that...

But if I can't fix the one thing...

...I've got to fix the other.

You know how I am.

Sam's always taken after your mum.

Slow to anger and quick to forgive.

But you and me, we're...

I know.

What happened out at Chipping
Compton the other night?

I'm not interested in any petty rule
breaking with the Bundy clock, say.

But if there's anything which has a
bearing on what's happening here...

He's got a woman.

Les.

Her old man works away in the week.
So...

...while I'm having my break, Les is...

I turn a blind eye for him, that is all.

Mm. How long was he gone?

Half an hour.

- 45 minutes.
- Well...

...there's no great mystery
as to the cause of death.

Someone cut his throat.

Most likely from behind.

The injuries to his eyes,
and I'm no pathologist,

but I'd say they were inflicted
postmortem.

What about his pockets?

Well, at least we know now
what the book was about.

He's not a tallyman or a debt collector.

He's an agent for Zennons Football
Pools.

The street names and numbers
must have been his rounds.

The address on the envelope
in his jacket pocket.

Isis House, Abingdon Lane.
That's a probation hostel.

Perhaps he was in prison.

Oh, hello...

There is something else.

A cufflink. Engraved. Number 37.

What about his other pocket?

Oh, good heavens.

22.

Do you think we should cover him?
Use a tablecloth or something.

Just...

Just lay it over him.

Walsh...

"When the hurly-burly's done..."

I killed a policeman once.

He came asking for a missing boy I'd
been...

...enjoying.

Door to door.

Why do coppers call it that?

Do you all secretly aspire
to be commercial travellers?

Knock-knock-knocking on suburban
housewives' doors with your...

...with your little sample cases...

...filled with shoes or brassieres or...

...soap, whatever it may be.

I had a sample case.

But I didn't keep
bits of vacuum cleaners in it.

No.

You kept bits of people in it.

There's somebody just gone up the steps.

What?

- Didn't either of you see it?
- No.

Did you hear that?

It's...

It's bells.

Fetch the others.

Come quick! You've got to come!
He's seen someone!

- Who has?
- Mr Walsh.

I should've gone after him,
but I don't feel so good.

What did you see?

I don't know. It was Walsh that saw it.

He went upstairs.

- Which way did he go?
- Left.

He went left.

That was taken yesterday morning.

A man carved up with crosses for eyes.

Exactly the same as one of Warren
Loomis' victims at Tafferton Park.

Yeah, not just any man.

Hobbs is out on parole, then, eh?

Who's Hobbs?

- The least of them.
- The least of who?

All I can tell you is that
you can expect three more of them.

If it hasn't happened already.

I shouldn't think they'll let the
grass grow.

- Who wouldn't?
- The furies.

Three goddesses of vengeance,
who punished uncold criminals.

Ah...

Warren.

My poor, little, rich boy.

A scholarship boy is what he was.

I've read the case files.

Loomis wasn't rich.

Yes, he was.

Or he should have been.

That's what they really put him away
for.

Who did?

- Who him put away?
- There were four of them.

And Churchyard.

Argh!

Who did this?

Yeager, what happened?

What happened?

Jim...

Come in.

I did try to get you on the blower,
but the lines must be down.

I went by Morse's but the place
is in darkness

and he's not answering the door.

I wouldn't fret.

He usually lands butter side up.

So...

...how is everyone?

And more to the point...

...how are you?

I'm..

I'm sorry.

- I'm sorry, I'm just...
- Hey...

Hey, now.

I've got you.

It's all right.

I've got you, don't worry.

There now.

There, there.

It'll all be all right.

I've got you.

Someone should see
if Sergeant Morse is all right.

- I'll go.
- No, no. You'd better wait here.

Mr Blake and Miss Travers are in no
fit state to defend themselves.

And I'll be careful. Believe me.

Here...

You'd better knock this back.

It'll warm you right through.

- You've got to get out of here, now.
- What's going on?

I don't know. It's something do with
the Loomis case.

At the masquerade?

No, it wasn't just a masquerade,
it was a school reunion.

You think Loomis came here seeking
revenge

on the boys who had bullied him?

His classmates, no.
But the old boys, maybe.

Look, I don't know. But I just know
whatever Loomis started in '63,

someone's come here now
to help him finish it.

You were there that night
at Tafferton Park.

Well...

...what can I say?
Many hands make light work.

What were the eyes about?
A religious thing?

No, just crosses.

What did you see him as, Loomis?

A kind of apprentice?

Er...

A disciple.

But he didn't have the nerve for it,
did he?

That's why he stopped at Churchyard.

If Loomis did for Churchyard at all.

Warren had a great head for figures...

...before they burned it out of him.

But no stomach for...

...wet work.

Huh?

They were all at Tafferton Park for
the do.

Of course they were, hm?

The big night they'd all been
waiting for.

Yeah, the payoff.

So...

...it fell to me to put things right
for him.

The manager was easy to find
cos he was in his office, but...

...I didn't know what the others
looked like and...

Well, I got...

...distracted.

Tell me about his family.

Please.

The colour supplement sent a snapper
to capture "Life In The Nuthatch".

Our headshrinker was very taken
with the results, as you can see.

I'm not allowed into the gardens.

But Warren had visitors that day.

It's the picture on the right.
He had a sister.

Their grandmother brought her
every weekend.

I think Nanna was a bit camera shy.

Is he out?

Cold.

Get to the road and just keep going.

When you get to the first house
call the police.

Go! Go!

Stop! Stop!

Here, get in, get in.

More fares?

Any more fares?

Any more fares?

Move right along down inside.

Each side.

Next stop.

That's it...

- All right?
- Yes, please, thank you!

- You're safe now. I'm a police officer.
- Room for one more on top.

You're safe, all right?

- You'd better let me tend to him.
- Move along.

Oh, Dr Nicholls.

DCI Thursday, Doctor. Thames Valley.

It's all right.

There's a woman in my car
that needs attending to as well.

You wouldn't, by any chance,
have seen my sergeant?

Your concern for your friend's very,
erm...

...touching.

But it'd help if you were in the
right safe.

That's the safe for the hotel guests.

The manager's personal safe
is behind that painting there.

What the hell are you talking about?

You know what I'm talking about.

As did Yeager here.

And Hobbs and Stanton.

Now, my guess...

...is that it's something to do with
Loomis

and whatever's hidden in that safe
these past eight years.

What?

You can either tell me now,
or you can tell them.

But I'm the only one standing here
between them doing to you

what they've done
to the rest of your little cabal.

Oh, what little cabal?

Actually, it's WYCH cabal, isn't it?

W-Y-C-H.

That's what was written
on the back of the envelope

inviting Stanton to Chipping Compton.

I assume he thought the letter came
from you.

One of who?

W-Y-C-H.

Walsh, Yeager, Churchyard, Hobbs.

Now, considering Churchyard is dead,
that little cabal.

Why would he think the invitation
came from us?

The code...

...WSW3MA?

All right, I was stumped at first.

But I saw your names on the seating
plan.

"House Cawdor.

"WSW3MA?"

"When shall we three meet again?"

For Stanton,
it was the terminus of the 33 bus.

The last bus of the night.

I know that because I was on it
and I saw him.

Now, there are two people
still alive in this hotel

who where also on the bus.

End of the route!
All passengers alight, please!

You'll be all right a minute?

Call of nature.

Oh, gosh, are you all right?

- Urgh!
- Let's get him off the path.

My invitation to take the 33 to
Haddonfield arrived this morning.

And I thought it had come from him

and that we were to speak
about Stanton's death when we met.

I suppose he thought his invitation
came from you or Hobbs.

But why didn't you sit by each other
on the bus?

Never acknowledge one another in public.

Those were the rules.

At first, I thought it must be
some kind of macabre coincidence

that we'd all ended up here
in this bloody hotel.

No, I don't think it's a coincidence.

I think whoever sent those invitations

never intended for you
to get to Haddonfield.

I think the hotel
was always the intended terminus.

Now, look, if you want to get out of
here alive,

I suggest you come with me, now.

So, what is it with these cufflinks?

Look, I know the who and how of it,
I just need the why of it.

I don't know what you mean.

If I've got some bargaining power,
I might be able to save your skin.

Stanton had ten numbers on a
blackboard in his room.

Since then, I've seen six of those
numbers on three sets of cufflinks.

First, on Stanton.

Second, in Churchyard's desk.

Third, in Hobbs' pockets.

Presumably, the final pairs
belong to you and Yeager.

So, tell me, what does it mean?

I thought you were a detective,
Sergeant Morse.

Haven't you figured it out yet?

The numbers on the cufflinks
mark each man out

as a member of a football Pools
syndicate.

Er, eight from ten.

The most popular Pools bet.

You put a cross on the coupon
next to the ten football fixtures

and hope at least eight
result in a score draw.

Five men, two numbers each.

- Presumably, the winning line.
- Mm.

There was a Pools coupon
in Stanton's room.

One of the winners
was a Mr C from Oxford.

Churchyard presumably.

Not so fast, Walsh.

We go together.

Go on, Sergeant. You're so close.

So, what Churchyard has locked in
his safe these past eight years

is a cash prize from a win on the Pools.

Bravo!

Only, to prevent any one person

being able to make off with all the
winnings,

Stanton devised a double-blind system

that broke up the combination
among the syndicate.

It could only be opened
when the five of us were together.

- Stanton said it was foolproof.
- I'm sure it would have been,

had Churchyard not been killed.

What he knew went with him to his death

and prevented anyone else
from gaining access to the money.

They might have been able to work it
out if they'd shared what they knew.

But avarice breeds mistrust.

Hobbs wasn't going to confide his part

while they were at liberty and
he wasn't.

- He was in prison?
- Eight years. Fraud.

The rest of them didn't know how
to blow a safe

without destroying its contents.

So, where did Loomis fit in to this?

My grandson...

...was born with a gift, Sergeant.

An almost supernatural ability
to see patterns in random data sets.

Sets of data? Such as what?

Such as several seasons' worth
of football results.

You mean, he came up with a method
of predicting the Pools?

He said the numbers danced for him.

He demonstrated his gift to a
schoolmaster.

I thought it was a joke.

I mean,
we'd been doing the Pools for years.

And the idea that a boy
could have better luck...

Oh, you must have thought you were
on to your own rocking horse winner.

Except, it wouldn't do for a teacher
to be found out enriching himself

at the expense of a pupil.

Which is where Churchyard came in.

He put the Pools coupon in under
his own name

on behalf of the syndicate
so that Warren wouldn't realise

that he'd been betrayed by Walsh
and the rest.

Or so they thought.

The first we knew of any of it...

...was when the school rang
to say Warren had attacked Walsh

in some violent and psychotic fit
and been sent to Strangmoor.

It was his word against a teacher.

Meanwhile, the money had already
been claimed by Churchyard, so...

...there was no way to connect it to
Walsh or the rest of them.

A year they let the money cool in
the safe, a year,

waiting for the fuss to blow over.

While Warren was dismissed as a
disturbed and violent fantasist.

But Linda found a coded message...

...between Churchyard and the rest of
them in his office...

...pertaining to the reunion.

That's when they were meant
to divvy up the spoils.

- Only, my brother got to them first.
- So...

...that's why you carved crosses
on Stanton eyes

and the rest of them. You were
following your brother's example.

Well, I'm afraid I'm going to have
to deny you your last pair.

We don't want to hurt you,
Sergeant Morse.

It's him we want.

What does a bus driver have to do
with this, Mr Peckett?

He was an orderly at Strangmoor.

DCI Thursday, Thames Valley.

I've just come from talking to
Creech there now.

Warren told me his story at the
time, but I didn't believe him.

After he killed himself,
it didn't sit easy with me.

So I looked up the family, they
convinced me of the truth of it.

I don't suppose 190,000 quid came
into it.

We'd no hope of that money, sir,

even though it was the family's by
right.

- This was about justice.
- Justice?

But Walsh and the rest stole from
Warren. They didn't kill him.

They may not have held the blade
that slashed his wrists...

...but they killed my grandson
just as surely as if they had.

So, what now?

Still want to get away with it?
You'll have to do us all in.

Right, get these three and the
costume into a Maria now!

Come on!

You heard the DCI. Fall to!

Get a car for this one.

- On what charge?
- I'll think of something.

We'll need an ambulance for Mr Blake
here.

Is there any news?

On Sam?

No, sir.

No, not yet.

Right.

Could you, er, brief Mr Bright this
once?

I...

I've got to get back to the family.

Yes. Yes, of course.

Sir...

I will take those four weeks.

If the offer's still there.

As long as you need.

It's beginning to thaw.

The sun always comes up.

Just got to hold on for it
a bit longer sometimes...

...is all.