All language subtitles for A.Touch.Of.Cloth.S01E01E02.The.First.Case.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DD+2.0.H.264-playWEB_track3_[eng]

Hey, you men
watch QI last night?

Yeah, bro,
that Stephen Fry's a bad man!

Nah, I studied

for my harpsichord lesson, innit?

Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Go away!

I said go away!

Nobody home!

All right, I'm coming!

This is Maniac FM,

the number one station for
psychopaths tenderly stroking

potential murder weapons in
dimly lit lairs nationwide!

And now to get you in the mood,

here's the new single from JLS.

All right, Grandad?

What's in the bag?

Hey, what's in the bag, Grandad?

Come on, battyboy, tell
us about World War II.

What would you know about World War II?

Hey, bruv, I seen the film.

Tom Hanks done more than you, bruv,

he'd shank you in your eye!

And he done Forrest Gump!

Hanks makes you look like a pussy.

An old pussy.

Two old pussies!

Nah, nah, I got it, three old pussies!

Three old pussies with a shopping bag!

- Pussy!
- I'm gonna call

the police when I get in.

You do that and you're dead, yeah?

Dead, you stupid old man!

Dead

like this,

Grandad.

You're dead, Granddad!

The silly old man got a cat!

Yes, King, I've got your dinner.

Now, don't you worry.

Come on.

Come on, there's a good boy.

Who's there?

Oh, God.

God, no.

No!

Inspector Jack Cloth?

Who wants to know?

Anne Oldman.

So, where is he?

Anne Oldman, your new DC.

My new DC's not an old man,

it's some top-of-her-class
Hendon graduate,

all tits and ambition,
from what I've heard.

I'm DC Anne Oldman.

Here's a close-up of my credentials.

Boys down the station
gave me your address.

Come in.

Why're you here, Oldmun?

Old-man, sir.

What?

It's pronounced old-man.

Why are you here, Oldman?

Murder on the Rundowne Estate.

Victim was a decorated war hero.

Dunkirk, apparently.

An old man?

Yes?

Why didn't you just ring?

We did, but your phone must have been

off.

So, the ACC sent you?

ACC and the DAC, SO's
OS so they need us ASAP.

CCTV, DNA?

N-O.

VSU's gone AWOL.

OMFG.

S-H-1-T.

I hear our beloved Assistant
Chief Constable Tom Boss

has been grooming you for some time.

Never trust anyone you
meet on the internet.

He sounded impatient, said
he'd meet us at the scene.

Then let's just cut
to you driving the car.

Preventable killing, over.

Repeat, preventable killing, over.

Boy, this guy
looks uncompromising, innit?

- Yeah.
- Troubled, yeah?

All haunted and shit.

Looks like the type of guy

don't trust his new partner yet.

Bet he does a little skip in a minute.

Okay, come on, man, let's go.

Victim's an Albert Thomas Stafford,

World War II veteran, 85 years old.

Not been seen all week.

Lived alone, one cat.

Liked On Golden Pond,
partial to Soreen malt loaf,

lightly toasted with butter.

Collected autographed photos
of former Daily Mirror editor

and CNN irritant Piers Morgan.

Rarely used public transport,

preferred to get around by walking,

which he did by placing
one foot on the ground

before transferring his
weight to the opposing leg.

Kept himself to himself,
never been found dead before,

so this is out of character.

Ugh, oh God.

Useful tip, keep your
hands in your pockets,

reduces the temptation to touch things.

Glove, sir.

Someone turn that off!

He'd been out shopping.

Receipts indicate several
purchases at the local pet shop.

Any leads?

No.

Just catnip and a flea collar, and several

of these.

10 for the price of five at Ryman's.

Where's the body?

In the living room.

Sir?

You'll need a strong stomach.

It's like a crime scene in there.

Oh Mary, mother-of-pearl!

Over here, Oldmun.

Oldman.

Not any more.

What happened to you, Albert Stafford?

He can't tell you, he's dead, sir.

What have we got, Natasha?

- Between us?
- Yeah.

An implied but never openly
referenced sexual history

and the suggestion of unfinished business.

And him?

Not my type.

I like my men like my coffee, bitter

and not half-eaten by cats.

Albert's had been feasting
on him for at least a week.

A hungry pussy with an insatiable appetite

for the older man.

You've come across one of those
before, haven't you, Jack?

Boys down the station just
rang, Chief's on his way.

Who's the talking shape?

- DC Oldmun.
- Oldman.

Natasha Sachet, Forensics and Hair.

Hi.

Thanks, but I don't shake.

I'll be out here if you need me, Jack.

First name terms?

I remember when you used
to call me Jack, Jack.

Did Albert Stafford die quickly?

Eventually, yeah.

By the looks of those
streaks, it was a sustained

and frenzied attack without
mercy or toilet breaks.

Weapon?

- Yes.
- But you'll know more

when you get him to the mortuary.

Of course.

But I can tell you one thing right away,

only a maniac could carry this out.

Let's find a maniac to carry this out!

Any prints?

Only Purple Rain and Lovesexy.

That the girl who found him?

Granddaughter.

Attractive, but devastated.

Hairihan?

Go check the neighbors,
see if they heard anything.

Yes, guv.

Albert would have
put up one hell of a fight.

He was quite the soldier,
by the looks of it.

He did his bit during World War II,

it's a tragedy how it ended.

The Nuremberg trials.

Eking out his final days as
a prisoner in his own home,

just cat litter and memories for company.

And that singing fish.

Well, let's hope its song

brought him solace in his final days.

Touching, Cloth.

Don't you have
a pen to push, Boss?

Assistant Chief Constable Tom Boss.

And while we're talking
numbers, congratulations,

this is the 100th murder this
year on the Rundowne Estate.

♪ For he's a jolly good-- ♪

That's enough!

The stats match your attitude, negative.

Or what the Danish call negativ.

Thanks to you, the entire
department is losing face, Cloth.

If you want neat results,
get a Ladyshave for Christmas,

if you want police work, let me do my job.

What I don't want is words.

I've heard all the
words there are to hear,

from dyspepsia to lemonade,
and they're just sounds

you make with your lips,
inconsequential mouth farts.

I need results, Cloth.

What the French call resulte.

Is that the granddaughter?

Yes, sir.

I'm sorry for your loss, Miss.

If it's any consolation,

you really are extremely attractive.

Guv, got a witness statement.

Woman next door saw
some lads giving Albert

a bit of shit-mouth the
night he was last seen.

Says the ringleader's a right bum-rat.

Does bum-rat have a name?

Darren Crossway, goes by
the street name Crossbo.

We'd better catch this
Crossbo before he bolts.

It's all about targets for you, huh?

I want Crossway's arrest
report on my table by 2 p.m.

- But--
- On my table, Cloth.

Hey, we're looking for
Crossbo, you know him?

A'ight?

Where does he hang out?

Datdere Yute Club.

Come on.

♪ The more I write the more it's right ♪

♪ I rule in sight so just hang tight ♪

♪ A bright star, that's me ♪

♪ A maximum soul, my
soul I keep it right ♪

♪ The more I write the more it's right ♪

♪ I rule by sight so just hang tight ♪

♪ I try performing, love ♪

♪ If I'm fresh let me go from earlier ♪

♪ Play on the two string ♪

Crossbo?

Me no Crossbo.

You dreamin'?

Where can we find him?

That's some chung gyal
you got with you, man.

You ever go nup on that ting?

Bare peng!

You feelin' me?

Your feedback is noted.

Now, where is Crossbo?

You making a friend?

Dizzy wasteman!

Fix sumting I done a bit?

Crossbo bloodren tight.

Me no chat to no roz clat
bomb clat beesfed gel dem!

What?

Guv?

You Crossbo?

No, not me.

Then why look when I call his name?

You in love with him or somethin'?

Watch your mouth, bruv.

Why don't you watch it for me?

Down at the station?

Oy!

You're nicked.

All right, all right!

Flippin' hell, man.

Interview Room B4.

Friday, 22nd of June, 12:20 p.m.

Present are myself, DI Jack Cloth,

DC Anne Oldman, WPC Cardboard Cutout,

suspect Darren Crossway,
and Noodles P. Hound.

Later we'll have music from
Jessie J and The Wanted,

but we start by asking Darren Crossway

why he murdered a defenseless old man.

No comment.

For the benefit of the tape,

the suspect has confessed all--

I'm innocent!

Does the name Guildford
Four mean anything to you?

Because that's what he said.

I never even saw no
Albert Stafford, man!

Then let me refresh your memory.

That is Albert Stafford on
his 85th birthday last year.

Here's a picture from this morning.

Jesus, I don't need to see that, man!

That is one of the last things

Albert Stafford saw before he died.

And here's what we saw of Albert Stafford.

That's disgusting.

You think so?

Have another!

Huh?

It's not a pretty sight, is it?

Take 'em away, please man!

No, do you not want to
have a closer look, huh?

There you go!

Here's a jar of Albert Stafford's blood.

Go on, smell it, smell it!

- Guv--
- For the purposes

of the tape, the suspect
sniffing blood like a jackal!

You're crazy, man!

Do you wanna drink some?

Here, have a drink, there,
go on, have a drink!

What about dunking one
of his fingers into it?

Sir, that's enough!

Ooh!

You disgust me!

You taunted Albert Stafford

and he threatened to call the
police so you got rid of him,

hacked him to bits like a marmalade bus!

I dunno what you're talking about!

Neither do I!

That's enough!

For the benefit of the tape,

Noodles P. Hound is licking
blood off his bollocks.

Impressive fireworks, Cloth.

But why haven't we charged him yet?

The boy's not our man.

He's just a kid.

Even a burn-out like you

knows he's as guilty as Derek Bentley.

Supposing he did do
it, what if he didn't?

Well, charge him anyway.

You know as well as I do
it'll never stand up in court.

I said charge him, Cloth.

And then I walked out of the room.

Hello.

Hello.

Hi.

Hello.

Boys down the station
said I'd find you here.

Yeah, I always come here when
we lock up an innocent man,

helps me forget everything.

You're in here a lot, then?

No idea.

Your post, Jack.

Don't just stand there,
get the lady a drink, Gerry.

The lady's on duty.

An orange juice.

♪ All the things she said ♪

♪ Running through my head ♪

Sorry.

Hey, hon, great news!

The meeting with the adoption
agency's been confirmed.

We better start decorating
that spare room.

Great, that's great.

Oh, and the wedding invites

are ready to go, they look fab!

Brilliant, fantastic.

Tell me you love me.

Come on, just say it, Oldman!

I do.

Just say it, say I
love you, nobody is listening.

Me too.

Fiance.

Good luck holding on to him.

I'm doing my best.

This job doesn't respect relationships,

it vandalizes them.

We're the thin blue
line helping the public

sleep soundly in their beds,
we wind up sleeping alone.

The public gets a good-night
kiss from their beloved,

we sit bathed in the
cold light of a laptop,

masturbating to online
pornography and wiping our hands--

You had a wife, didn't you, guv?

Says who?

Boys down the station.

They say she was your life.

I mean, wife, they say she was your wife.

Do they?

- Jack?
- Don't Jack me.

You don't know me.

Eat your orange juice.

All right, I did it!

Ow, all right, ow, I did it!

No!

They'll want to fix that mirror.

Fix that mirror.

They'll want to fix that mirror.

What is it?

Message from Boss.

There's been another murder,

wants us to head over there
for an establishing shot.

What?

Nah, I didn't understand it either.

Establishing shot confirmed.

Victim's name is Aiden
Matthew Hawkchurch.

Successful chef, 39 years
old, six foot, 180 pounds.

Got his own TV show now
in its fourth season.

Been married for 13 years, all in a row.

Lives in this house, estimated
resale value 1.9 million.

Desirable catchment area, would suit

professional couple or
recently murdered man.

Black front door, entrance hallway,

Orla Kiely stem-print doormat,

recommended retail price 29.99.

Six-peg coat at price unknown.

Walnut frame mirror, purchased 2006.

Grieving widow, Clare Hawkchurch.

37, GSOH,

Sagittarius, 34C.

Where's the body?

Upstairs, in the bedroom.

Christ and Londis!

From high-flying chef to
bed-bound human casserole.

What happened to you, Aiden Hawkchurch?

He can't hear you, Jack, his
eardrums are full of blood.

They handcuffed him to the
bed and hacked him to bits.

Some kinda sex game?

Maybe later, when I
finish pointing at blood.

The quantity of spray suggests
his heart was still pumping

when his carotid was severed.

What, he was alive when they cut him up?

Until he died, yeah.

You see those spatters?

He was moving.

Lying there, horrified,
writhing on the bed

watching his own life fluids
splash against the wall.

Usually best to try
and catch it in a sock.

What kind of animal would do this?

Wielding the weapon
required opposable thumbs,

so almost a Homo sapiens.

An athletic one, too.

Those streaks show our killer
has one hell of a back swing.

And no respect for plasterwork.

Anything else?

Well, it's not relevant,
but it's interesting.

A bloodstain resembling
Ross Kemp in silhouette.

I'd say Ian Hislop.

And I'd say Kemp.

Guv?

I think you might wanna see this.

Keep looking.

Let's talk to the wife, see
if she can light some shed.

I can't believe it.

Aiden is...

Was

everything to me.

Can you tell us what happened?

We are...

were having roast lamb tonight.

Aiden was preparing it, naturally.

He asked me to pop out to
the shops to buy some herbs.

Time?

Coriander.

When did you return?

Just before one, I think.

Aiden, I'm back!

It's just before one, I think.

Aiden?

He didn't respond when I said, "Aiden,"

which struck me as odd, because that is...

was his name.

I climbed the stairs saying:

Aiden.

A few more times.

Aiden?

Like that.

Then I asked if he was
playing a trick on me.

Are you playing a joke on me?

My mistake,

I said joke.

Then I pushed open the bedroom door.

There's a bit of a knack to it,

you have to lift the
handle as you turn it.

There you go.

Thanks.

Aiden!

Oh, Aiden!

Would you like a cup
of tea, Mrs. Hawkchurch?

Clare, can you think of anyone

who might have wanted your
husband to come to harm?

Have you seen his TV show?

It's easier to list the people who didn't.

Go on.

Henry Kelly.

The DJ?

Yes.

That's it.

Sorry.

Um, where are the mugs?

They are...

Were in the corner cupboard.

So, Aiden wasn't a popular man, then?

You can't build a restaurant empire

without breaking a few eggs, Inspector.

Aiden is...

Was driven in everything he does.

Done.

Did.

Here we are.

We will need to
ask you a few more questions

when you think you're up to it, Clare.

I understand.

Something's not right there.

I know, coriander doesn't go with lamb!

Tell me you've got a lead.

Aiden Hawkchurch was the
sort of man who made friends

like a dog flies a helicopter,
badly and not for long.

He's half as popular as
piss-flavored birthday cake

with Mussolini icing!

The world hated him, it
could have been anyone!

Did you check on his contacts?

Anyone he might've stiffed on
a deal, snubbed with a recipe?

Don't you have to be somewhere

teaching your grandmother to suck eggs?

Mock me if you must but the fact is

the bodies keep washing up.

Whatever.

Washing up, Cloth!

Oldman.

You need to keep an eye on him for me,

tell me if he bends any
corners, cuts any rules.

So you want me to
tell tales on him, Boss?

All I'm just saying is that

Cloth is conspicuously
frayed around the edges, hm?

You've got the makings of
a good DI, Anne Oldman,

don't let an old man
jeopardize that, yeah?

I want you to keep me in the loop,

what the Germans call Das Loopenclampf.

I'm counting on you.

Hello, Tom?

Yes, hello, Grandma.

Yeah.

Yeah, I won't be long,
about a half an hour.

Don't let them hard-boil.

A man as unpopular as Aiden Hawkchurch?

Must be a million suspects.

Now
I'm delighted to say

we've just heard that the celebrity chef

Aiden Hawkchurch has been murdered!

A million and one.

Go the back way.

Guv.

Day
306 in the Pan Academy,

and Aiden isn't happy when Amy

- drops a spatula.
- Pick it up!

With your teeth!

Put it in your mouth!

Stand up!

That's it!

Whatever happened to chivalry?

She got voted out in week three.

Do you want some?

Do you want some?

Come here, come here!

Wait, the best bit's coming up,

he blinds a pregnant
woman with a corkscrew.

I do not forgive!

I do not forgive!

We won't
find our motive in there.

He's frightening people!

Exactly.

Fear isn't a motive.

Sex?

That's a motive.

Put a corpse in front of me,

the first thing I do is consider sex.

This job's damaged you, hasn't it?

Guv?

Natasha rang from the
mortuary, says it's big.

I know it is, I've been there.

Well, she wants us there again.

When?

Now.

Female, aged 32.

Severe trauma to the sternum.

Lacerations to the liver and spleen.

Evidence of a repeated blow
from a blunt instrument,

possibly a hammer.

That's nice, dear.

I love you and leave you,
my program's just starting.

Shall I put your dad on?

Oh, no, I'll call you at the weekend.

Natasha.

Cloth.

I see your trainee's
still with you, how sweet.

How professional.

- Kemp.
- Hislop.

- Cow.
- Bitch.

What have you found out?

It's worse than I thought, Jack,

Hawkchurch didn't die of
blood loss, he died of fright.

And blood loss.

You've reassembled him.

Simplest way to find out what's missing.

I've been disappointed in the past,

finding out a man hasn't quite
got everything you hoped.

Like a penis?

Hell, yeah.

Hawkchurch had one?

Yes.

Where is it?

Being analyzed.

Analyzed where?

In a place.

The way he was handcuffed,
any sign of sexual activity?

According to facial swabs,

he'd recently performed cunnilingus.

Where's the tongue?

Yeah, it does, doesn't it, Jack?

Anything else of note?

Mm, yeah.

His stomach contained a laminated pear.

There's only one restaurant
that serves laminated pear,

and Adrian Hawkchurch owns it.

I'll call them.

Well, surely with him in
this state, it's closed.

I mean, look at him, he
couldn't hold a ladle.

Guv?

I think you might wanna see this.

Get a sketch drawn up.

What'd the restaurant say?

Nothing, it's a building,

it doesn't even have a larynx,

but the staff were helpful.

They biked the last 48 hours
of CCTV over to the tech lab.

Qureshi's running it through the computer.

Ah, I don't believe in computers!

They do exist.

Did you read that on the
internet, whatever that is?

You're a
relic, do you know that?

An antique of a bygone era like MySpace

or The News Of The World.

I've got a MySpace
page like everybody else.

No one's had a MySpace page since '78.

You're livin' in the past,
guv, it's affecting your work.

♪ All the things she said ♪

Answer that.

They sound irritating!

Hello?

The adoption woman's here.

Shit!

Can you talk to her on your own?

We're meant to be a couple,
like any other couple.

And we are.

Slightly more interesting
than a standard couple,

granted, but a couple.

But there's three of us, aren't there?

Me, you and that bloody job!

Gemma, I'm sorry!

It's not good enough, Oldman!

Now we've put the CCTV
through our new computer.

It runs of Ostenticity 4.0,

the most melodramatic
operating system in the world.

Computer, on!

Bring up the Hawkchurch file.

It's fast.

And histrionic.

Nice stuff!

Oh, come on, Jack, even
you must be impressed.

Look at that display!

Display my arse.

Get rid of that!

Wipe ass.

Missed a bit.

Wipe ass completely.

Just run the CCTV.

Run footage.

Okay!

Now here's Hawkchurch on
the High Street at 12:33.

We lose him a minute later, but

he's picked up by a
nearby watercolor artist.

We pick him up again at 12:45

in his own restaurant
where he meets this woman.

Freeze.

Who are you?

She can't hear you,
guv, she's just an image.

Can we get a better view?

Zoom.

Enhance.

Bad earrings, oof!

Change earrings.

Okay?

Run video.

Some body language.

Wonder what's on her mind.

Display mind contents.

Zoom.

Saxophone.

So Hawkchurch wasn't the loyal husband

his wife thought her was.

Which gives us a possible motive.

No, Clare's not the type.

Hell hath no fury.

That's just a cliche.

You're barking up the wrong tree.

- What?
- Huh?

He's seen us!

Duck!

That's the handbag from the restaurant!

Grab handbag and leg it.

Come on, come on!

Go through handbag like a junkie.

Wait, freeze!

Run license enhancement routine.

Gavina.

Unusual name, like a man's part

clumsily rewritten for a woman.

Whatever she is, we'd better

find her before Clare Hawkchurch does.

Display mind contents again.

Aiden?

Back for more, like a bad boy?

Water's getting cold.

Aiden?

You're not Aiden.

Segue
FM with a news update.

The body of a woman has been discovered

in St. Pope's Forest.

Police have appealed for witnesses

and asked the public not
to turn up at the scene

and stand around staring
like ghoulish meerkats

hoping for a glimpse of a dead leg.

Victim's a Gavina Duntish, female, 32.

Body was found near a quickset hedgerow

by an elderly couple walking their dog.

Distinguishing features?

Four legs, tail, mottled hindquarters.

Plays well with children,
vaccinations up to date.

Answers to the name Poppy.

- Where's the crime scene?
- Through here.

Time of death has yet to
be firmly established.

She was found unclothed.

Natasha's had her team working on

the body for the past hour.

Great Susan of Nazareth!

Natasha?

Jack.

If I'd known you were coming,

I'd have dressed for the occasion.

That's enough for now.

Brought your pet, then?

This is the body that
you wanted us to see?

Clear signs of neglect.

Funny, I'd heard

you appreciate the female form.

- Prick.
- Shithead.

Where's Gavina?

Over here.

She was snatched from her bath,

attacked with a bladed weapon,

probably a sword, and dumped here.

Thrown away like so much rubbish.

Even sorted for recycling.

Torso, extremities, mushy bits.

Found this in her stomach.

It's a bill from the
restaurant of Aiden Hawkchurch.

First laminated pear and now this.

What sort of mad crap
did they serve there?

That's great, Des, thanks.

Hairihan just rang with some exposition.

They're bringing in Clare Hawkchurch.

Okay, great!

Excuse me, can I help you?

They said something
had happened to Gavina.

I'm her father, I came as soon as I heard.

It's a condition I've got,
sudden shock induces orgasm.

I mopped myself down
and drove straight over.

Now, is she all right?

I'm afraid your daughter is dead.

Come again?

Yeah.

Let's get a sock over here!

Clean him up, take him to the mortuary.

He's not dead, guv.

To identify the body!

Come on.

Sock, quick!

- Couple of 999s.
- Sure.

Can I have a little nap now?

Of course you can.

I've seen every reaction in the book,

and that was my favorite.

We don't have time to
congratulate the grieving, Oldman,

not when there's a Clare
Hawkchurch to question.

Look, I've been thinking.

No, you haven't!

I think I should her alone.

An arsehole says what?

The last time you questioned a suspect,

you lost control, Jack.

I can't trust you in there,
you might do something crazy.

Like rip her eye out and eat it?

Like raise your voice.

Let me handle her, Jack, please.

Come on, Clare, stop playing games!

Cutout, step out for a minute, will you?

Aiden and Gavina were having an affair,

you suspected as much and,
by God, it made you angry.

Ridiculous!

This is a bill from the opening night

of Aiden's restaurant,
stuffed in Gavina's mouth.

You fed it to her and then killed.

I didn't.

All those nights he stayed
late at the restaurant

while you sat alone
imagining them together.

- No.
- Her unbuttoning his shirt.

His strong hand hitching up her skirt,

revealing a vulnerable thigh.

A flurry of undressing and
he's naked on his back.

Her topless astride him,
grinding her silk-clad sex

against this stiffening manhood.

She leans forward, her
breasts teasing him,

his tongue greedily circling the nipple.

Go away!

His hand down her back,
slipping his fingertips

into the hem of her
knickers, pulling them down

as he turns her onto her
back, easing open her soft--

Sorry, guv, can I have a word?

Go on.

CCTV showing Clare leaving
Gavina's place four days ago.

Yes!

I could kiss you, Asap.

You're all right, sir.

And in and out and in
and out and in and out

and in and out and in and out
and in and out and in and out

and in and out and in and out.

You made a good fist of it
but you can't pull this off.

Something's up and everyone in
this room can see what it is.

What are you talking about?

What were you doing at Gavina's house?

I was always going round
there, she was my friend too.

We all met at the same time, all 12 of us.

All 12?

On the jury.

What jury?

When was this?

Well, it was years ago,

but I still remember the
details as if it were yesterday.

It was 1996.

1996?

Yes.

You're absolutely sure it was--

It was 1996.

Those TV nostalgia
programs were all the rage.

I spent all my time at home watching them,

until the letter arrived.

Jury service.

A murder trial.

Because of the condition of the body--

Aiden and I
hit it off straight away.

The victim
had been repeatedly stabbed

with a jagged blade,
possibly a hunting knife,

causing extensive serration
trauma to the kidneys

and what was left of the spleen.

Brain matter was also recovered

from the stomach of the Alsatian,

which was found shot next to the victim.

And both bodies exhibited
advanced putrefaction.

The eyeballs were entirely liquefied

and had been consumed by maggots.

That doesn't sound very

appropriate, Mrs. Hawkchurch.

Yes, well, we had to put up with

plenty of disapproval in jury room, too.

- He's got brain matter--
- I mean, Gavina didn't care.

But there was this old guy always tutting,

even when we weren't having full sex.

But the
point is he'd been shot.

People in courtrooms
can be so judgmental.

- But the killer--
- What's his name,

that old man?

- Let's get back to where--
- Albert!

That's it.

Albert Stafford.

Albert Stafford.

Our martyred war hero.

Albert Stafford.

Gavina.

Aiden Hawkchurch.

All members of the same jury.

Murdered.

Who was the defendant?

- What?
- In the trial in '96.

Bradstock!

That was his surname.His
first name was, um...

Burton!

Burton and Bradstock, Burton Bradstock.

Clare Hawkchurch is in the clear

but someone's killing former
jurors on the Bradstock case.

I'll speak to the boys down the station,

see what the boys down
the station are saying.

Yeah, good.

Des, we need everything
on Burton Bradstock.

- Case files, trial reports.
- Sound, guv.

And pull the names and addresses

of every juror on that case,

we need to get them into a safe
house, Clare Hawkchurch too.

- Asap.
- Yes, guv?

Asap, get me some kind of a sandwich.

Cheese and pickle?

Yeah, no, cast the net wider.

Coronation chicken,
ciabatta, if you have to.

Let's think on your feet!

I'm on it, guv!

Yeah, the boys down the station.

So there's a link
between our three victims.

No, thanks.

Three victims?

That's right.

Would you explain it like
I'm some sort of viewer, guv?

It's simple, Des.

Albert Stafford served
on the Bradstock jury.

Someone's bumping them off.

I say we're dealing with a serial killer.

What we need is

proof.

Starts with, Oldmun?

Oldman.

Albert Stafford.

Served on a jury with
Aiden and Clare Hawkchurch

and Gavina Duntish, Burton Bradstock case.

What do we have on Bradstock?

Burton Bradstock, jailed
'96 for killing his wife,

released three weeks ago
for not doing it since.

Albert Stafford was murdered
two weeks and six days ago.

So Bradstock is our prime suspect.

Where's that list of jurors?

Boys down the station
say it's not on the system.

It's in the paperwork somewhere
but there's a lot of it.

I'm gonna call my laptop,
tell it I won't be home tonight.

Guv.

Do a lot of late nights?

Nothing much to rush home for.

♪ All the things she said ♪

♪ Running through my head ♪

I told you I'm working.

Yes, it's important.

Yeah, fine, whatever.

Gemma?

No, Gemma!

Gemma?

Short for Jeremy?

No.

Gemathon?

No.

Gemadict?

No.

It's Gemma as in Gemma.

So, you're gay?

Bi, Jack.

No, don't go, it's none of my business.

I'm bisexual, Jack, I'm not ashamed.

I just thought you'd be,

I don't know, shocked.

Nothing shocks me.

A female detective
that swings both ways.

An AC/DC DC, see?

It's the sort of thing the boys
down the station joke about.

I'm not laughing.

I haven't laughed since my wife died.

Why did you laugh when your wife died?

Oh, I didn't.

I made a sound, I think, but
it wasn't laughter, it was

something else.

Like a bassoon?

I lost my mind that night.

I can see it.

I can still see it.

Jack?

Jack!

No!

Jack!

Jack!

I've found a list!

A list of jurors, a list of
jurors from the Bradstock trial.

Ugh, it's written in
some kind of a code.

Upside-down writing, we
learnt it at the academy.

Here.

All these people are in danger.

Start dispatching officers,
wherever these people are,

whatever they're doing these
days, we round them up, now!

- Yes?
- Andrew Preacherman?

DC Qureshi.

Can you comewith me, please?

What's going on?

I'll explain on the way to the station.

Guv?

It's me.

Des.

Yeah, yeah.

Jurors are in the safe house.

Yeah, WPC Cutout's gonna
be keeping an eye on them.

Oh, and, guv, Natasha rang.

She's run some tests, turns out

Albert Stafford was killed with a sword,

same murder weapon used
on Aiden and Gavina.

Yeah.

Yeah, she did tell you earlier
but that scene got cut.

So, just to clarify, the key thing is

all the victims were killed
with the same weapon,

which was a sword.

Apparently, that's important.

All victims, same weapon, sword.

Just so you know.

Good work, Des.

Bye, love you!

Well, they're out of harm's way for now.

Bradstock's still out there
just walking around like a man.

We're gonna have to find him somehow.

Public appeal?

Not to me.

So, if anyone has any information

regarding Burton Bradstock's whereabouts,

they can call our incident
room in total confidence.

Okay, I'll take your questions now.

Judith Chandler, The Independent.

Do you have a personal message
for Burton Bradstock himself?

If I had one thing to say to
him it's stop killing people.

Okay, next?

Robin Stork, Birdwatching Now.

Were there any birds found at the scene?

No.

Woman with the hair?

Jemima Symes, Rhyming Times.

Were the victims gored
with a type of sword?

Well, that's one line of inquiry.

Which you can

put in your diary.

Right, well, I think
that's enough for now.

Dick Hasty, The Interrupter!

Why are you trying to wrap
up this press conference?

That's really all I have to say.

Mark Down, Market Trader.

Do you wanna buy this Dictaphone?

- No.
- Conor Tinuity,

Next Scene Inquisitor.

Where are you going now?

To see a retired former detective

raking leaves in his garden,
is that enough for you?

Will he have gloves on?

- Yes.
- What color?

Blue!

Satisfied?

Cloth?

Detective Inspector Cloth, these days.

They made you a DI?

Wonders never cease.

Good to see you, DCI Ball.

Oh, call me Bill now, Jack.

I didn't have you down
as the gardening type.

Oh, compared to the
old days it's genteel.

I like that.

Still, I caution the odd starling

now and again for old time's sake.

Heh, but mainly I tend the plants.

But I guess you haven't come here

for gardening tips, have you, Jack?

What do you remember about

the Burton Bradstock case, Bill?

That's a name I hoped
I'd never hear again.

You didn't see my
appeal on the news, then?

No.

Or the one on Crimewatch?

No.

Or Paul O'Grady?

No.

- Or Made In Chelsea?
- No.

Or Total Wipeout?

I don't have a television, Jack.

Bradstock's out, Bill.

We need to know where he is.

Oh, forget about it, Jack.

Some things are best left in the past.

Like smallpox, and the Macarena.

You ran the investigation, Bill,

anything that you can tell us might help.

It was high profile.

A young woman was killed in Coldblood.

At the time, Coldblood was
a quiet little village.

Everyone was up in Arms.

Arms was the town where we were based.

We needed a result fast.

Burton Bradstock was the fall guy.

Lee Majors was The Fall Guy.

Not this time.

We embellished a few witness
statements, lost some evidence,

mimicked the DNA sequence
with a nucleotide fabricator.

Burton Bradstock went down.

Everyone was happy.

Oh, Jesus, Bill!

Don't judge me, Jack.

It was 1996, for God's sake!

Babylon Zoo were number
one for five weeks.

People needed hope, we gave it to them.

By framing an innocent man?

No wonder Bradstock's out for vengeance.

You'd better watch out for yourself, Bill.

Don't you worry about me, Jack.

I always keep my eyes open.

Bradstock's out for revenge.

Killing jurors is just the start of it.

- Oldmun?
- Oldman, yes, guv.

You and Hairihan check the cheap hotels,

the flophouses, the shit-caves,

anywhere he used to hang out.

Use a montage if you
have to, just find him!

You seen this man?

Yes, yes, yes,
yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!

No!

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,
yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!

All right, girls?

Have any of you seen this bloke?

You sure?

Sure?

No?

Okay.

Anne, this is the hardest
thing I've ever had to say.

I've tried so hard to make
things work but I can't go on.

You live for the job,
it's like I don't exist.

Even now as I'm saying this,
you're not even listening,

You're just standing there
staring at a sheet of paper,

thinking about the boys down the station.

Did this note come from
the boys down the station?

I can't do this any more.

Pick up suitcases?

Carry on with this relationship.

You'll have to do it alone from now on.

I'll always love you, Oldman.

Gemma, wait.

Have you seen this man?

♪ All the things she said ♪

♪ Running through my head ♪

♪ Running through my ♪

Jack, where are you?

Listen, we've
got a lead on Bradstock,

you'd better get over here.

I'm on my way.

Seems the appeal worked.

Anonymous tip-off.

A man in a distinctive red hoodie

matching Bradstock's description was seen

hanging around here over
the last couple of days.

Do it.

Des, stop that.

Put that torch on silent.

Oh, sorry, guv.

Guv?

I think you might wanna see this.

Keep looking.

Looks like some kinda

shrine.

What sort of sick mind
creates a shrine to Todd Carty?

What are you doing in my lockup?

This is your lockup?

Yeah, I store chains,
art, my scrapbook here.

I think there's been
some kind of mistake.

Boys down the station say someone

matching Bradstock's
description's just been spotted

down the Eastridge Mall.

Let's go!

Des!

Yeah, just coming.

Oldman, anything?

Nothing, guv.

Asap?

Negative.

Vic?

Got him, sir.

Distinctive red hoodie heading
north on the main entrance.

Julie, he's coming at you, pick him up.

Got him, guv, following.

Distinctive red hoodie.

He's heading down the
escalator to the lower level.

Not too close, Julie.

Will do, guv.

Todd, try to pick him up downstairs.

Got him.

Red hoodie coming down the
escalator to the lower level.

Des, have you got him?

Des?

Hm?

All right, Todd, where is he?

Heading towards the caf on the far side.

I think he's onto us.

Okay, back off, back off!

Pete, see if you can pick him up.

Following, sir.

Stick with him, Pete, but be discreet.

Yeah, roger that, guv.

He's going under the limbo pole, sir,

what do you want me to do?

Follow him, follow him!

Okay.

Damn it, all teams,
go, go, go, pick him up!

That's enough, Todd!

Enough!

- Todd!
- Hey, hey, hey, hey!

Burton Bradstock, I
arrest you on suspicion of

not being you.

Damn it!

This is where you got the hoodie?

Yeah.

Where, exactly?

Bradstock.

Heroin Export.

Looks like he drank himself to death.

Qureshi, get this sealed off.

Okay, guv.

Carty, call Natasha in Forensics,

we need to establish a time of death.

Yes, sir.

Pete, go and inform the next of kin.

Yes, sir.

More sterling police work, Cloth?

It seems the only way
you can catch a suspect

is when he stops running in favor

of a nice lie-down and a rot.

By the look of Bradstock,
he didn't kill Gavina Duntish,

she's been dead at least 48 hours.

Well, then, I suggest you
find out who did kill her

before you're left completely in the dust.

- But--
- The dust, Cloth!

Yes, Boss.

I'm recommending him for suspension.

I trust I can count on your support.

He's a good man, sir.

Like I said, I trust I
can count on your support.

Have a relative identify Bradstock's body.

And don't breathe in for a moment,

I've just been eating Scotch eggs.

If it wasn't Bradstock,
it was someone else.

Let's go back through what we
know, starting with the jury.

Albery Stafford, we
think he's been knifed,

turns out to be a sword.

Aiden Hawkchurch was
handcuffed and hacked apart

with the same weapon.

Ditto Gavina Duntish.

All of them swiped at,
apparently at random,

by someone wielding a sword.

Who swipes at people
randomly with a sword?

George Alagiah?

Lady Justice, sword in one
hand, scales in the other.

And a blindfold.

Blindfold?

Our killer's
administering blind justice.

Bullshit.

Yeah, but it's more specific than that.

Must've been planned for some time,

that receipt in Gavina's
mouth was two years old.

So, he's trying to send us a message?

Why don't they just text?

Out of credit?

The apostles.

They're killing the apostles.

Albert's middle name is
Thomas, Aiden's is Matthew,

- Gavina is--
- Not an apostle.

Not yet.

It makes no sense.

It's not the apostles.

Anyway, that's been done.

Wait!

Hawkchurch's stomach contained
laminated pear, right?

Yeah.

On the first day of Christmas,
my true love gave to me

a partridge in a pear tree.

Mm-hm.

On the second day of
Christmas, two turtle doves.

Doves are the symbol of peace,

Aiden Hawkchurch was found in pieces!

Yeah, but how can they--

Three French hens!

What if Gavina Duntish went
on a day trip to Calais?

I say give it up!

So, any other theories?

Mega hits of the '80s?

What about favorite Mr. Men?

Work it up.

Jack.

Jack.

Jack.

Kate!

Jack.

Jack

Jack.

Kate, where are you?

I'm in your mind.

And this toilet.

But you're dead.

When you stand in the beyond,
you see many things, Jack.

To unlock the answer, you must
heed the words of an old man.

Which old man?

God, you always take me so literally.

I'd forgotten what a pain
in the arse you can be.

Just tell me what--

It's like that time we
were at Jacqui's wedding

and I said I wanted to
strangle her brother-in-law

and you got the arse with me.

Which old man?

Anne Oldman.

Your partner.

Aiden Hawkchurch, famous chef,

So, he's got to be Mr. Greedy, right?

Albert Stafford, mithering
old sod-box, by all accounts.

So, he's Mr. Grumpy.

- Or Uppity.
- Or Uppity.

Or Bump.

What's it got to do with Bump?

He went in the night.

Okay, we'll go with Mr. Bump.

Bump's safe, we're keeping Bump.

I'm sorry, Kate.

What for?

For failing you.

I never found your killer.

The answer's closer
than you think, Jack.

It's closer than you think.

Oh, can you please do something
about the bathroom cabinet?

I will.

You promised me for months.

It's a mess, you can't fit anything in!

I know, I promise.

Good.

Bye, love.

That leaves Gavina Duntish as

Little Miss Murdered.

Okay, I've got it!

Aiden Hawkchurch was
found in handcuffs, correct?

Okay, Anne, what did you say

about the receipt in
Gavina Duntish's mouth?

Two years old.

It was an old bill.

Old bills, handcuffs.

The killer is talking
directly to us, to the police!

What about Albert Stafford?

There's nothing police-related there.

Not so!

I took the amusing precaution
of dissecting the cat.

It had swallowed this,
a police-issue whistle.

Don't look so shocked.

It's not the first time
I've stood in this room

clutching a a dripping pussy, is it, Jack?

So, the killer is taunting
us over the Bradstock case?

Mocking the boys down the station.

Bumping off jurors,

leaving whistles and cuffs at the scene.

Oh, my God, what if they've
got access to police records?

Like Roxanne?

Like the address of the safe house.

Crosby, Stills and Nash!

We'd better call an ambulance.

We don't need an ambulance,

we need a hearse.

And an ambulance.

Let's get an ambulance here!

Come on, stay with me.

Preacherman's still alive, just.

When he comes round, he might be able

to tell us who did this.

How's Cardboard Cutout doing?

Still no pulse, still not breathing.

Hairihan's talking to her family now.

No.

Jack?
No, no!

No!

It's not your fault, Jack!

It's not your fault!

There was nothing that we could do.

If we hadn't stopped at
Nando's on the way here--

Apart from that.

An entire building full
of innocent people dead

because of me, for the
fifth time this year!

I can't live with that!

Jack, no!

- No!
- No!

No!

Don't blame yourself, Jack!

Blame whoever did this!

Blame the five minute wait for
my peri-peri halloumi wrap.

No!

Or blame the rain, if you have to!

Why the rain?

Because it's cold and senseless, Jack!

Like these murders!

Because it lashes us
mercilessly like this damn job!

Because in Spain it falls
mainly on the plain!

And here it falls on all of us!

Oh!

Even you, Jack!

Oh!

Even you!

Fuck the rain!

Fuck the rain!

Kate.

Kate.

Jack?

I'm coming to be with you, Kate.

Jack!

I'm coming.

I'm coming.

Jack?

I'm coming, Kate.

Oh, Kate, I'm coming, Kate!

I'm coming!

What in God's tit are you playing at?

You're coming apart at the seams, Cloth.

Incompetence is one thing,

now there's so much blood on his hands,

he's got scabs for fingernails.

Cloth can wrap this up, sir, I know it.

You don't know Jack, sir.

I know he's receiving

these dismissal papers tomorrow morning.

You can't hang Cloth out to dry.

I will see you in my office at 8 a.m.

And don't keep me waiting, Oldmun.

Oldman.

Don't keep me waiting, Oldman.

Oh, piss.

Dr. Bernardi to the
Almost Dead Jurors Ward.

Dr. Bernardi to the
Almost Dead Jurors Ward.

You're through to Cloth's hand.

Jack, it's me.

Where are you?

I'm with the boys down the station.

Jack, there's not a lot
of time to wrap this up,

Boss is on the warpath and the
credit's run in 10 minutes.

Let them roll.

I'm here to see Andy Preacherman.

- You can't go in there.
- Yes, I can.

I'm telling you, it's impossible.

And I'm telling you
it's a murder inquiry!

Mr. Preacherman's through here.

Thank you.

How is he?

He can't take much
strain so go easy on him.

Mr. Preacherman.

I want to ask you some
questions, if that's okay?

Okay.

Do you remember who did this to you?

Yes.

Who was it?

For Christ's sake, be careful.

Guh...

Guh...

God, you blame God?

Geh...

Geh...

Gethin Jones, find
and kill Gethin Jones!

Get

off

my

pipe.

It was the policeman.

What?

The policeman put on a
blindfold and got me with a sword.

Which policeman?

The one we laughed at in court

when we were jurors years ago.

I remember it like it was happening now.

But in flashback.

He was giving evidence

and the way he spoke, it was so funny,

we absolutely fell about!

Just thinking about it, honestly!

You probably had to be there.

Who is he, the policeman?

It was...

It was...

What's wrong with him now?

He's having an implausible relapse.

Leave, leave now or he'll die.

Go now!

Now, go!

Get out, go!

Now!

Go!

Leave!

Go!

Get out!

Go!

Go away!

Go!

Get out!

Go away!

Go!

To the corridor outside!

It's not about taunting the cops,

it's about a cop being taunted!

All this time, it was one
of the boys down the station.

Who was on that case?

It's gotta be in the records.

Guv?

You might wanna see this.

Bookmark it, keep looking.

Eh?

My God!

Stop him!

Get out of the way!

Got it!

Bradstock, '96.

Officer in charge of investigation...

It's your old guv, guv.

Bill Ball.

Bill Ball?

No, it can't be.

No, wait.

Ball didn't actually give
evidence at the trial,

the only office that did was...

Now it all makes sense.

So, you want me to tell
tales on him, Boss?

Just keep me in the loop.

Like I said, I trust I
can count on your support.

Would you write the
address of the safe house

on this envelope for me?

Don't just stand there, Oldman,

help me lick the blood off this sword.

Yes what I'm doing, I'm murdering
jurors that laughed at me.

Yeah, here, let me write it on your hand.

I just didn't put it together until now!

So, here we are, Mr. Preacherman.

It would seem that arse Cloth
has finally stumbled upon

the link between 12 men
and women, good and true.

Except it's true that you
weren't very good, were you?

And I appear to have picked
up my wife's gloves again.

No matter.

Well.

So amusing, wasn't it, Mr. Preacherman?

So funny.

Responding to the call, I
quickly entered from the rear.

Almost immediately, I came across a female

lying face down on the sofa.

I then pulled out and decided not

to re-enter without taking precautions.

As I did not want to contaminate
the lady's front garden,

when the forensic officer arrived

I took her up the back passage,

which had been recently evacuated.

She performed a physical exam

and remarked that, while
it was not as stiff

as she had anticipated,

there was significant
swelling around the head,

which was purple and shiny
and had only one eye,

one eye which was leaking a milky white...

Not funny!

If you had seen it,

big shiny purple head,

dribbling milky white fluid
from its one dark hollow eye--

Stop laughing, eh?

Stop laughing at me, please!

Stop!

I had nightmares!

Stop laughing at me!

I'm a police officer!

I'll kill you!

I'll kill you all!

Just a young officer trying to do his job.

Well.

I have one more job to do.

Yes, one more job,

before I retire.

Time for sentencing, Mr. Preacherman.

Guilty!

It's over, Tom, give it up.

Switching places with my intended victim

so that I would murder you in his place.

It's a clever move, Cloth.

But I can still outsmart you

by running away.

- Watch it!
- Whoa!

Harry!

He's headed for Denouement Heights!

Funny to think,

not so long ago we were just over there

in Albert Stafford's flat with
his attractive granddaughter.

Happier times, Jack.

Why did you do it, Tom?

That day in court,

the laughter,

the humiliation.

Do you have any idea what
that did to my confidence?

My career?

You made Assistant
Chief Constable at 38!

You were the fastest-promoted officer

this force has ever had!

Exactly!

It drove me on.

"I'll show them," I said to myself.

I worked like a dog tied to
a horse, day in, day out.

Promotions, commendations.

I hated myself for it
but I just couldn't stop.

Those bastards made my career.

Well, it's over now.

It's over for you.

You're finished, Cloth.

What the Finnish call

fee-neeshed.

Shoot me, and I'll bleed in your face.

Oh, always have to play
the hero, don't you, Jack?

Couldn't save your
Kate, though, could you?

- What?
- Yes, that's right.

It was me.

I lured her to that eerie stock
footage and prop warehouse.

Hello?

I lured her there on the night

of the officers' ball, and I shot her!

- Tom?
- I shot her with a gun.

A gun full of bullets, bullets that kill.

Tom!

And I killed her!

Do you know what she said
as the bullet went in?

Ouch.

Ouch.

That's what she said, Kate's final word.

Why did you do it?

Why kill Kate?

Isn't it obvious?

You were shit-hot, Jack.

You'd have been promoted above me.

I knew I had to break you.

So I killed her.

No!

I saw you at the funeral.

You were crying.

Did you feel nothing?

Only my cheeks getting damp.

- But--
- Damp, Cloth!

But while those crocodile
tears fibbed down my face,

I was laughing inside, like this.

Ha-ha-ha-ha.

Dead wife?

- Ha-ha-ha.
- You bastard!

No, Jack, don't!

He wants you to rush him.

He'll shoot you.

That's what guns are for.

And he's clearly got one.

That's what's in his hand!

So what?

I've got nothing to live for.

You have!

Look at my life, Oldmun!

Oldman.

Oldman, look at my life.

I'm a lot like you were!

Idealistic, committed, sanctimonious.

You can be all those things again.

We make a lot of sacrifices
in this job, don't we?

Don't make another.

Is this gonna take much longer?

I've got a man to shoot.

Think of Kate.

Think of me.

Think of the boys down the station.

Oh, stop going on about them!

No, Jack!

Jack?

Jack, I'm here!

Goodbye, Cloth.

Goodbye, Oldmun.

Oldman!

Whatever.

Jack.

Oh, Jack!

I wondered why I put that in there.

Come on, Jack.

Ow!

He asked for a result.

And we gave him one.

- Top work.
- Well done.

Mm, yeah.

Jack, where are you going?

Home.

Jack, wait.

You live that way.

Jack, wait!

I've been fooled before, Oldmun.

Oldman.

I've been fooled before, Oldman.

I won't be fooled a second time.

I'm not trying to fool you, Jack.

You've got a fiance.

Not any more.

You're gay.

Bi, Jack.

Jack, wait!

Fucking hell.

Let me walk with you.

Murdered by a killer.

Arthur Killer.

This is the work of Arthur Killer.

Find Arthur Killer!

- I'm on it, guv.
- Guv.

- Admit it, Killer!
- It was me.

- Tell the truth!
- I did it!

Liar!

Tell the truth!

You're facing the sack!

- But--
- The sack, Cloth!