Original subtitles

All you need to remember is that I am not going anywhere

and neither are you.

We've had some trouble, that's no secret.

We've all read the papers.

And the bank's not making life easier--

why would they?

We are going to get through this.

This place is my life.

It's my name on the label.

So let me make it clear, from the horse's mouth--

Horse's ass.

You're not wrong.

But at least I'm your horse's ass.

So with your help and the help of Kenny Barber and his union--

your union--

--we are going to fight for this place.

AWA, yeah.

AWA!

AWA!

You've squeezed me and squeezed me

till there's nothing left, Kenny.

Don't you sell us out, you greedy bastard.

Do you know what kind of a fight I'm in?

I'm trying to keep this company alive.

He made you rich.

30% pay cut and 30% job losses.

You tell your membership--

You're just dressing it up to sell, aren't you?

I'm trying to save it, Kenny.

Mr. Briggs is this way.

Hello, Annette.

Good evening, Michael.

John.

Any luck?

I'm trying to stop them, but they're

going to print the story.

They say it's in the public interest.

Prurient bastards.

I'm not going to keep you a secret anymore.

They say you trade on a family image.

Can we get an injunction?

Kusie thinks it's unlikely.

It's Kenny Barber and his union behind this.

You're just dressing it up to sell, aren't you?

Listen up, gentlemen.

When you fight, nothing on the floor.

Absolutely no elbows.

Do you understand?

All right.

Separate to your corners.

You know Peter Hornsby from the bank and Emmett Schwartzman

from Weatherby Capital.

Fight.

Mr. Schwarzman is interested in the brand.

While Hornsby thinks it's an old fashioned brand, don't you,

Hornsby?

That's why the bank turned the taps off.

I'm sure Mr. Hornsby and Mr. Schwarzman

have had a good chat about it.

I never said the brand was--

It don't make any difference at this point, does it,

Hornsby?

As long as the price is right, you can say whatever you want.

Have you seen my offer?

Hm?

I'm not going to let you rape my company the way

you raped those care homes you bought.

You like that?

Pathologist?

Forensics.

Victim.

He hit the corner of the table as he fell, instinctively

put his hand to his head--

it's bleeding.

Transfers the blood to his hands and when he falls again,

he leaves it on the carpet.

He's trying to get to the door.

I guess it's plausible.

I try not to guess.

Isn't that a relief.

His name's John Briggs, owns the candy company--

well, used to own it.

65 years old, good shape.

He's had some help.

Big night?

Car accident.

Not yet.

Don't want to contaminate the scene.

Paramedics thought it was a heart attack.

Police think it's a crime scene?

Mm.

You do?

Yes.

Lots of people unplug telephones

in their hotel rooms?

He owns a big company.

He's used to giving instructions, not

doing things himself.

Why doesn't he tell reception not to disturb him?

He could have.

He didn't.

Old man gets on his hands and knees, crawls under the desk,

unplugs the line.

Why was he trying to make a call?

He knows it's unplugged.

He forgot?

he panics, he forgets.

He's having a heart attack,

he panics, he forgets--

plausible.

Where is the photographer?

Tried to call you last night.

How did the dinner go?

Did they make a deal?

I should have been there, Annette.

Why did he exclude me?

I left messages for him.

He's never called me back.

Your brother's dead, Philip.

They found his body in his hotel room this morning.

I need to contact his daughter.

That's great.

Thanks.

Good morning.

Detective Sergeant Seetha Gold.

This is DC Gus Cook.

Nikki Alexander.

Forensics?

No.

That's--

Jack Hodgson.

Nice face.

Sorry.

Oh.

No problem.

So was he staying with the room by himself?

According to reception.

Hotel desks are pig, aren't they?

Next of kin, all that guilt-- would he

have been all right if he'd have stayed at home?

No sign of forced entry.

Oh, love these.

No.

It's a crime scene.

I'll decide if it's a crime scene.

Drug use?

No paraphernalia.

I'll know more later.

Kinky sex?

Not that I know what counts as kinky.

Found by the chambermaid.

Yeah.

Blunt trauma injury to the head.

He fell.

I'll know more later.

The victim is John Briggs.

John Briggs, yes.

Already on the web.

One of you on retainer or do you tip them off a la carte?

You're not really insinuating that one of us would--

Of course not. could be the chambermaid or one

of the girls on reception.

Not a policeman?

I'm just trying to break the ice.

It's broken.

We're making cuts across the board.

There's no escaping it, Professor Dalton.

The Lyle Centre will need to change or die.

Apt choice of words.

I'm sorry?

Oh, yes.

I see what you mean.

They told me that the Lyle Centre needed to change or die.

Harry must have known that, probably why he left.

Oh, that's rubbish.

Harry was offered a full professorship in New York.

As much as I love you, if they'd offered it to me,

I'd be calling Virgin Atlantic.

Oh, well, that really cheers me up.

No, no.

What I'm trying to say is that it's

nothing to do with you and everything

to do with him, end of.

OK.

So?

We change.

Well, we're not going to die, are we?

We change, Leo.

There's nothing to be afraid of.

Everything changes.

We change.

How are we going to change?

No idea.

Can I help you?

Swipe card entry to the rooms.

Hotel employees use their ID cards.

We'll need the electronic records.

We can compile a list of suspects based on access.

Jack.

I'll also need any CCTV covering reception and access

points to the upper floors.

Jack.

Presumably, there's a phone record for calls

in and out of the room.

Jack?

Yeah.

I admire your enthusiasm.

I wouldn't call it enthusiasm, it's just normal.

Enthusiasm was a euphemism.

Was it?

I'm the detective and you're the scientist.

I tell you what to do, not the other way around.

Have you got it?

Got it.

You know, I thought you were more robust.

DS GOLD: Robust?

Yeah.

It's a euphemism.

For what?

Not an arsehole.

Try the telephone.

Television remote.

Bag 'em.

I didn't know you'd be here.

Well, I thought I should be.

We're family.

I'm-- I'm sorry about your father.

Thank you.

He'd been trying to reach out to you

over the last few months.

I know.

Your father left explicit instructions

in the event of his death.

He left his shareholding in the family trust to you.

You run the company.

Why?

I don't know anything about the company.

Why would he do this?

It's his final insult to me, isn't it?

I've drawn up a document appointing

your Uncle Phillip as chairman and chief executive.

The funds set aside for you and your sister in the trust

will be released upon the sale of the company.

My sister?

I didn't know about a sister.

Did my father remarry?

PHILLIP: No.

I wasn't speaking to you.

ANNETTE: Not that I'm aware of.

Just here.

It's important that we affect the transition of leadership

quickly.

Your father was in the middle of selling the company.

We don't want any delay in concluding the agreement.

They might withdraw the offer.

ANNETTE: I also need your signatures

on the documents with Weatherby Capital.

They're the buyer.

The company was his life.

Do you want to sell the company, Phillip?

Absolutely.

I think it's the right thing.

It's the only thing to do.

And I sign here and it puts Phillip in charge?

That's right.

I haven't seen him in 19 years--

19.

I counted them on the train.

He never spoke about the business, never involved me.

You've worked here all your life.

He knew you wanted to sell.

Why am I here?

Why has he put me here?

It's me.

There's a photo of me in the paper.

What's this about?

Just call me back.

Phillip.

I'm very sorry.

Thank you.

But you don't have to pretend, Michael.

Schwarzman called, sends his condolences.

That's good of him.

The headlines could damage the value of the company.

You need to sign the heads agreement right away.

He's put his daughter in charge.

His daughter?

I didn't know--

I thought you knew everything, Michael--

everything about everyone.

You contacted his daughter?

We had to--

corporate governance.

And how much does she know?

Well, Mr. Briggs was going to tell her,

but she never responded to any of his messages.

I-- I don't know how to handle it.

Will she sign them?

Do you think he suffered?

Sorry?

In your professional opinion, do you think he suffered?

I don't know.

I don't know, either.

I can't decide if there's any point in knowing.

I mean, the suffering's over now, for him.

Have you lost a parent?

Both.

Snap.

I mean awful.

Mind you, I lost him a long time ago--

or rather, he lost me.

Snap.

I don't feel anything.

Is that strange?

NIKKI: Not so strange.

Did you feel?

Eventually.

Peace, so deceptive.

It almost looks as though he might be good.

Hi.

How did you get in?

Loading bay.

Door was locked.

They lock it for a reason.

Really, not just to be awkward?

You read that?

I'm done with it.

Do you want it?

Reading that is like sniffing glue.

Why would I want it?

Filling myself in on Briggs.

Quicker than asking the detectives.

Apparently, we're doing everything in our power.

I already knew that.

He had a taste for escort girls.

Is that right?

There's a photo of a girl coming into the hotel lobby.

Apparently, she was going to visit him.

Have the police found her?

How do you think they go that photo?

They didn't know he was going to die.

Private detective following him, extortion?

What do you think?

You like conspiracy theories?

I wouldn't say I like them.

From his bathroom.

Oh, thanks.

When's the post mortem?

Uh, this afternoon.

Why?

My theory is falling apart.

NIKKI: To be fair, it wasn't really built on very much.

True.

Does Detective Gold know?

She wasn't really a believer in the first place.

No.

I think you were the only one that was.

Cash tap's closing fast.

I have to get budget sign-off on every test I want to run.

Sure sign they're letting this one go cold.

No evidence of murder and that's what Gold said.

Two sets of towels used, organic material on the sheets.

I'm sure there was someone in that room with him.

Doesn't mean that he was murdered.

The guy lives in Surrey, he has a driver

but stays in a hotel.

A lover?

A hooker.

How does that get you to murder?

Do you know how bad you look?

JACK: Yeah.

I'm guessing that's why your security guard wouldn't let me

in.

Sometimes it's best to let a very thin theory go,

particularly if there's no science to support it.

There was absolutely nothing on the phone jack--

no fingerprints, nothing organic.

Nothing?

Well, that supports your theory.

Somebody's DNA they should be on it, even if it's the guy who

installed the phone.

Unless he consciously decided to wipe it.

NIKKI: And that's what you think.

There were no fingerprints on the furniture,

the TV remote, any of the flat surfaces.

Get something of the sheets?

Possibly, but it won't prove intent--

not the sort I'm after, anyway.

Your theory's not falling apart, it's

just not getting you anywhere.

They have to get under the desk to unplug the phone.

They get down on their hands and knees, it's carpet.

The last person to touch the carpet

would have been the one to unlock the phone.

I've got to go.

Did you really not think about sampling the carpet for DNA?

Of course I did.

I'm very sorry to hear about your father.

What do you do?

I work with the media helping with image and brand.

My name's Michael Trenter.

I was your father's advisor on the sale of the company.

I see.

Will you make lots of money when the company's sold?

I think I need to update you on where we are with the bank

and the kind of pressure your father was under.

The heart is enlarged and diseased, although not

beyond what might be expected in a man of his age.

And we found high levels histamines in the heart;

edoema in the larynx and glottis causing restriction

to the airways; dilation of the peripheral blood vessels

and the arms and legs all contributing

to strain on the heart, leading me

to believe that the most likely cause of death

is anaphylaxis, shock caused by an allergic reaction.

Shock?

Were there elevated levels of MCT?

Yes.

Origin-specific immunoglobulin A?

Just trying to help.

He died of an allergic reaction?

Yes.

A lack of oxygen to the organs would have caused shock

to the heart, stopping it.

But the underlying reason is anaphylaxis.

Something he ate?

Possibly.

I'll run tests on the stomach contents,

allergy tests on the body.

How much will that cost?

You'll need to speak to Professor Dalton.

What are these marks?

Hyper pigmented macular skin markings, possibly

as a result of blunt trauma injury.

And it appears that he might have been whipped in the past,

or more--

Whipped?

Yes.

I looked at the carpet at the crime scene, ran some tests.

Who authorised the tests?

There's not enough probable cause for--

How did the newspaper get the photograph of the escort--

Can you let me finish?

To feel comfortable making additional expenditure--

Do you know who she is?

They could be making the story up.

They don't like Briggs.

He threaten to sue one of the tabloids last year

and they've had their shock troops on him ever since.

NIKKI: It might be worth following up.

To what end?

Can we place her at the scene?

Well, it would help if we knew who she was.

I don't have any fingerprints or DNA

on any of the flat surfaces in the room, none

on the telephone itself.

You've got no evidence.

Now, when did a lack of evidence become evidence?

Are you saying he died of an allergy?

Allergic reaction.

Well, that's bad luck, not a crime.

NIKKI: If the phone plug was wiped,

then it must show intent to prevent detection.

We found the unknown DNA on the carpet by the phone jack.

It would be useful if you find the unknown escort

girl the newspapers are banging on about.

Sorry to disturb you.

Did my father really want to sell this?

He wanted to protect it, so he was willing to let it go.

Did you know my father well?

Yes.

Yeah.

Yeah, I guess I did.

I didn't.

Did he speak about me?

Yes.

To lots of people?

ANNETTE: Uh, to me.

Did he think I'd let him down?

He thought he let you down.

Wouldn't it be nice if he'd he told me that before he died.

Did he tell you why?

You know she's not my sister.

Yes.

I have her phone number.

How?

How--

She contacted your father five months ago.

Then, um, what-- what did my father tell her about me?

ANNETTE: I'm not sure exactly.

So you've, uh, drug me out on a miserable night, taken me

to a shithole of a public house to be served by farmers.

So I'm clutching at straws that there

might be something at the end of all this

that makes it worth my while.

Bit more than a glass of fizzy water, eh?

Shall we play let's make a deal, Mr. Schwartzman?

You can start.

I've come to listen to you.

Can you hear that?

It's me sensible brain telling me to go home.

No point staying any further.

Oh, uh, sorry about your brother, Phillip.

No, you're not.

He's right, I'm not.

Nasty piece of work, that one.

He was a nasty, mean little man lurking

behind the family brand.

Bollocks.

Sound as though he died like he lived.

Still, at least we won't be getting home by him again.

So you think about what makes my members happy

and, uh, you give me a call, eh?

Gentlemen.

Is he coming back?

What do we know about him?

What do we know we can use, Michael?

ANNETTE: Miss Briggs?

I'm going to head home.

You can call me Geraldine.

Do you need anything, Geraldine?

Um, did Phillip know about my sister?

John told him she was a love child who had tracked him down,

but that's all he knows.

A love child.

OK.

Good night.

It's OK.

Have you seen what they're saying about me?

You've got to make them stop.

Why don't we take a walk.

I think the best thing is you go away for while.

I'm in every newspaper as the escort darling to John Briggs.

If I go away, they're going to start

thinking that I killed him.

It's the story of the moment.

It will soon pass.

Besides, you need to go away to get over your grief.

Right.

Well, I'm going to need some money.

Of course you do.

Wait.

I didn't do anything.

If they start saying things, you've

got to tell them the truth.

No one needs to say anything.

You're a secret.

You do realise that, Deana, a family secret.

You know it's a Pandora's box.

There are certain questions that we're better not to ask

and other that we're better not to answer.

Silence really is golden.

Yeah.

It's going to need to be.

Leave it with me.

Why don't you go someplace with a beach

till this has passed, OK?

Don't speak to anyone.

When Pandora opened her box, all the evil escaped.

Do you know what was left?

You're messing with me, right?

Hope.

That's you, Deana.

For Geraldine Briggs, that's you.

Morning.

Seen this?

Some journalist has got an inside track.

Somebody needs to talk less.

Yeah.

How would you go about ascertaining a deadly allergen

in somebody who's already proved it to be--

well, you know, deadly?

Briggs?

Definitely a victim of anaphylaxis.

I want to isolate the allergen.

Do you need to?

Well, something's not right.

I think it's possible it's foul play.

Instinct?

Not just mine.

The other detective's?

No, forensic bloke.

Forensic bloke?

Well, scientist.

The one who lost the fight.

I guess.

But you should see the other guy.

Actually, I think the other guy came out of it OK.

Ah.

Any good?

Jury's out.

See if you can narrow down the potential allergens.

Speak to relatives, family, work colleagues.

They may know something--

particularly if the allergy was potentially deadly.

OK.

And then when you've narrowed down the list,

you can test the body.

So he wasn't murdered by an escort girl.

No, an allergic reaction.

The escort girl sounded so much more exotic.

I wondered if you might know what had caused it.

He couldn't eat nuts, couldn't have peanut butter.

Ironic, isn't it?

You know, one of our biggest sellers

is Briggs' Balls, peanut butter.

His first product he couldn't actually quality control.

Our first ad campaign was "lick our balls."

Funny.

Well, my brother was a church-goer,

had a living relationship with God, whatever that means.

So the ad shocked him.

Took me months to convince him to go with it.

We ran an ad in the magazine "Nuts,"

a whole page, one issue, then pulled it.

We got more press from actually pulling it

because it damaged the family image of the business

than we have been able to afford.

Genius.

You know they actually study it in advertising courses.

Something to be proud of.

Do you have any idea why he had dinner

that night before he died?

Hello?

Deana?

DEANA : Who's this?

It-- it's your mother.

Oh.

Uh-- sorry.

I don't really know what to say.

Um, I would like to meet you.

Would you like to meet me?

Yeah, I would.

Um, I'd like it a lot.

Great.

Um, uh, well, can you come now?

DEANA : Uh, OK.

OK.

Well, let's meet at the Briggs Building.

Yeah.

I can see you there.

OK.

Well, I'll see you soon.

OK.

GERALDINE : Yeah.

Bye.

Sorry.

When do you need me?

Soon.

Uh--

Very soon.

As soon as you can.

Yeah.

I'll be right there.

Sorry about that.

Are you going to invite me to interview with you?

Of course, when I get down to the short list.

How's it going?

Um, slowly.

We'll put the gastric fluid through a sieve

and then we'll test the blood for specific antibodies

to nuts.

And how are you getting on?

Fine.

Not too much on them?

No.

Nothing.

I'm sure it's been difficult without Harry.

Who's Harry?

I miss him, too.

No one I interview comes close to him.

Leo.

No.

I can't help but compare them.

We agreed to move on.

We did.

So move on.

I am.

Not fast enough.

Nothing.

No indication of allergen.

No indication of allergen.

Jack?

Yes.

Leo Dalton.

Professor Leo Dalton?

That's right.

Holy shit.

Sorry.

It's just this is a great honour for me.

Well, that's, uh, that's very kind.

When I was at university, I was

at Imperial, we studied several of your cases

and that people you wrote, what, 20 years ago assessing

the benefits of amalgamating forensic pathology

with the other forensic scientists.

Very interesting to see how allied

the separate disciplines are, how they reinforce each other.

You were always being called a forward thinker in lectures.

So do you actually do science anymore, work in the lab,

get your hands dirty, or are you stuck

in an office pushing papers?

Oh, no.

I, uh-- no, I get my hands dirty.

I can't believe it.

You're a legend.

I'm standing here talking to a legend.

I don't quite know what to say.

Probably better not to say anything.

You can only go downhill.

You know what I mean.

Absolutely.

You don't read this, do you?

Me?

No.

No, no.

Nor do I. Don't mind if I--

Of course.

Hiya.

Hi.

You two have met?

It's nothing he ate.

How he came into contact with it may help

us understand whether it was an accident or not.

It feels like or not.

Does science really feel, Jack?

Test everything he may have come into contact

with in his hotel room--

sheets, towels, soaps.

I'll get started right away, Professor Dalton.

Professor Dalton.

He's a nice lad.

Well, I like him.

Ah.

Thanks very much.

We'll be in touch.

Thanks.

DS GOLD: Dr. Alexander, Mr. Hodgson,

am I closing this file?

The fact that they haven't found the allergen

does not mean that it wasn't an unlawful death.

No, of course not.

But we're not able to do anything about it, are we?

Jack, it could have been a tragic accident.

He was profoundly allergic to nuts.

He was allergic.

I'm more inclined to think it was

a result of multiple insults.

JACK: You said he had heart disease.

Common at his age.

The phone, the lack of prints?

A reasonable theory.

Come on, it's more than a theory.

Not much more.

DS GOLD: Bedsheets?

Briggs' DNA.

Only Briggs?

Someone that was in the room with him.

That alone doesn't mean anything.

JACK: Then why are we making forward?

Do I have a suspect?

No.

We agree on something.

Dr. Alexander is right to push for scientific facts.

But here's what my gut says, the sweets which

you liked so much--

Peanut butter ones.

--were put out in an open bowl to try and lead the forensic

pathologist astray in the hope that even if anaphylaxis was

identified as the cause of death,

its allergen source as a premeditated act of murder

would not be discovered.

That's something I hadn't considered.

Professor Dalton?

Yeah.

I'm just listening.

Have you checked the sweets for DNA or prints?

Hasn't been authorised.

And it may have been contaminated.

You have a possible suspect you haven't found or spoken to.

How can you close the file?

DEANNA : Is that the incident room?

Yeah.

That woman you're looking for, her name's Deana Collier.

Yeah.

I know where you can find her.

Deana?

Oh.

I never wanted to lose you.

You-- you have to believe me.

I-- I was made to let you go and--

oh, I am so glad you've come back.

Do you think Jack Hodgson is telling stories to the press?

No.

But he's-- I hope not.

Is that no or is it I hope not?

Let's stick with no--

I hope.

Now try.

Thank you.

PHILLIP: Day after day of salacious stories in the press

about Briggs and the company.

None of which is true and I'm trying

to work with the editors.

It doesn't matter if it's true, it's damaging.

Reduces the company's ability to meet its obligations.

It's not impacting on the sales.

We won't be able to extend you any further time

on the restructuring.

You have seven days, at which time

I'm afraid we'll ask that you be put into administration.

Why isn't Geraldine here?

She's got to sign.

She has to sign.

Somebody has to explain it to her.

Now, where is she?

She's with her daughter.

I didn't know she had a daughter.

Excuse me.

Detective Sergeant Gold.

Hello.

We're looking for this woman.

We believe her name is Deana Collier.

We had a phone call to say we might be able to find her here.

I'm Deana.

She's my daughter.

I was looking for my birth mother.

I had tried when I was a teenager,

but I didn't get very far.

I knew that I'd been a church adoption

and I knew vaguely the area and the date,

and I narrowed it down.

I wrote letters.

One was to Mr. Briggs and then Annette contacted me.

He didn't want anyone else in the firm to know.

He wanted it kept private.

Mr. Briggs loved her.

He loved her like a daughter.

Granddaughter?

We've got Briggs' DNA.

She should turn up as a familial match.

She doesn't think she touched anything.

She remembers?

Briggs' granddaughter.

Now it's confirmed.

Anybody want anything?

No.

No, thanks.

That's peculiar.

Got to go.

Cheers, mate.

Yeah.

See you on the weekend.

Want a coffee?

Tea, please.

NIKKI: What?

Nothing.

You could use a moniker.

Do you mind me asking how you really got your--

I like to fight, sport.

I see.

You're a beginner, then?

Yeah.

What do you think you're doing?

Being a good daughter.

You look nervous, Mr. Trenter.

Why don't you go someplace with a beach

while I pour a little hope back into my mother.

You're making a mistake.

Am I?

It doesn't feel like it.

You'll get found out.

You worrying about me or about you?

Pleased to meet you.

Come this way.

Your a union hotel?

Allied Workers Alliance.

Everyone?

Front of house, cleaning and housekeeping.

You know that photo of Deana Collier, the one the newspapers

were all using?

It's taken in the lobby of your hotel.

That employee is no longer with us.

What, AWA?

Yes.

Not worried.

Gross misconduct, they won't cause any trouble.

Perhaps they already have.

Have we got the printout of the swipe card entry

to the room?

Yes.

I'll get it for you.

Here she is coming in.

And leaving.

There's Briggs leaving for dinner.

And then-- and this.

What do you need, Phillip?

A little support, Michael.

Too much to ask?

Where'd she come from?

MICHAEL: Who?

The girl, Geraldine's daughter.

Oh.

I heard John was looking for her.

She tracked him down.

So they were both looking for each other.

Mm.

Convenient.

As if she suddenly appears out of nowhere.

I'm going to find out about her--

everything about her.

Well, if there's anything I can do to help,

just let me know.

This company should be mine.

Me and my brother built it up.

I should be making the decisions, not rehearsing.

Just because of that girl.

Do we want to sell the company, Phillip?

Let's just stay focused on that.

Getting paid too much.

It's onto your firm.

I'm Phillip.

Oh.

I don't think we've met.

I'm Deana.

Geraldine's daughter.

DEANA: Yeah.

Family secret.

Every family has secrets.

They lie to each other and to themselves, don't they?

My brother had plenty of secrets.

We're particularly good at them in this family.

You're John's brother.

Do you think the long lost granddaughters of poor people

bother to track them down?

Phillip.

I don't want you to speak to my daughter, be alone with her,

or try to develop any kind of relationship with her.

You know, when I lost you my father gave me this bracelet as

though it may somehow replace.

There's a charm for all of my memories,

all the places I've been and all--

all the things I've seen.

Um, and I'd like to give these memories to you.

Think it was an accident?