All language subtitles for Murder.On.The.Home.Front.2013.1080p.BluRay.x264-BRMP-English.bs

LONDON

LONDON
1940

The term autopsy actually derives
from the ancient Greek autopsia,

meaning to see for oneself.

Julius Caesar's proved it
was the second stab wound,

the one to the heart,
that killed him.

Making it highly unlikely
he had time to say: 'Et tu Brute?'

Not that anybody really cares.

But there you are.

If it's useful, it's yours.
Free gratis, as they say.

Do you want some pie?
I'll never finish it.

Bloody Germans.
Who invited them?

And these Anderson shelters
are so damp and smelly.

I live just round the corner.

Ships that pass in the night?

Let's be having you!

Chop chop!

Women and children first.

Get into the shelter
as soon as you can.

We'll leave them to it, shall we?

Get into the shelter
as soon as you can.

I don't even know your name.

- Lennox.
- Jane.

What's that?

Oh, him.

That's just, um... Alfred.

Where are you going?
There's a raid on.

I'll take my chances.

I've got a bottle of beer in the...
cupboard.

Oi! Get to the shelter
unless you wanna get blown to pieces.

Dr. Collins?

DI Freddy Wilkins.
I've been calling.

We've got a murder.
Boarding house in Kennington.

Come on.

I hope I didn't
interrupt your evening.

Professor Stephens wasn't available.

Not in the least.
I've been hoping for a decent murder.

I haven't got close
to a crime scene yet.

Well, there's nothing natural about
this girl's death, I can assure you.

Landlady's called Clayton.

The usual lot, shop girls,
servicemen, some theatricals.

Lodger by the name of Ziegler
found the body.

Evening.

She's all yours.

Time of death would be a good start.

The onset of rigor mortis
is variable.

So I can only give you a window
in which death occurred.

Professor Stephens
always gives a definite time.

Well, I'm not as
experienced as he is.

So my opinion will have to be
based on fact, not intuition.

Do we have a name?

Mary Williams.

Umm,
Let's establish a common approach.

Nobody should walk
across this floor.

No, it's all right.

We don't mind a little
bit of blood on our shoes.

I'm protecting the crime scene,
not your brogues.

And uh, could I have that sandwich bagged.
I'll need to examine it.

No need, Sir.
That's mine, that is.

This is a crime scene,
not a Lyon's tea shop.

Brady, go and clear the stairs
or something, will you?

I'll go.

Right you lot, down the stairs,

come on, Sir! That's the way.
There you go.

Keep going.
Keep moving.

This is a crime scene.

Excuse me, Miss.

D'you mind? I just need
to get to my room.

I need to change my stockings.

I'm sorry but...

Look! They've laddered
right to the top.

On you go.
Yeah, fine.

Right,
everybody else down the stairs,

thank you very much.

Rigor mortis in the small muscles
of the right lower jaw.

Elbow stiffening.

I'd say she's been dead
between four and six hours.

Don't touch that, please.

It may have been used
to strangle her.

Don't upset yourself, Mr. Ziegler.

It must have been awful
finding her like that.

I'll get you a cuppa.

It's always good
to calm your nerves.

Sshhh...

There appears to be
some damage to the tongue.

Bloody Nora.

And you are?

I live upstairs.

- Mrs. Clayton?
- Yes?

Who is this young lady?

Isn't she with you?

Right. Out! Go on.
Get out of it!

Go on! Get out!

Collect all trace evidence.

Makeup, hair brush, clothes,
pillow cases, everything.

Hang on, Hang on.

Professor Stephens doesn't
ask for all these things?

Well, he should.

- Are you the Pathologist?
- Yes.

Mind if I ask you
a few questions?

Yes.

My editor'll give me
a right bollocking

if I don't get a half decent story.

One quote from you
and I'm saved.

Sorry, I'm not the only one
trying to make a good impression.

Now, go on, please.

Most girls I know would've passed
out at the sight of that corpse.

You didn't bat an eyelid.

Always had a strong
constitution, me.

True Crime.
Get it every week.

That's what I really want to do.

Write crime stories.

Guy's Hospital!
Quick as you like.

Get in then.

We're a bit shorthanded,

apparently there's a war on.

Can't say I noticed.

Well, It's the mortuary
assistant's wedding anniversary.

- So you'll have to do.
- Do what?

Your name again?

Molly, Molly Cooper.
From the South London Gazette.

Trouble is Miss Cooper,

nobody really wants
to work in a morgue.

But the war's given us
a unique opportunity

to expand our medical knowledge.

Horrible as it is.

You do have typing and
shorthand, don't you?

- Why?
- You'll need them.

Just a few questions!

The victim?
What was the nature of her injuries?

You can see for yourself.

Type up my notes as we go along.

Erm, use that.

- Your notes? I'm here to...
- Hurry up, I haven't got all night.

Right,
ready?

Caucasian,

female,

late twenties,

brunette.

Blue eyes,

no birthmarks on the anterior aspect.

Small mole on the left shoulder.

There's a subcutaneous bruise to the neck
possibly caused by a thumb.

And a strange odour
which I can't place.

Tongue.

Tongue.

Cross resembling a Swastika
incised on the dorsal aspect.

There is a stamp.
Ink.

The letter 'M'.
Right hand.

Been dancing then, has she?

Excuse me?

The stamp.
They do that to prove you've paid.

She must have been
up the West End.

The Masquerade,
The Morocco, one of them.

Bleeding minimal,

gravity is the only thing
moving the blood at this point.

Victim was well accustomed
to sexual intercourse.

You can't talk about the
poor girl like that.

She has external signs of venereal
disease and chronic liver damage.

Even so, she was out most nights
with freshly painted nails and

traces of previous dance hall
stamps on her hand.

Mary Williams was a good time girl.

Corpse can tell you a lot
if you know how to listen.

Night then.

Thanks for the interview.

I'll see you tomorrow morning.
Nine sharp.

You will? why?

I'm going to need an assistant

with good typing and
shorthand and

no objection to blood and guts.
You fit the bill.

I've already got a job.

Thanks.

I'll match your current wages
out of my own pocket.

Come on, Miss Cooper.

I'm going to be at the heart
of every important

investigation in London and
you'll be there with me.

Can't think of a better
education for a crime writer.

Can you?

I won't be coming
into work today,

or tomorrow for that matter.

I know it's short notice,

but I've decided to
become a land girl.

I'm off to the country. Bye.

Ahh.

You must be the new girl?

Charlie Maxton,
the mortuary assistant.

Take this across to the photography
department, would you?

Of course.

- What's in it?
- Mary Williams's tongue.

Best not to get too attached
to the stiffs, miss.

Just put it anywhere you like.

- And you are?
- I'm Dr. Collins's new assistant.

Bit of advice,
don't wear anything you cherish to work.

Blood, innards, the dread brains.
That's all I'm saying.

Use this,
then throw it in the bin.

Thanks.

What happened to her?

Husband bludgeoned her to death
with an axe handle

and then claimed it
was bomb damage.

How horrible.

Almost as horrible as the decor.

What was she thinking?
And the saucepans were reeking.

It seems odd to chuck people
in jail for bad morals

but not for being
physically dirty.

Personally, give me a clean prostitute
over a dirty housewife any day.

The swine will probably get
off on the grounds his wife

was a filthy so-and-so
with no taste.

I'm joking.

It helps in this job.

I hope they hang the bugger.

I'm Issy by the way.

I should buy you a
drink after work.

It would be rude not too.

'There are three waves
in an investigation.

The first is the study
of the clues.

The second
is the study of the crime.

The third wave,
is the study of the psyche.'

The suspects patterns
of behaviour

need to be taken
into consideration.

We need to share information
with other departments.

Psychology for instance.

We can help each other...

Working solely with the police is the most
affective way of securing convictions.

Too many mistakes are
still being made.

With all due respect.

I fear the only mistake
I've made recently,

is appointing you to
the teaching staff.

You're only here because the war
has taken our best men.

Nobody in this department publishes
an article without my approval.

You remember that.

And smarten yourself up.
You look like a vagrant.

That sounds like Professor

He likes to be cock of the walk.

Y'see his opinion
is taken as being indisputable.

They say he can tell
the cause of death

just by smelling a corpse.
Ugh!

There's not much about killing
he doesn't know.

His evidence has sent many a man
to the gallows, Miss Cooper.

The voice box fractured.

Blood clot on the upper horn.

Pressure was applied to the throat
like this while the victim was alive.

- Not the scarf, then?
- No, manual.

Scarf wouldn't have
caused a fracture.

The pressure was sustained,

blocking the upper airway,

causing the victim to
asphyxiate quickly.

Indentation of the thumb
indicates with the right hand.

Lie on the floor, please.

Trauma to the left
abdominal flank

suggests somebody knelt on her,

using the left hand to

carve the Swastika into
her tongue like so.

Thank you, Miss Cooper.

Only one thing
doesn't make sense.

You wouldn't use a knife with
your weaker hand, would you?

Could be ambidextrous?

My cousin Alfred is.
He can write with both hands.

Thick as a plank though.

Crimes like this aren't usually
committed in pairs so it's possible.

Exactly, who's ever heard of
Jack and Jill the Ripper?

Word is she had a different man
back every night.

The other tenants heard voices
coming from the kitchen,

but nobody actually saw
the man she was with.

He was in the kitchen?

In that case, I want to go back to
Mrs. Clayton's boarding house right now.

Why?

Locard's Exchange Principle.

The most important factor in
the development of forensic science.

Exchange of evidence.

If the killer was in
that kitchen with her,

he'll have left a little
piece of himself behind.

Even a fibre from his coat
may help identify him.

I'd be happier with a witness.

Oh, this is much better than
a witness, Inspector Wilkins.

Physical evidence
cannot perjure itself,

it cannot be wholly absent.

You too, Miss Cooper.
Quick as you like.

Looks like a 250 pounder,
what d'you think?

Oh, bugger.

That's Wilfred Ziegler.
The one who found the body.

Landlady said he was always
pestering the girls.

Mr. Ziegler?

Everything's gone,

everything.

Can we have a word about
Mary Williams?

I warned her.

I told her, 'Stop seeing those men.
They don't respect you.'

But she wouldn't listen.

Are these yours?

I collect them.

They're artistic.

Just out of interest,
how did you come by the name Ziegler?

- My father was German.
- Hm.

But I was born here.

What d'you make of that?

'I warned her'?
Practically a confession.

I wouldn't say that.
Seems to me, he liked her.

- I wasn't asking you.
- I wouldn't jump to conclusions, Inspector.

He's left handed,
it's unlikely he strangled her.

And if the killer was ambidextrous,
like she said?

She's got a name, y'know.

Well, I think we can assume
we've found the kitchen?

Although preserving the crime scene
might be a bit tricky.

Well, I think I know what
the 'M' stands for.

Metropol.

That makes sense.

It's a nightclub in town,
mostly a young crowd.

Mary William's last port of
call by the looks of it.

It's dated the night she died.

Why would he incriminate himself?

His name is Ziegler

and there was a swastika
carved on the tongue.

Lots of people with German names.
Doesn't mean they're fascists.

If he was,
he'd have been interned by now.

I'm going to check out the Metropol.
See what I can find.

Mind if I tag along?

Ladies and Gentleman,

Mr. Ken 'Snakehips' Johnson.

Got a light?

I don't want to ruin your night but
have you ever seen the lungs of a smoker?

Disgusting,
swollen and blacked with tar.

A simple yes or no
would have been fine.

You don't happen
to have a light, do you?

Now that's what I call a gentleman!

Hello darling.

Bloody singles night apparently!

Nobody wants to come forward.

They're all worried
their wives or husbands

will know they've been out
painting the town red.

We don't even know
if she met her killer here.

I don't follow.
You want to know what soap we use?

It has a very distinctive smell.

That's because it's scraps.

Mixed into a bar.

- Like the government said we should.
- Which kinds?

We use whatever we have.

Pilot and Sunlight.

And to be honest,

I like the smell.

Thank you.

The killer washed his hands here,
I'm positive.

- Brady!
- Guv?

I want to see everyone in the building
who was here last night.

- Everyone!
- Hm

Now!

Consider it done.

Ooh, You look Ritzy.

Sorry I'm late.

Bloody Nazis bombed our crime scene.

I've had enough of this
blitz, haven't you?

It's completely ruining
my social life.

They even set up a makeshift morgue
at the back of my house.

As if I don't get
enough of it at work.

Of course, a bomb hits it
and there's arms and legs

and god knows what else all
over my mother's azaleas.

Said she'll never
eat red meat again.

- How are you settling in?
- So far, so good.

My worry is how will we ever find
a husband stinking of dead people?

I don't want a husband.
I want excitement.

In a morgue?

I want to be at
every crime scene,

every autopsy,
every trial.

I can get some great
ideas for stories.

I want to be a writer, y'see.

In the meantime,

we've been rationed long enough,

let's live a little.

Madam, I'll be two minutes,
all right?

Well, most seem to have
a convincing alibi.

Brady's going to check them out.

But...

there are three that cannot
prove their whereabouts

for the time Mary
Williams was murdered.

Danny Hastings.
He owns the place.

He's got a criminal record
from a few years back.

She was seen dancing
with that soldier.

Private Norman Beckett.

He claims to have gone
on to another club

but he can't remember
what it was called.

And this chap.
Our final suspect.

Pawel Rosanski.

Polish emigre.
Lives nearby.

Comes here most nights.

He left early and went home.
Alone.

He studied at
the University in Warsaw,

escaped through France.
Now works in a munitions factory.

I had no choice.
I had to leave.

They were killing
intelligentsia.

They will do the same here
when they invade.

I can assure you Mr. Rosanski,

they will not find it so easy
to conquer Britain as they did Poland.

May I see your hands?

They don't look like you work
in a munitions factory?

I scrub them.

I'm not so used to the dirt,
to being a robotnik.

So, what was your relationship
with the deceased?

My relationship?

I like to have a chat
with the customers.

But I don't remember
anybody called Mary.

And you were here asleep,
in the back room all night?

My lodgings were hit.
So this is home for the time being.

It's safer down here
than Churchill's bunker.

Do you mind if I ask...
Not that I'm being cheeky or nothing...

But why would I want to
bump off my own customers?

And you claim to have never
spoken to Mary Williams?

I spoke to lots of girls.

What's so special about her?

And where did you go
after you left this other club?

Straight back to the barracks.

We can't all be in a
reserved occupation, can we?

Somebody's got to
do the fighting.

- Did anyone see you come in?
- They were fast asleep.

Now if you don't mind,
I'm sorry this girl got herself done in,

but I've got a drink out there.

So what d'you make of that lot?

Rosanski wears his watch
on the left wrist

and Hastings has tar stains
on the right fingers.

So both probably right handed.

- And Beckett?
- Beckett's a cocky bugger.

Her name is Iris Radcliffe.

She recently had a baby.

Eh?

Green ration book
for pregnant women

and nursing mothers only.

Good time?

Can't remember much about it.

What did mine do again?

Gunner, I think.

Of course he was.

I always go a bit Khaki Whacky
with the hooch in me.

Could do without Freddy
being so grumpy.

My brain's gone AWOL.

That smell again.

And the tongue's been mutilated.

A Nazi Strangler?

Miss,

I'd be grateful if you kept
your opinions to yourself.

It's talk like that will make
women hysterical

as soon as somebody looks
at them the wrong way.

People are jumpy
enough as it is.

Put that down.

If you have to pick something up,
use rubber gloves.

It's a crime scene
not a bloody church fete.

Guv!

There you go,
make yourself at home.

No...

- What you looking at?
- Iris Radcliffe's tongue.

From the relative
absence of bleeding and

the lack of any inflammation, I'd say
the tongue was cut after death.

Hmm.

It was the same with Mary Williams.
He must have

come back to cut the Swastika.

How was the Cafe De Paris last night?
Busy?

Who says I was at
the Cafe De Paris?

Well, you were dancing cheek to cheek somewhere?
You've got...

stubble rash and you smell
of Charter House aftershave.

Lipstick on your neck, your own,
somebody was getting pretty amorous.

Cafe De Paris seems like
the most likely spot

as you don't have a stamp on your hand

and it's one of the few
places that doesn't use them.

If you're so interested,
I'll take you along next time.

Two left feet.

Anyway, I'd prefer to have you
at your best in the morning.

And I'd prefer if you'd keep your
exchange principles for the stiffs.

Look what I found
on the bandstand.

Jigger button from a
double-breasted suit.

Not only that...

Human hair, dyed black.
Not the victim's.

We should be able to trace the dye.

So if you match that hair to one of our suspects,
you've got your man?

Not quite.

Hair's not as good as a fingerprint.
But could narrow things down.

So if Freddy finds a suspect
with a double-breasted suit

missing an inside button,
who dyes his hair.

Then...

The basement everybody.
Chop, chop!

Could all staff

Have you noticed he wears
the same thing to work every day?

Charlie thinks it's the
only one he's got.

And look at the state of it?
Hardly the swankiest.

When I die I'm coming
back as a man.

- It is so much easier.
- Isn't it?

I mean, it's not as if he isn't

attractive or brilliant
or anything,

but imagine the pillow talk,

all murder and mayhem.
And who'd really want that?

Really?

You don't wonder what effect
all that cutting up has on the cutter upper?

This is Mr. Carver
of Home Intelligence.

And Mr. Granger,
one of his investigators.

He's interested in
the double murder you're working on.

Home Intelligence?

We've been set up by
the Ministry of Information

to report on the
state of morale.

I see.

The public are nervous, Dr. Collins.
They see Fifth Columnists everywhere.

We'd like to make sure this case
doesn't get too much publicity

and comes to a conclusion
as quickly as possible.

Inspector Wilkins seems to
think he's got his man.

Half German, probably a Nazi.

He leaves a Swastika
on the victim's tongue.

The Swastika isn't only a symbol
of Nazi Germany, off course.

It's widely used in
Hinduism, Buddhism.

It can be traced back to Ancient India
and found in Roman mosaics.

But we're not at war with
the Roman Empire, Dr. Collins.

Your job is to support the police.
Not impose your own theories.

We need this man locked up.

He'll be executed, Professor,
not just locked up.

So?

We're just sending faulty goods
back to the manufacturer, aren't we?

Surely you can find some proof
that this man Ziegler

was in that girl's
room that night?

Unfortunately, the girl's boarding
house has been destroyed in a raid.

So any transfer of evidence
that may have happened is been lost.

Transfer of evidence?
Enlighten me?

Well, for example,

that cigarette butt that your
colleague Mr. Granger stubbed out,

could prove that
he was here this afternoon.

Fingerprints, I presume?

There may not be a clean print.

Because it's his brand?

No.
Pall Mall's common enough.

He means we might be able
to tell his blood group

from his saliva depending on
whether he was a secretor or no.

Not only that, Professor.
It'll have traces of hair tonic on it,

the same tonic Mr. Grainger
uses every morning.

It that may just be
enough to sway a jury.

Hmm.

Keep me informed
of your progress.

If you don't mind?

Probable cause of death
is strangulation.

Small purple subcutaneous bruise

on the right side of the neck,
and four small ones on the left

suggests a right handed attacker.

Rigor mortis was advanced.

She died within hours
of Mary Williams.

Two in one night?

I take it Ziegler
hasn't confessed?

Not yet.
We're going to hold him a little longer.

I'll need hair samples from him,
Beckett, Hastings and, erm...

Rosanski.

That won't be possible
just yet, I'm afraid.

Beckett's been reported
Absent Without Leave.

Little bit suspicious,
don't you think?

I'll let you know
when we find him.

Oh!

Some of those papers you wanted.

An innocent man could
hang for this.

It wouldn't be the first time.

♫ I hear you knockin'
but you can't come in ♫

♫ I know you've been drinking gin ♫

♫ You been cheating
round with other men ♫

♫ I'm busy and you can't come in... ♫

- Recognise any of them?
- Can't see any sign of Rosanski.

But that's Hastings, I'm sure.

Follow me.

Try not to say too much,
you'll stick out like a sore thumb.

- Good evening. What can I get you?

Would you like one?

Don't mind if I do.

Haven't seen you here before.

First time.

You one of them
women coppers then?

I take that as an insult.

My Uncle Fred's in Pentonville for
something he never done.

No offence.

Just that the 'old bill'
have been all over the place

since that poor cow was done in.

You're forgiven.
I'm Molly, that's Isobel.

I'm Danny.

D'you fancy a dance?

Private Norman Beckett to see you.

He was found in an opium den in Soho.
Regular apparently.

Light, Charlie.

Greenish hue in
the right iliac fossa.

That would take at least
two days to appear.

He must have died just
after we questioned him.

Overdose?

It's rare to die
from smoking opium,

but if he's injected
a derivative, which

I think he has,
then it's possible.

Still think he's our main suspect?

This doesn't mean
he didn't kill those women.

If nobody claims the body,
I'd like to keep it.

Research into the affects
of drug addiction.

What are you smiling for?

I'm just wondering what
you're doing here?

We don't always get
the best sorts, y'know.

I can look after myself.

My aunt Queenie's got a
punch like a docker.

Well, as your aunt
Queenie's not here,

I'll have to walk you home.

It's a bomber's moon
and no mistake.

Still you ought to carry a
torch when you are out.

The Dilly's ain't
safe these days.

With troop ships in and out,
you gotta watch.

They're using the blackout
to rape and murder,

and it's nothing nobody
can do about it.

It's the taxis I'm more worried about.

They're bloody lethal.

To be honest, some people are doing
very nicely out this bleeding mess.

It's not a bleeding mess,
it's a war against Fascism.

Well, my old man died in the last one.
Didn't do me much good.

And all I was left with
was a whore of a mother.

That's no way to
talk about your mum.

You didn't know her.

She was from Malaya.

My old man met her when he went out
there to work in the tin mines.

Tiny little thing.
But what a temper.

Beat me black and blue, she did.

I can make the rest of the way
on my own.

Are you sure?

Sorry.
I didn't mean to go on like that.

It's all right.

I was wondering, umm.

D'you think we could
see each other again?

It's 'Ladies night'
on a Tuesday.

Drinks are half price?

Maybe.

But like I say,
I'm fine from here.

I'll see you then.

Oh, you can tell your friend Isobel
she can stop following us now.

Good night, ladies.

Very nice too sweetheart,
thank you.

Come on, grab what you can.
We ain't got long.

Blimey! What the...

Come on,
quicker.

Let's get out of it!

So I've been thinking, Guv...

somebody might have put
her here deliberately

hoping we'll think she
was killed in the raid.

I don't think so.

See what else you can find.

OK, Guv.

I spoke to Danny Hastings last night.

- You what?
- I wanted to get under his skin.

Like you said in your article
'Three waves'.

The third is the psyche.

That was irresponsible
and dangerous.

Well done.

His mother beat him
black and blue, apparently.

Seen this, Dr. Collins?

This girl. I saw her the night
we were at the Metropol.

Swastika?

Yes.
And the lack of bleeding suggests

the tongue was cut after death.

The wound to the temple area, though,

appears to be ante mortem.

Our killer may have got
some of that blood on him.

Time of death?

Vaguely.

I'd say about 48 hours ago.

That's when we were in Hyde Park.

That's after Beckett died,
but before we picked up Ziegler.

Guv!

When will you lot learn?
Put it down.

- This is a crime scene.
- Yes, I know.

It's not the victim's,
she's still got hers.

That could belong to our killer.

Specks of blood on the visor.

Let's get it back to the lab.

Hopefully, we'll find
some saliva on it.

And if it matches Ziegler's,
that'll be the nail in his coffin.

Don't you find it strange
he keeps dropping these cards about?

Excuse me!

Excuse me!

A young woman was attacked
round here last night.

- Did you see anything?
- Maybe.

But we can't talk here.

I was with a regular.

In the alley behind
the department store.

That's where we usually go.

And I saw he had stains
on his jacket,

so I says to him,
'What's that then?'

And he says a man
came out the dark

with blood on his hands and
ran straight into him.

This regular, what's his name?

My customers hear I'm bandying
their names about, I'll lose trade.

Not to mention the 'old bill'.

I can't go to prison,
I wouldn't last a week in there.

We'll keep you out of it,
I promise.

Well?

I'm not a charity, you know.

This is just for information, right?
You sure you don't want

anything else?

No, information's fine.
Thanks.

He doesn't give a name.

He doesn't have too.
He's famous.

Ronald Terry.

Now, he won't want people
to know that he's a queer.

He'd be finished
playing the hero then,

wouldn't he?

My darling, don't cry.

It won't be forever.

I'll be back soon,
I promise.

Dry your tears, and remember,

we're young,

we have the rest of our lives
ahead of us.

Good grief.
I hope this isn't a wild goose chase.

I wouldn't know, Inspector.
That's your department.

Ssh.

Not even this damned war.

Dear heart, these men have been
in my eye line through the entire scene!

What on earth are they doing here?

You must understand, I didn't
come forward about what I saw

because there wasn't
much to tell.

Mr. Terry, importuning means prison.

With all due respect,
you're protecting yourself.

The police aren't
interested in you.

Are they, Inspector?

Three young women have been murdered.

The man you bumped into
may have killed them.

He could kill again.

You need to tell the police
what you saw.

If I give evidence,
my career will be over.

This man you saw,
what was he wearing?

Does this jog your memory?

Did he have a limp?

I honestly can't remember.

Could you pick him out
in an identity parade?

I'm not sure.

Mr. Terry, you were seen in
the vicinity of the crime

covered in the victim's blood.

You're not only a witness,
you're a possible suspect.

If not this man,

it must have been you.

I suggest you take another look.

Perhaps.
It could be.

Do you have somewhere I can examine
the jacket you wore that night?

For this to work
I need total darkness.

Turn the light out.

- How did you do that?
- Luminol.

It reacts with iron
stored in red blood cells.

I guess Terry needs to get himself a
better laundry service, doesn't he?

Turn the light on.

Jigger button's still there

but it's new,

sewn with a different thread.

Well, what do you know.

I could see what you were doing.
You intimidated him.

He'll say anything to
save his own skin.

And at last, we have a witness.

He's a suspect too.
You just said it yourself.

I said what needed to be said.

I'm charging Ziegler,
that's an end to it.

- You can't.
- I'm sorry?

Terry replaced a jigger
button on this suit.

He lost one, we found one.

If the blood on this
is the same as the victim's...

No murders have been committed since
Ziegler was taken into custody.

If I release him
he'll kill again

and I can't live with that.

Wilfred Ziegler, I'm charging you

Iris Radcliffe and Wilma Grey.

Do you wish to say anything
in answer to the charge?

You are not obliged to say
anything unless you wish to do so,

but whatever you say will
be taken down in writing.

Charlie?

Looters.

Someone must
have left a window open.

The gas mask?

The one we found at
the bombed department store.

Sweet dreams.

Well, if he's acting now,
he's bloody good!

Leave it.

I need that towel.

Slight swelling to the right side
of the head.

Traces of stage make-up

on the right ear lobe and
the upper right neck.

Wounds to the left
and right wrists,

severing the arteries.

But there don't look to be
any hesitation marks.

Hm, note that the front of
the victim's shoes are scuffed.

A man like Terry would never go out
with scuffed shoes.

And er... Pall Mall.

Could be useful.

Thank you, Miss Cooper.

Well,

dust the knife for prints.
You may be looking at murder.

You're not serious.

There's very little blood
around the sink.

If that's where he cut his wrists,
there should be.

Somebody knocked him out,

dragged him into that room,
and cut his wrists.

You have to ask yourself
Who and why?

The Nazi strangler.
Because Terry could identify him.

In fact that the Nazi Strangler
He is in a cell under arrest!

Wilfred Ziegler is not
the only suspect.

Hastings and Rosanski
do not have proper alibis either.

Dr. Collins,
this is pure speculation.

Terry killed himself.

I'm telling you

He was wonderful in London Cavalcade,
wasn't he?

My good lady wife
always wanted his autograph.

Could be tricky.

What was that one with Flora Robson
called again?

That gas mask hasn't turned up,
has it?

No, that wasn't it.

Good Queen Bess!

Marvellous, that was.

I'm talking about the gas mask
they found near Wilma Grey.

The girl found
at the department store.

Oh, that.

No,
definitely gone, Miss Molly.

Blood patterns
depend on numerous factors.

The size of the knife,

force used.

I'm aware of that.

But those aren't the only
signs of a suspicious death.

Because his shoes were scuffed?!
Morning!

Morning, Professor.

I see nothing to suggest
he died anywhere

but the theatre by his own hand.

Save your skills
for a more deserving victim.

I don't understand.

The man was a pervert.

As far as I'm concerned,
he got just he deserved.

What if this is linked
to the Ziegler case?

Terry was a suspect.

A witness at very least.

He could have been killed to
stop him giving evidence.

Look, our department has bomb blast
victims piling up in the corridors.

Now you do your job!
You deal with them!

As I thought.
Mr. Terry couldn't have done it.

Arthritis of the hands.
Limited use of the fingers.

Couldn't have strangled a kitten.

Hastings smokes Pall Mall.
He gave me one in the Metropol.

- You're very sure it's him.
- Aren't you?

And Rosanski?

Hastings knows the girls at the club.

They trust him.

Dr. Collins, Miss Er...

Er... My office. Now, please.

Not you, darling.
You can stay put.

Well, it was only a matter of time
before the story leaked.

Was it?
Why?

These women have
family and friends.

And your secretary was,
until recently, a journalist.

You still have friends
in the press, Miss Cooper?

I do,

but I haven't spoken
to them about this.

The last thing the Home Secretary
wants to do is gag the press.

But it may well come to that.

I'm sure Miss Cooper wouldn't do anything
to damage the investigation.

Yes, perhaps it would be better if Miss Cooper
were to find employment elsewhere.

Absolutely not. I couldn't hope
to find anyone as good as her.

It's not a request, Collins.

I'll decide who works in my department.
Not you.

Well, if she goes, so do I.

It's not my intention
to have anyone sacked.

I quite simply want to know
how this got into the press

and to make sure that any further
details do not.

Are you ready to confess,
Mr. Ziegler?

Confess?

I didn't kill anyone.

We have evidence that says you did.

One of those postcards
you like to collect

was found near the second
victim and the third.

And to be honest,
the judge isn't going to like

that German name of
yours one little bit.

He's going to hang you.

But if you save us
the bother of a trial,

that will go in your favour.

You'll get a nice cosy cell
for the rest of your life.

Plenty of room for postcards.

Life

or death.

You choose.

Ziegler just confessed.

If they go ahead with this,
I'll have to provide

reasonable doubt
for the defence.

What defence?

He's admitted it.

I'd have sworn it was Hastings.

Doctor, how can I help you?

Mr. Hastings.

Ronald Terry,
the actor,

he's been found dead in
suspicious circumstances.

And what's that old pansy's death
got to do with me?

You knew him well, then?

You'd be surprised what you learn
about the great and the good in my business.

He could have identified the man
who killed those women.

Are you trying to say
I killed those girls as well?

No.

But, uh,

just to eliminate you
from the investigation...

..I would like to take a sample

from underneath
your fingernails.

You keep this up

and you're liable to upset me.

Never mind.

This will do.

You really are a tonic, Dr. Collins.

Thanks.

As much as I've enjoyed our chat,

I think you should stop making
these accusations about me.

More for your sake than mine.

I think people might think
you're a bit crackers.

Is that your father?

Mm-hm.

The lady with him?

She looks Asian.

Yeah.
That's my mother.

She's very beautiful.

Skin deep, as they say.

My mother was the same.

Didn't spare the rod either.

Leaves a great deal of anger,
doesn't it?

I'm not sure
what you're talking about.

Ernie will show you out.

Hello.

Can I help?

Oi!

You there!

Stay where you are!

Bloody hell!
What happened?!

Did a house fall on you?

Bruising of the lower
abdomen and ribcage.

Left side of the jaw
swollen, loose tooth.

Nothing serious.
I'll live.

I hope, for your sake,
we don't have an air raid right now.

Ah, just in time.

I want something taken down.

I have traces of skin and hair
from the fingernails from

one of the attackers.

A blue substance on the nose.

Chalk.

And one piece of lining
from an overcoat.

Silk.

Orangey,
bluey-brown.

Don't know what colour that is.

Manufacturer should be traced.

I've seen some of the corpses
looking better than you.

Have these.

You can't go home like that.

They belonged to the gent
in fridge three.

Hit by a tram.

Just a bit of blood on the collar,
that's all.

Where were you
when all this happened anyway?

I made a visit to Hastings.

Without me?

I just thought I'd ask him a few questions.

Put him on the spot,
see how he'd react.

That was a bit irresponsible
and dangerous.

Well done.

Considering he was playing
billiards at the time and

the powder on my
face is cue chalk,

I'd say I touched a nerve.

Oh, better be off.

See you tomorrow.

Cafe de Paris again?

No.

Issy is taking me to a new club.

But don't worry.
I'll be tucked up in bed by ten.

Night!

Mind that picture of misery!

There'll be another frame up

Sounds like a carve-up.

Well, it's time some of them are hung up.

I can name three for a start.

Sit down and take the load off.

Now who will be the next victim

You look like you need a drink.

Issy gave me the recipe
for a homemade dry martini.

And Issy would know.

To be honest,
it's not strictly a dry martini.

It's absinthe, rum, and paregoric.

It does the job.

I bet it does.

All work and no play.

It's not good for you.

Chin chin.

I saw a file on your desk

about people that
have been hanged.

Do you know any of them?

No.

That's a relief.

I thought your old man was Crippen
or something like that.

I'm...

studying cases in which there
was reasonable doubt and

they still hanged.

I imagine what I'd do differently.

Was all the evidence tested?
Anything missed?

If we have the science,
the knowledge,

to eliminate mistakes,
there's no excuse not to.

The guilty don't have
to escape and the

innocent don't have to
die in their place.

I'll drink to that.

For all staff and patients

please make their way to

Come on, man.

Hurry up!

What I don't understand is

where does Hastings get the nerve

to beat up a Home
Office pathologist?

Technically, it could have been
one of his minions.

Either way,
he thinks he's above the law.

There are villains in the East End
who never get collared.

You know why?

Because they're informants.

That was close.

Whether or not he's an informant is
something I doubt we'll ever know.

My mate Billy dabbles
in the black market.

He'll know what the talk is.

Really?

Dabbles?

He's more sort of up to
his eyes in it, to be honest.

Danny Hastings?

You got to watch
yourself, Molly.

You don't want to get involved
with him.

I just want to know
what you've heard.

Nothing good.

He keeps the coppers off his back
by dropping everyone else in it.

Do you mind?!

He's not averse to slipping them
a few bob when he has to.

The man has not go a single scruple
to his name.

Watch out!

Watch it, Stan!

Those ciggies managed to fall off the
back of that lorry without breaking!

If Hastings wasn't
friends with Jack Spot,

he'd be dead by now.

Jack Spot the gangster?

Thick as thieves, they are.

They got carte blanche
in the East End.

That's French, by the way,
for doing whatever you want.

Violent?

He can be when he needs to.

What about a girlfriend?

Not that I've heard.

He's not the pipe and slippers type.

I'd stay well clear of Danny Hastings.

He's a dangerous man.

Careful.

She looks like she was in the
water for quite some time.

- Give me a hand.

Thank you.

There's no swastika
cut in the tongue.

She was probably drunk and fell in.

Let's get her back to the morgue
and find out, shall we?

She was at the Metropol,
Inspector Wilkins.

Photograph the hand stamp, please.

Listen.

The Commissioner gave me
a right earful this morning.

He wants the Ziegler case closed,
now.

What's the big rush?

I suppose you know Danny Hastings
has coppers on his payroll.

That's a very serious allegation.
I'd be careful what you say.

Somebody could be protecting him.

We don't protect killers simply because
they give us information, Miss Cooper.

Just promise me you'll look into it.

What a bleedin' cheek!

The bruising on the neck is exactly
the same as the other killing.

Looks like a strangling.

I'll know more
when I get the voicebox out.

No swastika?

No.

That could be deliberate.

So we think it's a different killer

and Ziegler takes the blame
for the first three murders.

Maybe.

What is this?

Tongue.

If we eliminate Rosanski
as a suspect,

and you make a strong case
that this is the same killer,

the police will have no choice
but to look at Hastings.

Maybe even release Ziegler.

You've got a devious streak,
Miss Cooper.

I like that in a woman.

There's nobody in there.

What are you doing?

How did you do that?!

Tricks of the trade.

What trade is that exactly?

It's a big place for somebody
who works in a munitions factory.

Looks like Mr. Rosanski
can't afford the furniture.

Can we go? I'm not cut out
to be a house-breaker!

What do you make of this?

Some sort of sequence.

A code maybe.

What's a clerk at a munitions
factory doing studying code?

Do you think he's a spy?

Far from it.

The truth is,

he's a brilliant
young mathematician.

One of the few from the Biuro Szyfrow
in Poland to survive.

He has the potential to crack
the German military codes.

If we do that,

we can stop the invasion.

This information, of course,
is classified.

We're protecting him
from the Germans.

If they find him,
they'll kill him.

We've had a breach of security,

which is why he's based at his flat
and not Station X.

I hoped he wouldn't get dragged in,
but he appears to be a fan of...

Snakehips Johnson.

Well, I understand now why

you didn't want the story
leaked to the press.

But he's still a suspect.

He's watched night and day.

Rest assured, Collins,
he hasn't killed anyone.

He's not your man.

Polski?

Me?
No.

I'm just...

..looking something up for a friend.

I come to read
the old Polish magazines.

It reminds me of home.

Would you like
if I bought you a drink?

No, thanks.

I have money.
I can spend it on you.

If I want a drink,
I'll buy it myself, thanks.

Perhaps I'll see you here again, yes?

I went to check
the international papers.

To see if Rosanski's name
cropped up in any cases back home.

It didn't, but there he was.
The man himself.

Doey-eyed,
pining for the old country.

Forget Rosanski, he is being watched
closely by Home Intelligence.

We have a bigger problem.

I thought there might be some truth
in what you said about Hastings.

So, I raised it
with my superiors.

He's been taken off the case.

DS Brady is in charge.

I don't know what's going on.

I couldn't get the men I needed
to find that gas mask.

Then I was given a backlog
of old cases.

I get the feeling they don't want me
looking into this matter too closely.

Hang on.

If Terry slit his own wrists,

the wounds would be left to right
and right to left.

- Mm.
- They're not.

The change and depth of
the incision tells us which way

the blade travelled.

They're both right to left.

Somebody else did it.

Miss Jenkins.

Can I help you?

We're investigating
the death of Mr. Terry.

Can we have a quick word?

You were here on Tuesday
evening, weren't you?

Usually I work late mending
the costumes.

Anything strange?

Did anyone visit Mr. Terry
in his dressing room?

I worked with Mr. Terry for 15 years.

He was a lovely man.

He had nothing to be ashamed about.
Nothing.

I agree with you.

We both do.

Tell us, what happened that night?

What did you see?

He drank, you see.

I think it gave him confidence.

That night, he'd had
more than usual to drink.

He couldn't stand up.

Two men had to help him
back to his dressing room.

Two men, what time was this exactly?

Just after midnight, I'd say.

I should have checked on him!

But I thought I'd leave him
to sleep it off.

Two men, Brady.
The strangler was right-handed.

But whoever carved those swastikas
was left-handed.

We're not looking at an ambidextrous
killer. Two men working together.

The same men that killed Terry
killed those girls.

Can't rule it out.

You should know

Ziegler is going to be charged
under the new Treachery Act.

Giving assistance to the enemy.
He'll hang in a matter of days.

Well...

Just keep us posted, will you?

I'll try, but treachery cases
are held in camera. No press.

Better go.

See you tomorrow, guv.

- Everything pointed to Ziegler.
- No, it didn't.

You should have listened to me.

You know, when I was a reporter,
I had to cover some awful stories.

A bus full of children
being evacuated was hit.

An entire street of kids gone.

The whole area knew what had happened,
but it never made the paper.

The government covered it up.

And?

I'm just saying
you can't always trust them.

I'm going this way.

Got your torch?
It will be dark soon.

Yeah.

I'll see you tomorrow, then.

And...

Change your suit.

Poor bloke needs to
get buried in that.

Charlie, get me the towel
from Terry's dressing room.

I don't know why I didn't think
of this before. But...

If there are traces of Terry's blood
on that towel,

It could mean the killer used it
after he slit Terry's wrists

to wipe his hands.

Terry certainly didn't.

If we can find fibres of that towel
on Hastings' clothes,

we can prove he was in
that dressing room.

Then we may have enough
for a conviction

and save Ziegler from the noose.

Anything?

Blood.

I'll bet you a shilling it's Terry's.

We need to get into the Metropol

and find something
Hastings might have been wearing.

Like his coat.

Do I have to remind you
he's already had you beaten up?!

Next time, he might just kill you!

Which would be a shame,

because I'm getting to quite like
the pair of you.

Can I do you now, sir?

Go away, Mrs. Mop.

Come back when I'm not.

What on earth...

Wait!

Hello?

Hello?

Boss! Out here.

Sorry.

- Any luck?
- No, no luck.

No saliva traces.
Nothing.

You'd better have a look at this.

Good evening.
I really hope you get Pierrepoint.

He'll hang you nice and quick.

Some of them,
they get the weights wrong.

And rip your head right off.

Are you ready for your last supper?

No!

That's not...

That's not right! I...

I...

You're lying!

They said they wouldn't hang me!

- They promised!
- Oh, pipe down.

I didn't do anything!

Wait. We do have something
on the strap though.

A tiny trace of... earwax.

- Oh?
- Pure gold.

I didn't know earwax
was that valuable.

Grey wax and your man
has Asian blood like Hastings.

Amber and he's African
or Caucasian like Ziegler.

- Helps pinpoint our killer, Charlie.
- Who'd have thought it?

Amber.

Definitely African or Caucasian.

Oh, blimey. Here we go again.

There's something else in it.

Molly!

Sounds like a heavy one tonight.

An innocent man may hang, Charlie.

I need to get this wax tested now.

You man the fort.

Hello?

541212.

Detective Freddie Wilkins!

- Detective who, Miss?
- Wilkins!

Sir.

- Hello.
- Freddy!

- Molly, where are you?
- The Metropol.

I think he's after me, Freddy!

Who is?

I can't hear you. Who?

Molly? Molly?

Now!

Do you hear me? Now!

Fancy a drink?

I need you to take a look at some earwax.

It's a bit an emergency.

- You're not serious?
- Very serious.

I know a basement joint round here
that stays open during the raids.

The... Metropol.
Have you heard of it?

Walls are three feet thick.
It's safer than a shelter.

Mind if I have my coat back?

I don't usually like girls
who steal from me.

I'll let you off this time.

Truth is, Molly,
I've taken a shine to you.

Come on.

I'd rather die with a drink in my hand.
Wouldn't you?

Molly! Molly, wait!

Well?

You're right. The usual
traces of dead skin.

But... I'll... need to do
some further tests to confirm

the particles you found.

Well, go on, then.
Quick as you like.

Oh!

Molly!

Wait!

Molly!

Molly!

Molly!

Go straight down to the platforms!

Quickly! Quickly!

Quickly! Come on! Everybody!

Straight down to the platforms!

Tests confirm high levels
of potassium nitrate.

Which is a major component
of gunpowder.

It would seem that the earwax
belonged to a man -

- Who worked...
- In a munitions factory.

Rosanski.

Quickly!

Plenty of room for everyone!

Hello again.

Hello.

Inspector Wilkins called.

Wanted to know if
Molly had turned up.

She called from
outside the Metropol.

Said something about
being followed.

Thanks, Charlie.

Get down the shelter now!

I'm staying here, if you don't mind,
in case they call back!

She's got to be round here
somewhere.

Search the whole place!

This will be apt to suffocation.
Follow me, I know a place.

We'll be safer there.

Keep looking.

This way. We're nearly there.

I am glad I had the chance
to speak with you again.

After what happened at the library,

I thought you didn't like me.

I haven't given it much thought,
to be honest.

No?

But you work for the Home Office
pathologist, don't you?

How do you know what I do?

You! Where is Molly Cooper?

Never heard of her.

You know who I'm talking about!
Where is she?

Wilkins, leave him. We've got it wrong.
It's Rosanski!

The Pole?

I've just see him.

He was going down the tube
station after your girl!

Come on, let's go!

In some ways, I admire them.

The Nazis.

They believe that human sympathy
perpetuates only the mediocre.

Makes them strong,

capable of anything.

I respect their ability to rise
above ordinary morality.

People who can do that
are inherently superior.

You see,

we only pretend to
care about others

because we are told that is
the human condition. But...

It's not.

We take pleasure in pain.

I'm not sure I follow, Mr. Rosanski.

Well,

I think I'll go back.
I'm not sure I like the company here.

No.

Aaagh!

Miss Cooper!

She wear red jacket!
Has anybody seen her?

Can anyone help?

Molly!

Help!

Can anyone hear me?!

Miss Cooper!

Miss Cooper!

Molly!

Molly!

Help!

Molly!

Aagh!

I am sorry.

I am sorry, Molly.

Aagh!

I thought you...

were supposed to be saving me!

We'll need your statements

And Ziegler?

The charges will be dropped
when they see your evidence.

Rosanski didn't act
alone, did he?

Somebody else carved
the swastika.

We're taking Rosanski into custody
by order of the Home Secretary.

This is now a matter
for military intelligence.

I don't think you understand, Mr. Carver.
Rosanski is the killer.

Ziegler killed those women.
And he's going to hang for it.

Do as they ask.

You knew.

You've been protecting him all along.

Without him, we may lose
the war in the air.

If that happens,
invasion is imminent.

- But why didn't you stop him?
- We tried.

Put him under house arrest, but he
kept on slipping through the net.

We gave you another chance!

Do you realise what you've done?

What is wrong with you, man?!

Left hand.

The swastika.

You.

I did what I had to do.

And what about those women?

Don't their lives
count for anything?

Miss Cooper, this man could save
thousands of lives.

Including yours.

It's all in there.

And your proof is what?
A trace of earwax found in a gas mask

belonging to who exactly?

An innocent man is going to hang.

He's a German who collects
dirty postcards.

Better men than him are being
sacrificed every day.

I'll go to the press.

This is the BBC Home Service.

Here is the news.

Wilfred Ziegler, the man responsible

is to be hanged at eight o'clock

Time to go.

You made a mistake!

Mr. Ziegler.

It appears to be your lucky day.

I see.

Ziegler?

He's to be interned on the Isle of Man
for the duration of the war.

Beyond that, they won't say.

You saved his life.

Have you been to the Isle of Man?

We should go to the Cafe de Paris
tonight and celebrate.

Two left feet, remember?

Let's put that to rights.

Step.

Slow.

Slide, turn.

Quick, quick, slow.

- Oops.
- It's all right.

Can't be good at everything.