All language subtitles for The Inspector Lynley Mysteries.s03e04.If Wishes Were Horses1

Prof Finnegan, you testified
at the original trial,
as forensic psychologist. I did.

Perhaps you'd summarise. I firmly

believed that Lizzie Shakespeare
murdered her husband in cold blood.

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

Her state of mind? Rational. She

knew precisely what she was doing.

Having monitored the appellant

in prison, your view now? The same.

I see no medical grounds
for release or transfer

to a psychiatric hospital.

So you'd refute a defence of
diminished responsibility? Indeed.

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 gonna show?

You'd have to be a pepperoni short
of the full pizza. Any more tea?

What's your guvnor's missus doing
here? Er, 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.

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

Thank you. Um, 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.

Well, who's driving - man or woman?
Er, 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?

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.

Thanks to your happy pills.
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.

Um...
well, now's as good a time as any.

Um, 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?

And the bomb itself?
Crude, um, 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.

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 registration, I'd
give it you! Just speed it up, OK?

You can be quite scary sometimes.
Thanks, I try.

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".
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.

Er, you and Turner
get to work on the mystery woman.

And check out Finnegan's outhouse.

Right, sir. Thanks very much.

Sorry, no. Not a clue.

Nor me. But I'm surprised
there weren't more of them there,
crawling out of the woodwork. Who?

His bits of fluff. Floozies.
Maureen...

OK.

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.

Er, Inspector Lynley
mentioned an outhouse?

Nicholas?

Joseph? Alexander?

Jennifer? He'll have hell at school.

Silly man.

So, 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, um...

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

All above board. Permits are here.

Thanks.

I'll, er...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....

Thank you. Max... >

Sir.

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.

Losing faith, Max? Losing readers.

Lizzie's had more front pages than
any other story. She's not a story,

she's my daughter.

Er, 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 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. 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.
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
him, and his reputation's shot. It

would help Lizzie's appeal. Exactly.

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.

Well, she did kill her husband.
In self-defence.
Does that make it all right?

No, it makes it complicated.

Did Shakespeare use the ex-cons'
website for what he said,

or was he looking for a hitman
to kill Finnegan?

Havers!

Er, just to let you know, er,
no luck yet on our mystery mourner.

Right, well, keep at it.

Anything else?

Barbara? Er, 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. 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 brought my photos.

The good old days.

I'm not interested in the past.

Ah, 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.
How thoughtful. Bit late, though,

or we'd invite you in. It's only

9.30. ..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.

Um, well, um...

Another time, then?

Goodnight.

Right.

Morning, sir. Morning.

Er, 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?

Perhaps 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.

Oh, yeah(!) Yes.

And relax down...

Other side... Take it up...

Tommy! Terrible timing. Sorry. Could
you tell me about that case you did

with Finnegan - Stephanopoulos?

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

So, he should be out by now?

I should think so.

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 - near Finnegan's house.

I'll come with you.

Are you trying to do Havers out of
a job? Ready, sir. 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?
No. 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.

Er, right.

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

OK. ..Er, 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? Er, 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? Seems so.

Helen?

Helen?

Helen!

HORN BLARES

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? Give us a kiss.

You had visitors. Police.

Your wife's recovering from the
operation. She lost consciousness,
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, er...

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,
er, this Stephanopoulos thing.

Well, um...

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, er... 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?

Huh! 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?

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?
Um, 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, 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?

Uh-huh.

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 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.

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.

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 dad was

involved with Finnegan's death,

she might know what he was
planning. I'll get 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?

Yeah.
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, then 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? Um, 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.

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 actual

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. They both
hated Finnegan. They both did it?

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.

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 concerned

about doing things by the book,

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. Does

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.

He was looking for a way to hurt

Finnegan. Blow him out of the water.
Unfortunate wording. 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 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.

HORN BLARES

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 got a call to say
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.

Oh, 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.

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 does that mean?

Ah, thanks.

So why all the drama earlier?

Well, um, 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?

Um, I'm not sure. Why?
I worry about Grace.

Maureen won't let me near the place.

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

Will you stay for another? Oh, 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.

CAR ENGINE STARTS UP

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.

Er...

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

..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, 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, I'm here now.

My hero(!) Do you do room service?

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

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?

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. 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.
No, I said I'd drive you home
and I will. Turner can drive me.

You're still a target.
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 and 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!

Got back late. Maybe eleven.
Shut your mouth!

Gina knew you'd never forgive her -

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 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.

He made four calls to Finnegan
just before Lizzie's appeal -

Tessa Jellicoe mentioned 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. Stop moaning.
He left the house to you.

And everything else to 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.

All these years, I've had nothing.
It's not guilt. Why did he change

his will three months ago?

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

He told you? 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

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?

Oh, 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?

Er, well, we've, er...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.

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.

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.

Doesn't let him off the hook
for Finnegan. 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 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, er...

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, 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 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?

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.

Look, 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.

Are you sure you don't mind?
No, if you could just drop me off
at the hospital, yeah?

SHE KNOCKS

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?
Being a lesbian's fine with me, but
snogging a vulnerable patient...

Look, I'm investigating a murder. If
you've got a professional misconduct
grievance, then take it up with...

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 told me he saw
Dr Tessa Jellicoe kissing
"a vulnerable patient", a woman.

Who? Well, Grace Finnegan.
Bruises all over her face,

like like she'd been beaten.
Regular customer for years.

Came in wearing scarves, trying to
hide her face. So they were lovers?

Helen? Looks like it.

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

Good God! Then I saw the sharps box.
They use it to get rid of
contaminated needles.

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

Right. So where's Tessa now?
Er, well, my hunch?

With Grace Finnegan.

..Sir?

I'll meet you there.

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

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 were seen kissing Mrs Finnegan.

We had a relationship, yes.
I ended it.

Which is none of their business.

Would you know why 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

the night the bomb was planted in
Prof Finnegan's car? I was at home.

Can anyone verify that? No.

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 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.

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, hmm? You and me?
Together, happy ever after?

You're just like him,
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 a past case.

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 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. Tessa!

You had no right!

No!

Havers!

Barbara!

Barbara...

Subtitles by Judith Simpson and
Alison Haggart, BBC Broadcast 2004

Email us at subtitling@bbc.co.uk