All language subtitles for A.Touch.Of.Cloth.S03E01E02.Too.Cloth.for.Comfort.720p.WEB-DL.HEVC.x265-BONE

A man is on a journey.

Danger follows him.

His path is not simple.

Through the wood he runs, like prey.

Oi!

Oi!

The complaint to Ofcom.

Silence, a period of anguished awaitment.

El Gringo della Morte,

commonly known as Death.

No!

No, please, no!

Don't let it cut to black!

No!

Ahem, I'm pleased to
announce today's guest speaker

is Detective Inspector Jack
Cloth from City of Town Police,

who will be sharing the benefit

of his many years' experience

profiling the criminal mind
and intimidating suspects.

So, without further ado, Jack Cloth.

Jack Cloth.

The official Manual of
Investigatory Practice,

regarded as a sacred text

by practically every
member of the police force.

The Cambridge Book of Crime Prevention.

Throwing the Book at Them.

Oh!

Cop Party by Todd Carty.

- Ow!
- Interrogations.

Truncheoneering.

- Ballistics.
- Watch out!

Wounds.

Ow!

Useless, no amount of reading

can prepare you for being a cop.

No amount of words on ink,

no pages full of books, no nothing

can prepare you
Get off me, you filth!

- Get off me!
- For your first day

in the job, the violence, the
men shouting boo in your face.

Boo!

Every minute on
the force is a question.

Can you get a grip on the paperwork?

Can you hold it together?

Where do they keep the staplers?

And the female uniforms, come to that?

What exactly are you looking
for in this corridor?

Can you handle the tension, the stress,

the unexpected gorilla attack?

Come here, come here, come here.

And you're haunted
by your own case files.

Photographs of hostages
that you failed to save,

bus-stop bestiality, harrowing images

you hoped you'd never see again.

Then there's the dog work.

Reviewing CCTV tapes for hours.

Staring at the same grainy
black-and-white footage

of an alleyway forever, in
the hope of seeing something,

anything, a clue, a morsel, something.

Anything to stop that voice in your head

that says you're wasting your time!

Drives you insane, that
voice, so angry, so Scottish.

You know it's a waste of time,

but still you keep looking
through this stuff,

staring at pictures of
things that once were.

Images of yesterday.

Pointless memories.

Is he a hottie?

Oh, you could have
told me about my hair.

No!

And ultimately, what's it even for?

So, you catch the bad guy?

Well done.

But what's really changed?

The dead stay dead and
the living stay living,

until they die, at which
point, they stay dead.

And you can't save the dead, I've tried!

They're just too damn dead!

End of lecture.

Thanks, six sheets of
paper is a lot for a woman.

I thought I could handle it,
I suppose I thought wrong.

Don't worry, we're all
women on the first day.

This place'll soon kick the tits off you.

Is it that obvious I'm new?

When people have been here a while,

they get a sort of beaten look about them.

Also, this is a giveaway.

Who are you reporting to?

Jack Cloth, have you seen him?

Ask an old man.

Where would I find one?

Try the ladies' upstairs.

Thank you.

No more explaining,
I've heard it before, eh?

Out the way, mind your backs!

Is there an old man in here?

Who wants to know?

Kerry, Kerry Newblood.

What do you want, Kerry, Kerry Newblood?

I was told you'd know where
I might find Jack Cloth.

Boys down the station
say he's delivering

an iconoclastic lecture to
some idealistic-looking extras,

trying to establish his
character, no doubt.

But where would I...

Try the corridor.

That's where he likes to
bump into new recruits.

Thank you.

You, you know, you've been really helpful.

It's good to know there
are female officers

I can really look up to around here.

Oh!

For God's sake!

Sorry, sorry.

Why aren't these stapled together?

You could have killed someone.

Sorry, it's my first day.

And your last, if you
don't watch your step.

Who's your CO?

Jack Cloth, just my luck!

Why do you say that?

What do you know about him?

Well, I've heard the stories.

They say that he's got demons,

that he's washed up, he's off the rails.

But a genius.

No, they don't say that.

What else do they say about him?

Well, they say he's the sort of man

who'll embarrass you by
getting you to tell him

what other people have said about him

and then revealing he's actually him.

Do they, now?

Not now, but then, at
the time they said it,

that's what they said.

Hm.

Well, I'm DI Jack Cloth and you are?

Kerry, Kerry Newblood,
just Kerry Newblood.

Well, Kerry, Kerry
Newblood, just Kerry Newblood,

why don't you show me what
you can do with a door?

So, you're fresh meat,
hatched in the academy.

I'm guessing you do have qualifications?

Good ones.

This tells me nothing.

It's printed on the other side.

Top grades in fingerprint
analysis, forensic examination,

criminal procedure, the
gathering of evidence.

None of it anything
to do with police work.

A curriculum vitae might
look all right on your CV,

but it's not worth the paper it's torn on.

10 years at the academy won't prepare you

for 10 minutes out there.

That's where your real training starts,

on the streets by the bins!

Yes sir, I'll do my best.

I've seen this job break the best,

turn them from hot shot to cold shit

in the blinking of a year.

Are you sure you can handle this?

I think so.

A cop doesn't think, a cop knows!

I know so.

Think again!

Asap Qureshi.

I'm on it.

Guv, they've found a body.

What kind?

Dead and human.

Well Newblood, looks like you're

about to experience a baptism of blood.

Welcome to the rest of
your life, welcome to hell.

Oh, I got you that Twix, guv.

Thank you.

We've got a corpse on the loose, Des!

Guv.

Oh, God.

What's wrong?

I've never seen a corpse before.

Well, not a dead one.

Well, you never get used to
it, but you get used to that.

But you never get used to the way you get

used to never getting used to it,

and that takes some getting used to.

You never get used to that.

I've got so much to learn.

Well, you can start by making yourself

look like less like a rookie.

How?

Those heels, for one thing.

Can you imagine chasing
a suspect wearing those?

Why would he be wearing them?

Doesn't matter.

By the time you've worked
it out, he's got away.

And sort your hair out.

Why?

Because if you don't tie it back,

you're gonna need someone
to help you hold it back

while you vomit in the mortuary later.

Right.

And the eye shadow.

Smoky shades are last year,

this season it's all about neons.

So, there's a fresh
young face on your team.

What about her fresh young face?

I'm about to come on to that.

From here?

This new rookie of yours
is too attractive to lose.

Sir.

If anything happens to
her, you're responsible.

Make sure you give her a hand.

No, there's no hands,

not on my watch, it's digital.

I've seen what happens when
you're 'round new recruits.

They're the mice, and you're the trap,

a trap baited with bitter old grey cheese.

But...

Old gray cheese, Cloth.

Oh!

Here.

Fox Wood, local forest.

525 acres consisting of
trees, soil, earthworms

and other organic and biological matter.

Specific features of interest include

an orienteering course,
a bird-watching facility,

three separate dogging
hotspots and that dead man.

Who found him?

Colin Fox and family,
out picnicking at the time.

Glad it hasn't ruined your appetite.

I remember when you took
a more liberal attitude

towards eating out, Jack.

What are you looking at, Natasha?

White, male, 40s.

Can't confront emotions
because of personal tragedy.

And the body?

White, male, 40s.

Can't confront emotions because he's dead.

Partially eaten,
by the looks of it.

Yeah, the
foxes have been at him.

You sicken me!

He trod in our sandwiches.

Semen?

Coffee.

No wonder you're drinking it slowly.

Ah, pillock.

Anus.

- Bellend.
- Whore.

Any other identifying features?

Not yet, but I'll know more
when we've turned him over

and looked for a face.

Okay, those are the facts we know.

What are the facts that aren't facts yet

because we don't know them?

Newblood.

Yes, sir.

Question, murder's a lot like sex, why?

Because there's nothing worse

than walking in on your parents doing it.

Because some people are
better at it than others.

Because some people find
it easier in the dark.

Anne's right, frigid and right.

This man was murdered
during daylight hours,

which implies the killer...

Strikes during office hours.

Couldn't wait till nightfall.

Five points to the home team.

Okay, describe the scene.

Unshaven, clothes on backwards.

He's on his stomach.

They don't always land the right way up.

Right.

Anything else?

Um.

Look at his hand,
he's pointing at that tree.

Deciduous willow tree,
of the Salix genus.

Bark sap heavily charged
with salicylic acid,

common to temperate
regions of the Northern...

Thank you, Qureshi.

Why would he be
pointing at a willow tree?

Jack?

It's not Jack, it's guv, sir or admiral.

Sorry, guv, it's just.

What?

Well, judging by these footprints,

I would say he was heading that way.

He was heading for us,
for the police, but why?

Roll him.

Oh, my God.

He looks just like you.

It's my brother.

Your brother?

My brother.

His brother?

His brother.

Your brother?

My brother.

Sorry.

Oh, what happened to you?

Whatever happened to me?

What became of the people we used to be?

I can't believe he's gone.

He hasn't, Jack, I've just
pulled a sheet over him.

Look.

Still there.

Take him away.

I need a drink, come on.

I said, come on!

Me and Terry grew up
together, played together.

I was always the golden boy
and he was the black sheep.

They were superhero names
we made up ourselves.

Poor bastard.

That was another one.

Yeah, take it.

So, when did you last see Terry?

About 10 minutes ago in the forest.

And before that?

Years ago.

Things were complex between us.

Terry started seeing

- this girl.
- Jack.

Deborah something.

This my girlfriend.

Deborah Something.

Deborah had a sister called Jill.

Before long, me and
Jill started going out.

Four of us were close,

always laughing at the stupidest things.

Then one day, me and Jill went up a hill

to fetch a pail of water.

I fell down and broke my crown
and Jill came tumbling after.

She ended up in a coma.

Deborah became my shoulder to cry on.

And you know how that is.

The musky scent of the hospital,

the rhythmic pumping of
the ventilator, I guess.

We just couldn't help ourselves.

Then Terry came in.

At first, he thought I was him.

Then the penny dropped.

He went berserk.

The shouting woke Jill up.

That was the worst moment of my life,

apart from all the others.

Nothing was the same after that.

Jill vanished.

Terry forgave me, but I just
couldn't forgive him for that.

Me and Debbie broke up and from then on,

he only got in touch
when he needed something.

Money.

Help with the law.

Bone marrow.

I stopped opening his letters.

Didn't answer his calls.

Blocked him on Twitter.

I blame myself for what happened.

Don't blame myself for what happened.

Ah, but don't you see?

The footprints, Terry
was coming to find me.

He needs one last thing from me.

He wants me to find his killer.

To my brother.

Uh, sorry.

It's okay.

So, how come we're out here

when the funeral's in there?

We're on lookout.

The killer often makes an appearance

at the victim's funeral.

They get something from it.

A thrill.

Sense of closure.

Souvenir brochure.

You know how killers
tick, that's impressive.

To catch any criminal, you
have to think like they do.

Imagine you're them and
then arrest yourself.

You have to get inside them.

But how?

I mean, how would you go
about getting inside me?

I can think of a few entry points.

Well, maybe you could
fill me in back at base?

Yeah.

I'd like that.

You're too kind to be a cop.

Why'd you join the force, Des?

Well, it was this or the kennels.

What about you?

I wanted to make my dad proud.

He's uh, not with us any more.

I'm sorry to hear that.

Did he die slowly?

Sorry, none of my business.

Terry Cloth was a good man.

A man with problems, maybe,
but they're at an end now,

as are the dreams, and the hopes,

the fears, the brain function,

the processing of toxins
by the gut and kidneys.

Someone out there killed him,

and I won't rest till I find out who.

If you've seen anything,

however small or
insignificant it may seem,

please report it in complete confidence,

using the free phone number at the bottom

of your orders of service.

Okay, any questions?

Yes?

Um, Eva De Jong, Grief
& Grievers Monthly.

Did anyone bear a grudge against Terry?

Yes, whoever shot him.

Next?

Frank Strang, Cremations Review.

Which model oven is that?

Denning S90.

Fast burn times, automatic
flue control, pizza function.

Yes?

Chris Nimnim, Indistinct Mumbler.

That's not clear right now.

Last question.

Yes?

Oh, uh, I'm in early for a wedding.

Thank you very much, appreciate it.

Goodbye, yeah.

Thank you, thank you for coming.

There'll be some pizzas in a little while.

Jack.

Deborah.

I haven't seen you since.

I haven't seen you since, either.

Must be, how many years, Jack?

Something like that.

So many times I, I wanted
to make contact with him,

but I couldn't face dredging up the past.

And the tariff I'm on is
shocking, hardly any free minutes.

You know, if I'd stayed in touch,

this wouldn't have happened, I.

Hey, hey, hey, don't beat yourself up.

Nobody stayed in touch with Terry.

He lived the life of a drifter,

touring around in a sequinned costume,

singing under the boardwalk.

I've missed you, Jack.

What happened between us was a mistake.

We slept together, Jack.

I wasn't looking where I was going.

What did she do that for?

Because she's bitter and cold
and all alone in this world,

and that's the way she'll stay.

It must be hard, getting
to her age and having no one.

Ashamed to say I didn't even fancy her.

We had sex once.

And to this day, the thought
of it turns my stomach.

I'm still here.

Hello, who are you?

No way he can hear you from here.

Wait!

No!

Police!

Put the fingernail down!

There's a lion behind you.

Mate, mate!

Calm down!

I ain't going back inside!

No one's going inside.

We just want to arrest you.

What's your name?

Kenny.

Kenny, we're all friends here.

No one needs to get hurt.

All right, Ken!

You give me the knife, I'll
give you anything you want.

Another knife?

All right.

Guv.

Right, I'm arresting you

on suspicion of suspicious behaviour.

You do not have to say anything,

but it may harm your defence

if you do not mention when questioned

something which you
later rely on in court.

Terms and conditions apply.

One coupon per customer.

You must be this high to ride.

Side effects are rare,

but may include nausea,
dizziness and diarrhoea.

Okay, Kenny.

You'd better start talking.

And after you start talking,
you'd better start confessing.

And then bleeding right
down the end of my fists!

Oh, I am scared, Officer,

Would you like a biscuit, Kenny?

Oh, you are being friendly.

We just wanna know where you were

the day Terry was murdered.

I already told you.

I was out bowling.

Who with?

Prince Andrew.

Jack!

You expect me to believe that?

Ooh, that really hurt.

His story checks out.

I can't believe
you didn't trust me.

According to his medical records,

when exposed to extreme stress,

he develops a sarcastic tone of voice

and arrogant facial expression.

It's true.

He can't help it, guv.

This condition's ruined my life.

I wish I was dead.

What were you doing at the funeral?

I knew Terry.

He stayed at the place Eddie
Huffway runs, so did I.

Huffway House?

Yeah.

It's a kind of halfway house.

Then let's check it out!

Get him out of my sight!

Thanks so much.

You did all right back at the cemetery.

I got myself taken hostage.

You didn't cry or wet yourself

or take the knife and stab yourself

in the neck and tits with
it, and that took guts.

Thank you, Des.

Still, no harm brushing
up on your shooter skills,

in case it happens again,

and I'm the best shot on the force.

Ask anyone at the urinals.

Have you ever killed a man?

I never shot a man
that didn't deserve it.

Only a kid in a wheelchair.

I booked us a private lane.

Okay.

Magazine in.

Cock it.

There you go.

Now,

close your left eye.

Even breaths.

Now, don't pull the trigger.

Just squeeze it.

Just give it a squeeze.

All right, pull it.

Firearms weren't my
strength at the academy.

I was happier doing paperwork

and breaking bad news to relatives.

You've got a kind face.

Thank you, Des.

Here we go.

Nice grouping.

I fired six shots, but
there's only five holes.

Maybe you got two in the one hole.

That's something I've only
ever seen done on video.

Mm.

You're doing really well.

I'm happy to help, officers.

I'm Eddie Huffway.

This was Terry's room.

So, why was Terry staying here?

Some of our men have mental issues,

some are down on their luck,

some just want something to eat.

We have all sorts here.

Would you like one?

No, thanks, I'm on duty.

You said Terry lived here
till about two weeks ago.

Yes.

Not much to write home about.

Fortunately, he was
homeless and illiterate.

Is that all he owned?

Yes.

The pathetic story of a life
no one gave two shits about.

I said he was illiterate.

Jack, postcard.

Where's it from?

I don't know.

It's got a sort of thumb on it.

Now, we're getting somewhere.

Funtcuck, ever heard of it?

No, apparently that's
the way they like it.

It's a small village, not far from here.

Call it a hunch, call
it instinct, call me Al,

but I say the answers lie there.

Newblood, Hairihan, you two stay behind,

deal with anything that might
have been left unresolved.

Anne, Asap, let's roll.

Wall of Silence, established 1589.

One landlord, unmarried.

Period decor, exposed
beams, rustic ephemera.

Two pub boors, one cat.

Menu limited, with three
misplaced apostrophes.

Okay, let's keep this low key, discreet.

Guv, guv.

Greetings, people of pub!

I'm DI Jack Cloth, City of Town Police.

And I am Anne Oldman.

Name, DC Asap Qureshi.

37, five foot eight,
right-handed, left-dressing.

Enjoys French cricket, Peter Gabriel

and bullet-pointed lists.

Now you know who we are,
it's your turn to help.

Does anyone recognize this man?

No?

No one?

Come on.

That's Terry Cloth, but
I think you know that.

We know that he was here, in this village,

and now he's dead.

Anyone want to say anything about that?

I get it.

The conspiracy of subtle glances,

the distrust of outsiders,
the tight-knit community.

Well, your silent voices don't scare me

and we're not leaving till we get

the information we want, so start talking.

What was Terry doing here?

Tell me!

Huh, tell me!

Jack!

You, tell me!

- What was he doing here?
- Jack, stop it!

Still silent, eh?

Well, maybe you'll talk now!

- Jack, no!
- Eh?

Maybe you'll all have something to tell me

after I pull this trigger!

Jack!

What do you think of that, eh?

Shout and shoot all you
like, they won't understand.

Why not?

Because they're Danish.

Coach load of them turned up this morning.

They're taking a break from all that

depressing crime they gets back home.

I'm very sorry,

in Danish.

You, what's your name?

They call me Villager 2.

Ring any bells?

Not since I left the
Church Campanology Society.

And why did you leave?

I had a bit of a ding-dong,

and the bells just stopped appealing.

I'm a handyman these days.

Do you know this man?

Hm, yep, I seen him.

Up at the Healery, he was.

What's the Healery, Villager 2?

It's a new age treatment
place at the top of the hill.

I done some repairs there myself.

Then I come home and done a poo.

That's not relevant, but I thought

you'd appreciate knowing everything.

We do.

Qureshi, prepare some
establishing chat on the Healery.

Yes, guv.

And I want it by the time
I push over this stool.

The Healery, fashionable
new age treatment centre.

Staff, 19, some older.

Grounds, rolling.

Celebrity client rating, D-to-G list.

Proprietor, Damien Vull, 53.

Happy to show us around, but is...

Terribly busy, I'm afraid,

so we'll have to keep this short.

This is my assistant, Blue.

We understand.

Then let the tour commence.

Tickets, please.

What do you actually do here?

We make people better
by making them better.

Like a hospital?

Not in the conventional sense, no.

At the Healery, we believe
the brain is part of the body.

We specialize in improving
spiritual muscle tone

and overcoming addiction.

We can stop anyone from taking heroin

almost instantaneously.

How?

Well, it's complex,
but it mainly involves

knocking the syringe out of their hand.

We also have a revolutionary approach

to combating people overeating.

Revolutionary?

We spin people round till they vomit.

You can see the kind of
thing we do through here.

So, this place is some
kind of, uh rehab-cum-spa?

Rehab, yes.

We had to shut down the cum spa.

Clogged plugholes, unwanted
pregnancies, that sort of thing.

But look, this is Moon, our
finest psychological masseuse.

Her sacral-cranial
therapy can release knots

in even the most repressed of psyches.

We combine Western therapies
with Ayurvedic philosophies,

harmonized with beliefs based on Zumba,

Waybuloo and ancient Chinese wisdom.

Ancient Chinese!

Where are they now, eh?

We're used
to dealing with sceptics

in the bullshit industry.

What is it exactly I can
do for you, Inspector?

I want to know how my brother ended up

with eight holes in him,
instead of the regulation seven.

Perhaps we should
take this in my office.

Urethral opening counts, Asap.

We run a respectable business here.

There are no secrets, you
can ask me whatever you like.

What do you know about
the death of my brother?

I think I've answered enough
of your questions, Inspector.

Good day.

Why was he here?

Sorry, I can't discuss clients.

So, he was a client?

I didn't say that.

Well, say it now.

No, all of our clients enjoy
complete confidentiality.

Many are extremely public figures

who entrust with us
their darkermost secrets.

Ask David Cameron.

Who isn't one of them.

Guv.

So,

why was he here?

Care for a round of Boggle, Inspector?

I don't have time for your games!

Why was he here?

Terry was on our fam-angerment program.

Fam-anger what?

It's a course for people who have

unresolved fury against family members.

We encourage the patients
to take their anger out

on a life-sized replica
of the family member

who's done them wrong.

Did Terry say which family
member he had anger towards?

Fuck you, Jack!

Fuck you, Jack!

I want a list of everyone
who was on that course.

Absolutely out of the question.

And I want it right now or
I will return with a warrant,

and you will have officers
crawling over every inch

of this place, and when I
say crawling, I mean walking!

They will tear this
building limb from limb!

I think you've troubled us enough

with your insinuations
and your aftershave.

So, if you wouldn't mind?

What?

Leaving.

The room!

The Healery.

Blue will see you out.

Come on.

Des, we're sending over a list of people

who stayed at the Healery rehab spa.

We need to know who they
are, where they are,

how they are, what they
look like, and why.

Yes, guv.

This is important, Des.

The whole plot could turn on this.

Open the archives, pull
off every record you can.

Look to Newblood if you
need help pulling off.

Will do.

I'll be on this number.

Are we thinking these
are potential suspects

or potential victims, guv?

I don't know, but let's try and find out

before another dead
body kills the suspense.

Don't tap the keys, just squeeze them.

That's it.

Squeeze.

Squeeze.

Squeeze.

Or just tap it.

Okay, every person on
this list from the Healery

is accounted for except
for this one, Rowan Willow.

Rowan who?

Rowan Willow.

Willow.

Willow.

Willow.

Willow.

Willow.

Willow.

Willow.

Willow.

Willow.

Sorry, got stuck on a word.

Deciduous willow tree.

Willow tree, he was
pointing at a willow tree.

It was a message!

What do we know about Rowan Willow?

Brunette, female, Caucasian.

Left the Healery about
the same time as Terry,

not been seen since.

There's nothing about
her on the computer.

It's almost like she's been

wiped from history by a sinister figure

at an establishment
you've recently visited.

This has got to be Vull.

Alive-A-Nator says this
woman's still alive, guv.

But maybe not for long.

Okay, Des, Newblood, you two stay here.

Work on alternate theories
and smouldering looks.

Come on, we've got to
stop Vull before he can do

whatever he's gonna do to Rowan Willow.

Now!

Hold it, Vull!

Police, nobody move!

Drop the knife!

And the chalice!

And the baby!

You're under arrest, Vull.

On what charge, Inspector?

Ritual slaughter
without due care and attention.

There's no slaughter here, Inspector.

You killed Terry Cloth

and now you're about to kill Rowan Willow!

This isn't Rowan Willow,
this is Ivy Branch.

Hello.

Well, then you've
already killed Rowan Willow.

Nonsense.

You butchered her in a ceremony!

Terry Cloth found out
and you murdered him too!

Absolute cockypop!

Face facts, Vull, it's over!

No, you face facts, Cloth.

You've nothing to charge me with.

Jack, the ceremonial dagger

still has the John Lewis
security tag on it.

Shoplifting.

I say that's enough to
hold you for 48 hours,

and then I say arrest him, Qureshi.

Arrest him, Qureshi.

Yes, guv.

Come on.

Come on!

Show's about to begin.

Is it Geordie Shore?

Something even better than that.

Jack's gonna crack Damien Vull.

This'll be like a
psychological boxing match

with brains for fists.

He'll start by empathizing
with his twisted need

to subjugate women.

And if that doesn't work?

He'll kick him in the
bollocks, with his mind.

What did you
do with Rowan Willow?

Rowan who-oh?

Rowan Willow!

Never seen that woman before in my life.

You killed her in one of your ceremonies.

I told you, Inspector,
that ceremony you witnessed

was strictly therapeutic.

We often encourage our patients

to enact a gothic ritual slaughtering,

right up to, but not
including, the moment of death.

Makes the participants
feel good about themselves,

knowing that they
couldn't do such a thing,

even though they're dressed
as if they definitely would.

Liar!

I didn't expect you to understand.

You're a simple man with simple tastes.

Never eaten a Guylian chocolate,

admired the paintings of Vettriano,

read any of the works of James Herbert.

It must be a sad, sorry
little existence in there.

Would you like to see my bum, Inspector?

No.

Then I don't believe we
have anything more to discuss.

Vull's good.

Jack needs to forget
about the pretty stuff

and get stuck in.

Kammy, what do you make of it so far?

Unbelievable, Des.

Cloth has started this
interrogation slowly

and at this level, you
can't afford to do that.

Surely we're gonna see the introduction

of Oldman at some point?

She'll be itching to get on.

This is just her type of fixture.

Cloth needs to bring her on,

get her running at Vull,
making it personal.

Okay, looks like we're back on.

Why do you hate
women so much, Vull?

I love women.

Oh, come off it!

You're a classic misogynist!

You don't have any respect for anything

with knockers or a fanny.

I believe the medical
term is quim, Inspector.

Look at her.

Look at her!

What do you see?

Just another victim?

Some women are just asking to be

sacrificed on an altar, aren't they?

And she's one of them.

Stop this.

You can read her like
a Kindle, can't you?

Just push her buttons and see it all.

The childhood.

Not popular at school.

No friends, except for the other

lesbian-officers-in-waiting, of course.

Please, stop this.

Little Miss Proper!

Little Miss Prim!

Little Miss Boohoo Shitty Childhood Bitch!

No wonder she signed up to the force,

looking for excitement, a thrill,

a tingle in the loins maybe.

Yeah, that's it.

It excites her, the danger of
it, that and the paperwork,

and the scent of her commanding officer.

She slept with him, you know?

She loved it!

She took off all her clothes

and she slept with him in the nude!

- Don't!
- Oh, yeah!

He saw her bum and everything!

And where did it get her?

Nowhere.

So, how does she ease the pain?

She drinks.

Oh, I know, all right, it's no secret.

She laps vodka from toilets like a dog,

a dog that drinks, which
dogs don't, but she does.

Imagine a drinking dog
with her stupid head on it

and her stupid female mouth
and her stupid woman's tongue,

and her ridiculous lady throat.

She just, aw, fuck it!

For God's sake, man, stop it!

Can't you see she's upset?

She's only a woman, for God's sake!

I mean, you've humiliated her so much,

she can't even speak for herself.

She'll probably run out of the
room any second, poor thing.

See?

Jack, you bastard!

Are you all right in there, Oldman?

Oldman.

Are you all right in there, Oldman?

Just could you get me some more paper?

A3 or A4?

What was that?

Just a porcelain
shit, nothing to worry about.

Are you okay?

It's not easy being a
woman in this environment.

The ladies' toilets?

There's a glass ceiling.

Oh, that's disgusting.

Boys down the station see us
as sex objects or harridans.

They won't let us be both.

You shouted something about Jack.

It's nothing.

I, we.

It's okay, I wee in toilets too.

Jack and I have got a history.

The kind of history you
don't read about in books.

At least, not on public transport.

You mean you two...

We had sex, like a pair of idiots.

You mean while gurgling
and clapping your hands?

He was the best lover I ever had,

until it went pear-shaped.

Had he banged it on something?

And now every time I see him,

my heart wants to put
its head on my shoulder

and cry from the inside.

Do you know that feeling?

Yes, yes.

I,

I lost my dad when I was young.

I'm sorry to hear that.

Did he die slowly?

I'm sorry, it's none of my business.

Don't cry.

It's just so raw, you know?

I'm sure if he was
looking at you right now,

he'd be ever so proud of you.

Anne.

Anne, I had to say those things in there!

I had to make Vull think that
I thought the way he does,

through a mad brain!

Didn't work, did it?

Look, I can break him,

If you'll just come back in there

with me for a few more hours,

let me harangue you in front of him.

What if he didn't do it?

Vull killed Rowan
Willow, I'm certain of it!

There's not even a body.

Ah, because Terry knew where it was

and he's dead now, thanks to Vull.

Don't you see?

Vull had him killed to
cover up his death cult!

- Jack!
- There's no way those towers

could have collapsed like that!

It was a controlled demolition!

John, George, Ringo, they all knew!

That's why Paul's barefoot on the cover!

Jack!

Listen to yourself!

This is madness.

You've let it get personal, Jack.

What will it take to convince
you that Vull's innocent?

Another murder?

Is that what you want to
see, the moment I walk away?

Well, is it?

This is Radio 3.

And now Ikea Johansson's Requiem
For An Unsuspecting Victim.

Hello?

Hello?

Hello?

Hello?

Oh, Marmoset.

You'll be the death of me one day.

There you are.

Cloth, I've had Damien Vull's lawyer

in my ear for the past hour.

Don't lie, he'd never fit!

Vull is an important and
influential member of society.

You can't simply toss accusations

of murder at him like peas at a goose.

This isn't an episode of Cracker.

- But...
- Cracker, Jack.

This is personal, Tom.

So is Ed Miliband's anus,

and I don't want to see
that in my workplace either.

Pull yourself together or hit the road.

- But...
- Hit the road, Jack.

Guv, we found a body.

Rowan Willow?

No.

But it's dead, guv.

It's the same MO as Terry.

Time of death?

It's too early to say.

And now?

Sometime in the last few hours.

Vull's been here all day,
it can't have been him.

The victim, who is he?

It's not a he, sir.

It's a she, sir.

It's your ex, sir.

It's Deborah, sir.

Sweet Valley High.

I warn you, she's a ripe one.

I thought the time of death
was only a few hours ago.

It was, but she was found
under an electric blanket

switched to maximum, with
the central heating on.

The air con in the meat wagon broke down

when they brought her in and she was

inadvertently left on a plate warmer

instead of in a refrigeration unit.

I know women are putty
in your hands, Jack,

but this one, huh!

She's just putty.

Slayed in flame.

Think you can handle it?

Mm-hmm.

Bullet entered the cranium,

although the hole has softened,

so we can't tell much from the wound,

and the bullet appears to have
lodged elsewhere in the body.

The easiest way is to
go in through the ribs,

a bit easier since the foxes appear

to have broken into the
flat and already had a go.

Them again?

As you can see, she seems to have eaten

quite a few internal organs before dying.

They've had a good snack on the left arm,

almost hollowed out.

Looks like she'd already
been doused in an acid bath.

Signs of burns here and here.

Nothing in the throat.

Now, let me just do this
for absolutely no reason.

Anyway, no idea who she is,

just thought you'd be interested.

Your victim's just over here.

Clean and efficient, and
the bullet matches Terry's.

She was shot with the same gun.

My God.

Jack, this has nothing
to do with the Healery.

My brother and my brother's ex-girlfriend.

Ah, come on, Jack, think!

You were close to both of them.

Nobody knew them better than you.

Who connects them?

Guv, this was left on the body.

Why are you wearing x's?

Those were added after
this photo was taken, Des.

Don't you see?

I'm the link.

Whoever killed Terry and Deborah,

they're telling me I'm next.

I understand I'm free
to leave, Inspector.

I'd like to say it's been a pleasure,

but for some reason, I haven't
been scripted to do so.

And if you've been affected
by any of the issues arising

from my interrogation, here's
a card for the Healery.

You can't hide behind a bottle, you know,

because it's transparent.

Okay, recap.

Let's speak out loud what we know so far,

even though we clearly all know it

because we're all saying it in turn.

First victim, Terry Cloth.

My brother.

Shot dead in a forest.

No trace of semen on the body.

Two weeks after
vanishing from the Healery.

A sort of new age treatment centre.

Run by this man.

Damien Vull.

Also missing from the Healery.

Rowan Willow.

No trace of semen on the body.

Yesterday, we
found another corpse.

Terry's ex-girlfriend, your ex-lover.

Deborah.

- Shot with the same...
- Gun as...

- Terry.
- No trace of semen

on the body.

Which means the next target...

For our killer...

Is almost certainly...

Me, Jack Cloth.

I'm the new girl.

No trace of semen on the body.

That's what I look like in a hat.

And now we're...

- Entering...
- The...

- Inci...
- Dent...

Room.

Okay, listen up!

Take a look at our murderer's
next intended victim!

That's right, I'm the target.

So, we can probably assume

that everyone close to me is at risk.

We treat this like any
other protection operation.

This man gets murdered over my dead body.

We need to know everything
there is about this guy.

How tall he is, who's he slept with,

who does he want to sleep with,

but something, call it
the job, if you like,

keeps getting in the way.

There's some stuff I
can tell you about him

you might not know already.

He has a secret pornography obsession,

which he's terrified'll come out one day.

He's haunted by the death of his wife,

whatever her name was.

And he keeps making these
weird spelling mistakes

when people are watching.

Whoever carried out these crimes

has a grudge against these two men,

and it's only gonna escalate.

So far, he's only targeted
people that we scarcely know.

We've gotta catch him

before he graduates to regular characters.

So, we gotta go door to
door, put feelers out,

compile a list of everybody who hates me.

Could be a long list.

So, use a small font
size if you have to,

but keep it legible, nothing
smaller than seven-point,

alphabetical, with pictures.

Come on, people, let's go,
before someone else gets killed.

If this killer of yours

really is bumping off
your close associates,

I could be next.

Well, let's hope it comes to that.

So, you'd better catch this maniac

before I turn up dead, or I'll be furious.

So, get searching, from the deepest quarry

to the highest steeple.

- But...
- Steeple, Jack.

Female, early 30s, Caucasian.

Approximately five foot seven inches tall.

Long, light-brown hair, slim build.

Likes farmers' markets,
musicals, curling up with a DVD.

I suppose I'm looking for
someone who can make me laugh.

That's the most important thing.

And an interest in forensic
pathology would be great.

Photos preferable.

Email NatSach@townmorgue.gov.

Somebody there?

Hello?

P.S., send help.

Please!

Not the face!

It has sentimental value.

Natasha Sachet,
forensic pathologist.

I know that, Asap!

Worked at the
City of Town Police...

That too!

Friends with...

- Know it!
- Lived in a...

- Got it!
- Had a...

Yes, yes!

Didn't actually say
anything, so maybe you didn't...

- I know that!
- But she's not...

Thanks, Qureshi, that's enough!

Aberdeen Angus!

Natasha!

Oh, no!

Oh, why you?

Why not someone else,
like Qureshi or Hairihan

or him over there and his wife and kids?

Or me, why not take me?

Because no one can
take you anywhere, Jack.

You're not dead.

As far as I can tell, no.

Bullet entered the body here,

just below the left clavicle apex.

I was lucky, one centimetre to the right,

and I'd be in the morgue.

Any trace of semen on the body?

Not yet.

Did you see the gun?

No, but I kept a souvenir.

It felt like a .22.

Same bullet that killed your brother.

Same bullet that killed Deborah.

And, judging by the barrel
marks, fired from the same gun.

Did you see who did it?

I'll ask the questions!

What she said.

Only for a second.

I saw a motorcycle helmet.

And then!

Natasha, Natasha?

Medic!

Natasha, Natasha, Natasha?

Coming through.

One, two, three, lift.

Get them, Jack, before they get

someone you really care about.

Witch!

- Victim.
- Bollock.

Ponce.

Make sure she gets the best medical care

the state can provide!

I'll pay for it out of my taxes!

Things just got personaler.

Natasha?

You said she was just a
human you worked near.

Unless you had history.

There was chemistry.

And biology?

With double physics.

How long did it go on for?

Oh, two, maybe three minutes.

Don't judge me, Anne.

My wife had just died, for God's sake!

My mind was elsewhere.

She wanted more, but I
said no and that was that.

There was gossip, of course,
but we stayed professional,

never let it affect our work.

Even though everyone knew.

Not everyone.

Anne, please!

You and Natasha!

The boys down the station used to talk

about all the notches on your bedpost.

They never said anything
about you sleeping with women.

It was just sex.

Intimate, earthy sex, up to
and including ejaculation.

Don't paint me a picture.

Look, you want to see
the photos on my phone?

You'll see how little it meant.

I've got this blank look on my face,

like a bored horse
staring at a fence post,

even as I'm watching it go in.

I don't want to see anything!

I just want it all to go away.

Not just you, all of it,

all the death and the pain and the anguish

and all the endless
striding down corridors

just to get a bit of bloody
movement into things!

I can't stand it any more!

No, Anne, don't.

I'll do it, Jack, I swear I will.

What are you gonna do?

Climb inside that bottle

and stay there for the rest of your life?

I've tried.

You'll never get your
hips through the neck.

I just don't know what to do.

Oh!

I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

Oh, oh.

It's okay, it's all right.

Yeah, what is it?

Qureshi said he's been through the files

and he's drawn a total blank.

It's all on there.

Good work.

Listen, we're all exhausted.

Go home, pour yourself a
glass of wine and go to bed.

And drink it in the morning?

If it helps.

To be honest, with all the killings,

I'm nervous about going home on my own.

I'm sure Des won't
mind looking after you.

I didn't realize it was that obvious.

You and Des?

You have my blessing.

Who are you, her dad?

No, her boss, and she's
an impressive young woman

who's done well in her first week.

Take the night off, Kerry.

Have fun, don't get killed.

You deserve it.

Thank you.

And Kerry.

Be careful.

I will.

You're going soft.

Anne, you need help with the drinking.

I can unscrew bottles
just fine on my own.

One day you won't, next thing you know,

you'll be smashing bottles in your mouth

to get to the drink,
and then it's too late.

Take some time off and dry out, okay?

Hello?

Put her through.

How can I help, Ms. Oldman?

How can I help, Ms. Oldman?

I need to clean up, I wanna
check in and sort my life out.

Oh, that's excellent news.

Blue will prepare a bed for you now.

Looks like we have a new client.

Just spoke to Jack.

He said we should take the
night off, not get murdered,

and come in tomorrow, refreshed.

Nice one.

Pint?

Yeah, why not?

Actually, Des, I was
thinking we could do something.

Shove your pint.

What did you have in mind?

Well, there's this
sort of harrowing film

at the Guardiman Cinema.

It's meant to be good.

I love harrowing, it's a hobby of mine.

Okay, well, it's a date.

Just gotta, you know.

And maybe have a shit.

Good luck.

Where are you going?

I'm sorting myself out.

I've lost focus recently.

Everything's a blur.

So, you're...

Going to the Healery.

Just for a few days.

All right.

Where's the baby?

Where's my little baby?

I don't know.

Take the syringe
out your eye and answer me!

I said, I don't know!

You sold him, didn't you?

You sold the baby for smack!

You make me sick!

You wanna know how sick you make me, eh?

Here!

What's this,
what's this in your pocket?

It's a pitiful take-home, innit?

No, it's a baby's leg!

It's not a leg!

You ate him!

You ate the baby and
you tried to blame me!

I didn't!

So.

So.

Look, Des, I would love to
invite you upstairs, but...

No, this car hasn't got an upstairs.

It's not that.

I just want to take it slowly.

I've got one of them cock rings,

keeps you from barking your
yop for a good 20 minutes.

I mean, us.

I'm not quite ready yet.

Shall we give it 10 minutes?

Let's just take it one step at a time.

Night, Des.

Night, Kerry.

Ah, Joanne?

I am Anne Oldman.

And I'm a drinkaholic.

We overlooked you, Rowan Willow.

Surely you must hold the key.

But where are you?

Excuse me, I'm just locking
the station up for the night.

Rowan, are you Rowan Willow?

Rowan who-oh?

Rowan Willow?

No, I'm Knott, WPC Julie Knott.

But this is your photo.

Someone's printed that off my Facebook.

But if you're Knott, then who's?

Cocks in aspic!

Come on, Anne, pick up, pick up.

Hi, it's DC Anne Oldman.

I can't come to the phone
because my life is in danger,

but leave a short message.

Damn it.

No, Vull!

You don't have to do this!

I don't want to.

You must die.

Come on, Des, pick up, pick up.

Guv?

Des, it's me, hang on,
Des, hang on a minute.

Des, you still there?

Listen, you've gotta
get to the Healery now.

Anne's in danger.

What sort of danger?

The dangerous kind!

I can't, I can't!

You'll just have to shoot me.

If you're gonna kill me, at
least let me see your face,

so I can rate it out of 10.

Cheers, thanks for the tip.

Guv, caught me on my second job.

Asap, I know who the killer is!

Who is it?

Meet me at the Healery asap, Asap.

Hello, Oldman.

Oldman.

Hello, Oldman.

And goodbye.

There's a lion behind you!

I'm not falling for that.

They trained you well at the academy.

I've never been to the academy.

I don't even know who an academy is.

- What?
- I forged my papers.

Why?

To get close to him, to Jack.

Why are you obsessed with Jack?

Why are you obsessed with Jack?

Who says I am?

Who says I am?

You shot three
people to get close to him.

No, you shot three
people to get close to him.

No, I didn't.

And neither did I!

Jack!

Drop the gun, Newblood, it's over!

I know who you are, I
know you're Rowan Willow.

Rowan Willow was a pseudonym,
just like Kerry Newblood.

Then if you're not either one of them,

then which one of you are you?

I knew you'd come.

I haven't come in months.

Isn't it embarrassing when
your parents talk about sex?

What?

Oh my God.

Jack?

Yes.

I'm your daughter.

I don't have a daughter.

I don't have kids of any flavour or race!

They don't even have heads, my kids,

because I don't have any!

You're my daddy, my big strong daddy.

Jack!

You're not fantasizing, this is real!

Well, then, if I'm your father, who's...

Jill, of course.

She was pregnant when
she had that accident,

when you betrayed her.

She left town and gave
birth to me in a bin!

She never forgave you for
the indignity of that.

Bastard.

She hated you.

What was daddy?

A big bastard.

Filled my head with poison

from the very first moment.

She refused to tell me who you were.

She wouldn't even speak your name.

But she left me in no doubt
what she thought about you.

Bastard, arsehole!

She literally never
stopped slagging you off.

Not a pause for breath
between 1987 and 2011.

She went to her grave
complaining about you.

How do you know?

Because I buried her alive.

You know who's to
blame for this, don't you?

Just couldn't stand it any more.

It's your dad!

It's your dad, your dad!

It all happened because of your dad!

Still, I
never knew who you were.

I was lost.

Desperate.

Sort of sexy.

I thought they'd find Mum's body,

so I went on the run and came here.

Checked in as Rowan Willow,
and that's when I met Terry

in the fam-angerment support group.

Terry had deep-seated
issues with his brother.

He was working them through,

making real progress.

There was just something about him.

We sat up till dawn talking,

me about the dad I'd never met,

him about the brother who'd betrayed him.

And after a while, he said

there was something familiar about me.

My accent.

The hand I drank with.

The way I held guns under my chin.

Even the way I got erections.

Soon we realized, we were
talking about the same person.

You knew it was me just from that?

That and the DNA test, yeah.

And now I knew my father's name,

and the more I spewed my hatred,

the more worried Terry became.

So, he set out to warn you.

I put on a pair of specially
padded bike leathers

I'd had made so anyone watching
me in an earlier sequence

would assume I was male
and I set after him.

I shot him, forged some police
papers, and came to find you.

I knew I had to cover my
tracks from the Healery.

So, I swapped my file
photo with someone else's

while Des was preoccupied.

And there you all were
searching for Rowan Willow

when she was right
beside you all the time!

Why didn't you just kill
Jack when you had the chance?

That was my plan.

But the more time I spent with you,

I realized at last I
had the gruff, distant,

uncaring father figure I'd always craved.

I wanted you all to myself.

But first I had to kill
everyone who loved you!

Deborah.

Natasha.

Jenny.

Who's Jenny?

Oh, she looked at you funny

from that lecture you
did that I wasn't at.

Oh.

And finally her.

I'm going to kill her.

For you, Daddy, for you.

You may be my daughter,

but I'll shoot you like you're my own son!

No, you won't, guv.

Oh, Des, don't!

Shoot her, and I'll shoot you first.

I love her, guv.

I love her,

guv.

Don't do it, Des!

Why not?

Because Qureshi's pointing a gun at you.

Can't let you shoot Jack, Des.

Stop using words.

Come on, Des, think.

This isn't you, it's another Des.

Someone who's forgotten
who the good guys are!

How did he get my
warrant card and trousers?

I don't know!

Liar!

It is me!

Seems we've reached
an improbable stand-off.

You can put a stop to it all.

Kerry, just put the gun down.

No, you can put a stop
to all of this, Daddy,

by telling her you don't love her.

Look her in the eye and say,
I don't love you, Oldman.

Oldman.

Look her in the eye and
say, I don't love you, Oldman.

And I'll spare her life.

Go on, say it.

Come on, Daddy, say it, say it!

No.

Then she dies!

Not if I die first!

No, Daddy, no!

I'll do it!

You say you love me, then
drop the gun, or I'll do it!

God, so help me, I'll blast
myself into the afterlife

quicker than you can say bah!

No!

Goodbye, Daddy.

Don't.

Just like you taught me, Des.

No don't.

Just squeeze and.

She's lucky, the bullet only obliterated

an unimportant part of the brain.

With some Dettol and a lie-down,

she should survive, but
she'll be watching TV

through a straw for the rest of her life.

It seems I owe you an apology, Cloth.

Let's keep it that way.

I want to visit her,
make sure she's okay.

Mm, I'm having her sent

to a specialist unit in Monterrey.

But that's thousands of miles...

Monterrey, Jack.

You'll probably never
be sufficiently arsed

to ever see her again.

She's my daughter.

Who just tried to sacrifice
your partner on an altar.

- But...
- An altar, Cloth.

What about Des?

Pulling a weapon on a superior officer

is an unforgivable offence.

Luckily, you're inferior.

He'll be back at work in a
fortnight, back in the saddle.

- But...
- The saddle, Cloth.

Well, I won't, I'm finished.

What do you mean?

You'll have my resignation on
your desk tomorrow morning.

Jack, wait.

I'm working from home tomorrow.

Have it couriered to my house instead.

The postcode is CNT42PJ.

- But...
- J, Cloth.

Jack, wait!

You have to go round that bit.

Jack, wait!

It must be hard to gain a daughter

then lose her again so fast.

Almost like never having had her at all,

except for the few moments when you did,

until she shot herself
in the head with a gun,

right in front of you.

I wasn't much of a
father to her, or to you.

Jack, about before,
when she tried to get you

to say that you didn't love me.

Yeah, what about it?

Did you mean what you didn't say?

Every word.

And every letter of every word

and every sound those letters made,

which were the words I
mentioned at the start.

I've always loved you, Oldman.

Oldman.

I've always loved you, Oldman.

And I always will.

But it won't work.

I've done too much, seen
too much, been too much.

Everyone close to me dies.

And I can't let that happen to you.

Jack, wait!

No, Anne, don't!

I learnt this from you.

Blowing your brains
out won't solve anything,

and it'll really sting.

Oh, Jack!

Neither of us have
anything worth living for

except the other, which in my case is you.

You care that much?

More than dialogue can say.

Oh my God, quick,
help, over here, he's been shot!

Oh my God, it's my sister!

I'm gonna bloody kill
her, you bastard bitch!

Asap, no!

This is out of character!

Ah!

What the hell is it?

I don't know!

Ah!

I am the fruit of your loin!

- But...
- Your loin, Cloth!

Do you want to see my bum, eh?

Do you want to see my bum?

You want to see my arse, is that it?

Here, have a look at that, then!

Yeah, that's it!