All language subtitles for Inspector Lynley 3x04 If Wishes Were Horses

Prof Finnegan, you testified
at the original trial your capacity,

- as forensic psychologist.
- I did.

Perhaps you'd summarise.

I firmly believed that Lizzie Shakespeare
murdered her husband in cold blood.

He may have bitten her as alleged

but I do not believe her knife attack was
a spur-of-the-moment act of self-defense.

Her state of mind?

Entirely rational. She knew
precisely what she was doing.

On having monitored the appellant
during two years in prison,

your view now?

The same. I can see no medical grounds

for release or transfer
to a psychiatric hospital.

So you'd refute a defense
of diminished responsibility?

Absolutely

Lizzie Shakespeare is, and
was, 100% competent,

responsible for her actions.

Thank you, Professor Finnegan.

The question is - has any compelling new
evidence been laid before this court?

Answer - no. We're therefore minded
to agree with Professor Finnegan

Lizzie Shakespeare is, and
was, 100% competent.

The conviction stands. Appeal denied

Finnegan! You are the scum of the
earth! This is all down to you!

I swear to God you'll be sorry!

As his daughter resumed
her life sentence for murder,

Noel Shakespeare vowed yesterday to
continue to fight to clear her name.

In a statement, Mr Shakespeare,
who has mortgaged

the family home to pay legal fees, said...

Close your eyes.

OK

- Which hand?
- That one.

That's beautiful.

Thank you. What's the occasion?

Does there have to be an occasion?

Have a good day.

- You're not eating.
- Dad, I'm fine.

Police have still got Finnegan's
body - what's left of it.

The memorial's today, which
means drinks on me tonight.

- A man's dead and you're gloating?
- This is a break for us, Lizzie.

With Finnegan gone, we stand a
good chance of a second appeal.

The man had a wife.

I haven't been able
to hold a proper funeral,

but I... I can at least... plant
this rose in Dermot's memory.

Thank you all for coming.
It means a great deal.

I am so sorry.

Waste of time, this.

Oh, yeah?

Well, you've killed a bloke, right?

The place is crawling with coppers.
Are you seriously gonna show?

You'd have to be a pepperoni
sort for all peter. (?)

ANy more tea?

What's your guvnor's
missus doing here anyway?

She knew Finnegan.

He was her mentor when
she was starting out.

Oh, no! Sleep with her, did he?

What?

Well, I worked with him.
Ladies' man. Known for it.

Mind you, I wouldn't say
no... preggers or not.

And they say romance is dead.

My condolences again, Mrs Finnegan.
We're doing everything we can.

Have you met my wife, Helen?

I shadowed your husband
on a case a years ago.

He taught me a lot. I'm so sorry.

Thank you... Which case?

A murder. Peter Stephanopoulos?

Oh, yes, yes, he killed
his business partner.

Crikey, that was years ago.

Nice touch, Grace - the rose. Mind you,

cactus would have done
the old goat just as well.

Hello, Maureen.

Inspector Lynley, his wife, Helen.
Maureen Finnegan.

- You're the professor's sister?
- First wife.

I kept the name - the one thing
the old goat couldn't take away.

All back to yours, is it?
Finnegan's wake?

Yes. I hope you'll join us.

Once more with feeling, Gracie.
But I will, all the same.

- Who's driving - man or woman?
- Can't tell.

Well, get a number.

I can only make out the first half.

It was good of you to come over from
Dublin. Dermot would have appreciated it.

Really?

Tell you what, Gracie, you won't want

to be on your own,
not for a week or so.

Why don't I stay, look after you?

She's well taken care of,
don't worry. Excuse us.

I was telling Inspector Lynley
how well you were bearing up.

Can't take your happy
pills forever, can I?

No, but they'll help
you through the worst.

I take it you're Mrs Finnegan's GP?

No, a friend of the family. I'm an
obstetrician at Gloucester General

Tessa is my tower of strength.

Have you chosen a name yet?

No, we're still negotiating that one.

When you feel up to it, I need
to ask you about your husband.

Well, now's as good a time as any.

Some fresh air?

Beautiful gardens

25 years probing the criminal mind,

Dermot said he'd had enough
of people, preferred plants.

Oh, this was his hideout.
Used to come here to work, think.

Did he discuss his cases with you?

Hardly ever. Too grim, he said.

So no particular names
spring to mind? Grudges?

I'm afraid not, no.

The bomb was planted on the night
of the Lizzie Shakespeare appeal.

Your husband arrived home at ten?
Yes?

- And the bomb itself?
- Crude... but straightforward.

- We're waiting on the lab reports.
- A professional job?

Not necessarily. We're
considering all possibilities.

Including me?

I'm afraid I am duty-bound
to ask where you were.

Honestly...

No, no, he's just doing his job.

- I was here with my husband.
- Thank you.

There is one thing I should mention.

Dermot told me he'd been
getting anonymous calls.

A man saying, "Do the right
thing," then hanging up.

- When?
- About three, four weeks ago.

- Why didn't he tell me?
- Didn't want to worry you.

- And that's your excuse, too?
- Yep.

Well, we'll look into the
phone company records.

If anything else comes to mind...

All sorted. Found a nice spare room.

Oh, don't thank me.
Just happy to help.

I- I really don't think I'm up
to company at the moment.

Excuse us.

I'm staying. Clear? And
spare me the crocodile tears

I don't know what you're talking about.

Don't come the innocent, Grace.

Not with me.

If I had the full register
I'd just give you, wouldn't I.

Just speed up. OK?

You can be quite scary sometimes.

That's alright.

OK, what have we got?

Well, we've got half a
registration and this.

- Came alone. Didn't speak to anyone.
- Was she at the party?

It's a wake, Turner.
And no, she wasn't.

Anyway, let's go.

According to a family
friend, Dr Tessa Jellicoe,

there were anonymous calls recently,

telling Finnegan to "do the right thing".

Something to do with
the Lizzie Shakespeare appeal?

Maybe. So we're going to see the father
now. He's got a pub near Broadway.

I see.

Is there a problem?

Well, it's just it's a bit irregular

I know, but A - I knew Dermot and B -
maternity leave is driving me insane.

Got to keep the brain
from turning to mush.

You and Turner get to work
on the mystery woman.

And check out Finnegan's outhouse.

Right, sir.

Let's go now.

Sorry, no. Not a clue.

Nor me. But I'm surprised
there weren't more of them there

crowing out of the woodwork.

More who?

- His bits of fluff. Floozies.
- Maureen...

Okay.

Just to be clear, and I am
sorry if this is awkward, but.

Professor Finnegan was married
to you when he started seeing you?

Seeing? Is that what they call it?

The answer is yes. Is there
anything else? It's been a long day.

Inspector Lynley said something
about an outhouse...

Nicholas?

- Joseph?
- Alexander?

- Jennifer?
- He'll have hell at school.

Silly man.

So, tell me what was
Dermot Finnegan really like?

Charming. Inspiring. Very clever.

- Sounds like someone had a crush.
- Hardly. Anyway, that was years ago

George?

- Trying to change the subject?
- Honestly!

- Is that a gun cabinet?
- Yes. Yes...

Dermot used to like to give the
rabbits a run for their money.

All above board. Permits are here.

Thanks.

- I'll... I'll leave you to it.
- OK.

- All right?
- Yeah.

Anything?

- No, but I'll meet you out front, yeah?
- OK.

Ladies and gentlemen, friends.

My Lizzie should be here, but she's
not... so the fight's still on.

I'm lobbying for a second appeal,
which means more lawyers...

which means more money.

Gentlemen...

Max...

My advice?

Face facts. Right or wrong, Lizzie's
gonna serve her full sentence.

Over my dead body

Noel, you need to get on with life,

and you need to let people have a
pint without a lecture on justice.

Loosing face, Max.
Yeah, well...

Loosing readers. Lizzie's had more front
pages than any other story.

The story is my daughter.

Mr Shakespeare? DI Lynley.

You've got a nerve

I beg your pardon?

Where were your lot
when Lizzie needed you?

Seven times she reported that
brute. Seven times in nine years.

As I understand it, there
were never any witnesses,

no third-party corroboration, so
the police couldn't prosecute,

and your daughter repeatedly
refused to press charges.

Of course she did. She was petrified

I'm here investigating the
murder of Professor Finnegan.

Now, if there's somewhere
more private we can talk?

Where did you go after the appeal?

Came back here. Am I a suspect?

Were you open for business as usual?

The show must go on. Am I a suspect?

I'm merely trying to establish
the facts Mr Shakespeare.

Where were you between 10pm that
night and 8am the next morning?

Here. Closed at 11.30, went to bed.

No witnesses after closing time.

- The wife's long gone.
- Gone where?

Australia. Says I'm "obsessed".
"Impossible to live with".

You use the internet?

Got a website - freelizzie. com.

Mind if I ask what other sites you use?

- If I say no?
- We get a warrant.

Tell me - did you ever contact
Dermot Finnegan directly?

Professor psycho-bloody-babble? No, I
did not. Lizzie's got life, thanks to him.

Bloody shrinks! As bad as you lot.

Actually, I'm a
shrink. Police profiler.

Couldn't get a proper job?

Helen happens to be one of the best
in the business. She's also my wife.

Can I ask why'd you use
this ex-cons website?

- What?
- You've never been inside, have you?

I was trying to find other poor sods who'd
been stitched up by Finnegan's "expertise".

One miscarriage of justice down to that
charlatan, and his reputation's shot.

- Which would help Lizzie's appeal.
- Too right!

- So, what have you found?
- Nothing yet.

Hope springs eternal

- I'd like to take your computer, please.
- Why?

To have our experts analyse
the hard disk. Any objections?

So, Ms "psycho-babble". Verdict?

On Shakespeare? Totally
obsessed, and who can blame him?

His daughter's beaten for years, then
ends up in prison for protecting herself

I'd be pretty deranged, wouldn't you?

Well, she did kill her husband.

- In self-defense.
- Does that make it all right?

No, it makes it complicated.

Question is - did Shakespeare use the
ex-cons' website for what he said he did,

or was he looking for a
hitman to kill Finnegan?

Havers!

Just to let you know, no luck yet
on our mystery mourner.

Right, well, keep at it.

Anything else?

Barbara?

No, sir.

- Hi.
- Hi.

Are you coming in for supper?

- I expect she has plans.
- Yeah, I... Thanks all the same.

Hot date?

Hot bath.

Right, that's it. Come on.

Let's not mince words, Grace.

His motto was "anything with a pulse"

I'm not saying he was
perfect, but he was...

- kind and generous.
- The presents? Guilty conscience.

Lord knows he had enough
to feel guilty about

I do wish you wouldn't go on.

I'v brought my photos.

The good old days

I am not interested in the past.

Suit yourself.

Silver? Very nice.

Do you know who you remind me of?

Me. 20 years ago.

Little Miss Meek and Mild.

Assertiveness training - that's
what you need. Changed my life.

Don't take this the wrong way, but
how long are you thinking of staying?

Till the will is read.

The will?

- But surely you don't expect...?
- Like I said...

Catholic guilt, running through
him like a stick of rock.

He'll see me right.

Excuse me.

I thought a casserole wouldn't go
amiss. You won't feel like cooking.

Thank you. How thoughtful.

Bit late, though, or we'd invite you in.

It's only 9.30... Stay.
Stay for a glass of wine.

- You've just lost your husband.
- But...

You need your rest... Right, Doctor?

I thought you might like company.

She's got company.

Well...

Another time, then?

Goodnight.

Right.

- Morning, sir.
- Morning.

- Thanks for last night.
- Pleasure.

- So, what have we got?
- We've got some old love letters.

Found them in Finnegan's outhouse.

Told you. Ladies' man. Anything juicy?

This might be something, sir.

SOCO found them 100 yards
from Finnegan's house.

Parts of the bomb?

May be. They think it may be
fragments of the casing

I've been trying to work out if it's
one word, or all bits of different words.

Keep at it. Anything else?

News on the Chevy at Finnegan's memorial
service. Possible registrations. 27 names.

- We've eliminated 12
- Lucky 13, I'd say.

- Sir?
- Peter Stephanopoulos

Helen mentioned him the other day
as being one of Finnegan's past cases

I'll give her a call.

I get it.

- Get what?
- You and him

Romeo and Juliet.

More like Punch and Judy, actually.

Yes.

And relax down... Other side...
Take it up... Inhale... And relax.

Tommy! Terrible timing.

Sorry. Could you tell me about
that case you did with Finnegan

Peter Stephanopoulos.

Estate agent. Murdered his business
partner about 15 years ago.

So, he should be out by now?

I should think so.

And... and you profiled
him as the murderer, yes?

Hardly. I just shadowed Finnegan.
He did all the work. Why?

It seems that your Mr Stephanopoulos
turned up at the memorial.

He's a mechanic now, with a garage in Lower
Upton. It's not far from Finnegan's house.

Give me a couple of hours.
I'll come with you.

- Are you trying to do Havers out of a job?
- Ready, sir

Tommy, I'm pregnant - not
brain-dead. I'd like to come.

You're on leave, remember?

Finish your class and go and have
lunch with the girls. Go shopping.

Could you be a little more patronising?

I'll call you later.

Take the right ear
down to the shoulder...

Sorry.

Everything OK?

Fine. Shall we go?

Nice. Might be able to fit you in
tomorrow. What's wrong with it?

Nothing. DI Lynley and DS Havers.

Is Peter Stephanopoulos here?

You be lucky. Gone fishing
down by the bridge.

- Does he drive a Chevy Blazer LK46 VLO?
- Yeah.

He attended a memorial service
yesterday and we'd like to know why.

Memorial, was it?

He keeps me in the dark like a
flaming mushroom. I'm Janice.

- His wife?
- Girlfriend.

And admin supremo. And before you
ask - yes, I know all about his past.

But he was married, right? To Gina?

Yeah. She did a runner.

Before my time.

Any idea why he'd attend the memorial of
a man who helped put him away for murder?

Not a clue.
Excuse me.

- Oh, hello.
- Hi.

Shouldn't you be at home, putting
your feet up?

Don't you start.

- Tommy not around?
- No, he's... He's gone out.

- Can I help?
- Are these Finnegan's case files?

- Yes, but I'm not sure you're meant to...
- I'd kill for coffee.

Milk, no sugar.

Right.

If my husband calls, tell him
to stay right where he is.

- OK... Bye.
- Bye.

- This is where Janice said he'd be.
- Assuming he's actually gone fishing.

- Hello?
- Is that the king of condescension?

You're not still going on
about that, are you?

- Where are you?
- Lower Upton. You?

- About ten minutes away.
- What?

I checked Finnegan's case
file on Peter Stephanopoulos.

Found a love letter. Guess who from?

- One of Finnegan's harem?
- Gina Stephanopoulos.

No...

Written to Finnegan while
her husband was in prison.

She'd an affair with Finnegan after
he put her husband away for ten years?

Looks like it

Helen?

Helen? Helen!

Still unconscious. Lost a lot of blood.

- And the baby?
- Can't say. Are you coming or not?

Go. Go, sir, now!

Right, everyone, listen up!

We've got no witnesses,
so it's down to us.

If there is a scrap of evidence,
an atom, within ten miles,

then we're going to find it.
Starting with the bullet.

It wasn't a bullet. It
was an air-gun pellet

37-year-old woman -
RTA. Six months pregnant.

Blood pressure 80 over 50. Pulse 110.

- Tommy?
- I'm here, darling. I'm here.

Come on, Helen. Stay with us now.

- Where the hell have you been?
- Waste of time. Didn't catch a thing.

- Not even the clap?
- Don't be silly. Give us a kiss.

You had visitors. Police.

Your wife's recovering
from the operation.

She lost consciousness again, but
we're hopeful she'll recover.

Wh-Wh-What about...?

The damage to the placenta was too great.

I'm afraid we couldn't save the baby.

I can't tell you how sorry I am.

I feel like I'm being punished.

For what?

"Be careful what you wish for."
That's what they say, isn't it?

You didn't want her to lose the baby.

No, of course not. I just...

Do you remember when I
found out she was pregnant?

I...

Well, I...

You what?

You weren't sure you were up to it?

Worried about
how your life might change?

I mean, I'm no expert, but
everyone has those doubts.

- But this... This is not your fault.
- I should have been there.

And what could you
have done if you were?

I don't know. Something!

You just need to take some
time off, and then maybe...

Take leave? Are you out of your mind?

I'm sorry.

Whoever did this is going to realise
they are messing with the wrong family.

What we need to do is establish a
clear link between Helen and Finnegan.

Apart from the obvious, this...
this Stephanopoulos thing.

Well...

there is another angle.

I tried to mention it before, but...

I found this with the love letters.

It looks like Helen was seeing
Dermot, about 16 years ago

I can read, Havers.

She didn't tell you?

No.

Why didn't you tell me
about this yesterday?

I didn't know how.

I am so sorry.

Where are you going?

If Helen was involved with Finnegan 16
years ago, he was still married to Maureen.

You think she might bear a
grudge? After all these years?

I don't know, but it's a start.

Sir, this is all a bit too close
to home. I mean, shouldn't you...?

Are you seriously telling me what I should
and shouldn't do? You, of all people?

- No. I just think...
- You should have told me about this.

Now, you stay here, and you do not leave
my wife unattended for one single second.

Understood?

- Won't she want you here when...?
- Is that understood?!

Sir.

I'm... I'm terribly sorry. I
hope your wife's going to be OK.

Thank you.

Why are you here?

It seems that my wife was
involved with Professor Finnegan.

- Ages ago, yes.
- So, you did know?

Course. Recognised her at the memorial.

The man kept all their
photos. Like trophies.

I see.

May I ask where you
were at midday today?

You think I had...?
Now, wait a minute,

no disrespect to your wife,

but Dermot's philosophy was
"so many women, so little time".

Revenge for every single fling?

- I'd be at it till Doomsday.
- All the same, where were you?

Having a late breakfast. Eggs,
bacon, tomatoes from the garden.

- Anything else?
- You seem very at home here.

Grace is very hospitable.

Where were you at twelve o'clock?

In the rose garden, reading. Why?

Just occur to me.

The Inspector's wife
wasn't Dermot's only bit

on the side all those
years ago. Was she, Gracie?

I don't know what you mean.

Well, none of us exactly had the
exclusive on the old goat, did we?

And the green-eyed monster does
things to even the nicest people.

- How is she?
- Progressing.

- She's breathing on her own.
- Oh, that's great.

- Well, early days.
- Yeah.

Is there any chance of a cup
of tea? I'm not supposed to move.

Are you worried he
might try again? Here?

Well, we're not taking any chances.

Do you think this is linked to
what happened to Dermot Finnegan?

Maybe.

They did know each other years ago.
They worked on a case together.

DI Lynley is checking it out now.

- Nurse, tea for DS Havers, please.
- No problem.

Machine, I'm afraid.

- Tastes like sump oil.
- Cheers.

Peter Stephanopoulos?

Who wants to know?

Twelve o'clock? I was fishing.

At your usual spot?

- I moved down-river.
- Any reason?

Ten years inside. I like to
go where the fancy takes me.

- Catch anything?
- Just tiddlers.

- Anyone see you?
- No.

That's the beauty of fishing -
hours with not a soul in sight.

Anyway, why would I
take a pop at your wife?

You tell me.

Why did you go to Finnegan's memorial.

Why shouldn't I go?

Well, for start the man was partly
responsible for your serving 10 years

for murder. Paying your last respects?

I once heard about
this Hollywood producer.

Real tyrant - everyone hated his guts.

But when they buried him, there
was a queue round the block.

Not for affection or respect.

They all just wanted to make
sure the old sod was really dead.

So, I take it that you do bear
a little grudge towards him.

Well, he wasn't on my Christmas list.

But not cos he did his job.

I took a life. Finnegan
helped put me away - fair dos.

Having an affair with your
wife while you were inside...

Now that's not quite
such fair dos, is it?

- How do you know about that?
- I know she left you.

- For him.
- Look,

am I glad Finnegan's pushing up daisies?

You bet.

Did I do it? Nah.

Oh, good timing. Where's the loo?

Right, and fourth door on the right.

Please, don't move. I will
be two minutes, yeah?

Emergency C-section. Cubicle four

- I'm supposed to be here...
- Now!

Havers?

Where the hell were you?

Well, I was two minutes.
I told the nurse...

Outside, now!

What is the matter with you?
Anyone could have got in!

- What happened to you?
- Emergency. Sorry.

Unbelievable!

Totally irresponsible,
total dereliction of duty.

I must have been mad
to fight your corner

I should have got shot of
you when I had the chance.

- Get Turner down here.
- You obviously can't do it by yourself.

Sir?

Yes! What?

Nothing.

Hiya.

How's she doing?

- What does it look like?
- Blimey, who rattled your cage?

You wanted Finnegan's case files.

- Thanks.
- Ah. Still playing word games?

Uhuh.

OK.

- Half each.
- Right. What am I looking for?

Another link.

She's in here, Finnegan's dead.
They worked together

on one case - Stephanopoulos.
Maybe there's more.

Oh, how did you get on with
the woman at the memorial?

I traced everyone else
there. No-one has a clue.

It could have been anyone.
Everyone hates journalists.

- It wasn't anyone. It was you.
- My guess? One of your readers.

Someone who thinks you're
gutless, more interested

in flogging papers than
in a miscarriage of justice.

Here you go, Max. The police
like a nice graffiti case.

Simpler than protecting
women from brutal thugs

I need to ask where you
were at 12 o'clock today?

- What have I done now?
- My wife was attacked.

Why would I attack your wife?

I didn't say you did -
I just asked you where you were.

In the back. Writing to my MP. By hand.

You'll get your computer back
when we've analysed the hard disk.

- Is your wife OK?
- No. She's in hospital.

Be careful. He'll have a picture on the

front page before you can say paparazzi.

We've just lost our baby and
someone is responsible for that.

Well, not me.
And I'm sorry.

But maybe now you know how I feel

someone you love, something awful happens,
there's nothing you can do about it.

It's enough to drive any man half mad.

Well, if there is another link
between her and Finnegan, it's not here.

Nor here.

The lads are going for a drink. Coming?

What planet are you on?

Sorry.

She's stable, but still no
sign of regaining consciousness.

Sir, I...
just want to say I'm sorry about...

well, you know.
I'm sure she'll be OK.

Medical expert, are you?

No, I just meant...

Yeah, I know.

Thanks. You can go.

- But I thought you...
- Yes?

Nothing, sir.

- Goodnight.
- Goodnight.

- Any news?
- No leads in the professor's files.

The Irish police are checking
on Maureen Finnegan.

Oh, I'm glad to hear it.

- Why?
- I don't like her.

Do you think the attack on your wife ties
in with what happened to Professor Finnegan?

Well, hard to say.

We got an address for
Stephanopoulos's wife. Cheltenham.

We sent a PC round. The neighbours
haven't seen her for days.

Try again tomorrow

I'll interview Lizzie
Shakespeare first thing.

Why?

If her father was involved
with Finnegan's death,

she might know what he was planning

- I'll get someone to bring you a blanket.
- Thank you.

I could stay tonight, if you like.

No. You go.

OK

I'm leaving here at nine,
so I'll need you back here by then.

And... can you do me a favour?

I'm gonna need some fresh clothes
and things... And so will Helen.

- Would you mind?
- OK.

Sir, maybe you could get someone
else to stand guard tomorrow?

Yes, I could.

But... no-one I trust
as much as you.

What, even after today?

Especially after today.

And I'm... I'm sorry.

Right.

Goodnight, sir.

So, what are you saying?

That my father made a car-bomb
and blew Finnegan to bits?

The man runs a pub, for God's sake.

He belongs to the bowls
club, not al-Qaeda.

Anyone can learn how to make explosives
these days, if they're determined enough.

Look, my mum ran off,
left my dad high and dry.

I'm in here.

I wake up every morning
knowing I took my husband's life.

My family's in shreds...

and now you want to hound my dad
for something he didn't do?

When do you people stop?

- When we get the truth.
- Whose truth?

Tell me one thing...

You could have left your husband,
packed your bags, walked away.

Why didn't you?

It's fine for ages.

Months.

Then he gets that look...

and you know it's coming.

And you know it's your fault -

you burnt the bacon, you
flirted with that bloke

at the party, you're too
this, you're too that.

And part of you believes him.

You believe it's your fault.

Especially later,

when he swears he'll never hit you again

and please don't leave
because he needs you,

and you love each other and
"this time it'll be different".

Only, it's never different.

And you're too ashamed to admit
you haven't got the guts to leave.

That's why I stayed.

Shame.

And fear.

Thank you for your time.

Got plenty of that.

- Lynley.
- It's Turner, sir.

How's your wife?

- No change. What have you got?
- A body. In the river at Lower Upton.

See this ligature mark around her neck?

Garrotted I'd say and dumped.

Body's been in water 24 hours tops.

Whoever did it tied those stones around
her neck, trying to weigh her down.

Didn't make a good job of it.

In the same clothes she was here.

Except the necklace is missing.

So you know who she is?

No.

No. All we know is that she was
in a churchyard the other day.

Well, she'll be in another one soon.

Excuse me.

Is this yours?

Thanks very much.

- Ah, he's lovely.
- Yeah.

Only he's a she.

Sorry.

That's all right.

We're thinking of Abigail.

Abigail. That's nice.

Thanks.

And we're sure that this
is the body in the river?

Sir?

Sorry?

Yes, I've... asked Turner
to check the dental records.

Whose?

Gina Stephanopoulos and
Noel Shakespeare's ex-wife

I thought she moved to Australia.

That's what he said

I've also asked him to check
with immigration down under.

Dinner is served.

Thanks. I'm really not hungry.

Don't blame you. The domestic goddess
hasn't quite made it to Gloucester General

I'll have yours, sir.

How did you get on
with Lizzie Shakespeare?

Nothing new.

Very impressive, though.

And I read Finnegan's
evidence from the trial.

No doubt about it, he
turned the jury against her.

- Unfairly?
- Maybe.

That husband of hers was a real brute.

I'm not saying he deserved to die,
but he pushed her right to the edge.

- Doctor Khan needs a word.
- Excuse me.

- Lynley...
- It's Turner.

We've got interim news on
Shakespeare's computer.

Traces of emails between Noel
Shakespeare and Peter Stephanopoulos.

Shakespeare's deleted them, but
they're still on the hard disk.

What are they about?

We're trying to retrieve the emails.
We've just got the addresses.

- What about the dental records?
- I'm on the case.

I want you to chivvy up the phone
company - those threatening calls that

Finnegan told Tessa Jellicoe about.
I want to know who made them.

Right.

Helen's instinct was right

Shakespeare had been in touch
with Stephanopoulos via email.

- Both hated Finnegan.
- They're in it together?

Shakespeare learns how
to make a bomb on the net,

but he needs a mechanic
to wire Finnegan's car.

But that doesn't explain
the attack on Helen.

No, but it's just got to be one
of them, hasn't it? Has to be.

With respect, sir, have you thought
about handing this over

to someone less involved?

I beg your pardon?

Well, it doesn't have to be anything.

What happened to Helen,
well, and to you, is...

Well, is terrible,

but I think you're letting
it get in the way of...

- Doing my job?
- No, thinking clearly.

Are you making a formal
complaint, Detective Sergeant?

No.

Well, it isn't exactly
by the book, is it?

Oh, excuse me! What's the
expression? Pot... kettle... black...

- All I'm saying...
- If you're so concerned about

doing things by the
book, all of a sudden

then you just do what you have to,
OK, and I'll do what I have to.

There is one way to find out if
it's Shakespeare or Stephanopoulos

I mean no guarantees,
but it's worth a go.

I'm listening.

Well, if one of them really did
have something against Helen, then,

maybe we could give
them another chance.

To do what?

- To have another crack at her.
- What?

Try and flush them out
using a decoy. Me.

I need my computer back now.

- We're still not done with it.
- Look, I'm trying to run a campaign!

And I'm trying to find out who murdered
Finnegan and who attacked my wife.

- How is she?
- Better.

Driving herself back to
London tonight, actually.

In your posh car?

Hope she's not like my wife. More
prangs than I've had pies.

- Do she keep in touch?
- No, thank God!

- You know Peter Stephanopoulos?
- What if I do?

You email each other. Why?

He was an ex-convict I
tracked down on that website

Finnegan testified at his trial, swung
the jury against him,

same as he did with my Lizzie.

And you hoped Stephanopoulos
could somehow help hurt Finnegan?

Not him - his reputation.

- Could he?
- No.

But we got on OK. He drinks here
sometimes. Any law against that?

Look, you've got me wrong, Inspector.
I didn't take a pot-shot at your wife

and the only man I've ever wanted
to kill was Lizzie's husband.

Tragedy is, she beat me to it.

Who made the first contact -
you or Shakespeare?

He did

I got an email out of the blue.

Said he was looking for a way to hurt
Finnegan. Blow him out of the water.

- Unfortunate turn of phrase.
- His reputation.

Odd. You and Shakespeare -
same story, almost word for word.

Anyone'd think you'd rehearsed it.

He did call a couple of hours ago,
actually. Said you were snooping around,

- looking in all the wrong places.
- We'll see.

He also said your wife's on the mend.
Going home tonight. Is that right?

What if it is?

Nothing.

Glad she's better, that's all.

Helen?

How do I look?

Very convincing.

Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I didn't think.

- Body armour?
- Yeah. Weighs a ton.

I'm not sure I should
be letting you do this.

Sir

I want to help.

Alpha-two-zero.

With you, alpha-two-zero. Game on.

Game?

Sorry, sir.

Handles very nicely.

I could get used to this.

Mind on the job, Havers.

Yes, sir.

Pull back a bit, alpha-two-zero.
Let her off the leash.

Right you are, sir.

So far, so good.

Nurse!

- That's a bit too close.
- Havers?

That is you, sir, isn't it,
coming up behind me?

- No.
- Well, someone's getting friendly.

- A bit too friendly.
- Alpha-two-zero, registration check.

He's flashing me.

OK, reel him in.

- Registration check.
- It's Doctor Jellicoe.

- What's going on?
- You tell me.

This is my way home. I saw your car!

You were driving like a maniac.

Cos I just got a call to my mobile -
your wife's regained consciousness.

- Where were you?
- Trying to find out who did this.

Oh, Tommy...

Our baby...

I know...

Will she be OK?

We'll run some tests, but, yeah,
she can probably go home tomorrow.

- I'm sorry about all that palaver earlier.
- No, no, it's OK.

Look, are you still on duty or do you
want to tell me about it over a drink?

Yeah.
Hmm?

- Thank you.
- Always a pleasure to serve the police.

- My Pete been in?
- No. Lost him again?

You'd tell me if he had someone else?

- Rule number one of running a pub.
- See all, hear all, say nowt.

What that suppose to mean?

Ah, thanks.

So why all the drama earlier?

Well, we thought that
one of our suspects

might take another
crack at DI Lynley's wife.

By suspects, you mean...?

Well... Or her boyfriend,

who seems to have been putting it
about nearly as much as Finnegan.

Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot
you were friends.

Well, still... Men, eh?

What do you make of
Finnegan's first wife?

What, Maureen?

- I'm not sure. Why?
- I worry about Grace

Maureen seems to be taking over,
won't let me near the place.

Well... we're checking her out.
I'll let you know.

- Will you stay for another?
- No, I'm driving. And it's the boss's car.

- Back to London?
- No, local B&B.

So, there's no Mr Right waiting
up, keeping the home fires burning?

That'll be the day.

I know it feels like
the end of the world,

but we can try again, you know...

Darling...

I don't think I can talk
about this right now.

Sorry.

We still don't know

who attacked you

we're no closer to finding
out who killed your...

your friend, Finnegan.

Why do you say it like that?

Helen, I know you were lovers.

Havers... Havers found
this in the outhouse study.

Tommy, it... it was
years ago. I was a kid.

Oh, I know. I know.

It doesn't matter. It really
doesn't matter. It's just...

Listen, love, I'm just glad
you're OK. You know?

So glad you're OK.

And we'll get through this, I promise.

- What's happening? I'm calling the police!
- No, I am the police!

So he saw the car, assumed
you were the guvnor's wife?

Seems like it.

Worked, then, didn't it?
Your decoy trick.

- Who's going to pay for the damage?
- We'll sort it out.

- What if they come back?
- Don't worry about that, I'm here now.

- My hero.
- Do you do room service?

You don't need a room.
You won't be sleeping.

Good night!

You're lucky it was a lamp
they broke and not your skull.

We've sent the brick to Forensics.

Do you think you were
followed from the pub?

- Possibly.
- Someone inside? Watching us all along.

Well, I doubt it. They'd know
it was me, and not Helen.

- Do we know where Stephanopoulos was?
- Not yet.

Get onto Shakespeare. I want a list of
everyone who was in the pub last night.

Assuming it wasn't Shakespeare himself.

All right. I'm ready.

- What's going on?
- Someone had a go at Havers.

- While you were being decoy for me?
- Yeah.

- Are you all right?
- I'm fine.

- Well, you'd better stay, I suppose.
- No, I said I'd drive you home and I will

Turner can drive me.

You're still a target, darling.

Then the sooner you find out
who's behind this, the better.

- All right?
- Yeah.

I don't need to tell you how
much I'm relying on you, do I?

No, sir.

I'll be home later tonight

- and then we can talk... properly.
- OK.

Sir!

I've just got a dental-records ID
on the body in the river.

It was Gina Stephanopoulos, who, as
we know, was garrotted with thin wire.

Like a fishing line.

Here they come. Laurel & Hardy.

- Where were you at 11pm last night?
- Minding my own business.

Enough! My sergeant was attacked.

I was with a friend.

- What friend?
- No-one you know.

- Does this friend have a name?
- Stacey Carter. Local hairdresser.

- Local bike.
- We were just talking.

- Is this a picture of your ex-wife?
- Yes.

We pulled her out of the river
two days ago. She was murdered.

Oh, my God...

Poor Gina.

Someone tried to weigh her body down with
stones but they didn't do a very good job.

She was garrotted... with a fishing line.

So you assume it was me?

Estimated time of death between
midday and midnight on Thursday

I was here, working till seven. Had
dinner with Janice, went to bed.

- And you can confirm that? Hello?
- They're asking you a question.

Oh, my God...

You cheap, lying...

"Early birthday present"?
It's hers!

- We had dinner...
- He went off on Thursday.

Don't listen to her! You know...

- Got back late. Maybe eleven.
- Shut your mouth!

Gina knew you'd never
forgive her, didn't she?

Having an affair with the man
who put you away for 10 years.

So she went to ground. But she
came out for Finnegan's memorial.

That's why you were there,
wasn't it? Am I right?!

I want my lawyer.

Once you'd found her you couldn't
do anything, too many people...

so you waited, you followed
her and you took your revenge.

I want my lawyer.

Do you think he killed them both?
His ex-wife and Finnegan?

Motive's there, technical know-how.

Enough to build a bomb?

I don't know. Maybe he learnt
that explosives from the net!

Let's get his computer analysed as
well. He can certainly wire a car.

Can I make a suggestion, sir?

- What now?
- Well, leave this to me.

You need to go home and
take care of your wife.

Well, if you don't mind my saying so.

No. Thank you, Havers.

- Evening, sir.
- Everything all right?

Yes, sir. Your wife's upstairs.

And Australian immigration confirmed.

Shakespeare's wife moved
to Melbourne last July.

But phone company we called said
he made four calls to Finnegan

in a three weeks before Lizzie's appeal.

Which ties him with what Tessa
Jellicoe said about threats to Finnegan.

Right. I'll see you tomorrow
morning, eight sharp.

Night, sir.

Hi, darling. I've got
supper. Your favourite.

Helen?

I don't believe this is happening.

Do stop moaning.
He left the house to you.

And everything else to you!
Cash, stocks, everything.

Told you guilt running through him like a
stick of rock. This is payback time, Gracie

I was like you. I was the perfect
wife, but he treated me like a dog.

You been Lady Mack all these
years, I've had nothing.

No, this s nothing to do with guilt.
Why did he change

his will three months ago?
What happened?

The man changed his mind,
that's all. People do.

He told you? Didn't he? He told you
he was putting you in the new will!

Don't upset yourself.
The house is worth a fortune.

You could sell. They
call it "downsizing".

Where are you going?

To shop till I drop.

Check your name's on the house deeds,
just to set your mind at rest. Toodle-oo.

Dear Professor Finnegan... we are
sorry to learn of your condition...

We can confirm your policy
does cover multiple sclerosis...

- And you knew about this?
- Yes.

- Hello. Are you all right?
- Fine, thank you.

We're busy.

- Dermot came to me... in confidence.
- You knew he had MS.

You knew for three months
and you didn't tell me.

He didn't want to burden you
before he absolutely had to

- and I had to respect his privacy.
- I'm his wife!

He'd have told you soon.
The MS was progressing.

A few falls, stumbles -
things he could pass off as

clumsiness, but not for
much longer and he knew it.

Am I right in thinking he named you
as sole beneficiary?

Of the life insurance, yes. But not
in the NEW will, as no doubt you know.

What new will?

Oh, Tessa...

how can I believe anything you say?

A dozen white roses.

No, make that two dozen.

No, no card.
She'll know who they're from.

Thank you.

Hardly makes up for what happened,
does it? Still, what else can I do?

OK, so what have we got?

Well, we've... we've just
had a call from Grace Finnegan.

Not a happy bunny. She wants
us to check out Maureen.

Because?

Well, because Finnegan left
her a shed-load of dosh.

And Maureen knew she was
in the will in advance.

So if Maureen wanted
the money in a hurry...

We got this fax from the Irish police.

She's broke. She put in
a phoney insurance claim

for a burglary that didn't happen,
her cottage has been repossessed

and she's been living in a
caravan for nine months.

Right. So...
we've got Maureen Finnegan,

Noel Shakespeare.

Who made threatening
phone calls to Finnegan

and doesn't have an alibi for the
night the car bomb was planted.

And Peter Stephanopoulos who
we regard Gina's murder.

But he does have an alibi
for the brick through my window

I talked to that hairdresser, Stacey
Carter. He was at her place that night.

- Will she say that in court?
- I reckon so.

So doesn't let him off
the hook for Finnegan.

Yes, but doesn't give us
enough to charge him for it.

How much did he leave
Maureen in his will?

Over 200 grand.

"Shop till I drop," she said.
She's been gone hours.

We'd like to search Maureen's
room, if that's all right.

Be my guest. Top of
the stairs, second left.

Was this letter the first that you
heard about your husband's MS?

Yes.

He confided in Tessa.

MS can be very unpredictable, apparently.

Dermot could've had another 10, 20
years, and I can't help wondering...

What?

Well, he wrote Maureen into the
will after he found out about the MS.

She obviously knew she
was in line for money.

Question is, did she
know he was ill as well?

So...

what do you think?

Amazing what a little cash can do.

Well, you know what they say -
shrouds have no pockets.

How did you know you
were included in the will?

Dermot told me.

Phoned me to say he had MS.

- He told you?
- Yes.

So the whole bloody
world knew, except me?

I am so sick of being
treated like a child!

Then stop behaving like one.

Can we get back to Prof Finnegan?

He'd said he'd been doing a lot
of thinking since he was diagnosed.

Dermot didn't know how long he had left,
so he wanted to put his affairs in order,

- make it up to me.
- For...?

Screwing half the country,
running off with Grace.

Catholic guilt, Inspector.
Repentance. Nothing like it,

especially when you're
about to meet your maker

I thought confession was meant
to took care of guilt.

Confession? Finnegan?

The amount that man had on his conscience,

he'd have been in that box
months. Right, Gracie?

Sorry. The great taboo.

Well, I don't know about
you, but I need a cup of tea.

He said, "You get the cash
and Grace gets the house".

Plus the life insurance.

It's worth about 300,000, isn't it?

I've no idea

I believe you. Thousands wouldn't.

- Are you making some sort of accusation?
- I wouldn't dream of it.

But the poor man had MS.

Handy for Gracie that he's not
going to be around to be a burden

for God knows how many years

- I loved him.
- So did I.

Even though he beat you?

You searched my room?

With Mrs Finnegan's
permission. It is her house.

And those are mine too!

Wrong. Mine.

Dermot's presents.

I took nothing when I left him,

not even a suitcase.

And what about these?

My doctor's idea,

in case I plucked up courage
to charge, but I never did.

- And is that how it was for you, too?
- Certainly not.

Oh, come on, Gracie,
the man beat you to a pulp!

That's enough!

Always sorry, wasn't he?

Always buying those little
forgive-and-forget presents.

Silver for me and ornaments for you.

And every time, the remorse -

"I wish I could stop. I wish to
God I could change, Maureen."

And I'd say...

"If wishes were horses,
beggars would ride"

- I want you out of my house now!
- Fine with me!

And what about your fraudulent
insurance claim in Dublin?

A misunderstanding.

- Not according to the Irish police.
- I was never charged.

And you have no grounds
to charge me now,

with that or anything else.

Then go... for now.

- You leave my silver.
- MY silver.

I earned it.

Sir, was she suggesting that Grace
murdered Finnegan for the insurance money?

Not in so many words, but yes.

That could be why she's so
adamant he didn't beat her.

It'd give her motive. And
her alibi was Finnegan.

- Either way, she won't tell us.
- No, but if Grace was being beaten,

who would she go to for help?

Someone who was a close
friend, and a doctor...

Tessa Jellicoe.

- Let's go and see her.
- Hello, darling.

Thanks for the flowers. They're gorgeous.

How are you feeling?

Tired.

Well, feet up. I'll be back
as soon as I can and we'll...

Tommy, I've had a long
chat with my sister.

- And?
- She's invited me to stay.

What, in the country? That's good.
Yeah, I... I'll meet up with you there.

That's... not what I mean.

Maybe we need some time apart.

I think what we need is... is to talk.

Darling, you've had a terrible time,

but we'll get over this, you know.

Hold on.

- Havers, I'm sorry to do this again.
- It's no problem.

- I'm on my way.
- I've already told Penny I'm coming.

Tell her you've changed your mind.

- Tommy!
- I'm setting off right now. OK?

Are you sure you don't mind?

No, if you could just drop
me off at the hospital, yeah?

Can I help you?

- Yeah, I was looking for Dr Jellicoe.
- Oh, she's off duty.

Any idea where she'd be?

There's a pub in town
where her lot meet sometimes.

- What do you mean, "her lot"?
- You know, lesbians.

Well, what's wrong with that?

No, being a lesbian's fine with me,
but snoging patient, a vulnerable one...

That's a whole different ball game.

Look, I'm investigating a murder.

If you've got a professional misconduct
grievance, take up with the hospital authority.

What?

- Oh, my God...
- What is it?

This "vulnerable
patient" - who was she?

Feeling better?

No.

It's a new chapter, Gracie.

For both of us.

What do you mean, "for both of us"?

Yes, Havers?

I've got a breakthrough,
sir. Well, I think.

A nurse just told me he
saw Dr Tessa Jellicoe

kissing "a vulnerable
patient", a woman.

- Who?
- Well, Grace Finnegan.

Bruises all over her face,
like she'd been beaten.

Regular customer go back for years.

Came in wearing scarves,
trying to hide her face.

So they were lovers?

- Helen?
- Looks like it.

Also Tessa's been busy on the
internet, researching explosives.

Good God!

Yeah. And then I saw the
sharps box. That's what they

use it to get rid of contaminated needles.

- And...?
- A sharps box, sir. S-H-A-R...

- Right. So where's Tessa now?
- Well, my hunch? With Grace Finnegan.

Sir?

I'll meet you there.

- What about Helen?
- I said I'll meet you there. All right?

- Are you all right?
- Not really, no.

- Is that the box?
- Yeah.

- Where are they?
- They're in the garden.

Come on, then.

It's not love, it's control...

Dr Jellicoe, we'd like a word, please.

About?

You was seen by one of your
nurses kissing Mrs Finnegan.

We had a relationship, yes. I ended it.

Which is none of their business.

Would you have any idea how the casing
of the bomb that killed Professor

Finnegan was a hospital sharps box?

No. And I'm sorry, I
can't talk now. I'm late.

Whoever planted the bomb probably assumed
there'd be nothing left after the explosion.

- They were wrong.
- Really?

Can you account for your
movements on the night

the bomb was planted
in Prof Finnegan's car?

I was at home.

- Can anyone verify that?
- No.

Your computer at work...
do you use the internet?

- What if I do?
- Are you aware

that whenever you use any website,

to make explosives, say,
or to build a bomb,

that that visit is logged and stored on
the computer's hard disk, indelibly?

- You had no right!
- You would never have left him

16 years, she put up with it.

The usual thing - men like
Finnegan, it's all about power.

And same old pattern - he'd be OK
for months and then he'd lose it.

And you'd come running back.

"Take care of me, Tessa, but don't tell
anybody cos I love him. It's not his fault"

I DID love him.

Yes... but it WAS his fault.

And then you found out that he had MS?

Yes. And for a moment I
thought, maybe there is a God,

we could be together.

But then it hit me

if you hadn't left him when he was
healthy, you'd never leave him now!

It's not in your nature.

Why didn't you report it to the
police that she was being beaten?

I wouldn't let her.

He wasn't a bad man. He loved me.

You see? That's what I couldn't stand.

The idea of this sweet woman tending
that animal for years and years and years.

So you killed the man I loved?

And then what? You and me?
Together, happy ever after?

You're just like him, pulling the
strings, trying to manipulate me.

No. I did it for you.

And the attack on my
wife, and on Havers -

that was you too, wasn't it?

God in heaven, why?

To make it seem there was some
connection between Finnegan's death

and one of his past cases.

I never meant for your wife to lose
the baby. I'll regret that every day.

But not what I did to Finnegan.
Not what I did for you.

You wouldn't listen, Grace.

No, you wouldn't listen!

I loved him. Not you, him. If other
people don't understand, too bad.

He was mine, for better, for worse.

He would never have changed.

No, you're wrong. He
had changed! He had!

He was trying to make things right,
hadn't laid a finger on me for months.

It was my marriage, Tessa, my life!

You stole my life.

- Should help Lizzie Shakespeare.
- Sir?

Well, now that Finnegan's
been exposed as a wife-beater,

his testimony won't stand up to a second
appeal. She could be out by Christmas.

Good for her

Tessa!

You had no right!

No!

Havers!

Barbara!

Barbara...