Original subtitles

[CRICKETS CHIRPING]

[ENGINE RUMBLING]

[ENGINE RUMBLING]

It's a Jew.

[MUSIC - THE BEATLES, "I'M A GOOD MAN"]

Take care, man.

[MUSIC - THE BEATLES, "I'M A GOOD MAN"]

Mm-hmm.

Oh, yeah.

I'm a good man.

You can trust in me.

Mighty good man.

As good as can be.

They say I'm handsome.

And I'm reliable too.

'Cause you were made for me.

And, baby, I was made for you.

I'm a good man.

Mm, yeah.

Oh, yeah.

Mm, yeah.

I'm a good man.

Mighty good man.

Oh, yes, I am.

Listen, why look for silver when you can have gold?

I ain't too young.

And, baby, I ain't too old.

I'm a humble man.

And I'm always true.

You were made for me.

And, baby, I was made for you.

I'm a good man.

Mighty good man.

Good man.

Mighty good man.

Go ahead, play it.

[MUSIC - THE BATS, "I LIKE THE WAY YOU SMILE"]

And I like the way you smile at me.

I guess you like everything you see.

I'm a good man.

Mighty good man.

I'm a good man.

Mighty good man.

I'm a good man.

Mighty good man.

I'm a good man.

Mighty good man.

I'm a good man.

Mighty good man.

[LAUGHTER]

[MUSIC PLAYING]

[TICKING]

The Sunrise in annual pitch and putt

traditionally takes place on August Monday Bank holiday.

But no one's actually bothered to book the course.

So we may have to push it till September, which actually

soothes me down to the ground, man, because rain and squalls,

I thrive in pitch and putt in those conditions.

You're very chatty this morning.

Oh, sorry, man.

Wine last night.

Mm, red.

Always makes my head a bit fuzzy.

Well, at least you're home all night, so no damage done.

That's never any damage.

How do you know I was home all night?

Well, ma'am, you always report drinking red wine at home

and white wine when you're dining out.

Yeah, red wine home, white wine out.

Took me and the boyfriend ages to realize why we did that.

Yeah, red wine at home so that you

don't have to keep popping backwards and forwards

to the fridge.

Yeah.

Very good.

Blue lips, swollen.

Yeah, not the first time I've seen that.

Pathology will have to confirm, but it looks like ligature strangulation.

On a busy bus, ma'am.

Well, a few seconds is all you need to render him unconscious.

Five kilograms worth of pressure, to be exact.

Well, you need a lot more pressure and time

to cut off the windpipe and cause brain death.

Ma'am, this is the number six bus.

It's one of the most popular in Bath,

though especially in the rush hour.

For someone to have killed this man,

well, he would have had to have done it in the blink of an eye.

And even then, nobody saw him.

Monthly bus pass, Ian Andrews.

Bit of cash.

And bank card.

And this, completely blank.

Get it to tech services, see what that magnetic strip tells us.

Here we are.

Ian James Andrews, age 33.

Divorced, various jobs.

He looks familiar.

Ooh, I think you're right, ma'am.

He was at 14 Saltmarsh Street.

Markle.

Oh, well, no, that's near the...

That's the point of the start of this bus's journey.

Yeah, Larkhall Terminus here.

First on at Larkhall Terminus every morning.

Weekends, too.

He gets on, he pays, he takes a paper

and he goes upstairs to the front left seat.

And where does he normally get off?

Bath Spa Station.

Did you run the timetable this morning?

Yeah, as best I could.

Look, there's roadworks everywhere.

You know, three or four diversions.

The bus should have a GPS system.

It's on our drive in the office, mate.

If we can access the stored data,

it should give us accurate times and locations.

Did anything odd happen between here and Larkhall?

What do you mean?

Anyone acting suspiciously?

Nobody that looked like they'd do what was done to that guy.

He's unemployed and on benefits.

Where's he going every day?

Seven days a week.

Wearing a suit.

Right, Ian Andrews was strangled to death on a bus

that was going through the city centre at rush hour

and nobody saw a thing.

How come?

Get on to local media, radio stations, Bath Live app,

appealing for anyone who was on the number six

between 8 and 9am this morning

and start looking at CCTV for every bus stop on the route.

Let's reconstruct Ian Andrews' final bus journey.

Ian Andrews, divorced two years ago,

ex-wife and kid lives in New Zealand.

No other living relatives.

♪ ♪

Ma'am?

Money, ma'am.

US dollars?

That's 200, then.

I reckon there's about...

20,000 in there.

That's some sort of ticket stub.

The Brits and the Blues.

Masterclass with Professor Clarence Adderley.

It's dated from yesterday.

The Avalon Festival of Ideas.

Festival of Ideas?

Yeah, they call it the Glastonbury of politics,

philosophy and literature.

It's a sort of intellectual shindig.

It takes place every year over at Compton Dando.

Clarence Adderley,

Artemis Professor of US History

at the Virginia Commonwealth University.

Careful with the screen. I've set it to sensitive.

Specialising in the American Civil War.

But...

But none of these Brits are born in Liverpool.

There's also a leading authority on the Blues.

And its history.

My dad was into that stuff when I was growing up.

After a few shandies,

he'd always sit us down and make us listen to the Blues.

In 2021, Professor Adderley published the first volume

of his definitive three-part history of the Blues.

As our riff travels north from the Delta,

propelled by the singular, authentic voice of Robert Johnson,

it becomes hardened by the urban industrial experience.

The Blues becomes electrified.

And the torch passes from Muddy Waters

to players like B.B. King,

who shifts the guitar from rhythm to lead.

When this is heard by John Mayall, Alexis Corner, Keith Richard.

However, our riff doesn't atrophy.

Because it's developed and improvised upon

by the likes of Jimmy Page, Peter Green, and Eric Clapton.

# Tell my friend boy Willie Brown

# I'm standing at the crossroads

# Believe I'm sinking down. #

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

Nope. Sorry.

His name's Ian Andrews.

He was found this morning dead under suspicious circumstances.

OK.

The only lead we have is this ticket stub for your talk yesterday.

And we also found US$20,000 hidden under the bed.

I don't know what to say.

Sure, we just have to follow every available lead.

Sorry, this is routine, Professor,

but can you confirm where you were this morning between 8 and 9am?

I'm a happily married man.

I love my wife, I love my kids, my grandkids.

But this morning at 8am...

..I was with someone else.

Can we have a name?

She's married and, er...

..sorry, I'm a gentleman.

Does your wife know that?

CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

Joan Clarence.

Yeah.

No, I'm having a ball, really.

Yeah. Look, listen, is Mr Ambassador available?

Great. I'll hold.

BIRDS CHIRP

Not 124.

A very desirable miniature Georgian carriage clock.

Gold. Shall we start bidding?

£3,000.

£3,100. Madam, £3,200.

£3,300. £3,400.

£3,500. With you, Madam.

£3,500. Do we have £3,600?

£3,660.

Sold! For £3,660, the lady at the front.

Urgh! We could have got 4K.

It sold 25% over the reserve.

The bank won't extend Daddy's credit.

I'm on a streak.

We're good.

We're really good.

Aren't we?

Breathes with the years.

And we do have a sale, don't we?

HE CHUCKLES

MUSIC PLAYS

OK, I have to handle a community impact assessment

to reassure our stakeholders it's safe to use public transport

and it would really help if I could mean it

when I said that we are making significant progress.

So our victim had a public profile.

I thought he looked familiar, Mum.

So, five years ago, Ian Andrews single-handedly foiled

an armed robbery over in Bristol in a batting shop where he worked.

He was all over the telly, the papers, for months after.

The crew he foiled, they're all still in prison.

But it doesn't mean we can rule them out as far as commissioning the crime.

And why in public on a bus and why didn't anyone notice?

We don't know yet. But we've narrowed it down.

So, whoever killed Ian Andrews

must have known that he was a creature of habit.

Every morning at 8am, seven days a week,

he'd board the number six bus here at Lark Hall

and then make his way to his usual seat

in the front left-hand corner of the upper deck

where he'd settle down with the puzzles from the...

..this free paper.

As you can see, he's made a start on the word wheel,

but he's only got as far as about half of the easy three-letter words.

Point of death, Mum.

Now, I reckon it'd take him about 15 minutes to get this far on the puzzles.

So, that takes us to around 08.15.

And that's Morrison Street around there.

And he always got off at Bath Spa Station.

At 08.27.

So, we focus on this 12-minute window

between Morrison Street and Bath Spa.

Thank you. Thank you, ma'am.

At some point within this time window,

and from this stop on the journey through to this stop,

the killer must have sat directly behind the victim

in order to shut the windpipe quickly and efficiently

and get off the bus, leaving Ian Andrews dead.

With $20,000 under his bed.

Hmm.

So far, we have TIE'd 79 potential witnesses.

Eight people think they remember seeing someone sit behind the victim,

but we can't even get an agreement on gender, let alone age, ethnicity, build.

OK, we reassure the public with a uniform present on all city centre bus routes.

And when they're on the number six,

they're gathering more statements from regular commuters.

Yes, I have to take this.

It's the Assistant Chief Constable again.

I'll be back in an hour.

Hello.

Ma'am, we've had another witness come forward.

Name's Hillary McLean.

She was sat upstairs between Larkhall and Bath Spa.

He was white, mid to late 30s, brown eyes, unshaven,

and short, dark hair, and he was wearing, like, a zip-up, sports top in grey,

black shorts, black trainers and gloves.

That's very precise, Hillary.

You got on the bus at Larkhall Terminus at 8am, Miss McLean?

Yes.

Had you seen the dead man before?

Yeah, every time I get the six. Mondays and Thursdays, usually.

And where...

Where were you seated, Miss McLean?

Right there.

So, on the right, the top of the stairs?

So you would have been able to see everyone coming up and down the stairs

for the duration of your journey?

Yeah, I suppose.

OK. Let's get back to the man that you saw acting suspiciously.

So, where did he get on?

Guildhall. And he sat right at the front, just behind the dead man.

And how long was he with you on the journey?

Ten minutes, I think. Do you know where he got off?

No, I'm not sure. I had to take a phone call from work.

What was it that was so peculiar about him?

Well, it was when he came to get off, he just...

He just didn't move. He just stood there.

Behind the victim?

For how long?

20 seconds, half a minute.

Looks like we've got a serious suspect, Sarge.

Yeah, this man standing behind the victim.

Ma'am, I've checked through the street residential and business CCTV

around all the stops in the window, and I've got this.

There. Getting on at Morrison Street at 8.15.

Is there any possible connection between Adderley and Ian Andrews?

Not yet. Adderley's only been in the country for a week.

He lives in the US. Has done for the last 25 years.

The US Embassy has been in touch concerning our treatment of Clarence Adderley.

What?

And whilst he's not lodged a formal complaint, he did express some minor distress

about your attitude and behaviour when you interviewed him yesterday.

He cheats on his wife of 40 years with the police.

But when I asked him where he was yesterday between 8 and 9, he lied.

Did he?

He just told us that he was having a romantic assignation.

When we tried to push it further, you did, you know, you...

You misspoke.

Ah, OK.

Tech services have identified the blank plastic card in the victim's wallet.

I left luggage locker at the bus station.

You better get down there, DCI MacDonald.

DS Dodds, our inquiry has now definitively placed the professor at the crime scene.

So he's a witness, not a suspect.

(POLICE SIRENS)

Silver body paint?

Now, the question that fascinates me as an Afro-Anglo-American from the hood

is why, why this recurring cultural convection between obscure black American musical genres

and young white working class and lower middle class Brits?

Because we share a history, for good or ill.

We hear the century-old blues holler from the Delta right here, right now,

and its essential authenticity sings to us and touches our shared humanity.

(APPLAUSE)

Any questions?

Thank you.

Professor, might I return to that question of essential, universal authenticity?

I'm listening, sir.

Full disclosure, I'm Nicholas Olyinka,

and I'm a specialist in developing manufactured neural networks.

You mean AI?

An emotive term that we prefer to avoid at the cutting edge.

But my work does present some disturbing questions.

And, Professor, I'm on your team.

I, too, passionately believe in the human touch.

Now, no machine can replicate, for example, Robert Johnson's authenticity,

the artist at the centre of the blues creation myth.

Or can it?

Professor, the possibility torments me, and one way or another, I have to know.

Please expand, Mr Olyinka.

I wonder if you'd indulge me in a friendly experiment.

Now, suppose I ask my program to synthesise a blues recording from the 1920s or '30s.

Could you, Professor Adderley,

distinguish between the authentic and the...

And the fake.

(LAUGHTER)

I prefer the term "modo", music of digital origin.

Let's do it, Mr Olyinka.

(APPLAUSE)

- Up there? - Yeah.

Only all our witnesses were like Hilary MacLean.

It's a lot of detail, Irma. A lot.

Oh.

OK, we have our second suspect.

This man was seen by Hilary MacLean, standing directly behind the victim,

for 20 to 30 seconds between Morrison Street and Cadogan Square,

within the window of 815 to 821.

So we check all street CCTV across those stops?

Exactly. Specifically looking for this guy getting on or off the bus.

Now, we're specifically interested in where you were

between 815 and 827 on the Monday morning.

I would have been in transit.

From my...

Oh, your romantic assignation.

- Erm, transit? - Yeah, I got a bus.

I don't remember which one or exactly what time,

but I have a feeling that you're about to tell me.

I am indeed, sir. It's the number six from Lord Cornwall.

There you are, sir, boarding at Morrison Street there,

at exactly 8.15am.

And this renders you as significant witness.

And this is important because...?

Oh, because the person that we spoke about yesterday, Ian Andrews,

he was murdered on this bus between 8.15 and 8.27am.

Can I ask you where you sat, sir?

Upstairs.

Now, that is music to my ears, sir, you see, because our victim,

he was in the front left-hand side seating when he was strangled.

Strangled?

Now, that I did not see.

Strangulation? Did anyone?

Have you any idea roughly where you sat, sir?

The seat behind the guy, you think that's where the killer sat?

Oh, yes, sir, that is the working theory, yeah.

Well, I don't remember exactly where I sat,

but maybe I did sit there,

but I did not strangle a complete stranger.

You feel me, Sergeant?

Oh, yes, sir, I feel you.

Good man.

Oh, yes, of course, sir.

He didn't want us to know he was on that bus.

Why? If he didn't murder Ian Andrews?

Well, if he did, then he knows you haven't got any eyewitnesses.

Ma'am.

This is the bus station last Sunday.

So we've got Ian Andrews, he takes a bag out of the locker

and takes it to the toilet.

Now, we fast-forward 20 minutes and...

Oh, that's Mr Darcy.

I see him a lot when I go to choir practice at the Abbey.

So that's why no-one knew where Ian disappeared each day.

Because he was disguised as Mr Darcy.

How can you just stand there all day,

not moving, not talking to anyone, just on your own?

Well, I never thought I would say this when I was applying for the Met,

but let's go interview Jane Austen.

Ma'am.

Hilary McLean.

MUSIC PLAYS

The home help job is just part-time,

so I do this some afternoons and Sundays.

Actually, I'm more from doing that than my real job.

Is everything OK?

There is a living...

..statue here.

Mr Darcy, recognise him?

Yeah, he's... Perhaps he's just over there.

And do you ever, um, talk to him, interact with him?

Er, no.

Is this about the dead man on the bus?

This is the man on the bus.

Ian Andrews, Mr Darcy.

Oh, that's... That's awful.

I didn't... Mr Darcy, I didn't know.

Did you, um, notice anything unusual or different about him recently?

Oh, well, I don't know if this is unusual,

but sometimes when I'd be going home in an evening,

I'd see him up on that alcove, you know, on Salverson Street.

It's a bit of a dead area, isn't it?

No, after everyone had gone home, even if it was raining.

Just stand there looking at nothing.

You know, no-one to look at him.

And when did you, um, last see him there?

Er, it was last Wednesday, about 7pm.

Ian Andrews earns 15 minutes of fame by taking on three armed robbers,

but then he started complaining about the attention he was getting.

Started drinking, his marriage fell apart.

Yeah, well, there's a few chaps down the sun rising,

going down that route.

Ian Andrews, it was like it was a curse being a hero.

So he became a living statue so people didn't recognise him.

What is it?

I don't know, ma'am.

I don't know.

I don't know.

Hello?

Sir?

There's a blood spatter on the nose.

I see who he is.

Alan Jones.

Also known as Jinxy.

He was my best friend at school.

He was my best friend at school.

You OK?

Yeah, fine.

Was, er, Jinxy married? Kids?

Er, no, no, he, um...

His sister, Mabel, she died a couple of years ago.

He's been on his own, er, since then.

There's a pathologist, ready?

Yeah.

Right, well, I'll set to it.

What did he work as?

He was a signwriter, Jinxy.

He was Bath's last...

Bath's signwriter.

Well, first of all, he's been dead at least four days,

probably longer.

As long as last Wednesday?

That would fit.

His pockets have been rifled.

I'm not going to get prints from clothes.

His nose has been badly broken.

Spatter patterns suggest a powerful blow to the face.

And here, a large contusion to the side of the head.

I'd work on the theory that that's what killed him.

I'm not seeing any defensive injuries.

So, one blow to the face?

No intention to kill?

No.

OK, you're clear to take him back to the PM.

Um, some...

HE CLEARS THROAT

There's a bottle label there, I mean.

Do you see gold here?

There.

It's a wine bottle, isn't it?

Er...

Fine-tuned cone.

We sift through the other pieces,

reconstruct the bottle and pull for prints.

Yeah. And maybe we'll get DNA.

What do you think Jinxy was doing down here?

I don't know.

Looks like he was using the place as a temporary workshop,

and it wouldn't be the first time someone's punched Jinxy in anger.

He was...

He liked to annoy people, you know, goad them,

and we all tolerated it at the sun rising, but...

..he's so small, it wouldn't take much to flatten him.

So...

..someone killed him in a moment of madness?

Rifled his pockets but didn't take his wallet.

What were they looking for?

I don't know that, but...

..it's not very rich, is it?

Yeah, and then to pull over these shelves

and to smash all the glass to just confuse and contaminate the crime scene.

Ian Andrews was standing over there on Wednesday.

What if he was murdered because he saw what happened to Jinxy?

Almond.

I really want to work this case, ma'am.

OK.

Mum?

You had a personal connection to the victim, Sergeant Dodds?

Yes, ma'am. Jinxy...

Sorry, um... Mr Jones was my friend.

Mum, I'm struggling for manpower here.

We're still tracing and interviewing all the bus passengers.

I could make a request for extra support.

Sergeant Dodds works alongside the inquiry

in a non-evidential capacity.

He doesn't take any statements, so he can't be called to court

in the event of a trial. OK. Thanks, Mum.

Thank you, ma'am. Sarge. Yes, ma'am?

Ian Andrews witnessed the murder of your friend last Wednesday

but he didn't report it to the police.

Why not?

Does that explain the cash under Ian's bed?

Was he blackmailing the killer?

20K in US dollars does lean towards Clarence Adderley

as the killer/blackmail victim.

And this person still hasn't come forward,

despite saturated witness appeals, which is suspicious in itself.

Do we have anything on him?

No, Mum.

No.

Well, whether or not Ian was blackmailing the killer,

it's your friend who's the key to all this.

He's the one with the connection to the murderer, isn't he, Sarge?

Yes, ma'am. I'll talk to you soon.

Alan Jones, also known as Jinxy, get everything we can on him

and all the people that we've traced from the bus.

Recheck their background to see if there's any connection to him.

We need to find out who owns that glass factory.

I've also found out your friend likes to do a bit of travelling, Sarge.

Three separate month-long trips to the US over the past seven years,

most recently last February.

Jinxy? Travelling?

You must have noticed when he wasn't around.

Yeah, well, we go for a few months and see him down at the pub.

Each trip he takes a four-week car hire from New Orleans airport.

No, no, no, no.

That's not where his back statements are, is it?

His itinerary, every time, is a couple of nights

at the Bourbon Street Shakedown Hotel,

and then he criss-crosses Mississippi, Alabama, South Carolina,

always finishing in Memphis, Tennessee.

America, again. The deep south.

Everywhere we look, we're seeing Clarence Adderley.

I've visually colour-coded each of his trips.

So, red for 2017, yellow 2019, blue last year.

You can see his routes and all the places he's visited.

Every bar, motel, diner, filling station.

He's just buzzing around randomly, back and forth.

And after school, we started drifting apart.

I got a job in Broccoli's Ironmongers,

but Jinxy thought that was boring.

All right.

He wanted to take his guitar on the road, like that old song.

Find himself a rock and roll band, and all that.

And he ended up a sign writer.

Yeah.

Youthful dreams.

Well, it can happen to men, can't it?

Midlife crisis and all that.

Was he not a happy guy?

Oh, well, no.

He used to say, "Boast. I'm only happy when I'm miserable."

(SIGHS)

Shouldn't that be...?

Yeah, Route 66, not 666.

Jinxy has lived here for 40 years,

and I've never been here before.

(SIGHS)

Blues, blues.

All blues records.

All those trips to the States, then.

He was buying all this immobilios.

So...

Well done, Jinxy.

OK, I'm going to go and check through the living room.

When you're ready, you check his bedroom.

Give yourself a couple of minutes, OK?

(SIGHS)

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)

(DOORBELL RINGS)

(ENGINE STARTS)

(ENGINE REVS)

(ENGINE STOPS)

(ENGINE REVS)

(PLAYS PIANO)

(SOBS)

(SIGHS)

(PLAYS PIANO)

Best wishes, Clarence.

(SIGHS)

Signed copy of Clarence Adderley's book,

The Contract At The Crossroads.

And Jinxy's highlighted something.

"Despite the valiant and exhaustive efforts of scores,

"if not hundreds of dedicated and fanatical blues researchers,

"Little Robert's map, which is rumoured to specify the exact crossroads

"where he sold his soul, remains tantalisingly beyond our reach.

"The lost chord that may never complete the tune."

Who's Little Robert?

That's Robert Johnson and his contract with the crossroads.

It's the legend.

You know, Clarence Adderley was talking about it at the Festival Ideas.

It's the birth of the blues.

The legend goes that Robert Johnson, way back in time,

in the Mississippi Delta, met the devil himself

and sold his eternal soul to gain the blues.

Champagne Fleurette, '89.

From the barcode, we know it was purchased in Shaker's Wine Shop

on Bow Street at 5.45 last Wednesday.

By Clarence Adderley.

Thank you.

Nope. I don't know him.

His name was Alan Jones.

We found him dead yesterday in the old glass factory on Salveson Street,

under suspicious circumstances.

So, every murder that goes down in Bath, you want to pin on me?

The killings are linked.

This man here is the... He like you.

He was a jinx. He...

He was a fan of the blues.

At the crime scene, close to the body,

we recovered a smashed champagne bottle.

And when we reconstructed the barcode,

we traced the purchase back to you, sir.

Would this have been the Champagne Fleurette?

Yeah.

I think I left that in a taxi.

It's only a matter of time until we pull fingerprints.

So if you'd just like to volunteer a sample of your prints,

then we can easily clear this up.

You know, on the day that I was granted my US citizenship,

I thought I would celebrate.

So I hired a red 1968 Alfa Romeo Spider.

I thought I would drive down through the Carolinas and...

I got pulled over by a couple of state troopers and...

Well, I don't need to tell you how it went after that.

So I'm kind of wary of getting involved with cops on this kind of basis.

You feel me?

Sergeant Dodds?

No, sir, I don't think I do.

No prints. Sorry.

OK, well, what about this?

Where were you last Wednesday around 7pm?

With your...

With your special friend?

No, Detective.

I can tell you exactly where I was and exactly who I was with.

Clarence Adderley? Yes.

Yes, he's a client. Well, a potential client.

He's very distinguished.

When was the last time that you saw Professor Adderley?

That would be last Wednesday?

Yes, last Wednesday at about 6.30.

You're still open, then? It was a private viewing.

The Professor is a collector of minor Edwardian landscapes.

It's a burgeoning market.

Oh, how long was he here for?

A couple of hours.

Monday morning, between 8 and 9am.

Where were you both? We were here.

Anyone who could verify that?

No. Why would there be?

You know, you still haven't asked why I'm asking you this.

We see a lot of the police here, looking for stolen goods.

They never tell us anything.

We're used to your methods.

OK, well, we're here because we're conducting an inquiry

into the suspicious death of this man.

Alan Jones. He's sometimes known as Jinxy.

Did you know?

No.

Well, his murder was connected to the killing of one Ian Andrews

on Monday morning.

Do you recognise him?

No.

Would you be willing to give us a sample of your fingerprints,

for elimination purposes? No.

There's a lot of no's here, folks.

You know, something happened in that glass factory

and a punch was thrown and it killed Jinxy Alan Jones.

Now, if either of you threw that punch,

then you're in serious trouble.

And if either of you witnessed the throwing of that punch,

the murder of Jinxy Jones, and you didn't report it...

..then you are in serious trouble.

Do you understand me?

That's it.

Good day.

Say Jinxy.

Jinxy.

Coming out, Dubsy? Say what you want to say.

He was murdered.

Murdered?

Jinxy was murdered?

What, deliberately?

Why?

Chaps, we...

..we think that Jinxy was killed last Wednesday.

How?

One punch.

In anger.

I knew it.

I knew Jinxy's method of getting killed one of these days.

Did any of you see him in the days before he died?

No. No.

Sorry.

And did you ever see him with a stranger?

Something odd.

Sorry, Dodsey.

We haven't seen Jinxy here since...

..Easter Monday.

What did you say to him, Dodsey?

He never came back here after that.

I'm sorry.

That Brian one, was he actually making eyes at many?

Oh, yeah. Sorry, ma'am.

You know, Brian's quite the ladies' man.

He's had a fling with most of the female rock singers of the 1980s.

Power ballad, I'll say no more.

So, I'm sorry about that.

So, what happened on Easter Monday between you and Jinxy?

Well, I was drunk and I was...

I gave him a piece of my mind.

Lauren, I do want to shoot my bolt in there in front of the lads.

Stout fellas, but they're amateurs.

Truth is, Laurie, I ran in at Jinxy after my gig at the Bell.

What, last Tuesday night? Yeah.

Brian's the lead singer in a Bad Company tribute band.

Worst company. I once went out on the pool with Paul Rogers.

Right. Tuesday night, Brian. Jinxy?

Oh, yeah.

Well, Jinxy was on one of his all-day benders.

Yeah. Happy being miserable.

No, Dodsey. Jinxy was happy being happy.

I've never seen him so happy.

It was in his eyes. They were twinkling.

His eyes were twinkling with happiness.

Twinkling?

So, what was he so happy about being happy about?

The crossroads.

Yeah.

It found the crossroads.

And it was going to make him rich. Seriously rich.

Did he expand on that, Brian?

Jinxy didn't ever expand.

He just sank his old peculiar, told me I was the worst singer ever,

that my whole life was one big pathetic lie, especially to myself,

and left. God, I'll miss Jinxy.

Oh, me too, Brian. Me too.

Thanks, Brian.

One love.

Crossroads.

Something going on here, isn't there? Something...

Some sort of story.

You're right, ma'am.

We tell the story, maybe we solve the case.

Yeah. And the story...

it starts in the deep south.

(THUNDER RUMBLES)

# The preacher man's a-coming

# Gotta get my soul clean

# Oh, hello!

# The preacher man's a-coming

# Gotta get my soul clean

Ah!

Professor, you came. Thank you.

Did you think that I'd back out?

Well, you'd be delighted to hear I have devised a test.

Penitentiary Holler In Blues?

Ah, yes, the original production copy was damaged.

The middle eight was accidentally cut, so they deemed it unreleasable.

But Columbia have recovered Robert Johnson's own uncontaminated copy.

Owned by his family.

Yes, I heard the rumours.

Well, sir, I have obtained access.

So, if we reconvene at 1pm, you will, for the first time,

hear the missing middle eight of Penitentiary Holler In Blues.

Well, all right.

But for my test, you will also hear potential versions of the same sequence,

synthesised by my programme.

Your challenge, should you wish to accept it, is this.

Can you discern the authentic from the synthesised?

Well, in the words of the great philosopher,

let's take it to the bridge.

James Brown?

Of course.

This is a pattern, after all, or it's more a recurring theme.

Now, the bulk of his purchases were made at or near Crossroads.

The contract at the Crossroads?

Yeah. So, Robert Johnson, according to legend,

sold his soul to the Earl of Hell.

Earl of Hell?

Now, look here. Jinx has highlighted Little Robert's map...

Now, ma'am, this map...

What if Jinxian, on one of his trips to the States,

had somehow laid his hands on this map?

Last Tuesday night, Jinxie was happy being happy

because he'd found the Crossroads that was going to make him rich.

24 hours later, he's dead and someone's rifled through his pockets.

Jinxie was killed for Robert Johnson's map.

Where is it now?

And who's got it?

Yes?

Mr Ole Inker, I'm Greg De Vere, my sister Geraldine.

May we come in?

I've been advised by the US Consulate

not to say anything more to you guys without a lawyer present.

Professor, I first met Jinxie Jones

when we were both five years old in reception class

at our old Lady of Fatima primary school.

Now, I think that Jinxie somehow acquired

Robert Johnson's missing map.

And I think that is why he was killed.

OK.

Maybe I should have said something earlier, but...

..when you guys showed up with a photo of another dead guy,

I panicked.

Truth is, I did meet Jinxie.

In the glass factory?

I don't know anything about a glass factory.

He came to the festival, he wanted to talk blues to me,

but got drunk.

I couldn't make out much of what he was saying.

Something was eating at him.

Did he say what exactly?

Look, guys, I have told you everything that I know,

but as soon as this dumb bet with our AI friend is over,

I'm going to make tracks out of here tonight.

It's been a pleasure.

They think they've found the gloved man from the bus.

Facial recognition across social media

came back with ten matches to this guy,

with only one living in Bath.

Gordon Pendry, aged 39, resident in Bewley.

Oh, that's on the number six rig.

Yes, he's an ex-paratrooper.

Chain killer?

Let's pick him up.

Hang on a second.

His military medical files have just come through,

and a sniper bullet went through his left wrist

on a patrol in Sierra Leone in 2012.

If you can't grip a rope tightly with both hands,

you can't strangle Ian Andrews.

TIE him, get a formal witness statement.

We rule him out, we're left with Clarence.

Yeah, or the De Vere's, or all three.

Oh, Sarge.

Data on the bus company's GPS system.

Exact times and locations of the bus on Monday morning.

OK, the glass factory on Wednesday.

We know that Jinxy was there with his map.

The champagne bottle places Clarence Adderley there.

And if he's alibiing the De Vere's,

that means that Greg De Vere and Geraldine De Vere

were also there.

So, we have a victim, a killer and two witnesses

who saw the murder but didn't report it.

Why not?

Oh, this isn't right.

This...this diversion.

So, they had the traffic turn left

into Morrison Street, then on to Wellington Street.

But if they'd have turned right towards Pulteney Bridge,

they would have joined the main trunk road into Bath City Centre.

Southwest Water have no record of a diversion on Monday,

nor do the council.

DCI Macdonald?

Yes, he's given a detailed update on the inquiry.

What do you need?

Well, I need to see this bus driver again.

OK, you go with him.

You have to take his statement. He's not allowed.

Monday morning, around 8.15,

the bus was diverted at Morrison Street into...

into Wellington Street.

Why didn't they turn us down to Pulteney Bridge?

Well, that's what we're trying to ascertain, sir.

So, you turned into Wellington Street at 8.15,

missing out the Oswald Street stop,

arriving at Cadogan Square at 8.21.

Yeah, sounds right.

So, when you turned into Wellington Street,

did the automatic internal lights come on?

No, they weren't working.

It's been tampered with.

OK.

What have we got?

Well, first, there were no signs of any recent roadworks anywhere.

OK.

I've checked through the traffic cam at Morrison Street,

and the bus was diverted from its route there.

A diversion sign and traffic cones were set out at 7am.

The council then removed it all at 11.45,

due to a score of public complaints.

They thought it was kids or some kind of student prank.

But actually, it was this person.

And you see, he or she keeps their face hidden from that camera.

Right. Second?

The interior lights of the bus were disabled at the depot.

So, at 8.15am, the misdirected bus came this way.

As you can see, under the bridge,

the upper deck would have been plunged into darkness.

So, the bus would have been travelling about five or ten miles an hour.

So, it would have taken about 30 seconds to emerge at the other end of the tunnel.

Which is more than a blink of an eye.

Which means that the killer didn't have to be sitting directly behind the victim.

No, ma'am. No.

30 seconds is just enough time for the killer to have gone into the seat behind the victim

and applied enough pressure on the larynx to murder Ian Andrews

and make it back to his original seat.

Right, show me that again.

It could be bloody anyone. Any gender.

It's the best view we have, ma'am.

Are you sure?

How many stops did that bus miss because of the diversion?

Oh, that's just one, ma'am.

Er...

We'll go... So, there.

Oswald Street it would have been.

So, the driver would have just come out and taken a hard left

on Kingswood Road and then left again

back down to rejoin the original route at Cadogan Square.

So, there must have been more signs put out to redirect the driver back onto the original route.

Yes. I'll start checking CCTV between here and Cadogan Square.

OK, so it could have been anyone who was upstairs between Morrison Street and Cadogan Square.

Between 8.15 and 8.21.

Which is when this guy got on, before Clarence Adderley.

So, following the line, who else was upstairs between the diversion and Cadogan Square?

Er... Five passengers. Well, six if you include this guy.

You had Kevin Buxton at the back, Barry Oldham three or four rows ahead,

Hilary McLean on the right...

Hilary McLean?

Hilary McLean.

Now, we know that this man is not the killer.

How did he become a suspect, even in the first place?

Hilary McLean told us... Because Hilary McLean told us

that she saw him standing for 20 to 30 seconds behind the victim

between Morrison Street and Cadogan Square.

Saw him, ma'am. Saw him.

She must eat a lot of carrots.

Right, deep background on Hilary McLean.

She's just gone from witness to suspect.

Miss McLean, we have established that this man could not have killed Ian Andrews.

OK. I hope you find him dead.

But we have established when he was killed.

Around 8.16 on Monday morning between Morrison Street and Cadogan Square.

Which is when you said you saw this man standing behind Mr Andrews.

Yes.

Have you forgotten that the bus was directed down Wellington Street

and under the bridge where it was plunged into darkness for 30 seconds?

Almost total darkness.

Which means that you could not have seen this man standing behind Mr Andrews.

Seems that you have lied to us.

30 seconds of darkness would have been enough time for you to cross the aisle and kill Ian yourself.

What?

We've accessed your employment history.

Five years ago you worked at the Ashton branch of Odds Match betting in Bristol.

Same place that Ian Andrews did.

I didn't kill Ian.

You're going to have to do better than that, Hilary.

Ian was a hero.

And to me.

And I always liked him.

But I watched what happened to him and he didn't like all the attention.

You know, he was a quiet, decent man.

Anyway, you left Bristol and I always wondered what had happened to him until a couple of years ago.

And I came to Bath and I saw him.

And I tried to reconnect with him on the bus but he would just never talk to me.

But he knew who I was.

He just looked through me, you know, like he didn't want to be reminded of all of that.

You told me that you didn't know Ian and Mr Darcy were the same person.

Because I just wanted to help you.

And I was so, so sure that that guy killed him.

Hm.

I don't know what to do about her.

She's just a bit of a tall soul.

Yeah, who's wasted a shed load of our time.

And we can't rule her out completely or Clarence or anyone on that bloody Bath.

Ma'am.

Yeah?

You called it right.

The last diversion sign, he didn't realise there was a camera there.

And he took off his mask.

Never mind who was on that bus.

This nails us a double killer.

Now sir, I shall play you three tracks.

One of them is the genuine Robert Johnson Missing Bridge.

Please listen carefully to each version and then make your call.

I'm listening.

I'm listening.

Version one.

Next.

Professor, I really think you should listen a little longer before you...

Good.

Next.

Version three.

Sir?

Professor?

Version three is Robert Johnson.

You're...

You're right.

Straight out of Compton.

Compton dander.

Professor?

How'd you do it? I'm confused.

Your accomplice performed well enough.

The signature harmonic distortion of the RCA44B microphone, A-.

The sonic artefacts on the acetate disc, straight A.

The hallmark open G tuning and the microtonal melisma, B+.

But it isn't about what is there.

It's about what isn't there.

And your robot missed the train.

I'm sorry?

Little Robert recorded penitentiary hollering blues close to the Mississippi and Western Railroad.

And if you listen hard enough to the first section, you will hear a train passing.

Now the bridge on track three has the train. Track one and two, no train over the bridge.

Now what is this about?

What is this?

I know you.

You failed me.

My PhD? The impossibility of history?

The impossibility of history. Well you deserve to fail.

It was a substandard piece of work.

No. It was good and you know it.

But thank you, Professor. You set me on a path to my true vocation.

You didn't deploy some sensitive ear attuned to the authentic.

All you did was what any machine could have done. Detective work.

Detective work, as in finding evidence, is kind of what history is.

Yes, but if it wasn't for the train, could you have told the difference between authentic and the synthesized?

That, my friend, you will never know.

Professor. We're ready to sell.

To the highest bidder.

What do you mean the highest bidder? I am the only bidder. What do you mean highest bidder?

Uh, there's more than one person interested.

When and where?

[Music]

Tech support happy? Yes, ma'am.

Good. Suspect surveillance?

All covered. And they're all heading to De Vere's.

What happened at the glass factory last Wednesday is going to happen again with all the same party present.

And our options are one killer, two victims. Or two killers, two victims.

Or a joint enterprise with more than two killers.

And there's no evidence linking the killer with either victim?

No, ma'am.

And you're sure you've got enough to leverage a confession?

If everything goes to plan, ma'am.

Okay. Now or never.

Lot one of one. Gentlemen, a map of the Mississippi Delta.

Signed, dated and verified by one Robert Johnson.

Little Robert's 40 days and 40 nights in the Delta. Everywhere he went. And lo.

The Unholy of Unholies. The precise location of the contract at the crossroads.

More beautiful, more detailed than all your young man's dreams.

Decades of scholars fashioning Little Robert as a legend in their own image.

This map confirms the moment that the stones started rolling.

When mankind drew breath before a shout of defiance that would shake the world.

Look upon it and hear the jubilating preachers and railroad whistles.

Smell the backwards dukes, the homemade corn liquor, the fried catfish.

It's worth more than money, Clarence.

The true crossroads in cold, hard numbers.

The time and the place of the birth of the blues.

April 1932. 33 degrees north, 91 degrees west.

Years and years I trudged those places.

20 years.

Nicholas, come on. Let's not do this, man. This is heritage.

Can we get on with it, please?

Banking apps at the ready, please.

Shall we open the auction at $300,000?

$350,000.

$550,000.

$575,000.

$580,000.

$600,000.

$610,000.

$620,000.

$630,000.

$640,000.

$680,000.

$660,000.

That's $660,000 with you, Mr. O'Leyenco.

Mr. O'Leyenco.

$660,000 going once.

Just one second. One second.

$660,000 going twice.

I've secured the funds from my father.

$666,000.

$666,000 going once.

Going twice.

Gone to Mr. O'Leyenco.

$666,000.

I've emailed you the certificate of provenance.

We're ready to receive the funds.

With pleasure.

Why?

Why are you doing this?

Okay.

The three of you are under arrest on a menu of charges for perverting the course of justice to double murders.

Our story begins in the Mississippi Delta in 1932.

When little Robert Johnson...

Jinxie got hold of the map last year, brought it back to Bath and wanted to sell it. Then what?

One of you three killed Jinxie. The other two saw it and didn't report it.

So whether you're a witness or a killer, it's about length of sentence now.

I suggest you talk.

Excuse me. I should go.

Jinxie came to you with the map.

Then what?

Um...

So I ran a check on the provenance and it came back genuine.

So why not put it up to public auction? Legitimately.

Ah.

You told Jinxie that it was a fake.

I offered him 500 pounds.

He said no.

He didn't seem to trust us.

No!

Sarge, you won this.

Oh, yeah.

But then you were told that Professor O'Leyenco had a copy of the map.

Um...

But then you were told that Professor Adderley was coming into town with his influence, his money and his passion for that.

Look.

We didn't tell Jinxie that the map was real.

But we did go back to him and propose that we sell the map to the Professor and then split the profits.

So you arranged the sale last Wednesday at the glass factory.

Jinxie was dead when we got there.

Come on, Clarence.

And then you just happened to be on the number six bus when Ian Andrews, who witnessed the killing of Jinxie...

It was them.

It must have been them.

They must have killed Jinxie before we got there.

And then she sent me a text.

We've got the map.

We want to sell.

Meet me on the bus.

What? No, I didn't.

She told me what time, 815 Morrison Street.

Sit upstairs, second row from the front on the left.

I think he killed Jinxie before we got to the glass factory.

You're a big man.

Strong enough to punch Jinxie's lights out.

Strong enough to throttle Ian Andrews.

And we can place you at both crime scenes.

No. Come on.

Clarence Adderley, I'm placing you under arrest on the suspicion of the murder of Ian Andrews.

Mum, stop, stop, stop!

You can't arrest him, Mum.

I bloody well can, Sarge.

Ian Andrews was murdered in the 30 seconds that it took for the bus to pass under the bridge at Wellington Street.

So what?

This is before the Professor boarded the bus at Cadogan Square.

The Professor's innocent.

You're wrong, he's innocent.

No.

No?

Miss Dolly Inker?

Well, I mean, if he was at both crime scenes on the bus and at the glass factory, then he can't be...

How do you know the Professor was at the glass factory?

Because you said, you said that you found his prints on the champagne bottle.

But, sir, DCI Macdonald never said that the prints came from the champagne bottle.

An hour ago, we obtained a warrant to enter and search your lovely little short-let flat down there in Bathwick.

And our tech people and all, you know, they're very good.

They discovered that for the last two weeks, you've been monitoring the Professor's emails and telephone calls.

What?

They also found that you had intercepted the arrangements for the meeting at the glass factory.

So you contacted Jinxy.

You told him to be there 15 minutes early.

You were waiting for him.

And you wanted that map.

You wanted it before the Professor could buy it.

Jinxy, he wasn't going to accept your offer.

It was you.

Jinxy proposed.

Come on, mate, I'm offering you ten grand.

Ten grand, son, what else you got?

Ten grand.

You've got to do better than that.

What do you mean?

People like me saying.

People like me, what do you mean?

I said, don't touch me!

It was you who punched him.

Fatal.

He was dead when I got there.

Oh, I see.

Because Jinxy, of course, he wasn't carrying that map, was he?

But you still had the presence of mind to confuse the crime scene.

Before the De Beers and the Professor showed up.

So you waited.

And you watched.

And that's when you saw the champagne bottle smash.

But then the Professor and the De Beers, they decided not to report Jinxy's murder.

He's dead.

I'm calling the police.

The police, are you mad?

Because, well, Mr. De Beers, he still had a map to sell and the Professor wanted to buy it.

So to report the existence of the murder would have meant to report the existence of the map to the police.

What are you doing?

I'm protecting you.

No.

No.

I want nothing to do with you people.

You knew the sale of the map was still on and you wanted to snatch it from under Clarence's nose.

But then things got worse for you.

I want money.

Ian Andrews saw everything and he blackmailed you.

Ian Andrews? Who's that?

So to keep Ian Andrews at arm's length, you gave him the $20,000,

which combined with the ticket stub from the festival ideas,

led us here to suspect the Professor.

Which gave you time to observe Mr. Andrews' routine and plot his murder.

You're speculating.

At 6.23 last Monday morning, you disabled the interior lights on the number six bus.

You then set up a diversion on Morrison Street.

Your last diversion sign at Cadogan Square, you made a mistake.

You didn't notice the CCTV cameras.

You then deployed your expertise with WhatsApp messages to set up a meeting on the bus

between Mr. Vere and the Professor.

So, sometime before 8.15 on Monday morning, you boarded the number six bus.

When it turned into Wellington Street and was plunged into darkness,

you struck.

We have an eyewitness that places you on the bus.

I was on the bus. But did your eyewitness see me in the dark?

Then you alighted the bus.

And then you, Professor, as instructed by your fake text message,

sat behind the already strangled victim.

[♪♪♪]

With your blackmailer, Ian Andrews dead, and the Professor framed for his murder,

you went after this man.

He approached us.

Told us he was a wealthy collector of blues memorabilia,

and did we have any pieces in our collection of interest?

And then you came up with the idea of this auction, didn't you?

To pit the Professor against Mr. Olyenka, to bid up the price.

So here we all are, from Mississippi Delta to Bath, England.

You did all this because I failed you?

You really need help, because you're not right.

No, I was right, and you know it.

No, you're wrong. You're wrong in every respect, because you're still just a boy.

A boy who just never understood the word "no."

And you're a complacent fool who sells manufactured authenticity to white people.

No, you really need to grow up.

I grew up-- No, I was dragged up on a council estate.

We had nothing.

You, you're just a posh boy.

Yeah, I see it in your manner.

I can hear it in your voice.

I hear the English public school.

I can hear the entitlement, the privilege.

Just another posh boy who thinks it's all just a game.

Well, son, the world is not yours.

Ginxie, he hated the posh boys.

Starts with a failure, turns into a thirst for revenge.

And you hit the professor where it hurts.

His belief in blues music and Robert Johnson and its authenticity.

Ramp up the pressure on Clarence, and then he wants what Clarence wants the most.

That.

And when Ginxie doesn't give it to him, he sinks into a pit of festering, obsessive, crazy, weird hatred.

All because you didn't get a gold star.

Because I killed Ginxie.

I killed a man because of him.

It's all your fault.

I killed Ginxie because of you.

And I killed...

I need to hear you say it, Nicholas.

And I killed Ian Andrews, too.

[Dramatic music]

[Dramatic music]

[Dramatic music]

[Dramatic music]

[Dramatic music]

[Dramatic music]

Nice turnout, eh?

Well, um, you never stop liking Ginxie.

[Sighs]

You know, ma'am, I've only ever been drunk three times.

At the school dance, I was so nervous of girls.

And at my old auntie's funeral, I...

And then...

Easter Monday.

Ginxie was just going on at me about how pointless everything was.

My life and his life, everyone's life.

I told him, out of all the people who's ever lived and died

in the history of humanity, it was 17 billion, 'cause I checked.

Yeah, I bet you did.

That there was only 300 million who've ever got lucky.

Properly lucky.

And ma'am, if you were a white man,

and born at the same time and place as me and Ginxie,

you would have had more advantages than any of the 17 billion.

And Ginxie was one of the 300 million.

And I told him, I said, "Just stop being so bloody miserable."

You, Ginxie Jones, you're one of the luckiest of the lucky.

So then he wanted to sell the map for loads of money.

And...

And I... It never settled right with me what I said to him.

Nice music, though, innit?

# There is a house in New Orleans

# They call the Rising Sun

# It's been the ruin of many a poor girl

# And me, I know I won

# I'm going back to New Orleans

# My race is almost round

# I'm going back to New Orleans

# It's been the ruin of many a poor girl

# And me, I know I won

# I'm going back to New Orleans

# My race is almost round

# I'm going back to New Orleans

# It's been the ruin of many a poor girl

# And me, I know I won

# I'm going back to New Orleans

# It's been the ruin of many a poor girl