Original subtitles

"Inside Rehabilitation...

Why Even Murderers Deserve a Second Chance."

It's written by a prisoner I put away 12 years ago.

- What was he in for? - Murder.

I'm overseeing more than a 110 cases at the moment.

Top of the priority list...

Lionel Cripps' shooting by the SO19 boys last year.

Bitch!

Well, look at that.

He's left his bloody calling card.

James Lampton, I'm arresting you

in connection with the murder of Sandy Butler.

You've got the wrong man, Mike.

I can give you a lift to the nearest tube.

We have just released James Lampton from custody.

No charges have been made.

Anyone seen the governor? No?

Right. Lab reports, updates.

Angela Thornton died of strangulation,

the bra tied in virtually an identical way

to victim number one.

Now, this is interesting.

The knife went in very deep. Six and a half inches.

But due to the small amount of blood

surrounding the entry wound,

death occurred some time prior

to the knife's insertion in the body.

The pooling of blood...

That's the discoloration of her arm and legs...

Indicates that she had been bent forwards.

Are you saying she wasn't killed on the bed?

They wouldn't say,

but she was definitely in a different position

for several hours after her death

and before she was laid out on the bed.

Yes! The prints on the knife. I've got a match.

- Who? - Murray Dickson.

- Oh. - Look at his sheet.

Robbery, bag snatch, assault and battery.

He's been in and out of the nick for years.

And he's been on the run from Barfield Prison

for the past two weeks.

He was picked up by the Finsbury Park boys

on the Maplin Estate yesterday.

Do I give you a stiffy or something?

What are you staring at?!

Hey?!

Is it definitely him?

- Tosser! - Oh, yeah, yeah.

I got the second victim's handbag in a skip on his estate,

her credit card in his pocket, her jewelry.

But you didn't get a confession?

He says he never saw the victim.

He says his mate told him to go there.

- His mate? - Yeah.

The one he escaped with. Tony Farmer.

- Tony Farmer? - Yeah.

- But he's back inside. - Yeah.

Nice alibi, eh?

I didn't do it.

I didn't do it.

I didn't do it!

Oh.

Hi. We're virtually neighbors, so I thought I'd drop by.

Right.

Good. Right.

I hear you've picked up a suspect.

Yes. Murray Dickson. We're waiting to charge him.

Congratulations. Fast work.

So he's confessed?

No, not yet, but he will.

We've got his fingerprints on the murder weapon,

all over the bed, and we've got a matching footprint.

Consensus is he killed them both.

How long does a bath take?

I'm afraid it's a little bit messy in here.

Oh, don't worry, I can...

Very well, my luscious.

If you will not come into my boudoir,

I shall come out there and ravish you where you stand!

Uh, Commander Blake, this is Detective Inspendor...

Sorry, Detective Inspector Ken Miles.

Of course! D.I. Miles.

Good work on the Angela Thornton case.

Oh, thanks.

Well, don't let me keep you up.

Oh. Thank you.

Enjoy the champagne.

If you think there's going to be any ravishing tonight

or any other night ever again you're so mistaken,

you utter prat.

Bollocks.

Good morning.

Commander Blake. Caught me.

I was going to leave this for you.

Stalking is an offense, Mr. Lampton,

with or without foliage.

I wanted to thank you for giving me a lift the other night.

I really am grateful.

I believe you. As does the rest of the world.

I have read the papers.

Can I give you a hand with those?

I was wondering if I could take you out to dinner.

Can I take you for dinner? No?

Or lunch, if it's less... Well, more convenient.

I mean how about today? It's Saturday.

If you're free. I mean, you're probably not.

No, I'm not.

If you're worried about being seen with me in a restaurant,

which I understand, maybe I could cook lunch for you.

No, thank you.

At least take the plant.

Look, I really appreciated you

getting me away from the press at the police station.

- Yes, you said. - Why did you?

Because I felt sorry for you. All right?

All I want, all I came here to do,

was straighten a few things out.

I want you to know I had no control

over the publication of my book

or the fact that they were going to use your foreword.

It was the governor of Barfield

who first got in touch with you, not me.

Next minute, I-I've got a literary agent

writing to me saying that she's seen a copy of the book, and...

- Oh, really? - It's the truth.

I never meant to cause you any embarrassment,

and it's clear that I have.

That's all.

Thanks again.

I'm sorry to have bothered you.

You better be a good cook.

All done.

Thank you.

Thank you.

- Would you like some parmesan? - Mmm! Yes, please.

Always best to have it freshly grated.

Catering must have improved at Her Majesty's.

More wine?

No, I'm fine, thank you.

Bon appétit.

Mmm.

Oh, it's delicious.

Cookery classes in prison. Part of my rehabilitation.

Well, you'd know that, having read my book.

And always serve with bread because the best bit

is wiping it 'round the dish when you're done.

Or you can always dip it in before you've even started.

Sorry.

I have to get this.

Hello?

Oh, really?

No, tell her I'll be straight over.

No, that's fine. Yep.

That's fine. Bye.

What's wrong?

Oh, it's my sister.

She comes out of chemo

and she's in remission and everything looks great,

and then the bastard thing comes back.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I'm really sorry. I'm going to have to call a cab.

No, no, look, look. Where do you need to go?

The key was under the mat, yeah, like he said,

so... so I went in.

But he wasn't there, so... so I had a look around.

And, you know, I went up the stairs.

And then I cut up some chicken.

It was in the kitchen, the chicken, right?

He told me to.

Tony told me, you know, to help myself.

So... So I made a sandwich.

And, um, and then I took a look around

'cause... 'cause he... He hadn't shown, had he?

You hear me?!

Your friend didn't show, did he?

But she did.

No.

No, man, no.

No. That's not right. Look...

I got some of her stuff.

- From her bedroom? - Yeah.

Mm, and when she wouldn't open her legs for you,

wouldn't let you screw her, you lost it.

What are you talking about, man?

Look, there was nobody in there!

The only thing you cut up, Murray, was that woman.

The chicken was in the oven!

Burned to a cinder.

I'm telling the truth, man.

Your pal Tony Farmer's back inside,

and you're full of bullshit.

If there's anything I can do.

Just wait here.

Thanks.

Sara?

I'm a friend of your sister.

If you're looking for her, she's off booking my cell.

May I sit down?

I just wanted to go home.

My kids need me.

I'd have come back.

- She's worried about you. - Oh, really? And you are...?

James, sorry. James Lampton.

You're not her usual type.

I suppose you work at Scotland Yard.

No. No, I'm...

I'm a writer.

Not a journalist, please.

No, no, no, no.

Working on my first novel.

Thrillers? Do you write thrillers?

Yes, actually, this one is.

Has she told you all about me, then?

The juicy stuff that'd make a good thriller?

Or comedy-drama, depending which way you want to look at it.

No, she hasn't told me anything. She's very discreet.

Well, I've got a story for you. You'll love this.

There's this woman. Very attractive, of course.

She has two children. Oh, and cancer.

When she's diagnosed, the family hires a nanny

whom the dear husband, King Rat, immediately starts screwing.

She takes the wife's home, life, and kids.

Good plot, don't you think?

How will it end, I wonder?

Maybe the sick and desperate wife staggers home

and stabs the bitch to death,

but it's pointless to arrest or charge her because she's dying!

I'd buy that.

Frightened you off, have I?

You should see me in my bloody awful wig.

What are you doing?

That's some story.

Sara?

I give up.

I shall return to my room like a good girl.

I just wanted to see the kids.

He won't let me see them.

Can you talk to him?

You bring them.

A-And bring him with you.

Don't let this one get away.

He's got a very nice bedside manner.

Thank you for being nice to her.

It wasn't hard. I like her.

I love her.

It's just here on the left.

Yes, ma'am.

I'm sorry to bother you. I didn't have your phone number.

I can't stay. I think I left my mobile here.

Oh.

- I've been at a dinner. - Oh.

Well, I haven't seen it, but you're welcome to look around.

Well, I remember I took a call about my sister.

Well, maybe did you leave it in the car, or at the care home?

No, I've checked with the hospice.

Or maybe I left it in the car.

Well... oh. The thing is, I took the car back today.

Well, since you're here, have a drink,

and I'll call the rental company tomorrow.

I really shouldn't. I've had so much this evening.

Well, if you get me the number, I'll give them a call myself.

Okay.

Is this your new book?

Hmm? Oh.

Yes, I'm, uh...

I'm having to rethink some of it.

Writing a novel is very different from writing a...

- There we are. - Thanks.

I'm sorry to have interrupted your work.

Oh. Pfft. Glad you did.

Well, I'd better let you get on with it.

Stay.

My driver's waiting.

Tell him to go.

Good night.

I told him to go.

Commander Blake, can you confirm

the family's civil case is prompting a reinvestigation

of the officers involved in Lionel Cripps' shooting?

I'm afraid I can't comment at this stage.

The family has our deepest sympathies,

and we're taking this matter very seriously.

But wasn't there already an internal inquiry

into the shooting?

I was hoping to track you down.

Get you another?

Whiskey.

Couple of whiskies, please. Large ones.

You know, if they had just left this alone,

we wouldn't have this shit being slung at us now.

Turn her off, will you?

Trigger-happy police...

So why are you skulking around after me?

Just stay out of my face.

This shooting concerns you, Mike.

So whose side are you on?

Yours if you want me to be.

Look, Mike, if anything unsavory did happen that night,

just come clean about it.

- What's your point? - That's my advice.

Your advice?

You're pathetic.

Running around with that toy badge

they hand out to bastards like you.

Thanks for the drink.

Get me another one, will you?

And switch that back.

Two coffees with sugar and two aspirin.

Could you halve them for me, please.

Think I'll throw up if I swallow them whole.

I must be mad.

- Being here? - You know what I mean.

- Do you have to go? - Yes.

I've got to go home and change.

I can't go to the office like this.

- Well, I'll drive you. - No. Thank you.

I'll get a cab.

Did you love her?

The woman you killed.

Did you love her?

Of course I did.

I have to go.

Look...

There's no easy way to say this,

but it will be impossible for me to see you again.

What happened here was a mistake.

It's not advisable for us. For me.

Your call.

Yes.

Goodbye. I'll see myself out.

Your husband was on the run for several weeks.

- That's right. - But you never saw him?

No, just the once.

But you gave a statement saying that you never saw him.

I've got it here.

What I said was,

if he set foot in this flat, I'd have reported him.

So you were afraid of him?

Everybody around here was.

He was two people. You know, one drunk, one sober.

It was a relief when you had him arrested.

Tom said he'd kill him.

As it was, he just busted his nose.

What are you staring at?

Hey?

Gov.

Traffic have found a Range Rover similar to Lampton's.

It's the kind of high-up vehicle

that Browning suggested Sandy Butler was pushed from.

Well, this one's got Dickson's prints all over it.

That's it, then.

He did them both.

No, he didn't.

Where the hell have you been?

I went to see Murray Dickson's ex-wife this morning.

Did I tell you to do that?

No, you didn't. It's called initiative, sir.

Her statement just didn't seem complete to me.

Really?

And did this initiative bring any results?

Yes, it did. We're barking up the wrong tree.

He couldn't have done both girls because around the time

the first one, Sandy Butler, was murdered,

Dickson was having a fight with his wife's boyfriend

on the estate.

His wife didn't want to say anything

because she's trying to get sole custody of the kids,

and she doesn't want to make any trouble.

So, what time was this?

She was a bit vague about that,

but her boyfriend says it was when he was leaving for work,

which is around the time...

Bloody brilliant! Can we verify this?

Well, after the fight, Dickson went to casualty.

He thought his nose was broken. So they'll have the exact time.

Great. You check it out.

So if Dickson has an alibi for Sandy Butler's murder,

then we've only got him for Angela Thornton.

That means there is another killer still out there,

and that puts Lampton right back in the frame.

Bring him in, with or without Commander Blake's approval.

- Lampton? - For Sandy Butler?

Gov, what are you gonna do about his alibi?

Go pick Lampton up.

This'll sort the bitch out.

Who's he really going after here, Brian?

Lampton or Commander Blake?

Clare, can I have just five minutes?

Five minutes.

Well?

Well, I've been thinking about the other night,

when you stayed.

Not about what happened between us.

Well, that's a lie.

I haven't been able to think about anything else.

But that's not the reason I'm here.

I wanted to explain. I wanted to clear up a few...

If it's about your book, you've already done that.

No, no, it's not about the book.

Just before you left, you asked me something.

I can't remember.

You asked me if I loved her.

Oh, yes.

And I replied that...

I said that I did.

But it was more than that. It was a lot more.

I adored her.

I was obsessed with her. I...

I couldn't believe she was with me.

And then I discovered that she wasn't just with me,

she was with God knows how many other people.

She actually liked to torment me.

Why are you telling me this?

Because I want you to know, I want you to understand,

why I pleaded not guilty to start with.

She pushed me, she... she drove me into...

an uncontrollable jealousy, something I've never...

I couldn't satisfy her, and I couldn't cope with that.

I don't know why I wasn't enough for her.

I never instigated the...

I wanted her to hurt like I was hurt.

I didn't mean to...

Look, I don't want it to sound like I'm making excuses.

I'm not making excuses. There are no excuses.

It happened.

And I began to realize

that I had to take responsibility for what I did.

So I changed my plea to guilty.

And I spent 12 years of my life...

paying for that, and...

Stay here.

Hi.

I was walking past and wondered if I could have a word.

- Your door was open downstairs. - I'm busy at the moment.

Okay.

I just wanted to pass on that the boss...

Clare, is everything all right?

Carol Browning, this is James Lampton.

Yeah, we've met.

Sorry to intrude.

Another time. Bye now.

At least he's got all his clothes on, eh?

I told you to stay in here.

What are you saying? Did I embarrass you or something?

Well, obviously. Didn't you recognize her?

She recognized you.

She's working on the case at Queen's Park.

- Oh, I'm sorry. - Well, so am I.

You obviously don't seem to realize...

Oh, for God's sake.

Look, I won't embarrass you next time, Clare,

because there won't be a next time.

- What? - James.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about you.

Well, where's Lampton?

Didn't I tell you and Browning to go pick him up?

Frigging thing!

I pressed coffee, I got hot bloody chocolate!

Yeah, it jams. You have to stick your fingers up there.

So why haven't you brought him in?

Well, we tried. There's nobody at home.

Hung around his flat till 2:00, then called it quits.

But I'll tell you where he might be.

You know that guy Ken Miles,

D.I. on the Angela Thornton thing, called us in?

He's on a stakeout in Leatherhead

with a mate of mine last night,

and he told him that Commander Blake

is knocking off James Lampton.

You're kidding me?

On my life! It's what he said.

He's living at her place.

Oh, no wonder she gave him an alibi.

Nice leg up for him.

And leg over for her.

I'll nip back this afternoon, pull him in, shall I?

No.

No, no, no. Not yet.

If we give her enough rope, she's gonna hang herself.

Nice one, Brian.

Bloody nice one, in fact.

Oh! Commander, I've got my new filing system up and running.

If you'd like to take a look at it,

it really wouldn't take a minute of your...

Good morning.

- Are you all right, Clare? - No, I'm not!

I've just been called in to see Sumpter

and given an official warning "as a friend."

And there's no way that he could have known about

my relationship with Lampton

unless that bloody two-faced bitch Browning let it slip.

She came 'round to my home, and he was there.

I'm not gonna lie about it.

What do you mean, "He was there"?

He was there and he was having a drink, and then he left.

Oh, Jesus Christ, Clare! She saw him with you?

Look, I don't want to say I told you so...

But you just can't resist it.

Look, what is it with this fellow?

- Is he stalking you? - No. I agreed to see him.

It was something he wanted to tell me about.

Yeah, like what?

Oh, mind your own bloody business.

Look, do you want him to bring you down?

Because he can, you know?

You have worked damn hard,

and whichever way you look at it,

you deserve better than this.

Look, I'm sorry, excuse me.

I know it's none of my business.

But I happen to care what happens to you.

Lampton's scum.

All right, maybe "scum" is the wrong word.

How does "killer" sound?

- Get rid of him. - I hear what you're saying.

Well, I hope you do because I am saying it to you as a friend.

Lose him!

It won't even go through the crust, man.

Do you hear me?

How am I supposed to eat this shit?!

Just stay away, you frigging bastards!

Ah, food not to your liking, Murray?

Could be eating a lot worse and for a very long time.

I didn't kill that woman.

I didn't kill no woman.

No, I don't think you did, either.

Hey up.

Graham Warner?

George Hart, Murder Review.

- Can I have a few words? - What about?

Well, I think you know what it's about.

I'm looking into this Cripps shooting.

Well, I'm not talking to anyone without my lawyer.

Oh, come on, help us out here.

I mean, we know that Mike Hedges was the man in the third car,

the one that you boys cut out of the surveillance tape.

Look, you want to ask me anything,

you ask me in front of my legal representative.

Okay?

Hear what he said?

Yeah. So did half the street.

Do you know what you're doing, George?

We ain't got any evidence against Hedges.

Just throwing the cat amongst the pigeons.

Yeah, well, be careful they don't crap on your head.

I won't tell any of your colleagues.

How much...

Four balls, £1. Okay.

Bloody hell. That's a bit good.

Ooh, good shot.

30p.

All right. Come on. Have a look through.

- Smile. - No. No.

All right. You lot are persistent.

I've had more interviews about Dickson's case than me own.

Thank you for agreeing to see me.

We haven't met before.

I'm Detective Constable Carol Browning.

All right.

Let's get right to it.

Why do you think Murray Dickson said that you called him

on his stolen mobile if you didn't?

Don't know.

Maybe he just wanted an alibi, didn't know I was back inside.

To be honest, though, I'd have tried to meet up with him

just so I could give him a slap for driving off and ditching me.

I did me cruciate ligament in. You know, footy players.

I couldn't believe it.

I mean, we always got on all right, me and Murray,

even though he was a miserable git.

I know his wife had sent him the Dear John letter.

Yeah, but that was a few years ago.

He'd well got over that.

I tell you what really set him off

was her writing to him

about changing the kids' name into this new bloke's.

Look, he never did those two women.

How do you know that?

It's a bit bleeding hard trying to rape someone

if you can't get it up.

He was impotent.

Said it was something to do with being snipped.

Which I guess might have added to his misery

'cause he had me writing loads of letters

to this agony aunt column.

I'm sorry? Agony aunt?

You wrote letters for him?

Yeah, well, he couldn't do them himself, could he?

That's why I know so much about him.

I wrote most of them to this agony aunt's column

in the prison newspaper.

Hey, that one's done all right for himself, hasn't he?

- Dickson? - No.

No, the bloke that edited the paper.

He's ex-con. He's famous now. He's on the telly.

You mean Lampton? James Lampton?

Yeah, that's the one, yeah. He's on the telly.

How's your book coming along?

Mm, well, not bad.

I keep getting stuck on a chapter, and...

start going back and rewriting,

and then when I read it over,

I'm not sure whether I should have cut what I've cut, or...

You still haven't told me what it's about.

- It's a love story. - Mm-hmm.

Do you like being read to?

I've been doing my own reading for quite some time, so...

You brought it with you?

Well, there's a very sad story

about a guy who just completed his novel,

and he went out to celebrate,

and his house caught fire.

He lost everything.

- Are you sitting comfortably? - Yes.

You may begin.

Right now.

Gotcha.

Eddie. Eddie!

Yes.

"He let the curtain slip closed and turned back towards the bed.

Her voice was an echo,

her body made of a moonlit substance

which he was surrendering to against his will.

He reached out towards her, to lift her into his arms...

and there was nothing...

except the blue curl from the smoke of her cigarette...

and the red lipstick imprint of her mouth."

Clare.

I hoped I'd catch you before work.

Let's try a deal, shall we?

You call me Commander Blake

and you keep your little D.C. nose out of my affairs...

In fact out of my sight, right out...

And I might not... might not... Strip you of your rank

and have you back handing out parking tickets

for the rest of your pathetic little career.

I don't understand.

What happens between myself and James Lampton

is my concern and my concern only.

It's not broadcast news for every bloody plod on the force.

Oh, God. Oh, I'm gonna kill him.

- I told Ken. - Well, thanks for that.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Commander.

He's my fiancé. You know what it's like.

I thought I could trust him.

Next time don't.

Commander, it's about Mr. Lampton.

Murray Dickson's been charged, hasn't he?

I know, but I spoke to his friend Tony Farmer again.

He told me that Dickson is impotent.

There are medical reports to prove it.

But these crimes are sexually motivated.

I know.

I haven't even shown this to Hedges yet.

What is it, and why not?

They're clippings from an agony aunt column

that Dickson wrote to every week in the prison newspaper

that was run by James Lampton.

So Lampton knew Dickson?

Well, the replies might not be from Lampton.

- How many have you got? - Quite a few.

Can I have them?

I'll copy them and give them back to you.

No, those are copies.

Thank you, Carol.

Right, Mike, a few more questions I'd like to ask you

on the Cripps case.

Before we start on that,

I thought you should know I'm rearresting James Lampton

for Sandy Butler's murder.

What about his alibis?

I checked with the producer of his TV show.

It's advertised as live.

It's actually filmed two hours ahead.

That way they can edit anything dodgy out, you know,

if one of the guests throws a wobbly or whatever.

So how does Lampton's alibi stand up

with that in the equation?

He could have returned to London

two hours earlier than he stated.

Well, do you have any witnesses that saw him on the train?

Not as yet, but there are plenty of earlier trains

he could have caught.

He said that before he went to the gym,

he went grocery shopping, paying by credit card,

which verifies that he was in the store at 3:00 p.m.

What about that?

I'd say he was making sure he had evidence

to prove where he was.

Who pays for two bottles of water with a credit card?

He knew he'd need an alibi.

Well, are you saying it isn't one?

No. I'm saying that we've got him on the extra two hours.

That's gonna do him in.

He could have returned from Birmingham two hours earlier,

killed her, and then got himself to this store

to solidify his manufactured alibi.

Okay, let's say he got an earlier train.

That still only gives him a mere two hours

to pick up Sandy Butler, rape her, strangle her,

and then dump her body on the other side of London.

It's all a bit flimsy, Mike.

Well, maybe you have some personal reason

you don't want James Lampton picked up?

Gentlemen, would you give me a couple of minutes alone

with D.C.I. Hedges, please?

Would you like to elaborate

on that statement you were about to make?

Well, it's obvious.

No, what's obvious

is that Lampton is pretty high profile at the moment,

and the Met can ill afford any more bad publicity.

You mean you can't.

If you have enough evidence to arrest him, then go for it.

And if you don't... And I don't think you do...

Then you're facing a harassment charge,

and you're already under investigation

for serious misconduct.

It's not going to be very pretty for you.

Don't concern yourself with my welfare.

Just look after your own.

That's the one thing you're very good at.

Somebody's days are numbered.

Yeah. Yours, I should think.

It appears that our victim of a police shooting

turns out to be a Met informer.

He's got a history. It was in the papers.

So? Piss off.

So where are the police files?

How come we seem to have managed to lose

all official record of our Mr. Cripps, hmm?

You are a sad little man.

Running around after her.

What's she doing, spreading her legs for you too?

Oh!

Ooh.

George.

Thanks for this.

- What have you done? - Uh, nothing.

If you trace those missing files on Cripps,

my money says he'll have been Hedges' snout for years,

ever since Hedges arrested him for the Balham job.

The money was never recovered from that robbery.

Cripps got off on a technicality.

Lost evidence!

He must have been lining his pocket for years.

George, I need your help.

You've got it.

It's not about him. It's James Lampton.

No, it's on me.

It's a little celebration, I reckon.

Your TV producer come up with the goods, then?

Oh, yes. Oh, yes, indeed.

Someone's alibi just went down the Swanee.

Day one I knew that bastard was lying.

You gonna pull him in?

Well, I could, but he's been out of town.

On a photo shoot.

With his girlfriend.

Cheers.

"Dear Friend, my wife's divorced me,

is refusing to bring the kids to see me."

"Dear Friend, I have been impotent for three years."

"Dear Friend, my wife's..."

"Dear Friend, I phoned the helpline."

- "Dear Friend..." - What was that?

"Dear Friend, I phoned the helpline."

Oh, he mentioned something about that

on that television program we were both on.

Yeah, yeah.

We still don't have any real evidence.

It's all circumstantial.

It's here in black and white.

"Whilst in prison

I was involved with the setting up of a helpline.

Prisoners were able to call in with their grievances

and their problems anonymously."

- What are you doing? - I'm calling the number.

I'm sorry, the helpline is now closed for the day.

But if you leave your name and number,

we'll get back to you as soon as possible.

Thank you.

It's his voice.

Oh.

You can walk away, George.

Now, you know I won't do that.

I do.

And I appreciate your loyalty.

But I mean it.

It's my problem. I have to sort this out.

I'm not available right now.

Please leave a message.

Clare, it's David Sperry.

I'm on my way to the Yard. Something's come up.

Call me.

So finally, let's see what's making headlines

in tomorrow's papers.

Well, all the tabloids have a breaking story

about the apparent relationship between...

Oh, my God.

Um...

I'm finished, aren't I?

Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Smith.

Ten out of ten for originality, Commander.

Oh, my God.

I can't believe she'd be this stupid.

Listen, gov, she asked me...

"Four bottles of champagne, breakfast in bed,

smoked salmon and scrambled eggs."

Very nice, Mrs. Smith.

Gov, I've got this correspondence. It's letters...

Apparently this was instigated by an anonymous tip.

Useful things, anonymous tips.

You bastard.

Oooh.

Did you want something?

No.

Just keep fending them off, Gina.

You don't know where I am.

What?

No, the same applies to him.

I am not contactable.

Where did you get these?

I've got a friend in tactical support unit.

Jesus, George, do you know how much trouble you could be in?

They're mine. He just teaches me how to use them.

I got them off the Internet.

What's that?

It's a portable camera. See?

I link it up to my laptop. Put it over there.

I'll see if I can get you up on the screen.

That's not programmed right.

That's better. Just move your head around.

There you are. Gotcha.

Bloody marvelous this, you know?

Mind you, it cost an arm and a leg.

Still, Murder Review salary,

pensions, a few clever investments,

probably earning more than you are.

Come and have a look. Here.

Oh, just stop it, George. I can't think straight.

Well, you're gonna have to.

Hedges is gonna try to bring you down.

And that is not a wise move.

Anything I do isn't.

But if he is the killer, then I've got to prove it.

Well, he's in. The lights are on.

Okay.

Now, here.

Now, these are self-adhesive. Put them around the room.

Try to keep them as much as you can in the open.

Okay.

Well...

Sure you want to do this?

No.

But I'm the best chance we've got to get him.

It could ruin your career.

I'm not stupid.

I know what I'm doing.

Is this funny to you?!

- Funny?! You bloody bastard! - What? Clare.

Where are the negatives of these?

I want them. Where are they?

Where have you got them hidden, huh?

What the hell are you talking...

How much are they paying you, James, huh?!

How much did they pay you to set me up, huh?!

How much was I bloody worth?!

Was it gonna be good for your book sales?!

Oh, Clare, for God's sake!

Oh, you!

Set up, wasn't I, huh?

Were you in with the receptionist?

Was that you and her together?

Did you do the deal together? Huh?

Were you screwing her as well?!

Bastard!

Come on. Come on, then!

You think I set this up? Hmm?

Well, why don't you call the editors,

call those newspapers,

because I had nothing to do with it, Clare.

What's got into you?

I can't believe you really think I'd...

You think I'd do something like that?

After everything you've said,

you still don't trust me, Clare, do you?

Hello. Only me.

I-I just went to the loo, and, um...

Hi.

I'm... I'm Maddie, James's literary agent.

Commander Clare Blake.

Yes, um, we've met.

Ex-commander now this has come out.

What?

Oh, God. I'm sorry.

- Look, Maddie, um... - No, it's fine, honestly.

Okay, okay. Can we pick up in the morning?

I'll call John about the meeting in the morning.

- I'll come over about 10:00. - Fine, fine, absolutely.

Now, the other thing is could you get onto Penny

and see if the proofreader's notes have come back yet?

'Cause I was hoping to get the whole thing locked up by Friday.

Stay in sight.

I've covered the sitting room. And now the bedroom, okay?

Clare?

Clare, where are you?

She must think I'm crazy.

Let me get you a drink.

I want this.

I deserve it.

Fine.

It's from Maddie.

She came over to tell me

they've brought the publication date forward.

You cashing in on the publicity?

No. They like my novel.

Just how long have you been withholding key evidence?

And why did you tell him, not me?

- I wanted to check... - It's not about what you want!

Your ass is right on the line, sweetheart.

Gov, the point is we now know

Dickson called Lampton's helpline and left his number.

Lampton could have picked it up, called Dickson,

and told him to meet him at the flat.

They knew each other.

Look at it. There's loads of them.

Whingeing bastard. Couldn't even get it up.

So why didn't Dickson say he spoke to Lampton?

He told us he talked to Farmer.

Maybe he didn't know.

Farmer has a strong Liverpool accent.

What if Lampton spoke to Dickson pretending to be Farmer?

Oh, come on!

No, no, just hold on a second.

He could have passed himself off as Farmer.

And it was Lampton who told him to go to Angela Thornton's flat.

But that still doesn't explain the time frame.

He just didn't have the time.

You can't pick up a girl,

take her back to her flat and strangle her

in the space of five minutes.

Strangled.

Strangled.

Get me that stuff that was sent over from Barfield Prison.

And I'm gonna need his medical records from there too.

Sir.

I'm sorry I said those things.

Hitting you like that.

It's just that I've given up a lot to get where I am.

And now this has happened.

Listen.

I'll lodge a harassment complaint,

invasion of privacy, whatever you call it.

I'll sue the newspapers. Anything.

Clare, there's something I should tell you.

And I hope you don't mind.

I've dedicated my first novel to you.

Is that okay? Is it okay?

Here's the plan.

We're gonna front this thing out.

I'm taking you to dinner.

But first I'm going to shower and get dressed.

You can't be seen with me looking like this.

Now, you're gonna stay there, watch TV, whatever you like,

but you are not going anywhere, okay?

I'll be two minutes.

Two minutes.

I can't go through with this, George.

This is wrong.

Don't do this to me, Clare. Don't... Don't do this to me.

It's over.

I'm taking the bugs out.

I think I left my mobile here.

Your mobile? No, I haven't seen it.

What is it about this fella?

Is he stalking you?

Lampton's scum.

How does "killer" sound?

He's a cold, calculating killer.

It looks as if her hair's been cut.

He's taking trophies.

He's probably already pinpointed a next victim.

Now what's going on?

What's it like?

What?

To get away with it?

What are you talking about?

I'm sorry for what I said earlier.

I want to make it up to you.

I'd like you to go now.

What?

Why?

I just want to know more.

Come on.

You said I could ask you anything.

First night we made love. Do you remember?

You said we must be honest with each other.

Be truthful.

I just want to know how you got away with it.

Christ!

Entrapment is illegal.

It won't stand up in court, Commander Blake.

Now, either you're getting off on this, or you're wired.

You happy now?

You convinced?

Do you think after all they've done to me,

I give a damn about their cases?

I thought you trusted me.

Were you lying when you said you loved me?

Was that just lies?

Do you know what turns me on, James?

Tell me.

Being in the mind of a killer.

It must make you so angry

knowing there's someone out there copying you,

getting away with it, running free.

Maybe...

Maybe it's because he's more clever than you.

Or did you kill those two women?

You want me to say that I did.

Did you?

Hmm?

You're the detective.

No, don't go in the bedroom. Don't...

I can't see in the bedroom.

Brian!

Yeah. Yeah, no, I appreciate your help.

Yeah. I will.

Yeah. Thank you. Yeah.

Two prisoners in Barfield in the last four years

have died from suspected auto asphyxiation...

And not the usual method, you know,

tying a belt 'round their neck and then jerking off.

These two at Barfield didn't use any form of rope,

no belt or shoelaces.

It was a plastic bag over their head.

The first one died straight off,

but the second one went into a semicomatose state

for hours before he died.

So?

So the links are all there.

That's how he did it.

That's how he bloody did it!

Sorry, gov, I'm not following.

Jesus Christ, Lampton was in Barfield.

He must have heard about it.

Probably tried it on himself.

Auto asphyxiation.

That's how he kept them alive.

Bag over the head.

Bag over the bloody head.

Tell me.

Tell me.

How did you do it?

I want to know.

Tell me.

Do you know what she was called?

I do.

- Sandy. - Sandy.

Did she like you?

Did she like it?

Tell me.

Well, I'd had a massage from her a couple of times.

She was good. Strong hands.

And the second one?

- Second one? - Angela.

- Angela. - I was her alibi.

I cooked her some chicken

with a honey and chive dressing and a bit of lemon juice.

I don't believe you.

Oh.

Well, you should have tasted it. It was delicious.

But it was hard putting it back in the oven just to burn it up.

That was the...

That was the difficult part.

Get off me.

God, what's happening?

Get off the bed.

- Go on. - This is crazy.

- This is crazy. - Get off the bed.

You wanted me to say all those things.

- Get on the ground. - Oh, come on.

- I was bullshitting. - Get off the bed!

You're the head of the murder squad.

It's what turns you on. It was all just...

I was lying. I didn't kill those girls.

I was just making it up.

It's what... Part of our little game.

Get off.

Oh, my, you came prepared didn't you, sweetheart?

You should have brought your uniform too.

That would have really got me going.

Clasp your hands together. Do it!

No press release

has ever disclosed the fact that the food was burned, James.

And there's no way you could have known that unless...

- Aagh! - Aah!

- What the fuck are you doing? - She's in there with him.

What?

Blake. She's in there with Lampton.

You what?

- Press all of them! - I am!

Thank you so much. Get back in the flat!

Keep the door shut.

Coming!

Lampton, get this door open! Get it open before I kick it in!

Hey, what the hell's going...

You can't come in here without a warrant!

You can't come in here with...

We've got a warrant.

Oh, Jesus.

Clare? Clare? Clare, it's me.

Now, get yourself together, Clare.

For the murders of Sandy Butler

and Angela Thornton.

Clare, the gun.

Where's the gun?

He tried to kill me.

Clare. Come here.

Come on, now, sort yourself out.

Clare! Sort yourself out.

Come on, now.

You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense

if you do not mention something now

you later wish to rely on in court.

Are you okay?

She need an ambulance?

No, she does not.

On his knees for you, ma'am.

Just how you like him.

Hmm!

Forensic results showed that both women

had been unconscious for hours

before the final act of strangulation that killed them.

Now, this allowed James Lampton time to form his alibis.

He had, in other words,

held these women captive like trussed up chickens.

He could choose the moment and the time

he squeezed the last breath out of them.

With this evidence,

it was unnecessary for Commander Blake to...

I acted in good faith,

reaching the only possible conclusion...

being that I took...

They're very well versed in both murder inquiries.

But what they didn't know...

I'm sure you made clear to them.

I'm looking forward to watching you

try and wriggle out of this one.

That alibi you gave him held up my investigation, Commander.

Your association with James Lampton,

a convicted murderer, has brought a spate

of prolonged and highly damaging publicity,

not only for yourself but for the entire force.

Granted the evidence you brought back from James Lampton's flat

has allowed us to secure charges,

and I accept that you may have targeted him

once you believed that he was becoming a prime suspect.

But this in no way excuses the danger you put yourself in

or the accusations of entrapment you laid yourself open to.

You out?

Well in.

You think after what she did, Cripps means anything?

They're not gonna take me down and have that go public as well.

Let's get a drink.

To quote your own words,

we cannot be beyond reproach.

You are a role model, Commander.

You will not get another chance.

My team's investigation into the Lionel Cripps shooting.

Thank you, Commander Blake.

- How did it go? - Hedges' days are numbered.

Not yours?

Not mine.

What about Browning?

Well, thank you very much!

It seems I had absolutely nothing to do

with the arrest of James Lampton.

Give us a minute, George. And close the door.

Sure.

I give you copies of the letters.

I kept you up to speed

with what's going on with the investigations.

But between you and Hedges,

I might as well not have been on this case.

If you'd been on this case,

you'd have been guilty of withholding evidence.

I've just given you a second chance.

Use it.

I want you to join my murder review team.

Be good for both of us.

Because don't for a second think that this is over.

We might just need each other.

You understand, Carol?

Good.

"I don't know," he said. "Ask the driver!"

Gentlemen, this is

Detective Constable Carol Browning.

She's joining our murder review team.

We've lost a lot of valuable time

because of the Lionel Cripps case.

Who wants to start?

I think we should be

looking into this investigation...