Endeavour

MORSE: No matter how many cases you solve or bad people you put away, there's always another one standing right behind him.

Why do it if you hate it so much?

MORSE: Because the dead deserve justice.

(crow cawing) BRIGHT: We have to face facts, Thursday.

We got it wrong.

MORSE: If you want to catch him, then you need me.

We're examining psychic phenomena-- E.S.P.

You said you saw who did it.

Yes, I did-- it was a vision.

You are a dark horse, aren't you, love?

(gun cocks) (thunder claps) (whimpers) (click) MORSE: The good ended happily and the bad unhappily.

That's what fiction means.

When the overture begins, you don't know what the opera might be or where the story might take you, whether it'll be comedy or tragedy.

This... is a story about love.

(bird squawking) (talking softly) (bird calling) (rats squeaking, bird cawing) (cawing) (owl hooting in distance) (phone ringing) Castle Gate C.I.D., Strange.

(man and woman singing slow duet in Italian) (people speaking Italian) (music continues) (singing in Italian) (singing) (people talking in background) (man singing dramatic solo in Italian) (people talking in background, glasses clinking) (woman cries out, man grunts and laughs) Oi!

What are you doing?

What do you think you're doing, eh, touching her like that?

MAN: Oh, get out-- come on.

Come on, get out.

(man's dramatic solo continues) (singing in Italian) (piece ends, audience applauds) MAN: Think you'll like this one.

You'll like this one-- have a listen.

So I've got this dog, and I love my dog.

But I had to take it to the vet's the other day.

Vet took one look at it...

Picked him up, checked his eyes, checked his ears, checked his teeth... Ah.

"I'm really sorry, I've gotta put the dog down."

I burst into tears, "Why you gotta put him down?"

He said, "He's really heavy."

(laughing) (exhales): Three more chicken in a basket.

Two scampi in a basket.

(catches breath) (background conversations fading) (cawing) (cawing, cat hisses) TONY (distorted): You all right, Jen?

Yeah.

Yeah, sorry, Tony.

I'm fine.

It was just a turn.

I'll be all right.

(singing slowly in Italian) (woman singing) (stops singing, orchestra playing somber music) (orchestra continues) (piece ends, audience applauds) (audience cheering and applauding) (people speaking Italian in background) (bird calling) (water lapping, bird calling) ("Auld Lang Syne" playing on television) This is more like it.

Thank you.

MAN (on television): Should auld acquaintance be forgot Cheers.

Cheers.

And never brought to mind (music fading): Should auld acquaintance be forgot (breath catches) (breathing shallowly) (person whistling) (breath shuddering) (person whistling) (gasps) (whistling) MEN (drunkenly): For auld lang syne, my dear (Molly panting) (yelping) (yelping stops) (fireworks exploding and hissing) (door opens) I said no questions.

(birds twittering) (breathes deeply) THURSDAY (voiceover): Got a name for her?

STRANGE: I wouldn't like to swear to it, but I think it could be Molly Andrews.

Barmaid, down the Grapes.

Taking a shortcut home, maybe.

Body was found by David Clemens.

Works in the Morris plant.

Keep Fit fanatic.

Doctor.

MAX: Gentlemen.

Have to wait on the postmortem to confirm it, but cause of death would appear to be a broken neck.

That what the mark's about?

Yes, possibly.

I'll know more after the PM.

Any...

If that was the motive, he hasn't gone through with it.

He may have been disturbed, of course.

Shall we say 2: 00?

Oh, and, uh...

Happy New Year.

Her handbag was found over there.

No purse in it.

Robbery, you think?

Some drunk, maybe?

Be enough of 'em about last night.

Tried it on.

Or had had too much of a skinful to do what he meant to.

Uniform up and down the towpath.

See if anybody moored up saw anything.

(exhales) DOROTHEA: So, how was your New Year's Eve?

Resolutions?

Find out who did this-- you?

Oh, I'm long past mending my ways.

New year.

New decade.

New start.

You always hope for better, don't you?

Bitter mornings, up in the dark and the cold, and the worst of human nature at the end of it.

You start to wonder how many more of these you've got in you.

No Morse today?

Fortnight's leave.

Oh, yeah.

Anywhere nice?

(bell tolling in distance, seagulls squawking) (men speaking Italian) What time is it?

1970.

(chuckles softly) Felice anno nuovo.

(boat engine rumbling) (talking softly, birds twittering) PRESENTER (on radio): The body of a young woman discovered on a stretch of canal towpath in the early hours of New Year's Day has been identified as 24-year-old Molly Andrews.

Miss Andrews is believed to have been attacked shortly after finishing her shift at the Grapes pub in Oxford, where she worked as a barmaid.

The investigation into her murder is continuing.

I told you, I was at a party.

I left the Grapes.

I wasn't gonna get home before midnight, was I?

STRANGE: The landlord says you were arguing with her earlier in the night.

Then you started chucking your weight around.

Said he had to throw you out.

Somebody said she'd been seeing another fella.

Some college type.

Where'd this come from?

I just heard it somewhere is all.

All right.

Let's just have it one more time.

From the beginning.

(seagulls squawking, water lapping) (man speaking Italian) Oh, no, grazie.

Si!

Avaro!

Come se dice... Cheap.

(laughs): Discerning.

Grazie.

Grazie.

If you want a rose, I'll get you a rose.

I just won't waste money on this artificial rubbish.

It will never fade.

Never die.

(chuckles softly): Yeah, but it's not real.

Michelangelo's "David" isn't David.

"Ceci n'est pas une pipe."

If it's beautiful, does it matter?

(chuckles softly) You think he is responsible.

Denying it, of course, but they were seen rowing earlier in the evening.

And her purse is missing.

We're searching Sturgis's place now.

No sign of it as yet.

At the bottom of the canal, as like as not.

I've divers coming in, but in my opinion, the whole purse business is just a blind.

A domestic dispute leading to a murder, Thursday?

Such a ruse as you're suggesting supposes a far greater presence of mind than one usually finds in cases like these.

It's him, I know it is.

I can feel it in my corns-- I can crack him.

I'm sure.

Well, keep me abreast of any developments.

Of course.

Very well, carry on.

Sir.

If I might ask, sir... How's Mrs.

Bright bearing up?

As well as can be expected.

(birds twittering) (woman calling in Italian) You're back, then?

How was, uh...?

Oh, you know.

So... What've I missed?

(women talking in background) (bicycle bell rings) (bell ringing in distance) (talking softly) (woman giggling) BRIGHT: I'm given to understand that the A.C.C.

's daughter was amongst a group of young women making their way back from Lady Matilda's boathouse along the towpath, when a man exposed himself to them.

Obviously, with the killer of the barmaid... Molly Andrews, sir.

Yes, thank you, Sergeant-- the young woman at New Year, still at large, the A.C.C.

is keen to know what progress is being made.

Bit of a sticker, sir, but I'm still of the strong opinion that the boyfriend's responsible-- Carl Sturgis.

Her purse was taken, wasn't it?

Doesn't that suggest a robbery?

One wouldn't expect that in a domestic dispute.

The boyfriend always seemed a little... pedestrian, to my mind.

Plus, he's alibied, isn't he?

What's this?

Well, a cab driver said that he picked him up outside the Grapes smashed, then dropped him at an address in Cowley.

Had to pour him through the letter box, supposedly.

Well, he could've come back.

That's if the cabbie had the right man.

Sturgis did say that he got a cab, though, didn't he?

One young drunk on New Year's Eve looks much like another, I'd have thought.

I...

I was on leave the initial week of the investigation, so I may not have the full picture.

BRIGHT: Indeed.

Well... Perhaps you might take another look.

What do you say, Thursday?

Fresh pair of eyes.

If you think so, sir.

Yes, well, I can't see the harm in it.

Done yourself an injury, Sergeant?

Rat, sir.

Big bugger.

Been hanging about the coal shed.

Gave me a nip when I went up the yard last night to fill the scuttle.

But you've seen someone about it?

Yeah, sir, tetanus first thing.

From the house man.

(people talking in background, typewriters clacking) Where is he, the boyfriend?

Carl Sturgis?

Mm-hmm.

Drives for Duxbury's out of Cowley.

Undertakers.

I'll dig out the address.

(phone ringing, typewriters clacking) "Pedestrian"?

You never said.

Well, I came to it late.

I thought perhaps you knew something I didn't.

Not everything's a crossword puzzle.

Sometimes, how a thing looks is how it is.

The boyfriend, the husband, father, brother...

Right, so, if you thought he did it, why didn't you charge him?

We couldn't put him at the scene.

We turned his place inside out.

Not a shred-- no purse, no nothing.

And if he didn't do it?

Then I'm sure you'll get to the bottom of it.

Did Molly ever mention a college type?

Boyfriend, perhaps?

Not lately.

(Lucy exclaiming) She did like the college-y ones.

Said they treated her more nice.

Thought I were done with kiddies.

My Rose.

Molly.

Now Lucy, third time lucky.

What about the child's father?

(chuckles) (birds twittering) New Year's Eve, when your granddaughter didn't come home, you weren't concerned?

I took it she was seeing her fella.

Carl Sturgis?

(exhales) She weren't a bad girl.

Just lonely.

I think it's not having a father herself.

She was always looking for something.

(exhales heavily) What did you make to him?

Carl?

Couldn't say.

She never brung any of 'em home.

(button clicks, timer ticking) MAN (on speaker): Professor Donald Blish, Cardinal College, "Higher Mathematics" screen test, seventh of May, 1970.

(bell rings) DIRECTOR: And action!

BLISH: Hello, and welcome to Module Seven.

In this module, we'll be looking at... FERMAN: Rectilinear shapes... Um, don't tell me, don't tell me.

Uh, what is it?

DIRECTOR: Particularly triangles.

Thank you, um...

Particularly tri...

Particularly triangles.

And finding the gradient, equations, and intersections of medians, altitudes, and perpendicular bisectors.

(bell rings) (clock ticking) CARL: Sorry, this isn't public.

Oh, Detective Sergeant Morse, Thames Valley.

I'm looking for a Carl Sturgis.

This about Molly Andrews?

I said all I had to when it happened.

Don't you want to find out what happened to your girlfriend?

CARL: I know who you lot think did it.

Not me, I wasn't part of the original inquiry.

I'm keeping an open mind-- that's why I'm here.

Why, what do you think happened?

I don't know.

I'd give anything not to've had that row with her.

I wasn't thinking straight.

I liked her.

She was a smashing bird.

She was a smashing bird, and now she's dead, and it's my fault.

If I hadn't acted like a berk...

This other man you thought she'd been seeing.

"Some college type," you said in an interview.

Where'd you get that?

One of me mates said he'd seen her in town with a bloke who looked like he was in college.

You know the sort.

Scarf, pushing a bike.

(car door opens, closes) Should one get an agent, do you think?

Just to handle the money?

Putting the cart somewhat before the horse, aren't you?

No, no, I don't think so, Jeremy.

Oh, they told you you got the job, did they?

Well, not in so many words, but, uh, I think we've got an understanding.

Look at this.

Well, well.

BENFORD (on speaker): Dr. Naomi Benford, 28, currently junior research fellow at the Department of Latent Potential.

As you tilt the horizontal plane, the section is an ellipse, but there will come a point where the plane is parallel to the line.

(on speaker): Now, let's see how that applies to... Strong?

To break someone's neck?

Not necessarily.

The right angle, a sudden twist.

At least it would have been relatively quick.

Nothing out of the ordinary, then?

All too ordinary, I'm afraid.

The "female of the species" might hold good for Kipling, but he never walked a crooked mile in these brogues.

There's nothing here that wasn't in my report at the time.

Oh, I was on leave at the time.

Mr.

Bright's asked me to take a second look.

Just fresh horses.

What did you make to the mark on her neck?

MAX: Ligature?

Garrote, possibly.

But I thought you said her neck was broken, that she wasn't asphyxiated.

(exhales): Well... Perhaps he started out trying to choke her, and... changed his mind.

You don't sound terribly convinced.

I'm not.

Answers on a postcard to the usual address.

FERMAN: Well, I think she's got a bloody nerve.

She's not been here five minutes.

KREITSEK: Oh, give it a rest, will you?

Oh, speak of the little succubus.

Here she is, look.

Well, you are a dark horse, aren't you, love?

Something you want, Ferman?

Oh, I just wondered where you got the idea that you would put yourself forward for the television.

I wasn't aware I had to ask your permission.

There was an advert in the college newsletter.

Oh, I know there was.

We all saw it.

There's such a thing as seniority, you know.

You've heard the phrase "best 'man' for the job," have you?

(sighs): Don't talk rot.

You're a junior research fellow.

Tea and filing, that's what you're here for, and don't you forget it.

Naomi, if you have a moment.

(closes folder) (engine stops) (car doors close) (knocking at door) (exhales softly) (door opens) SAWARD (voiceover): "And a certain woman, who had an issue of blood 12 years "and had suffered many things of many physicians, "and spent all that she had and was nothing bettered, "but rather grew worse, "when she had heard of Jesus, "she came into the press behind "and touched his garment.

"And he said unto her, "'Daughter, thy faith "'has made thee whole; go in peace, and be whole of thy plague.'"

(putty knife scraping wall) (scraping continues) (exhales) (grabs bottle) (bell tolling in distance) (breathes deeply) (chuckles) I am feeling better, Puli.

(both chuckle) Stronger every day.

Well, that's... marvelous.

You do have faith, don't you, Puli?

Of course, my dear.

Of course.

(recording of "Don Giovanni" playing) WOMAN (on recording): Perch questi sospiri?

JENNY: You said to call if I didn't hear anything?

No, no, no, I understand.

No, I haven't changed my mind.

I'll be in for the usual session next week, but you know where to get hold of me if there's any news.

(chuckling): Okay, bye, now.

(chuckling): Right, yeah.

(music playing in background) (bell dings softly) (panting softly) (bird calling) (birds twittering, bell tolling) Morning, Win.

Morning, Reet, Bridget.

Shoo!

Shoo!

It's 9:00 with Mr.

Bright.

Sharp, he said.

Traditionally, the condemned man gets a hearty breakfast.

Oh, come on, it's not like that.

Isn't it?

My investigation pass scrutiny, then?

Well...

Early days.

That right?

(exhales) Butter's cold.

Square.

WOMAN: Wavy lines.

(footsteps approaching) MORSE: So, going through the original statements, there's a dog-walker came forward day after the body was discovered, said he'd heard someone whistling on the towpath.

Whistling?

Hmm, a melody that he couldn't place.

But it doesn't seem to have been followed up.

I followed it up.

I spoke to him, Mr. Scrimm-- he didn't see anyone.

There's nothing to say it was connected, sir.

What about traffic on the canal?

Very little of it, sir.

The odd bit of boating for pleasure, but not at that time of year.

I'm sorry, sir, but that's not strictly true.

Um, I have a report of a narrow boat, the Rosie Jugg, logged passing through Braunston Junction in the early hours of New Year's Day.

Skipper was an Abraham Petrovski.

He has a history of petty theft and drunken disorderliness.

Though where he is now is anybody's guess.

BLISH: Any other business?

Good.

Um, F-23.

I just wondered, now you've had a little time.

Mmm, well, I don't think we're taking that any further, are we?

F-23 scores very highly.

Some little nobody?

What's that got to do with anything?

I mean, she might not know which knife and fork to use at high table, but her scores are off the chart.

Jeremy, you'll back me up.

I don't know, Nay.

There's nothing there that couldn't have come out of the papers, is there?

I don't know-- isn't that the point?

Don't we have a duty?

To science?

Certainly.

Yeah, but science doesn't exist in a vacuum.

We're part of this town.

There's no need for hysterics.

BENFORD: I'm not hysterical, I'm worried-- genuinely worried.

You said you'd consider this seriously, but it's been months.

It really isn't any of our concern.

But it will be if something happens and it gets out that we withheld information.

But it won't.

Won't what?

Won't happen or won't get out that we knew something?

Either-- now really, I am very busy.

(exhales) It don't sit right with me, you do know that, don't you?

Not being able to close the book on it, I don't care for it any more than you do.

You just got to be patient.

Keep your powder dry.

We'll get him.

I know.

Oh, I tried to call Miss Thursday at Welfare, just about Molly Andrews' daughter.

They said she's on secondment.

That's right.

Win did say-- four month, six month, something.

Talk to Viv Wall.

She'll see you right about the kiddie.

I will.

Monday morning, then.

Mind how you go.

Mm-hmm.

(person whistling) (whistling continues) (breath catches) Oh, I thought you'd gone home.

No.

Can you lock up, then?

He's right, you know.

It's none of our business.

Something like that's never anyone's business.

Till it's everyone's.

I thought you were on my side.

Is this about...?

No.

(chuckling): Good heavens, no.

Then, why?

You'll always be on the outside, you know.

Snotty grammar school nose pressed against the pane.

They'll never let you in their club, no matter how often you take their part.

I'm sorry.

Me, too.

(bicycle riding, chain clanking) (phone ringing) Morse.

OPERATOR (on phone): I have a Dr. Benford on the line for you.

Put him through.

BENFORD (on phone): Hello?

Dr. Benford, how can I help?

I'm calling about the woman killed on the towpath at New Year-- Molly Andrews?

Oh, yes?

What was it you wanted to say?

One of my test subjects... Actually, can we meet somewhere tomorrow?

DOROTHEA (chuckling): Well...

This is something.

BENFORD: Yes, yes, it is.

Naomi Benford.

Dorothea Frazil, "Oxford Mail."

You making a speech?

A speech?

Me?

No.

(chuckling): No, I wouldn't know how.

I'm just saying a few words.

I'd love an interview with the organizers.

Even just a quote-- do you know them?

Yeah, of course.

It's Arielle, Sheila, and Sally.

I can introduce you.

Oh, fantastic.

BENFORD: Hi, sorry, can I introduce Dorothea Frazil?

"Oxford Mail."

Sally Alexander, I presume.

(people talking in background) Sorry, excuse me just a minute.

The creche is just along the hall.

I'm sorry?

The creche.

The chaps are running it today, if that's what you're looking for.

Uh, no, I'm here to see a Dr. Benford.

You're the policeman.

That's correct.

Um...

I might have spoken out of turn last night.

Prematurely, at least.

Why?

How's that?

I'm afraid my blood was up when I telephoned.

You are aware there's an offense of wasting police time.

(stammering): I'm sorry, but there are professional protocols I'm obliged to observe before I can speak freely.

If you have any information about what happened on the towpath at New Year, you have an obligation to tell the police.

I'm sorry, but it's not my story to tell.

There are people I need to talk to-- well, a person.

I'm speaking to them this afternoon.

Right.

I can't betray a confidence, I'm sorry.

(people talking in background) This you for the weekend, is it?

Some of it.

At 4: 00, I've more of this dreadful cat business.

Cats going missing, and then turning up all... (groans): It's too horrible.

One for the RSPCA, no doubt.

So as you can see, my dance card is positively chocker.

What is it that you're all hoping to be liberated from, exactly?

Is it just the dishes, or light housekeeping in general?

Patriarchal hegemony in the main.

Ah.

Freedom from the tyranny of the squeezy bottle's just an adjunct.

Speaking of which.

How are you settling in to this new place of yours?

(groans): Slowly.

I'm still waiting to hear about Venice.

Streets are filled with water.

Stop press?

What about you?

You've clearly plans.

Oh, I shall be oppressing someone somewhere, I expect.

Keeping the chauvinist end up.

Mm...

Otherwise, I take my comforts where I can.

"Music hath charms."

Have a nice weekend.

(chuckles) (string quartet playing gentle piece) (closes door) You're sure?

I didn't think it was right to speak on your behalf, without asking you first.

Oh, no, no.

You know I wanted to go them in the first place.

I just... wanted to do it the right way.

Will they believe me?

He seemed pretty decent.

BENFORD (voiceover): Slightly bad-tempered, but then, he did think I was wasting his time, so I guess that's understandable.

I did get the impression he wanted to get to the bottom of this.

I'll just feel better once they know.

I'm sure I will.

(exhales) It's just, uh, a weight on me.

I know.

Been meaning to thank you.

For what?

For believing me?

It's going to be all right.

I promise.

(string quartet continues) (people talking in background) Ooh!

Excuse me.

Stop!

Stop!

(tires screeching) Careful!

(grunts) Are you all right?

It's, um... Morse.

Morse!

Of course!

Forgive me.

English names.

I'm sorry, have we met?

Ludo.

We were up at the same time.

I was at Beaufort.

And you were at, um... (clicks tongue): No, wait, don't tell me.

I was at Lonsdale.

Lonsdale!

Yes.

Please, allow me to stand you a drink.

Oh, no, I'm fine, thank you.

No, look, I insist!

I have some small connection to this afternoon's entertainment.

Which, in a manner of speaking, makes you my guest.

(birds chirping, insects chittering) (ducks quacking) BLISH (through door): Frivolous!

It is not scientific work!

It's not important.

What this, this is, demeans us all, I'm sorry.

BENFORD: Donald, I think you're being unreasonable.

Oh, sorry.

It'll keep if you're in the middle of something.

I can... No, we're not.

Donald.

You know about this?

Oh, I might've heard something about it.

Well, you might have told me.

You know, this is a serious department.

We are engaged upon serious work.

The bursar's already making noises about funding.

Something like this could turn us into a laughingstock.

(audience applauding at concert) You enjoyed the concert?

Very much.

Music is my life.

My grand passion.

Second only to the dogged pursuit of beautiful women.

(laughs) You would say this, "dogged pursuit," in English?

Yes, we would.

(laughs) Well, there we are.

Such are the articles of my faith.

The only ones I acknowledge, in any event.

There are much worse.

Oh, none better.

(chuckles) And now I am hungry.

Shall we have supper?

Oh, well... Now, I shall brook no refusal.

There's a little place I know.

You'll love it.

(people talking in background) WOMAN: Cross.

Wavy lines.

Triangle.

ANNOUNCER (on television): League Division One.

Cambridge nil, Lincoln one.

(door closes) Oxford one, Birmingham nil.

(key drops in tray) Leicester four...

WIN: Not like you to miss the results.

(birds chirping) Uh, work.

ANNOUNCER: ...Halifax nil.

THURSDAY: Uh, it's work.

(running water): The, uh... That girl on the towpath at New Year.

Mr.

Bright's asked Morse to take a look at it.

Make sure there's nothing I've missed.

Morse?

Well, I'm not sure what I think about that, I'm sure.

(water stops) Don't mean anything.

Standard practice, that's all.

(birds twittering) Oh...

I bought a couple of canaries down the market.

A pair-- a cock and a hen.

We might get some chicks.

Might we?

I used to keep birds when I was a boy.

Well, look after them for the old man.

I thought it might be... something.

(stammering): An interest.

Feathers, everywhere.

It's not "feathers everywhere."

And if it is, I'll, I'll see to it.

It's two birds.

They're not gonna bother you.

Well, where are we going to put them?

Where are we going to keep them?

Up my arse, Winifred.

That's where we're gonna keep them, up my arse, like David Nixon.

I'm just asking.

No need for language.

In a cage, where d'you think?

I just saw them, and I wanted them, and I bought them.

And that's it and that's all.

I thought it might be something nice.

Something not... blood and... cruelty.

Hatred.

What one person'll do to another you've no idea.

Just gets you down sometimes, that's all.

Another bottle?

Oh, no, no.

(Morse chuckles softly) Well, what a day.

We have a saying in my country.

"Do not praise the day before sunset."

Which country is that?

War has redrawn national borders so many times as to make such notions an irrelevance.

I prefer to say I am a man of the world.

And what is it you do in the world?

Travel, mostly.

My family's in shipping, since before Vasco da Gama.

(chuckles) I look after the various arms of our charitable foundation.

I buy and sell beautiful things-- artwork.

Uh, I have a music festival-- and you?

Oh, nothing quite so interesting.

I'm a policeman.

Truly?

Mm-hmm.

But you seem a man of refinement, of great taste.

Not at all a lumpen, plodding, petty official.

(exhales) Ah, I've offended you.

(laughs) I meant, of course, those policemen not in England.

Have you traveled much in the continent?

Yeah, a little.

So you will know that border officials and provincial policemen are one of two types.

The dull, everything-by-the-book sort and those who understand the only international language worth a damn.

Which type are you?

The former, definitely.

(chuckles): Incorruptible, is that it?

That's right.

Every man has his price.

(chuckles) Every man.

I shall make it my life's business to find yours, and once I have found your weakness, I shall exploit it without mercy to my own ends.

And what is that?

I shall think of something.

(both laughing) And what about you?

What's your weakness?

My weakness?

My weakness left me.

(swallows) Ah.

I see.

I'm sorry.

Perfect.

(vacuum whirring in distance) (Bridget screaming) (vacuum stops) (screaming stops) (gasps) REET: Bridget?

(birds twittering) Department of Latent Potential.

Some sort of science research lab.

Attached to Cardinal College, so far as I can make out.

Who's the deceased?

Dr. Naomi Benford.

28 years old.

What?

WIN: She's just so young.

THURSDAY: Did you know her?

I saw her about once or twice.

You know, early bird.

Not to speak to.

You're all right, though.

Yeah.

It was Reet's granddaughter Bridget that found her, not me.

It's you I'm married to.

I saw worse on fire watch in the war.

Really, I'm fine.

Now, go on, do your job.

She'd just been picked to be on the television for some new academic broadcasting program.

There's a bit in the "Mail" today.

Interview she did with Miss Frazil.

Family?

Penge.

Locals are notifying them.

But she had a flat in North Oxford.

Multiple catastrophic injuries consistent with a high fall onto an unyielding surface.

Have to wait on the postmortem to establish exactly which killed her, but there's perimortem hematoma to both upper arms.

Someone gripped her by the biceps, firmly enough to bruise, within moments of her decease.

When?

Saturday evening sometime?

Watch is stopped just after 8: 12.

You think this is connected to Molly Andrews?

Don't you?

So, she calls the station Friday night, claiming to have information on the towpath killer... And then when I see her at the Saturday at Ruskin, she's got cold feet and says she needs to speak to someone before she can disclose anything she knows.

And now she's dead.

Somebody's killed her before she can spill what she knew about Molly.

Somebody here.

Who's in charge of this place?

Headman's a Professor Sir Donald Blish.

He's got tutorials this afternoon, and never comes in on a Monday morning, but one of the junior men is in.

A Dr. Jeremy Kreitsek.

What is it you do here, Dr. Kreitsek?

We're examining certain aspects of human consciousness.

Psychic phenomena.

Telekinesis.

E.S.P.-- extrasensory perception.

Telesthesia-- traveling clairvoyance, or remote viewing, if you prefer.

Some people call it distant seeing, but it all means the same thing.

Which is what?

The subject will be able to focus in on a place that they've never even been-- could be next door or the other side of the world-- and describe it with great clarity and detail.

All in their mind's eye.

People, too, they've never even met.

And you get paid for this?

(chuckles softly) I'm sure that to a layman, it all sounds like a whole lot of mumbo-jumbo, but Faraday was an early researcher.

Sir William Crookes, Rufus Osgood Mason.

They all believed the mind contained vast, untapped powers.

(door opens) What's all this?

(door closes) Sir, it's Naomi.

There's been some sort of accident.

The stairwell...

I don't know what happened but she's, she's dead.

These gentlemen are with the police.

What?

No, that can't be right.

I'm afraid it is, Dr.... Ferman.

We'll need an account of everyone's movements between Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning.

Well, I was in the pub on Saturday night.

I'm afraid what I did see of Sunday was beneath an eiderdown.

Which pub?

The Baby and the Bird, the Turl, and well, after that, it gets a bit hazy.

Anyone vouch for you?

(chuckling): Bar staff, I suppose.

What about you, Dr. Kreitsek?

I was at the Tunnel Saturday night.

It's a folk club.

Oh, yeah, who was on?

Who was playing?

Mm-hmm.

Chap called Thackray I like.

Seen him on "Braden's Week."

Must have a couple of times.

Dr. Benford been with you long?

Since, um, about autumn.

What was her role here?

Junior research fellow.

Naomi carried out a number of our experiments.

What sort of experiments?

The subject undergoes a period of sensory deprivation.

(voiceover): A red light is shone on ping-pong balls, which are cut in half and placed over the eyes.

At the same time, headphones play white noise.

What's the game there, then?

Well, the idea is to clear the mind of any external stimuli in order that the subject might become more receptive and attuned to their extra sensory potential.

And do they?

Some, yeah.

Once the subject is suitably prepared, (voiceover): the tester turns through a collection of flashcards which show various geometrical symbols.

Circle.

Like uh... triangles, squares, circles, wavy lines and that.

The subject tries to see what's on the cards.

Triangle.

Anything in it?

Some subjects show an above average aptitude for correctly identifying the symbols.

And some subjects show a below average aptitude, I assume.

Given the nature of averages.

(chair screeching) Look, the government show us a lot of respect for the work we do here.

Perhaps you might want to extend the same respect that it warrants.

Well, uh, to get back to the matter in hand, did Dr. Benford have a boyfriend, or...?

Not so far as I know.

But I can't say we were close.

THURSDAY: When did you last see her?

Saturday afternoon.

THURSDAY: Here?

(paper rustling) Doctor?

(tapping on door off-screen) (birds twittering) MORSE: Good morning.

Detective Sergeant Morse, Chief Inspector Thursday from Thames Valley.

We're looking for a Professor Blish.

Donald.

My husband.

He's in the garden.

Won't you come in?

I thought I heard the door.

MRS. BLISH: The police, darling.

Someone at college has died.

A Dr. Benford.

Naomi?

THURSDAY: I'm afraid so, sir.

Detective Chief Inspector Thursday, Detective Sergeant Morse.

Would you like tea, or something stronger?

Thank you, Mrs. Blish, we won't if it's all the same.

MRS. BLISH: Sorry...

Darling, if I could just trouble you for a check for Querrels, and then I'll be out of your hair.

I've made out the amount.

The butchers.

Only I'm not allowed my own checkbook.

In case my head explodes and falls off.

(chuckles) Quite right.

Do you let your wife have her own checkbook?

I know it's all the fashion, but money seems to me a man's job.

There we are, darling.

If there's anything you want, just shout.

At the department, you say?

Poor girl.

But how?

I don't understand.

Was there some sort of accident or...?

A fall, sir.

But hopefully, with your help, we'll be able to get to the bottom of it.

When did you last see Dr. Benford?

Saturday it would have been.

Half past 5: 00 or thereabouts.

She'd been over at Ruskin in the morning for this women's conference, and then came in for a few hours after lunch.

Was there anyone with her when you left?

Not that I saw.

But I wouldn't expect anyone to be in the lab much after that.

She said she had some work to finish.

Right.

Did she ever mention a young woman killed on the towpath at New Year?

(flicks lighter, clicks) Molly Andrews.

She was a barmaid at The Grapes.

I read about it, of course.

Awful thing.

But I...

I don't remember Naomi ever mentioning it.

(puffing, flicks lighter) Really?

Only she intimated that there were some professional protocol that she were obliged to follow, before being able to discuss it.

I'm afraid I'm at a loss to explain what she might have meant by that.

We have it that you quarreled with her on Saturday afternoon.

I wouldn't call it a quarrel.

We had a frank exchange of views.

You upset her, supposedly.

Really?

Well, I'm afraid it doesn't take much.

They don't respond well to criticism.

What was the nature of this criticism?

(inhales) I felt she had become less than rigorous in her work.

Her mind was on this television business.

You disapproved?

One can either be a serious academic or a frivolous person.

On the whole, I think women are too emotional for the life scientific.

That will come as grave news to Madam Curie, I'm sure.

(chuckles) I'm not sure I'd offer up someone who managed to give themselves radiation poisoning as a shining example.

They just get under your feet in the lab.

If they're not crying about who they do love, they're crying about who doesn't love them.

It's a distraction.

MORSE (voiceover): There's a don like that in every other common room in Oxford.

His experience of the other half of humankind starts with matron and doesn't gets much further.

Women are only good for ironing their shirts and making sure the cruet's filled at high table.

Anything in it, do you think, this, uh, sixth sense business?

I've always had it down for a load of old baloney.

I mean, if you had the gift of second sight or whatever it is, you'd be down the bookies, wouldn't you, not trying to see what Mr. Brezhnev's got in his briefcase?

Yes, but we all get feelings, don't we?

Like what you had about Carl Sturgis, only we call them hunches.

That's experience, though, isn't it?

It's not something from the great beyond.

Mrs. Blish.

(soft chuckle) (car door opens) (shuddering breaths) (squeaking) (squawking) (gasps) It's always the ones you like.

Mm.

I read your piece.

What'd you make of her?

Clever, beautiful, funny.

Excited about the television.

Whoever hired her knew what they were doing.

How so?

Well, they could have hired some dusty old don, no one would have turned a hair.

But put an intelligent young woman on screen... (clicks teeth) Was she attached?

She said not.

Was it an accident?

Well, that's what I'm here to find out.

She did ask me, off the record, if I'd heard anything about the towpath at New Year.

The barmaid at The Grapes.

Such as?

Oh, anything the police might've been keeping from the public.

Seemed a strange thing to ask.

Mm.

Did she say what her interest would be?

(exhales) Behalf of a friend, she said.

You think it's connected?

Uh, really, I couldn't say.

And any avoidance of speculation in print ahead of a formal statement would be greatly appreciated.

It'll cost you.

Oh, it always does, but thank you.

Just make sure you get the bastard.

She was all right.

(birds twittering) MORSE: Where's all this come from?

The handbag.

Pen was under her body.

A few bits and pieces had fallen out-- lipstick, a compact, address book.

Anything else?

Afraid not.

Hmm.

According to the diary at her flat, Dr. Benford was supposed to meet a Jennifer Tate on Saturday at 8:00.

A friend?

Well, if she was, she wasn't a close one.

There's no address for her in the book.

Dr. Benford had also asked Dorothea Frazil if there was anything she'd heard of that we'd kept back from the public about the towpath killing.

She had clippings related to the case upon her desk.

And in her appointment book, next to Jennifer Tate she'd written "Regarding: M.A."

Molly Andrews?

Well, that would be my guess.

(classic music playing) (doorbell rings) (music continues playing) I was in the neighborhood.

If it's a bad time?

No.

No, no.

Um... come in, come in.

It's the second on the left.

(music continues playing) I don't get many visitors.

I like what you've done with the place.

You might want to let that breathe.

Well, I'm afraid I've a very limited cellar, but, um, I've a reasonable bottle of everyday wants finishing while we wait.

Perfect.

(glasses clinking) Oh, my God!

You have the Calloway '54 "Traviata" from La Scala.

I've never heard it.

Very few have.

It's a test pressing.

They were trying out some new recording system.

Can I hear it?

Well, you can have it.

You are joking.

I can have it?

Do you know how rare it is?

No, I haven't listened to it for years.

I'd sooner it went to a good home.

Cheers.

So... to what do I owe the, uh...?

I'm having a few people around to my place at the weekend.

Few drinks.

I haven't seen you.

Oh, yes, I've been busy with work.

What devilish conundrum currently occupies the mind of the great detective?

Murder in pursuit of robbery.

What makes you say that?

Her necklace.

That's what he took.

That's what made those marks on her neck.

The chain, as he tore it away.

We were occupied during the war.

There was a girl, young girl, daughter of one of our staff.

14, 15?

She wore a St. Christopher.

One of the soldiers, um...

Playing in the woods, I found her body.

The marks on her neck were like this.

I'm sorry, I have never told anyone that story before.

I, um...

I had forgotten it until I saw that.

I can't...

I can't imagine.

No.

You know, I think that's why I am drawn to the beautiful things in life.

(doorbell rings) Um... excuse me.

(footsteps retreating) (door opens, closes) Oh sorry, matey, I didn't realize you had company.

This is my colleague, Detective Sergeant Strange.

This is my friend Ludo-- Ludo, Strange.

Jim.

Ooh, see you've got the record out, then?

Can't go wrong.

So, how'd you know our Morse, then?

Oh, we were up at Oxford at the same time.

Oh, were you?

I've been up in Oxford with him the last five years.

Well, up and down.

(chuckles) Cowley for the most part.

Castle Gate now.

Do you mind if I borrowed him for a minute?

It's, uh... it's work.

Excuse us.

I've got a work address for this Tate girl Dr. Benford was due to see Friday night.

Thought you'd want to know.

In case it was important.

Right.

Well, that was all, I won't stop if you've got company.

Don't worry about seeing me out.

I know the way.

It's nice to meet you.

Anything from the TV people?

Nothing that won't keep.

(sighs) Look, I didn't like to say anything in front of your mate, but we've talked about this.

You can't be bringing work home.

Not evidence, you can't.

Orderly running of the office is my responsibility now.

Anything goes missing, it's my neck.

Just think on.

Have a good night.

(door opens, closes) It's about Dr. Benford, Miss Tate.

I thought it must be.

How's that?

Naomi said it'd be passed on to the police months ago.

Right after it happened.

What would?

What I told her.

About the girl on the towpath at New Year.

What did you tell her?

What I saw.

The man who did it.

You saw who killed Molly Andrews?

You were on the towpath that night?

No, not exactly.

What do you mean?

You said you saw who did it.

Yes, I did...

I...

In my head.

It was a vision.

Well, we're very grateful for your assistance, miss.

(scoffs) You don't believe me.

We're the police.

We need evidence.

Physical evidence.

He took her necklace, didn't he?

We're not at liberty...

Yes.

Why, what else did you see?

Did you see his face?

No.

But I felt him.

This... anger.

This hatred.

Something evil.

And the taste, I could... taste it in my mouth, on my tongue.

Taste what?

Blood.

Blood?

That's what she said, sir.

There was no blood.

Not at the scene.

Certainly none from Molly Andrews.

Is it possible, do you think?

This girl could literally have seen what passed on the towpath that night?

Well, I'm not one for macabre, sir.

(chair creaking) The way she described it all, maybe you'd have had to've been there, but she did seem sincere, if you're at all susceptible to that way of thinking.

Susceptible or not, she knew about the necklace.

Is that which caused the marks on Molly Andrews's neck.

The killer tore it from her.

A keepsake, perhaps?

And what of this television program that Dr. Benford was involved with?

Anything there?

I spoke to the producer, sir.

A chap called Ray Douglas.

(voiceover): Quite flamboyant, as is often the way with these people, but in his words Dr. Benford was a natural.

She had a... Yeah, here we are.

"She had a very easy rapport with the camera, "and the camera loved her.

"I think we knew as soon as we saw her, that we'd found our presenter for the 'Higher Maths' module."

Did they interview many people for the post?

"Audition."

Hundreds apparently.

Anyone with a half decent science degree in Oxford put in for it.

Including one or two from her own department.

I just went along to see what it was all about.

Didn't expect to get very far with it all.

(scoffs) I wasn't disappointed.

I think I knew at once that I wasn't the sort of thing that they were looking for.

That none of us were.

How's that?

Sex, isn't it?

That's what it's all about nowadays.

That's what sells-- sex appeal.

I mean, why bother hiring a fella who knows exactly what he's talking about when you can just put a big pair of knockers on the screen?

For an academic program?

For anything, my boy.

From soap suds to Japanese cars.

You see it at the motor show, at the boat show, in the papers now.

I mean it's not us blokes they've got sprawled over everything, showing the world what we've got, is it?

I think that's a bit unnecessary.

I won't have you talking smut about her anyway.

We were friends.

(derisive laugh) Friends!

Jeremy had a soft spot for her, didn't you, huh?

Well, soft-ish.

Asked her out the week she started, didn't you?

But she turned him down flat.

Shame.

You never mentioned.

I asked her out once, for a drink, She said no.

I mean she was under no obligation anyway.

I wasn't her type, clearly, and that's all there was to it.

Not her type?

You didn't have anything to offer her.

That's why you weren't her type.

No leg up, no leg over.

You want to wake up, man.

It's not a battle of the sexes-- it's war, mate.

And they've got the bazookas.

How's your poor little pea-shooter gonna compete with that?

I'll tell you, it's not.

(lighter clicks, flicks shut) (birds twittering) (ducks quacking) Sam!

What is it?

They're proceeding on the assumption that, what, the towpath killing and the murder of Dr. Benford are the work of the same hand?

Potentially, sir.

But in truth, there's very little to go on.

Her colleagues at work?

Only one of them has a solid alibi, sir-- Professor Blish.

At home with his wife.

Well, he denied Dr. Benford had mentioned the towpath killing to him; if he'd lie about that... Well, we've only really got Jenny Tate's word to go on, sir.

(phone ringing) You said Kreitsek had interviewed for this television post and had been turned down?

Something in that-- professional jealousy?

Mmm.

Ferman seemed rather bitter about it.

Put her getting the job down to her... natural advantages.

And Professor Blish.

What was his position with regard to Dr. Benford's part in these educational programs?

Far as we could make out, sir, he's none too keen on having women in his department at all.

Only had her there on sufferance.

Word just through from Birmingham, sir.

Petrovski, the bargee who passed through Braunston Junction in the early hours of January 1, collapsed on his boat yesterday afternoon near Gas Street Basin.

(water lapping, birds twittering) STRANGE: Apparently he died of alcohol poisoning.

Sister says he'd never hurt a fly but just couldn't resist a drink.

Yeah, the place is full of empties.

Look, I got a bone to pick with you.

Oh yeah?

I didn't think much to you hanging the old man out to dry.

I read the case files.

The first 48 hours of the Molly Andrews investigation were slipshod at best.

"Slipshod"?

Yeah, all right, shabby, then, if you'd sooner.

Poor record keeping.

Statements misfiled.

In short, it was a catalog of errors from start to finish.

We were short-handed, with the New Year.

You know Ainsley's rubbish on exhibits.

If you hadn't been on leave... Yeah, well, if people had done their job in the first place, then perhaps Naomi Benford might still be alive.

Anyway... Molly's boyfriend, Carl Sturgis?

I don't think so.

Is it hers?

MORSE: So you took her to the folk club in November.

She kept the tickets.

I really liked her.

All right, she was my kind of girl.

What kind's that, then?

Easy?

See, you're just like the tools I work with.

She wasn't easy, or a pushover, or any of the other names you'd call her.

Then... why didn't you tell us about your relationship with her?

You've heard them rib me at work over taking Naomi out.

If they'd found out I was seeing a barmaid, that would've been the end of me.

How would they have known?

She was a test subject, wasn't she, at the lab.

No latent potential for E.S.P.

whatsoever.

Well, a complete brick.

(soft chuckle) Don kept her on as a control group.

They thought it was funny, Don and Ferman.

They thought they'd have some sport with a thick barmaid.

Mind you she was making 30 bob every visit, so who had the last laugh there?

You were ashamed of her.

No.

I was willing to take her on.

Only you didn't.

Yeah, she was still with Carl.

Then why didn't she just drop him?

She was frightened to.

She was afraid of him.

And with good reason.

I mean, he got her in the end, didn't he?

That what you think?

Don't you?

I didn't tell you, did I?

The television people have been in touch.

Which television people?

About these lecture programs.

With what happened to Dr. Benford, they want me to talk to them about stepping into her role.

Is that something you want?

To be a-- oh, what do you call them-- a television personality?

(chuckling): No, not really.

I can't think of anything worse.

But they've asked and you never know.

Might be good for the department.

This Dr. Benford that the police were here about-- is there any news?

No.

No.

She must have been pretty.

How's that?

You never mention the pretty ones.

(scoffs) What nonsense you do talk.

I'm plain.

It must be very dull for you.

Now you're just fishing for compliments.

If I have not mentioned her, it's because I barely notice her.

You know, they are a general nuisance in the laboratory, but beyond that, they are invisible to me.

Dessert?

Prunes.

Oh, splendid.

And cold custard.

Tip top.

(birds twittering) (footsteps crunching) (whistling in distance) (people talking in background) STRANGE (voiceover): That Miss Tate telephoned.

She's had another one of her turns, and wanted to talk to somebody.

I'll give her a call.

I don't know if it's connected, but this was handed over from Nights.

Woman reported a fella exposing himself on the towpath not 200 yards from where Molly Andrews's body was found.

She says she heard someone whistling just before he jumped out at her.

I've got Identikit coming in, see if we can't get a description off her.

His face, obviously, not the, uh... Last turkey in the shop?

Hanging about the bushes half the night in all weathers on the off chance of a passerby to wave your doings at.

What'd they get out of it?

That's what I can never fathom.

Great relief to us all, sergeant, I'm sure.

You think that's what's happened at New Year?

He goes out flashing, and something's gone wrong between him and Molly Andrews?

I don't think it's about a man exposing himself on the towpath.

I think it's about a college type writing his telephone number on flashcards for a barmaid.

MORSE: Did Dr. Benford ever mention her private life?

JENNY: Not really.

What about a Dr. Kreitsek, did she ever mention him?

(Jenny gasps) It was here, wasn't it?

Where she died.

The... the girl from New Year.

When did you start having these-- what would you call them-- intuitions?

Um, when I was a little girl.

It was just little things.

Family things to start with.

My aunt had a car accident, and I knew about it before she'd told my mum.

Right.

Sorry, I don't wanna go down there.

The man from here, could he have anything to do with what happened to Dr. Benford?

I don't know.

(sighs) Look, it's like... being a radio that's left on, that's tuning through the frequencies, trying to find a station.

I can't always make sense of what I see until later.

Like with you.

Me?

Why, what about me?

There's a woman...

In a green dress.

And there's just a... sadness.

(soft chuckle) Does that mean anything to you?

THURSDAY: Jenny Tate confided to Dr. Benford about this vision or whatever it was.

And she, in turn, notified you.

I'm curious as to why you didn't bring this information to the police?

I really didn't think it was my place.

We only had Miss Tate's word to go on.

This vision did not take place under laboratory-controlled conditions.

We'd no way to know if it was genuine.

Or if she was just doing it for attention.

She could have just picked up on something she read in the papers.

You know, we're not in the vision business.

Not like that.

See, our experiments suggest that paranormal phenomena present in far less dramatic a fashion than she described.

You're not treating her claims with any degree of seriousness, are you?

There are certain details of the crime known only to ourselves and the perpetrator.

Miss Tate's insight, or vision, or whatever you want to call it, accords with those peculiarities to a degree which warrants us taking them very seriously indeed.

Oh, and what happened to Naomi?

Did, um, Miss Tate have a vision of what happened there?

Oh, that's a very good point, Dai.

They were quite close.

If this girl really had half the talent she pretends to, one might imagine she'd have some idea of who was responsible for Naomi's death.

If she had, professor, I'd hardly be at liberty to discuss it.

Certainly not with any of her colleagues.

(soft chuckle) Yeah.

Yeah, no, I'll be right over.

Thank you.

Could you cover for me?

Why?

Where you going?

Looks like Dr. Kreitsek wasn't lying about Molly Andrews.

She's here, all right.

With all the rest of the guinea pigs.

Professor Blish has signed off her expenses each visit.

Worth giving Carl another go, I think?

So Professor Blish uses a fountain pen?

Hmm?

You can tell by the signature on the time sheet, look.

The nib has become splayed.

That's what's giving it that double-vision look.

So?

I thought it was unusual for Dr. Benford to be using a pen like this.

This is Professor Blish's pen.

But we saw Blish sign a check for the butchers.

It was a silver pen, quite modern.

But didn't his wife give him a pen with the checkbook?

Bloke can have more than one pen.

(scribbling) He can... but this pen belonged to Professor Blish.

Look, the lines on the page are the exact same as the signature on the timesheets.

And that's the pen that was found under Dr. Benford's body?

Which means it must have landed before she fell.

Why kill Molly Andrews though?

You think he was knocking her off?

Only one way to find out.

Just one or two formalities I wanted to go through with you.

I'm taking care of Dr. Benford's subjects now.

(clears throat) You spoke to the police, I believe?

Uh... yes, yes, I did.

About Dr. Benford.

Yes.

And I told her about my... uh... what I saw on the towpath.

And did you talk to them about anything else?

Anyone here, say?

Like who?

Well... you remember that little conversation I had with Dr. Benford?

You were both laughing-- do you remember?

On the staircase.

(women laughing) (voiceover): Perhaps I seemed a little funny.

What... (voiceover): A little cross, heavy... What's funny?

(laughing) Nothing.

Oh, really?

It seemed quite funny.

No, no, I assure you.

Do you?

Well, then I am assured, aren't I?

(exhales) (both chuckle, footsteps descending) Did you mention that at all?

(soft chuckle) No.

No.

Well, that's good.

(cries out) (struggled screaming) (grunting) (gasping for breath) (door opens) THURSDAY: Strange!

(ragged breathing, grunting) THURSDAY: You're all right.

You're all right.

You okay?

(panting) (people talking in background, siren blaring in distance) MORSE: So, did Molly Andrews threaten to expose what was going on between you to your wife?

Is that why you killed her?

Square.

MORSE (voiceover): She was blackmailing you, so you strangled her the way you tried to strangle Jenny Tate.

What?

Molly?

I...

I don't know what you're talking about.

What happened between me and Naomi was nothing to do with anything else.

No more lies, professor.

You'll never breathe free air again.

Why don't you come clean?

Get it off your chest.

You must have hated her with a passion.

Hate Naomi?

I didn't hate her.

Quite the opposite.

I had feelings for her.

And she gave me reason to believe they were reciprocated.

(voiceover): You know, it's... it's little things.

Shy glances held a moment too long.

Young woman like that, what would she want with an old stick like you?

Oh, you don't know.

You've no conception.

An older man has... experience, wisdom.

BENFORD: Donald, I'm...

I'm flattered, but...

I thought... You gave me a reason to believe you felt something for me.

I-I gave you no reason.

You took my arm.

What?

In the common room.

Did I?

(scoffs) I suppose you'll put it round the college now.

You can all have a... you can all have a jolly good laugh.

Well, I'm telling you now, I won't be laughed at.

I won't!

I...

I...

I wouldn't.

I respect you too much to ever laugh.

She had a lovely laugh.

That's one of the things that first drew me to her.

But, I mean, when you think about it it was her fault.

That's what set the whole thing in motion, the end of it.

(exhales) (paper rustling) Donald.

(scoffs) I gave you a chance.

Here.

To make something of yourself.

I give you a chance and... you used me.

Used you how?

You know, I am infinitely more qualified for that television thing than you.

It was me first mentioned your name to them.

I thought you might make a good assistant.

That's what this is about?

Your bruised ego?

A woman beat you to the job, and you can't stand it.

(scoffs) You're pathetic.

Where do you think you're going?

I'm going home, Donald.

You'll stay here until I'm finished with you!

I just want a kiss.

No!

No!

Kiss me.

What are you doing?

Get off me!

I would have changed my life... burned all this to the ground!

Please.

Please!

Please!

(screaming) (loud thud) She could have been something, you know?

Really been something.

She was more than something.

She was someone.

Is that how it went with Molly Andrews?

You became fixated with her, the same way you were fixated on Dr. Benford?

Did she reject your unwanted advances in the same way?

Is that why you killed her?

(glass clinking, pouring liquid) (knocking) I'm off.

Drink?

Um...

I won't this evening.

You were right, then.

And I was wrong.

It wasn't the boyfriend.

(exhales) Well, don't feel too bad about it.

Sometimes you can't see what's staring you in the face.

We got there in the end.

That's the main thing.

See you tomorrow.

(people talking in background) You made it!

(soft chuckle) How's the case?

Did you get your man?

Yeah, it looks that way.

Congratulations.

(chuckles) Thank you.

Say, this is quite the place.

Let me get you a top up.

Sure.

Now make yourself at home.

Enjoy the garden, relax, I'll find you and you can tell me all about it.

(people talking and laughing in background) Cheers!

Cheers!

(glasses clinking) My wife's been having these people round.

Faith healers they call themselves.

They perform this... "laying on of hands" they call it.

Touching her body while prayers are said.

She says it won't work unless one believes.

Do you believe?

Well, I can't say I've ever had much use for it in civilian life outside of court, of course.

We weren't Bible raised.

Can it work, do you think?

Beyond me, sir.

For some people... believing's enough.

What they say?

"Faith can move mountains."

If it gives her comfort.

Yes.

Yes!

That's... that's the important thing-- comfort, hope.

But I worry, do you see?

What if there is a chance it can work and my want of faith... (people talking and laughing in background) (water rushing) (exhales) (soft chuckle) Morse.

Come and meet my wife.

(birds squawking) (inhaling, exhaling) (blade sings) (body thuds) THURSDAY: We found a man dead-- murdered.

GORMAN: If the police can't keep the streets safe, no wonder people take it into their own hands.

Sounds like a threat.

Life, death-- it's all a roll of the dice, Morse.

STRANGE: How could someone do that to another human being?

Tell me you don't want me.

I can't save you.

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