Endeavour

It's a long way to drive to kill someone, innit?

STRANGE: Down the lane a ways there's a naturist camp, for nudists.

That's not just blood on his collar, that's lipstick.

Jealous husband?

THURSDAY: Or wife.

(gun fires) MAX: You seem to be making a habit of collecting these.

MORSE: Two shootings in two days by two different killers, that hardly seems likely, does it?

THURSDAY: What happened to you this morning?

Oh, I'm sorry, I missed the alarm.

BRIGHT: You need to find them, Thursday, and fast.

(thunder claps) (whimpers) (click) Hello there.

Paradise Court, please.

Paradise Court, coming right up.

Madam.

Thank you.

(woman vocalizing) Hello.

(chuckles) (engine revs) (engine revs) (women vocalizing) (tires squeal) Hey!

What are you doing?

(women vocalizing) (talking indistinctly) (talking indistinctly) (talking indistinctly) (engine revs) Thank you.

Enjoy your stay.

Bye.

Mr. and Mrs. Appleby, I presume.

That's us.

Welcome to paradise!

BAZ: Oh, very nice.

Thank you.

JONES (chuckles): Good, good, good, good.

Come, come, follow me.

(woman vocalizing) Good night.

Oh, yes, good night.

And, uh, thank you.

(car door opens) (door shuts) (brakes squeak) (engine idling) (gunshot echoes) (dramatic classical music playing) (music continues) (knock at door) There you are!

It's a wonder you hear anything with that racket.

Well, don't just stand gawping, fetch my bags in.

And don't give him too much of a tip.

I'm sure he brought us the long way round, and found every pothole along the way!

Clytemnestra's a friend of yours, is she?

Relative.

My stepmother.

My condolences.

Talk about a backseat driver.

It was too fast, too slow.

The cab was too hot.

Yes, that sounds about right.

Well, I can take it from here.

How much do I, um... Let me just check.

With the excess, that'll be... 75 of your new English pence.

Here you go, take 80.

(coins jangling) Think of it as danger money.

Ta very much.

(cases moving) Get it all in?

Just about.

Just make sure you put it somewhere safe.

The rest arrives tomorrow.

The rest?

Well, didn't you get my letter?

I've sold the house and bought a place in Eynsham.

Joyce has got herself engaged to some man she's living in sin with at Witney.

Oh, she never mentioned.

Well, who's to blame for that, if you don't keep in touch?

Keith Garrett, his name is.

Couldn't you stay with them?

Do you think I'd be here if I could?

They're abroad.

Until Wednesday.

Unmarried, and both in the same room.

Huh!

It's not right.

Well, what about a hotel?

Oh, you'll be all right on the sofa for a couple of nights.

I mean, I don't like it any more than you do.

It's only till I take possession.

When's that?

There is no need to ask in that tone.

I am not one of your interrogation suspects.

Monday.

But you don't have to worry about me.

I don't expect to be looked after.

Huh!

You won't even know I'm here!

STRANGE: If you could give your statement to my colleague over here.

Looks to be robbery.

Wallet's empty.

Dudley Lunn, according to the Speedy Cabs office.

42, married.

Uniform's notifying his wife now.

Paperboy came upon the car just after 6: 00.

Doctor.

(camera shutter clicks) Do we know how long he's been there?

MAX: Rigor well established, which, as well as making my labors more difficult, suggests he's been dead about 12 hours.

Are we sure about that?

Time of death?

The glass on his watch is cracked, and the hands are set to ten to 7:00.

Then the watch stopped ticking several hours before Mr. Lunn did.

The body doesn't lie, Morse.

Myself notwithstanding, it's the only impartial, reliable witness to any suspicious death.

So ten-ish last night, then.

MAX: Hm.

MAX: By my reckoning, yes.

Single shot to the back of the skull.

Point blank range.

Exit wound just above the left eye, as you can see.

Bullet strikes the windscreen, drops onto the dash.

Et... ...voil!

Looks to be a .22, but it has taken quite a battering.

Be able to give you the def gen after the postmortem.

Shall we say half past 2: 00?

That's late for you, Doctor.

Steak and kidney at the Eagle.

I wouldn't want to rush that dissection.

Cabbie's about as easy a mark as it gets.

They have to go out with a decent float, and it only get bigger as the shift goes on.

There was a driver a couple of weeks ago on our old ground got put in hospital.

Pistol-whipped.

From what he could remember, the suspect was bearded, dark-haired.

Speedy Cabs again?

No, A to B Cars, out of Cowley.

It's a long way to drive to kill someone, innit?

MORSE: Eh, private, though, no witnesses.

Well, that's fine as far as it goes, but if he kills his ride, how's he gonna get back?

Maybe he didn't have to.

Carry on down the lane a ways, there's a place called Paradise Court.

Some sort of naturist camp.

For nudists.

That's where the paperboy was for.

MORSE: What've you got there?

A piece of old tissue?

All right, matey, don't rub it in.

Haven't all got your eye.

Just thought it might've been something is all.

THURSDAY: Best bag it in any case.

We'll talk to the family and have a word with his work.

If you wanna see if anyone heard anything up at that... place?

(car door opens) (door shuts) ANN: When he didn't come home, I thought maybe he'd had a long fare, you know?

Somebody might want him to take them to Grimsby, or anywhere you care to think of.

I did say that to the constables who came by earlier.

Thought they'd have written it down in their notebook or somewhere, but they didn't.

Afraid that's our job, Mrs. Lunn.

I'm sorry to have to ask, but all was well at home, was it?

Oh, yes.

Ours was a very happy marriage.

Fenella will be heartbroke.

She's out playing right now, but she idolizes her father.

You will tell Pauline, will you, or have I got to do that?

MORSE: Who's Pauline?

He was married before.

She lives in Headington.

There's a kiddie, a boy.

She'll have to be told.

And she won't thank me for it, will she?

I think it's probably better coming from you.

Good afternoon, sir.

Luggage in the car, is it?

No, it's, um... First visit.

Well, there's no need to be nervous.

No need at all.

Now, I don't think we've any reservation down for today.

But we've plenty of vacancies.

The season hasn't really got going yet.

I'm a policeman.

And I'm a former major with the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders.

But the naturist world takes us as it finds us, Mr... Detective Sergeant Strange, Thames Valley.

And I'm not here for a frolic in the altogether, Major... Jones.

(Jones clears throat) If I could have everyone's attention for a moment.

This is... Detective Sergeant Strange, Thames Valley.

If you wouldn't mind putting something on while I talk to you.

Thank you.

Now, I must ask if any of you saw or heard anything unusual last night.

JONES: I did say, Sergeant, with the music from the luau... Like a gunshot, you mean?

Perhaps, Miss... Appleby.

Alison Appleby-- Mrs.

I thought it was a car backfiring.

Barry Appleby, Baz.

STRANGE: What time would that have been?

The guests all turn their watches in upon arrival as part of the process of getting back to nature.

ALISON: That's true, but I heard the church clock chime 10:00 shortly after.

Right.

No need to go to all that trouble, Mrs. Lunn.

It's no trouble.

And Pauline, please.

I only get called Mrs. Lunn by solicitors or the Social, or up at Mark's school.

Cowley Secondary Modern?

I thought I recognized the uniform.

My two went there.

PAULINE: Oh, yeah?

When was that?

THURSDAY (exhales): Long time past.

The youngest, my boy, is in the Army now, out in Ireland.

And my daughter, well, she's with the Welfare, looking after kids.

I probably know her.

Mark's got into trouble once or twice.

He's not a bad boy, he just misses his dad.

Oh.

God knows what this will do to him.

I'm sorry for asking, but, uh, you are divorced, I take it.

Oh, yeah.

Four years last February.

Ann is the official Mrs. Lunn now, I'm... Well, I don't know what you'd call it.

What would it be?

The Dowager Mrs. Lunn?

He gambled, did he?

Gambled?

(chuckles): If it had four legs, he couldn't throw money after it fast enough.

That and, well... You've met her.

How did he meet the second Mrs. Lunn?

Oh, didn't she say?

She worked in the cab office.

On the radio, handing out the jobs, started there.

They usually fizzled out, only he got her in the family way, and, well... You said "they usually."

With Dudley, it was four legs good, two legs better.

I tried to keep it from Mark as best I could, but children pick up on things, don't they?

(gun fires) (gun fires) (gun fires) IFAN: All right, then, see you back at base.

Four-five, four-five.

Pick-up, 52 Festive Avenue going to Headington.

On account to Mr. Benn.

(static buzzes) No, it's just awful news, awful.

You heard about what happened to the driver from A to B Cars, presumably.

Oh, the fellas've been talking about nothing else.

You hope it's just a one-off, but now this?

Puts the fear of God in everyone.

(telephone ringing) Oh, sorry about this.

Got to answer it, usually we've a girl, but it's her afternoon off.

Speedy Cabs, how can I help you?

Hello?

(dial tone buzzing) (groans) Oh, yeah, that's my Siwan.

Or Joan, she'd be in English.

Though most everybody calls her Birdie.

Fy nghyw bach.

Always singing 'round the house, she is.

Like a cock linnet, beautiful.

You got kids?

Yeah, two as it happens.

(phone rings) Speedy Cabs, how can I help you?

Um, yeah, what time would you like that for?

Ah, our pleasure.

Thank you, now.

Goodbye.

(hangs up) Did you give him a job to Hovelle Wood last night?

Paradise Court, perhaps.

(gasps): That's where it happened, is it?

Uh, no, um, well, the last dispatch I had for, for Dudley was, oh, let me see now, it's all in here, see.

Oh, yeah, yeah, here it is, look, uh, 5:18, pick up, Summertown to Beaufort.

Dr. Hu.

(chuckles): Oriental studies.

Old boy, one of our regulars.

There's nothing after that?

Well, if there was, it didn't come from me.

Oh, I had a word with the boys.

Couple of the lads said he was on the rank at Cowley East last night.

Do you want some tanning butter?

No.

You don't want to burn.

Where'd you get to last night?

I woke up and you weren't there.

Call of nature.

You were ever such a long time.

Yes, well, I couldn't find it.

Maybe I should've said, that we'd just come by taxi.

You don't think it was our driver, do you?

No, why would it be?

He dropped us off at 7: 30.

You said yourself, you heard the gunshot around 10:00, if that's what you did hear.

He's hardly likely to hang around at the top of the lane all that time.

Was it the top of the lane?

Oh, I don't know, do I?

I'm just guessing.

Anyway, you don't want to get involved.

I wish that man would go and clip his privets elsewhere.

Staring!

8:30, quarter to 9:00?

Something like that's about the last time we saw him.

Wouldn't you say, Brian?

Yeah, that's right.

Dudley was at the, uh, top of the rank waiting for a fare.

Did you see who got in the cab?

No.

Did either of you have a job out to Hovelle Wood last night?

Hovelle Wood?

MORSE: Mm-hmm.

No, sir, no.

JOE: All right, fellas?

What's all this?

BRIAN: The police, Joe.

It's about Dudley.

Dudley?

What about him?

CLARRY: You haven't heard?

Oh, my!

He's been murdered, Mr... (stammers): North, Joe North.

Here, don't I... Yeah, uh, Mr. North dropped a fare at my house this morning, sir-- Detective Sergeant Morse.

Detective Chief Inspector Thursday.

So, what happened?

Not another guy like this fella with A to B?

We're keeping an open mind, but it looks that way.

JOE: Here, Clarry, you're up, look.

Oh.

If you'll excuse me, officers.

Certainly, Mr. Haynes.

He was keen on the horses, I understand.

Oh, yes.

(chuckles) He was always touching one of us up for a couple of quid to put on the gee-gees.

MORSE: Right.

And he liked women, too, I hear.

JOE: Well, crumpet in and out the back of the cab all day.

Can't blame him, can you?

Well, if anything else should cross your mind, you know where to find us.

I can confirm that the bullet which killed Mr. Lunn was a .22.

I've passed it to ballistics for a full analysis.

Small caliber.

A woman's gun, perhaps?

Ruth Ellis fired a .38, of course.

She did, but it wasn't hers.

You're not gonna wanna keep a Smith & Wesson in your handbag along with your compact, are you?

Anything else?

Nothing to suggest any kind of struggle for the weapon.

He very likely had no inkling he was about to die.

The Ostrich Fanciers Club?

Never heard of it.

No address, but there is a telephone number on the back.

I'll see if we can get a reverse trace.

What would he have had in his wallet?

Ten, 15, 20 pounds?

Would you kill someone for that?

I've seen people killed for less.

What're you saying?

That emptying the wallet was a blind?

Well, unless I'm much mistaken, that's not just blood on his collar, that's lipstick.

No, if you could keep Fenella with you, and I'll fetch her on the way back.

They're sending a car for me to go and do the identifying.

I know!

I can't believe it myself.

(giggles) I don't know what I'm going to do for a tea.

He was something of a womanizer, according to his mates, and the first Mrs. Lunn.

Indeed.

Morse noted a smudge of bright red lipstick on his collar.

Another woman, then.

Jealous husband, perhaps?

Or wife, sir, or wife.

RECEPTIONIST (over phone): We've over 20,000 people on the site.

Without a name, I'm afraid I can't help you.

Right, understood, well, thank you very much.

Sorry to have troubled you.

STRANGE: I've conducted some odd interviews in my time, matey, but, stone me, this morning's go takes the Garibaldi.

What's this?

Paradise Court.

STRANGE: The nudie place.

Couple there think they'd heard a gunshot.

A Mr. and Mrs. Appleby.

Only they took it to be a car backfiring, just before 10:00.

Lunn picks his fare up outside the station between 8:45 and 9:00, gets toward the Hovelle Wood area between 9:45, 10:00.

That works, more or less.

STRANGE: Must have been somebody who knows Paradise Court, then.

Get anywhere with the Ostrich Fanciers Club?

Oh, no.

There's nothing on record in Oxford.

Nothing in the phone book.

And the number just gets you the BLMC switchboard, but without a name... (television playing in background) (footsteps approaching) MORSE: Just going out.

You just got in.

What about tea?

Well, there's, uh, there's cheese in the fridge, and bread in the bin.

I take it I've to see for myself, then.

Well, you found your way to the drinks cabinet all right.

Can't imagine the pantry will long prove terra incognita.

Oh, yes.

Always the Latin.

Must come in very handy consorting with the criminal classes.

(chuckles) I expect this is one of yours, is it?

Taxi drivers murdered in nudist camps!

People running around with no clothes on, hm!

It's squalid.

And you grubbing around in it by way of a living.

I can't imagine what your dad would say.

Well, not much, if he was running true to form.

Still, being the son of a cabbie may have its practical use for once.

Cabbie?!

Your father was a private hire chauffeur.

(chuckles) He drove the Aga Khan!

Once!

He was a taxi driver.

(sighs) Gotta drag us down, haven't you?

Belittle him.

Make him look small.

I can't imagine your father and this dead man have a thing in common.

Well, there's the horses, our dead man liked to gamble.

There's nothing wrong with that.

A lot of men like a flutter.

Oh, and he left his wife and child for another woman that he'd, um, what's the polite phrase?

"Put in the family way"?

So there's that, I suppose.

Don't wait up.

You haven't seen my husband, have you, Major?

I appear to have lost him.

He asked me to call him a cab.

About an hour ago.

Did he say when he'd be back?

I'm afraid not, Mrs. Appleby.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

MAHONEY: The body of Christ.

MAN: Amen.

The body of Christ.

Amen.

(crow cawing) The body of Christ.

Whoa, whoa...

It's Mark, isn't it?

Mark Lunn.

(cocks pistol) I'm, I'm Detective Sergeant Morse.

I'm investigating what happened to your father.

You're lying.

No, I'm not, let me, let me show you my warrant card.

Every police officer has to have a warrant card to prove he is who he says he is-- look.

Take a look.

What are you doing here?

They come back to the scene of the crime.

Murderers, I've read about it.

Where'd you get the gun?

My dad gave it to me.

He gave it to me for rabbits.

My dad gave me a gun once.

For my birthday.

That was for rabbits, too.

Can I take a look?

Swap.

(emptying barrel) Hey!

You're too young to be in possession of a firearm.

And it's not for you to find out who killed your father, no matter how much you might want to.

I'm staking out the scene of the crime, just in case he comes back.

No, you're not, you're going home.

And I'm taking you.

I know you want to help, but this isn't the way.

Jump in the car.

(birds chirping) (bell ringing) (brake engages) (doorbell buzzes) She won't be a minute, if you wanna come up.

No, no, you're all right, I'll, uh, I'll wait here.

Is it, um... Yeah.

Oh, yeah.

I forgot to say about gloves.

Asked someone who'd been to one.

Didn't want to let the side down.

You couldn't.

Should we... Yeah, yeah, of course.

I got you these.

Thank you.

Shall we?

Let me get you the door.

Thanks.

STRANGE: Mind your dress.

(laughs) Don't you look a picture?

(car door opens) Shall we, squire?

Let's.

(engine starts) (brake engages) I thought if I got a better report he might come back.

How do you mean?

From school.

I got a bad report and he was cross about it.

Then he went and lived with his new family.

But, well, that was just a coincidence.

That wasn't your fault.

Your mum and dad getting divorced had nothing to do with anything that you said, or did, or didn't do, or say, do you understand?

He was a good dad.

Yeah, I'm sure, I'm sure.

He'd let me help at the garage sometimes when he was working on the cab.

Yeah?

Did you enjoy that?

Can I have my gun back?

No, uh, you can't.

It's, it's illegal, I'm afraid.

You're just as likely to hurt yourself with it as someone else, so, I'll keep hold of it until you're old enough, all right?

Now go on, go in.

Give your mum a hug, tell her you love her.

(door opens) (door shuts) (sighs) Good night.

Can I see?

Oh, certainly.

It's amazing.

You're very welcome to it.

You mean it?

I, I could keep it?

By all means, if you'd like it.

Could you sign it?

Oh.

Now... How's that?

R. Bright.

What does the R stand for?

Reginald.

I'm Lynn.

Lynn Parry.

Miss Parry, how do you do?

Lynn.

MAN: Mr. and Mrs. Denby.

Mr. and Mrs. Cameron.

Brother Strange and Miss Joan Thursday.

Worshipful Master.

MAYNARD: Brother Strange.

What a beautiful dress.

You're very kind.

Not at all, it's really gorgeous.

Thank you.

I hope you have a lovely evening.

We will, I'm sure.

MAN: Mr. and Mrs. Stubbings.

(cash register dings) And the winner of two tickets to see the Carpenters at the Royal Albert Hall is... (whispering inaudibly) Mr. James Strange and Miss Joan Thursday!

(guests applauding) Cheers.

(doorbell buzzes) (sirens blare in distance) Some of us are trying to sleep.

Oh, good evening.

Never mind "good evening."

What do you want?

I'm looking for Miss Thursday.

Well, she's out.

Out?

Some bloke in an evening suit and a private car.

Oh.

Was there a message?

No.

No, no message.

(band playing) SINGER: She hasn't got a halo Or any wings that I can see There we are.

Thank you.

All right?

(exhales): So far, so good.

I didn't say anything that was... Hm, no.

No, not at all, you were brilliant.

SINGER: She's the one who's there for me So what's this all about, then, Jim?

Well, it's kind of expected, isn't it, in my line?

Not many of us went to the right kind of school, so this is the next best thing.

Old Boy Network.

If you like.

There's no harm in it.

The way people go on, you'd think it was all black magic and sacrificing virgins.

But... Somewhere in amongst all that, somehow, we manage to do a lot of good work for charity.

(song continues) SINGER: Starlight wonder Did you want to, uh...?

Why not?

Thank you.

Allow me.

SINGER: Starlight wonder Starlight wonder Won't you fall in love, in love with me Yeah Starlight wonder, starlight wonder Don't you know, know, know I love you so Starlight wonder (song ends) (vehicle approaching) (horn honks) (car hits Morse, tires screech) (Morse groaning) Hey!

Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?

I could've killed you!

(groans) Oh...

Officer, you okay?

(mutters) Come on, sir, come on, let me help you.

(mumbling) (grunting) (groaning) You okay?

Yeah, I just tripped and missed, missed my footing a little bit.

That could have happened to anyone.

Which way you going?

(mumbles) Look, let Clarry take you home safe, sir, come on.

The car there, sir, come, come.

(Morse mumbling) You scared the life out of me, man.

(groans) (radio playing) (brake engages, door closes) JOAN (chuckles): Thank you.

(exhales) Well, listen....

Thanks for helping me out tonight.

You're welcome.

Right.

Night, then.

Night.

Blimey.

Won't wash me face for a week now.

(laughs) What was that for?

A lovely evening.

Go on, in you go.

Oh, listen, don't feel like you've got to come to the Carpenters if it's not your kind...

Excuse me, we won, didn't we?

Yeah, but... A night out in London?

I'm not gonna turn that down.

(chuckles) She does have a lovely voice.

Yeah, she does.

Right, then, good night.

Good night.

(chuckles) (lock turning) (bell ringing in distance) (lock turns, bell stops) Whoa.

Nice bit of crumpet.

She's not crumpet.

She's a smart, bright, independent young woman.

You'll remember it if you're looking for a tip next time.

Whatever you say, squire.

(engine starts) (radio playing) (woman vocalizing) (brake engages) You all right now?

Yep.

(sighs) Thanks for the lift.

(door closes) Oh, that's right, I've gotta... (keys jangling) (church door closes) Father Francis Mahoney, 56.

MORSE: Who found him?

STRANGE: His housekeeper, a Mrs. Walsh.

She brought him up a cup of tea to his room at the rectory, only to find his bed hadn't been slept in.

So, she came in here to look for him.

She doesn't live in, then?

Goes home of an evening after he's had his tea, then comes in first thing to see to his breakfast.

(camera shutter clicks) Looks to be another robbery, in any event.

Wallet's open and empty on the floor of the confessional.

THURSDAY: Anything, Doctor?

I'm afraid Father Mahoney got rather more of an earful than he was expecting.

Shot through the screen.

Body temperature and rigor suggests he joined the choir invisible about 14 to 16 hours ago.

That makes it sometime after last night's 7:00 mass.

MORSE: Doesn't confession happen before mass?

Unless it's prearranged with the priest.

MAX: No exit wound this time, so caliber will have to wait on the PM.

Might we remove the body?

THURSDAY: Of course, Doctor, by any means.

Very well, then, shall we say 2:00?

What would a taxi driver and a priest have in common that would be of interest to the same killer?

Until we have forensics on the bullet, we don't know they were.

What, two shootings in two days by two different killers?

That hardly seems likely, does it?

I went back to Cowley East, talked to the station staff last night.

Waitress at the caf said a cleric had been in the night Lunn was killed, hanging about over his coffee.

Mahoney?

One dog collar's much like another.

We'll see if there's any photos of him up at the rectory, and you can run it past her.

Right.

She also said there was a young woman, blonde, 20s, kept watching the cab rank.

Get going with door to door.

We'll brace the housekeeper.

Sir.

What happened to you this morning?

Oh, I'm sorry, I, uh, I missed the alarm.

That shirt looks like you slept in it.

Well, my stepmother's staying with me until she moves into a place in Eynsham.

I'm on the sofa, it's not ideal.

Still no excuse for a grubby shirt.

Slovenly dress leads to a slovenly mind.

If more connects these cases than robbery, then I'll need you to earn your keep.

I wasn't completely idle last night.

I went back to where Lunn was shot.

Almost went the same way myself.

His son was lying in wait in case the killer returned to the scene.

You mean he was armed?

Yeah, a .22 pistol.

Same as did for his old man.

Don't worry, I took it off him and then drove him home.

But while I was there, I found part of a metal canister on the verge by where the taxi was parked.

What sort of canister?

Couldn't say.

I'd intended to take it to this naturist camp, but with the boy on board...

Pass it to forensics for prints along with the pistol for comparison testing.

THURSDAY: You want to come down?

No, you're all right.

Mrs. Walsh said it would be right to carry on.

Well, I'm saying it's not.

So if you don't get down here and give your details to my sergeant, you'll have my foot up your arse.

Come on, Pops, don't be uptight, I've got a rota.

If I don't do 'em now, it'll put me all out.

I'll put you all out if you don't get down that ladder.

All right, all right.

keep your hat on.

(door opens) (grunting) Blimey, what's the matter with him?

Ain't he getting any?

Name, address, and date of birth, please.

Lee Timothy.

Three, Sidings, Jericho, 12th of October 1950.

When was the last time you saw Father Mahoney?

Six weeks.

Last time I did his windows.

Did he ever mention any trouble he was having?

Any difficulties with his parishioners?

To his window cleaner?

No.

Right.

Funny enough, I did hear him have a bit of a ding-dong last I was here.

I was aloft doing the window, and he was having a right old go at someone in the front bedroom, top bay.

Did you hear what he was saying, or see who he was talking to?

No, not who was with him, but I saw a trilby on the hall table.

Little orange feather in the band.

Too racy for the Father.

What time was this?

Early doors.

Right, well, I think that will be all for now, Mr. Timothy, thank you.

If we need anything else, we'll be in touch.

MRS. WALSH: His ministry'd taken him all over.

He'd been a padre in the war, I think, and a prison chaplain, too.

Did he have any family that you know of?

Had a half-brother come by from time to time.

Donal.

But things weren't all that good between them.

No?

How's that?

He turned up every few months like the proverbial bad penny.

After money from the Father.

I told him I thought he was taking advantage.

But Father said, "Am I not my brother's keeper, Roisin?

Am I not my brother's keeper?"

(birds chirping, people talking in background) Afternoon, Mrs. Appleby.

Afternoon.

Baz!

Where the hell've you been?

I've been going out of my mind.

It's not a big deal.

I just had to get away.

From me?!

No, from here.

It was just for an hour or two.

Baz, you've been gone all night.

Where did you go?

A pub in town.

An old haunt from when I was an undergrad.

I had too much to drink and passed out on Christchurch Meadow.

But I'm back now.

And I'll try and make a go of it.

You don't have to.

We can just go.

No, I'd like to, really.

I'll get over my hang-ups and... We've paid for the week.

Let's just try and enjoy it, yes?

(drawer opens) Anything from Lippy?

No, nothing much.

Well, other than he overheard Mahoney arguing with someone in his bedroom the last time he was here.

Man or woman?

He couldn't say.

Though he did see a trilby through the window with an orange feather.

Not Mahoney's, so presumably a man.

Could be his half-brother Donal.

Well, there's a, there's a "call D" in his diary.

And his last appointment is confession, 8:00 p.m., ringed and underlined.

Kept by his killer, presumably.

Mm.

(door closing in distance) The fruit of my labor.

.22-- same caliber as did for Mr. Lunn.

By your leave, I'll pass it to forensic ballistics for comparison, see if we have a match.

Well, I can't imagine we've too many robbers going round Oxford knocking people off with a .22 pistol.

Three feathers.

That was on Lunn's membership card, wasn't it?

Mm, the Ostrich Fanciers Club.

"From the boys on D Wing, Wandsworth."

His housekeeper said he was a prison chaplain.

It's a funny robbery that leaves a pocket watch.

And it's smashed again.

Two broken timepieces.

The killer's motif, perhaps?

Do you still think it was just a robbery?

3:50.

So, what's he after?

Trying to fix a false time to give himself an alibi, maybe?

Well, if that's his purpose, it's pretty redundant.

We know from Dr. DeBryn and from his appointment book that Father Mahoney was shot at 8:00.

Well, whatever it means, I'd better get back and brief Mr.

Bright.

Two deaths in as many days isn't gonna go down well at Division.

You can bank on it.

Well, I'll get back to the rectory, see if there's anything that this fits.

There was a wardrobe that I couldn't get into.

Just make sure that nothing's been overlooked.

(lock turning) (siren blaring in distance) BRIGHT: Taxi driver, now a priest.

Anything to connect them?

We have no reason to believe the dead men were known to each other, sir.

Well, whoever's behind it, you need to find them, Thursday, and fast.

I've already had Division on.

If this is some lunatic murdering strangers at random for money, he's got 130,000 potential victims to choose from, and we've no way of knowing who's going to be next.

(pen clicks) (door slams) (footsteps approaching) Can't you wear a bell around your neck?

Sorry.

I've always been light of foot.

What're you doing skulking in there?

Looking for absolution?

It's too late for me, I'm past saving.

Never too late for the Almighty.

"Though your sins be as scarlet..." Did you know him?

What was he like?

(pen clicks) Whiskey priest.

They get that look sometimes, clergy, that over-the-shoulder, hunted cast to the eye, as if they'll be discovered in their doubt.

You mean he lost his faith?

Well, there's a lot of it about.

(pen clicks) You ever heard of the Ostrich Fanciers Club?

No, that's new to me.

Where is it?

MORSE: I don't know, I'm not even sure what kind of club it is.

DOROTHEA: I can ask around.

(projector clicking) STRANGE: Aye, aye-- what's this, then?

Magic lantern show?

In a manner of speaking.

Oh!

Blimey.

THURSDAY: Morse found a bunch of them in a wardrobe up the rectory.

All right, Morse.

We get the general idea.

(projector stops) Pornography?

That's not Oxford business, that's London business.

Well, if it's run up the A40, makes it everybody's business.

I've got an old colleague in the Dirty Squad, I'll see if he can shed any light.

STRANGE: Well, it wasn't Father Mahoney at the station cafe.

I showed his photo to the waitress.

She said it was another fella.

Hello, hello, that's, uh, a Masonic apron.

Yeah, we know.

It was with the blue films in the bag.

Well, it couldn't've been Father Mahoney's.

The pope stuck a ban on Romans joining the Brotherhood nearly 200 years back.

THURSDAY: His brother Donal, maybe?

He sounds like a wrong 'un.

MORSE: Sir.

These canisters.

JONES: Tin can, you say?

Well, you find all sorts in hedgerows.

No, it was half a canister.

May have contained eight-millimeter film stock.

Well, we have a film show once a week for the guests.

We've a small library of them, but they're all 16-mil.

The couple that heard the shot, Major, Mr. and Mrs. Appleby, when did they arrive?

Friday evening.

We gave them their flower garlands by way of a welcome.

I asked if they wanted to dine, but they were very tired and wanted to get straight to bed.

We didn't see them again till morning.

We were going to drive up, but then we thought, well, if we really are going to get back to nature, we ought to take the train and get a cab.

And can you describe the driver?

The driver?

Mm-hmm.

Oh, yes.

THURSDAY: You lied to us.

Turns out you were the one who dropped the Applebys at Paradise Court the same night as the murder.

I can see I should have mentioned it, but I've had a lot on my mind.

My wife's been sick, sir.

Back and forth to the doctor.

I'm sorry to hear it.

And where were you last night?

Well, now, sir, you know where I was.

I had a little accident with the officer, but I made sure he was all right and took him home.

Before that.

Oh...

I had fares all over.

Anything take you near St. Agnes?

No, sir, I don't, I don't believe it did.

And was everything all right between you and Mr. Lunn?

Me and Dudley?

Yeah.

Yeah, sure.

We was good friends, you know.

Ask any of the men on the rank.

No money worries or anything?

It's just I found this marker in the back of your cab last night.

It's an IOU for �25, back of a Speedy Cabs card.

It's signed by Mr. Lunn.

Oh, now, that, see, sir, that, that was just a little private matter between us.

Besides, Dudley paid all of that back a long time ago.

THURSDAY: In my experience, Mr. Haynes, when a debt is paid, the marker's returned to the debtor.

Else destroyed.

Also, �25, what's that?

A week's wages or more.

Well, sir, we all put a little bit by for a rainy day, don't we?

But you can see why we're finding it difficult to believe that you being out at Paradise Court on the same night that a man who owes you money is shot dead is something that might just slip your mind.

Look.

Maybe I should've said something, but I didn't want to get involved in that kind of trouble.

Murder trouble, you know.

I'm just a taxi driver.

I mind my business.

Mr. and Mrs. Maynard, good afternoon.

MAYNARD: Good afternoon.

Thank you.

Farewell, my dear.

Have a lovely trip.

Thank you.

See you in a few days, darling.

I'll get the door for you.

(birds chirping) Now, here's your coat.

Thank you, drive safely.

Will do.

Right, to the station, then.

(engine starts) (projector starts) GWEN: Well, if this is what you get up to living here by yourself, no wonder you can't get a decent girl to look at you.

It's evidence.

(exhales) In a murder case.

There's more to the world than you find in "Reveille," Gwen.

And you'd know all about it, I'm sure.

Because you went to Oxford.

But you didn't finish it, though, did you?

Ha!

GWEN: For all your books and your poetry and your snooty music, you failed.

Yep, yep.

I failed.

I should've stayed at home and drove a taxi like my father, and then got one of the local girls knocked up.

Then you could look down your nose at me, and all would be well in your tiny little world.

You were always a strange one.

Close and private.

Filled with your sweaty little secrets.

You were a disappointment to him.

So you said.

A big disappointment.

So you said.

I didn't kill her.

What?

I didn't give her cancer.

And you can't blame me all your life.

I've got work to do.

Goodnight, Gwen.

(projector starts) (lighter clicks) We took you in.

(birds twittering) THURSDAY: It's Lunn?

You're sure?

It's definitely him.

He's in two or three of the pictures.

That's his connection to Father Mahoney.

Lunn's a performer in these blue films, which...

There's no need to clam up on my account.

(phone ringing) Oh, I'll get it.

I was in Blackpool with the A.T.S.

for two years during the war.

There was this man, and he kept asking me if he could measure my feet.

(chuckles) I know it takes all sorts, but there we go.

(laughs) You're looking tired.

Just work.

You must look after yourself.

We all think a lot of you, you know.

I'm sorry you've had a bad go.

Right.

Well... Come home safe, Dad.

Morse.

That was the factory.

(brakes squeaking, parking brake engages) (car door closes) (camera shutter clicks) He's the Worshipful Master at my lodge.

Commodore Maynard, Harry Maynard.

(camera shutter clicks) I only saw him the night before last at the, uh, the lodge.

Who found him?

Beat constable.

Anonymous tip-off.

Next door thought they heard a pistol crack about 9: 00 last night.

That would chime with the grandfather.

Morning, gentlemen.

THURSDAY: Doctor.

Oh, yes.

That does look nasty.

You seem to be making a habit of collecting these, Chief Inspector.

Shot?

In the back of the head at point blank range would be my first impression.

Three in as many days.

Oh, and I think his wife has just arrived by taxi.

Good heavens, it's... Detective Sergeant Strange, Mrs. Maynard.

If we could speak inside.

Where've you come from?

The station.

Picked her up from here and dropped her there last night.

What time was this?

Uh, quarter to 6:00, something like that.

She'd booked a return for half-nine this morning.

IFAN (on radio): Four-seven, four-seven.

Look, can I go now?

I've got a pick-up in Headington.

Brian's not turned in and Ifan's doing his nut.

No, I'd like you to give this officer a formal statement, and then you can leave.

Go on.

You okay?

Three shootings in a week?

Shh...

Here.

What's this?

It's your Ostrich Fanciers Club.

One of the classified ads boys recognized the name.

MORSE: "The glamour of exotic rare birds."

DOROTHEA: Mm-hmm.

"Films, one pound.

"Send a stamped, addressed envelope "to the Ostrich Fanciers Club, The Rectory, 12 Cloisters Walk, Oxon."

Exotic rare birds?

For the one in the hand brigade, I fancy, rather than the two in the bush contingent.

Ah, right, well...

Happy to be of personal service.

(chuckles): Thank you.

(birds chirping) We understand he was involved in the Masonic Order, is that right?

(voice trembling): He was in charge of the lodge.

(sobs): We only had our ladies' night this week.

He was so proud.

MORSE: Mrs. Maynard, does the Ostrich Fanciers Club mean anything to you?

No.

Nothing at all-- should it?

Oh, now, that's a shame.

MORSE: The clock's broken, sir.

And it always kept such good time.

Harry wouldn't've had it in the house otherwise.

Sir.

There are two indentations in the flower bed, spaced about a foot apart.

I think I know who made the tip-off call.

A ladder, you mean?

Well, if Acacia Avenue is on Lee Timothy's round, I can quite understand why he wouldn't want to be found at the scene of a murder two days running.

STRANGE: What's all that about Maynard's carriage clock?

Change of the time seems to be the killer's calling card, though God knows why.

What do you think, Morse?

I've, I've seen this room before.

What, been here, you mean?

This is the room where Dudley Lunn's blue film was shot.

But you can see why I didn't want to get involved.

Two people dead on the round in two days could play havoc on my goodwill.

I'm Squeegee Lee, not Typhoid Mary.

How well did you know the Maynards?

They're customers.

I clean the windows, they pay me.

That's it.

And where were you last night at 9: 00?

Meeting my bird, wasn't I?

She works of an evening, part-time.

Gets off about 10: 00, then I walk her home.

So, no one can vouch for your movements last night at 9:00?

Not when you put it like that.

No.

Right.

(phone ringing) (ringing continues) Morse.

Ah, Morse.

I was hoping for a few words with DCI Thursday.

He's gone to London, sir.

Looking for a lead on this Ostrich Fanciers Club.

We think Father Mahoney's step-brother Donal might be involved.

This smutty films case.

Wretched business.

Very well, keep me apprised of any developments-- carry on.

Sir.

(hangs up) Ah, matey, glad I caught you.

Got this woman being knocked about by her husband.

Uniform would like us to take a statement.

Can you deal?

(exhales) Well, it's that or watching DeBryn rooting around Maynard's brain pan at the postmortem.

I thought you'd sooner the frail.

(phone ringing in distance) PATTY: I won't press charges.

It's my fault-- I provoked him.

There's nothing you could've done that'd warrant this.

I met somebody.

I went with him.

And your husband found out?

And who was he, this other man?

I don't want him getting in any trouble.

Please, Mrs. Grady.

(sighs) It's Dudley-- Dudley Lunn.

(sniffles) (sobbing) Where can I find your husband?

He's at a place called Paradise Court, but I don't want to press any charges.

Mrs. Grady?

Joan Thursday, welfare officer.

You don't have to talk to Detective Sergeant Morse if you don't want to.

I told him I don't want to press charges.

Please.

Well, then, that should be enough.

Thank you, officer.

Well, if you change your mind, you can find me at Castle Gate.

(speaking inaudibly) (birds cawing in distance) You sure about Grady?

I'm not sure, no.

But it's a bit of a coincidence that his wife's lover's killed on a country lane not far from where he works.

Good evening.

We're looking for your groundsman, Del Grady.

We've tried his home, to no avail.

(Alison screaming in distance) (wailing): No!

No!

(sobbing) STRANGE: Some sort of Peeping Tom?

MORSE: A groundsman at a naturist camp?

It's hard to imagine a position that affords greater opportunity for voyeurism.

Anything out of the ordinary, Doc?

All too ordinary, I'm afraid.

The postmortem may say otherwise, but at first glance, there's nothing to say it's other than it looks.

Suicide.

For the coroner to decide, of course, but there's a strong smell of liquor about the corpus.

Alcohol taken to excess is a notorious depressant, and we rarely make wise choices when inebriated.

Anyway, uh, shall we say nine of the clock?

Mm, Doctor.

Morse.

(birds cawing in distance) So...

Puts his wife in hospital, then does for himself in a fit of remorse, then.

Or it's what he did to Lunn and the others that just pushed him over the edge.

I could see Lunn.

If he was carrying on with Mrs. Grady.

But where's your motive for Father Mahoney and Commodore Maynard?

They can't've been seeing her, too.

I'll get on for a search warrant, but unless Grady has a .22 pistol at home, we're gonna have to look elsewhere for a killer.

(exhales): It was just a mistake.

A silly, youthful indiscretion.

Did you meet him the other night, down by the lane?

Only my colleague found a paper flower out by where Lunn's taxi was parked, and I know that you and your wife were given Hawaiian garlands the evening you arrived.

I just wanted to clear the air.

To make plain that whatever youthful indiscretion had taken place belonged in the past.

I'm a married man now, and so was Del.

Well, he was, but far less happy than you.

How did he take that?

Not well.

He was trapped in a marriage with someone he didn't care for.

He'd only gone through with it because it was expected of him, and to please his family.

So that's where you were when you heard the gunshot.

And rather than having to answer any awkward questions about what you both were doing there, you agreed to keep quiet about it.

Del begged me to meet him in town the following evening to finish our talk.

I'm afraid I left him with no illusions.

Or hope.

(glasses clinking in next room) Does Mrs. Appleby know about your, um, "youthful indiscretion"?

(sighs) No, of course not.

Right, well, thank you.

We'll be in touch if we need any more information.

(rain pattering) (people talking, shouting, horns honking in distance) (knocking) (siren blaring in distance) (men talking loudly in background) (door opens, bell dings) (door closes) I'm after "Dinner for Three."

(door opens, bell dings) Outside!

All of you.

(door closes firmly) I know you've been a long time out of the smoke, Fred, but it's still manners to pay your respects when you come on somebody else's patch.

Didn't want to bother you, Len.

No bother.

And it's Commander Dury these days.

Mm.

For what it's worth.

You've been talking to Ches Finch.

Well, we were probationers together, at Cable Street.

The Dirty Squad falls under my eye these days.

What's your interest?

A murder with a link to blue films sold by a firm called the Ostrich Fanciers Club.

How it is, Fred.... We've got it just how the upstairs like it: nice and quiet, no trouble.

Sure.

D.I.

Nesbitt and DS Sneed'll put the word out.

If it's some interloper, you can have 'im.

If not... Tell them they're looking for a (muted)hawk in a trilby with an orange feather.

About your size.

When'd you blackmail Mahoney?

When he was prison chaplain at Wandsworth?

What'd you have on him?

Boys, was it?

The flesh is weak.

So you put the squeeze on, he fronts up your racket beyond the smoke, from time to time, you drop by, posing as his half-brother Donal to keep an eye on proceedings.

Is there a real Donal?

Or was that just for someone who might ask questions?

Like his housekeeper, for instance.

I could hardly show her my warrant card, could I?

What happened, Len?

You were a good thief-taker once.

None of us as clean as we'd like the world to think, eh?

Well...

The priest is dead now, whoever did for him.

The way I read it, I've got three men dead, all connected to your little caper.

Maybe someone's decided to put you out of business.

Be seeing you.

Fred.

Your card's marked.

For old times.

Don't come back.

What you do in your sewer is your concern.

You can be king of the (muted)heap, for all it means to me.

But you set foot on my ground again, you'll all swing.

I don't care whose coat you're carrying.

(exhales) (keys jingling) (sighs) (knock at door) Ah, Morse.

Sir.

Developments?

Some, sir-- I think we can rule out the passenger that Lunn picked up at the station.

How so?

Oh, may I offer you... Mm...

Yes, a whiskey, if I may.

(glass set on cabinet) What's this?

What?

Oh!

Well, it's just a... Just a hobby.

These are very good, sir.

Oh, thank you.

Clearing out my wife's clothes, I found my old watercolor box at the back of the wardrobe.

You were saying?

(bottle set on cabinet) Ah, yes.

She appears to have been his mistress.

He dropped her at home at 20 past 9: 00 to a beating from her husband.

Who is she?

Oh, yes, Miss Parry.

Life model at the art school.

Yes, she's quite striking, isn't she?

Cheers.

(birds chirping) (knocking) Miss Parry.

Yes.

(siren blaring in distance) MORSE: And what time would that have been?

IFAN: Oh, well, I finished about 9:00.

MORSE: Ah, good morning, sir.

Sir, do you remember Mr. Roberts, the dispatcher from Speedy Cabs?

He's very kindly offered to come in and help us out with a statement this morning.

A statement?

Just a small matter concerning timings.

Mr. Roberts, can you tell us, what time did you give Joe North the job to pick up Mrs. Maynard from her house?

Mid-afternoon?

Half past 3: 00, 4:00?

Right.

And was that over the telephone or... No, he popped into the office.

Most of the fellas do around that time, you know, if they're slack.

MORSE: And Speedy Cabs, they sponsor a table at Commodore Maynard's lodge charity nights.

Is that right?

Oh, yes.

Now, would Joe North have ever gone to those events?

(chuckling): Oh, we've all been to one or two of those.

Joe included.

You don't think he's involved, do you?

No, not Joe.

(stammering): Why, I, I can't believe it.

MORSE: Sir.

Do you remember that we found Commodore Maynard's body in front of the grandfather clock?

The key was on the floor next to him.

Glass door was open so he could wind it.

Exactly.

His wife told us he always wound the clocks at 9: 00.

Right.

So we've been lucky insofar as we've been able to establish at what time each of the murders took place.

(gun fires, glass shatters) MORSE: Dudley Lunn just before 10:00, Father Mahoney at 8:00, and Commodore Maynard at 9:00.

Which tells us that the killer changed the time on a watch or clock at each of the scene of crimes.

So, at 10:00, he changed Dudley Lunn's watch to 6:50.

At 8: 00, he changed Father Mahoney's pocket watch to 3:50.

And at 9: 00, he changed Commodore Maynard's carriage clock to 3:10.

Now, we thought that he was trying to just supply himself with a false alibi.

But it's actually far, far simpler than that.

If you say so.

The actual time is immaterial.

It's the position of the hands on the clock that's important.

To use the terminology that was drilled into us in Signals, 6:50-- left hand down, right hand high.

3:50-- left hand out, right hand high.

3:10-- left hand out, right hand across high.

Semaphore?

Exactly.

Mine's a bit rusty, but "C.Y.W."?

Y.W., yes.

C.Y.W.?

Doesn't mean anything.

No, well, it's a puzzle, isn't it?

Ah, Miss Parry.

(voice trembling): Fy nghyw bach.

(exhales) Cyw?

Thank you, Miss Parry, for coming in to confirm what you'd confided in me earlier.

Constable, if you can escort her to the canteen, I'll see you in a moment.

Yes, of course, sir, you're right.

"C.Y.W."

doesn't mean anything.

In English.

But in Welsh-- and perhaps you can help me with my pronunciation here-- cyw is a term of endearment.

Means "chick."

Now, you said to us, "This is Siwan.

"Joan she'd be, in English.

But most people call her Birdie."

Yes?

So she was, to everyone else.

But to me, fy nghyw bach.

My little chick.

Cyw.

MORSE: I recognized her from Chief Superintendent Bright's sketch pad, sir.

Although she now calls herself Lynn Parry, after her mother's maiden name.

She's also the blonde in the blue films made with Dudley Lunn.

Ifan Roberts, I'm arresting you for the murder of Dudley Lunn, Father Mahoney, and Commodore Maynard.

Presumably you watched Lunn for a long time.

Planning, waiting for your moment.

You knew he was knocking off Patty Grady, and you knew that Mr. Grady worked at Paradise Court.

I watched it all for a month, on and off.

Nobody notices taxis.

Get behind the wheel of a cab, and you might as well be invisible.

But we see everything.

(chuckles): The pathetic secrets.

The carrying on.

All of it.

As a dispatcher, you were perfectly placed to send Lunn on a non-existent job to Hovelle Wood, where you would be waiting for him.

Ifan?

What's, what's... (pistol cocking) (breathes deeply) (stammering): What, what's this about?

(breath shuddering) See what you did, Dudley?

To my Siwan?

Eh?

Tell me who else is involved!

(sobbing): No one.

Tell me!

THURSDAY: You probably told him he'd live if he gave you what you wanted.

(gun fires, glass shatters) How did you discover your daughter was involved?

Oh, I see.

Of course.

You'd become a member of the Ostrich Fanciers Club.

You'd ordered some of the films.

You saw her.

I knew her at once.

(breath trembling) She was my little girl.

(crying): Fy nghyw bach.

(whispering): Fy nghyw bach.

(breath shuddering) LYNN: He was just a name on a card twice a year.

"Love, Dad."

"Dad," what does that even mean?

I barely remember him.

Perhaps, but he never forgot you.

Yeah, well, maybe it would have been better for everyone if he had.

Something far easier said than done for any father.

(sighing): What can you think of me?

I think you're an intelligent, sensitive young woman who fell amongst scoundrels.

Any shame is on their side.

Not yours.

Thank you.

(birds twittering) (bell tolling) (people talking in background) Four-five, four-five-- pickup, 98B Chestnut Way, New Hinkley.

Going to... (over radio): ...North Oxford Lawn Tennis Club.

Passenger, Miss Carlitt.

Yeah, roger, Clarry, on way.

(engine starts) I should've tumbled.

Crossed flags on his arm?

The badge of a Naval signalman.

And what of the graffiti?

Micah 5: 15.

Ah.

"And I will execute vengeance with anger and fury upon the heathen, such as they have not heard."

He did it in her name-- can't say I blame him.

If it'd been my daughter... Ah, but it never would be.

Could happen to anyone, given the right circumstances.

They're all somebody's daughter.

Somebody's mother, sister.

They all mean something to someone.

Or did once.

And now because of to the Ostrich Fanciers Club, they mean nothing to anyone.

Except to us.

They mean something to us.

To me, at least.

I'd've said to you, too, once.

Well, I'm not the fool I was.

I quite liked that fool.

(chuckles) He hoped for the best in people.

Surely, it's better to see things as they are.

People make bad choices, they have to pay the consequences.

What about pity?

Understanding?

Where does that fit into the picture?

I'm not here to kiss the wounded.

I'm here to make sure justice gets done.

The rest I can leave to the likes of Father Mahoney, for all the good it did him.

Well...

Surely you know best.

Another beer?

Or are you bitter enough?

(chuckles): No, I won't.

Something on tonight.

We're who we are, Morse.

Our nature.

We can try to escape it, but it'll find us out in the end.

A man's what he is, whether he likes it or not.

(lighter opens and clicks) (click) Morse not with you this morning?

No, he's rung in sick.

He's not been himself for quite some time.

(bus thuds) MORSE: Is everyone all right?

BLAKE: So, this is where it all happened, the massacre.

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