Coda

This is Masterpiece Mystery!

THURSDAY: Word is the Matthews brothers have been planning something big.

MAN: You coming for us, are you, Fred?

Then you better come carrying.

All right, nobody move, this is a robbery!

THURSDAY: Where's Morse?

BRIGHT: I don't know-- can't get hold of him.

If anything happens, give this to your father.

Never bet against a man with nothing to lose.

What are we gonna do?

"Endeavour," tonight on Masterpiece Mystery!

(thunder) (whimpering) (click) (bell tolling) Received.

(indistinct radio transmissions) Received.

MAN (on radio): Cortege is just pulling away towards the chapel, over.

Received.

Roger and out.

Eyes down for a full house.

They're about to enter the chapel, over.

Bit of discretion, Charlie.

This isn't the Eights Week Dinner Dance.

Good turnout.

MAN: The Lord is My Shepherd.

Two and three.

Twenty-three.

Gandhi's breakfast.

Ate nothing.

(women laughing) Eighty.

(phone buzzes) MAN (on phone): Prepare the payroll for Clissold Fashions, please.

At once, sir.

Where do you think you're going?

It's a free country.

You people.

Have some respect.

You have four hours.

Turn your papers over... ...and begin.

Five and two.

Danny La Roo.

Fifty-two.

Christmas cake?

WOMAN: Good morning, sir.

(two knocks at door) (door opens) The payroll for Clissold Fashion, sir.

Thank you, Gidderton.

Just leave it on the desk, would you?

(thunder) Ah, the gang's all here, then.

Oxford's finest.

Tommy Thompson.

Bernie Waters.

Who's the long streak with the blonde?

Peter Matthews, Sr.

The house-trained half of the Matthews Brothers.

Breakers Yard Matthews Brothers?

Out Abingdon way?

"Scrap Metal Dealers of Repute."

The one on the right with the dark glasses, that's Cole.

The older brother.

Ah, they're all villains.

The whole Matthews family.

STRANGE: Miss Frazil.

THURSDAY: Friends or family?

The king is dead.

Long live the king.

Harry Rose was a lot of things, but royalty wasn't one of them.

Nature abhors a vacuum.

Afternoon, Mr. Clissold.

Late today.

I thought you'd forgotten us.

It's a lunch hour, Miss Thursday.

Sorry, Mr. Fordyce.

I'll make it up.

Indeed you will, Miss Thursday.

This is a bank, not a social club.

Miss Frazil's got a point-- with Harry Rose gone, the jockeying for top dog could get nasty.

Hello, matey.

Back already?

Finished early.

Pretty straightforward, isn't it?

You checked your answers?

Twice.

(coughing) MORSE: How'd it go?

Ah, you know what they say about funerals.

Always someone catches his death.

(phone rings) Morse.

Gentlemen.

Cedric Clissold.

Late of Clissold Fashions.

There were two to the chest.

Shots heard about an hour ago, which would appear to give a fairly reliable time of death.

Be able to give you caliber once I've had a root about.

Looks to be a wages snatch, sir.

£2,000, according to Mrs. Abbott.

She's come out from the factory.

Mr. Clissold always collected the payroll on a Wednesday.

From where?

Wessex on Cross Street.

Joan's branch, isn't it?

THURSDAY: Witnesses?

One of the neighbors heard a shot, took it for a car backfiring.

Next of kin?

He was widowed.

No other family to speak of.

Keep on with the door-to-door.

Yes, sir.

Well, that didn't take long.

Harry Rose barely cold.

It's just awful.

Mr. Clissold was a valued customer of long standing.

He seemed his usual self, did he?

Nothing out of the ordinary?

No.

Not at all.

It was a perfectly straightforward transaction, the same as always.

How was his business?

He was facing stiff competition from Far East imports and recently had to lay off a quarter of his workers.

Money troubles?

Anything more from Mrs. Abbott?

Well, she was asking after an order book, some sort of carbon pad he used for work.

Forensics didn't pick up anything like that, did they?

Not so far as I know.

"Mucky Beth."

"Moaning Becomes Electra."

Good grief!

"Hedda Gobbler."

Only in Oxford.

Mm.

(door opens with a squeak) We're shut.

Yeah, looks it.

You got an afternoon license?

This is a private members club.

Nice bit of work today.

Oh, yeah?

What's that then?

Wages snatch in Holywell Street.

We're all right for a comic, ta.

Always looking for strippers, though.

What do you reckon, Pete?

Fred Thursday in G-string and pasties?

(men laughing) Don't talk with your mouth full, Cole.

Makes you look simple.

Where were you, then, this afternoon?

You know where we were.

Harry Rose's wake.

And later?

I took a bath.

Anyone confirm that?

Yeah.

Me.

And where were you, at the plug end?

Drop it, drop it!

THURSDAY: Drop it!

Drop it, you snide cow-son!

Drop it!

Or it'll be your neck and Cole's parole, right there.

Any ideas you've got about taking over Harry Rose's pitch, think again.

You're on notice.

Coming for us, are you, Fred?

Then you'd better come carrying.

Count on... (coughing) Sounds nasty.

Yeah, I heard you got plugged.

Lung shot, wasn't it?

(coughing) You want to cut down on the pipe.

Two bullets, .38 caliber.

Same as you've got rattling around.

Thanks for the reminder.

What have I missed?

Sunday night at the London Palladium, by the look of you.

Anything from his work?

Um, seems to have been pretty well liked, so far as I could make out.

But nobody could tell me much about his personal life.

Private sort?

"Secretive" was the word used by more than one of his colleagues.

Obsessively so.

And maybe not without cause.

There was a box in the boot of his car filled with stag films.

Nature studies?

Not an antler in sight, I'm afraid.

Well, I'll leave you to your... whatever it is.

Doctor'll fill you in on the rest.

Sergeant.

Oh, and I shan't need you in the morning.

Make my own way in.

(door opens and closes) What did I miss?

Not much.

In general good health for a man of his age.

No disease.

You didn't happen to open his jacket to get to his chest, did you?

No, it was like that when I arrived.

The robber takes £2,000, but then hangs about to pinch his wallet?

Actually, the wallet was in the back pocket of his trousers.

On the side with the rest of his personal effects.

Huh.

There wasn't a pad with this lot, was there?

His work were asking.

What came in is what's there, as always.

What about his final meal?

Bit gastric for you, isn't it?

Wouldn't happen to be chicken meat and sweet corn soup, by any chance?

Saveloy and chips.

You're sure?

Alimentary, my dear Morse.

Why?

He's got a Chinese take-away menu here.

Bamboo House on the Marston Road.

Oh, that closed.

Years ago.

Now... what's this about a sergeant's exam?

Pastures new?

How's that?

There's not going to be room for two sergeants at Cowley, is there?

(car starts up) Poor Mr. Clissold.

I can't believe I only saw him this afternoon.

You didn't notice anyone out of the ordinary hanging round the street?

(phone rings) I'll get it.

I thought you'd already made a statement.

I have.

To Jim Strange.

WIN: Well, then.

There's no need to go on about it at home.

Especially on Sam's last night.

People remember things.

For me, is it?

SAM: No, it's for Joanie.

Who for Joan?

Some fella.

He have a name?

I didn't ask.

Call yourself a copper's son?

Hello?

(indistinct voice on phone) (playing chamber music) Morse?

Oh, Dr. Lorimer.

I thought it was you.

This is a surprise, I must say.

I never thought to see you again.

Are you in Oxford?

For a few years now.

I'm a policeman at Cowley.

A detective constable.

Although I sat my sergeant's exam this morning.

Flying colors await, I'm sure.

You were a good student.

You mean I was the only one who didn't mind running down the High to put a bet on for you.

What did you have me get you?

Twenty Guards, a quart of blended, and five bob on anything offering threes or better.

"All my sins remembered."

(bell rings) Well, "We have heard the chimes at midnight."

Once or twice, yes.

Well, it was good to see you.

And you.

Enjoy the second half.

Thank you.

Come and see me.

Yes, um, well, I'll telephone.

Tomorrow?

Tomorrow.

10:00?

You remember the way?

Uh, yes.

Tomorrow, then.

WIN: I made you a round, for the coach.

Cheese and pickle.

Come here, then.

Cheer-oh, Fatty.

(laughs) Jump to it.

(door closes) Just a few bob for the NAAFI.

Best find your seat.

(coughs) Watch that cough.

Dad...

I'm fine.

A creaking gate hangs longest.

(indistinct announcement over P.A.

system) Right, on you get.

Sam!

Don't volunteer for anything.

Thought I said I'd make my own way in today.

I forgot.

Come on, Larry, shake a leg.

THURSDAY: Stay in the car.

Any tips this morning, Bernie?

Oh, it's you, Mr. Thursday.

You'd do worse than "Make Mine Mink."

2:30 at Newmarket.

Oh, I was hoping for something closer to home.

You know, this wages snatch on Holywell Street.

Clissold Fashions.

(groans) Who's the favorite on that?

Oh, I, I can't, Mr. Thursday!

Surprise yourself.

Stick or twist?

Stick or...?

(groans) All right, all right, all right.

Cole and Peter Matthews have been planning something big.

But that's all I know.

THURSDAY: Wasn't too hard, was it?

BERNIE: I don't want no come-back.

You know what Cole's like.

Between you and me.

Thanks for the steer, Bernie.

(groaning) Funny, that never came up in the sergeant's exam.

What didn't?

Knocking informants around until you get what you want.

Not everything's in Fitton's.

Is that how we do things now?

This isn't tea on the master's lawn.

Clissold's the first move in a turf war.

Says who?

Me.

It's got the Matthews Brothers written all over it and we need to put it down, and put it down hard.

I need a bagman I can stand on, someone who's not afraid to get their hands dirty.

So anytime it gets too salty, you just say.

Here.

You said you'd make your own way in.

(coughing) Ah... good.

Come round.

Found me all right, then?

Well, the gillyflowers.

Ah, yes, always.

Um, sherry?

Mm, thank you.

They say you know you're getting older when policemen start to look younger, but I think in my case, it's undergrads.

Coming through the quad there, it's hard to believe I was ever here at all.

It's funny.

Seeing you through the window, you had the same look on your face the first time I ever saw you.

What look's that?

Oh... nervous, shy.

Uh... hopeful.

Yes, I suppose I was.

All of those things.

Frightened, mostly.

That's my abiding memory.

Of what?

Of being found out.

Found wanting.

Not for a moment.

A Congratulatory First was yours for the asking.

If I'd known one had but to ask.

And you're keeping well?

Oh, yes, yes.

I'm chair on the Greats Examination Board now, but one year rolls into the next.

The last I heard, you were getting married.

Is that right?

Yes, yes.

And you, did you ever...?

Oh, no.

I've work and, um... Well, work, mostly.

Rewarding, I expect.

It has its moments.

Ah, Thursday!

Wages snatch, sir.

Word is the Matthews Brothers have been planning something big.

What's this?

Thursday, this is Detective Superintendent Crowthorn and Detective Sergeant Craig from the complaints bureau.

They'd like to talk to you.

I was very sorry to see you go.

Been a fellow by now, if you'd stayed the course.

I really...

I must be off.

Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?

You didn't invite me back just to kick through the leaves.

It's Nina, my wife.

I'm... concerned for her safety.

She's... that is, we are living apart.

Have been for some time.

I'm here, and she's got the house in Summertown.

Um, what do you expect me to do with this?

Just hear me out.

She's become involved with this... type.

Paul Marlock.

Works at the Royal.

Some bingo hall in Cobb Street.

Anyway... (sighs) Now she wants a divorce.

Right.

But you've no real grounds to think she's in any danger?

I thought perhaps you might be able to look into it.

Into this Marlock.

You have the means, presumably.

I'm a police officer, not a private inquiry agent.

If you want my advice, you'd let it go.

(scoffs) Let it go.

Christ.

You know, I can still recall your exact words the first time you saw her.

I can see it now as clear as day.

You came in, sat down just there, and said... "I've just seen an angel crossing Carfax."

"A brown-eyed blonde with the reddest lips you ever saw."

That last term, you were a thing altogether pitiable.

Now, there's no fool like an old fool, I know.

Good afternoon.

Hello.

I didn't think you were coming.

How's that?

You're not Mr. Kitteridge?

The estate agent?

No.

No, I'm here to view.

You?

They gave me the key at the office, said to drop it back after I'd had a look around.

They've obviously double-booked us.

Hey, we could see it together.

All right.

Morse.

Miss...?

Burton.

Nina.

Well, shall we?

My boyfriend is meeting me.

He should be here any minute.

Then you should be safe enough.

Have you just moved to the area?

I've been here awhile.

Yes, I've been here awhile too.

I'm in a pokey little basement flat right now.

What brought you to Oxford?

I just wanted to travel.

Me and a girlfriend got as far as Oxford.

Money ran out.

I got a job.

Doing what?

Just factory work.

Machinist.

Done all sorts since then.

Waitress...

I work in a florist's now.

What about your boyfriend?

What does he do?

You ask a lot of questions.

Ah, I was in market research.

Old habits.

He's in the entertainment business.

Well, that's what I tell people.

He's a bingo caller.

I wonder what's keeping him.

Actually, he's not coming.

No?

No, I just said that to... Well... to make sure you were all right.

I see.

And am I?

All right?

I think so.

Sorry.

Silly, I suppose.

No-- no, not at all.

He's already seen it.

He wants to put an offer in, but I wanted to look it over for myself first.

And does it pass muster?

I don't think so.

You?

Oh, I don't think it's for me.

Better luck next time.

(phones ringing) Where've you been?

In pursuit.

Of what?

An angel crossing Carfax.

I think I'm meant to leave wages snatches to the rough boys these days, aren't I?

Why?

What's up?

Complaints want to talk to you.

Suspended?

A couple of weeks' furlough.

Just until it's cleared up.

If Bernie Waters has made a complaint, someone's put him up to it.

(coughing) He hasn't got the brains to blow his own wig off.

As may be, but Division takes these things very seriously.

No one will question your past service, but there'll be no room in Thames Valley for... outdated methods.

"Paul Marlock."

I spoke to the coroner's men.

That workbook or pad of Clissold's?

It hadn't fallen out in the van.

In case you were still looking.

I was.

Thank you.

Glad to be of use.

(footsteps receding) Oh, uh... Trewlove.

Are you doing anything tonight?

After work.

MARLOCK: All the fours.

Droopy Drawers.

MARLOCK: Tickety-boo.

Sixty-two!

Five and nine.

PLAYERS: Brighton Line!

Oh, that's me!

House!

Here!

Ah, it appears we have a winner.

Dolores, will you check the card, please?

And while Dolores is doing that, we're just going to take a short ten-minute interval, after which we'll be playing for big money.

Hot in there.

Oh, yeah.

That's why I come out.

Catch some air.

You here with someone?

Yes, the, uh, bird.

She's bingo mad.

Was gonna say.

You don't get many blokes in here on their own.

You been at it long?

Six months.

Money for old rope.

And the tarts, of course.

Is that right?

Yeah, I got this one on the go at the minute.

Legs up to here.

And stacked, like Pete Murray's turntable.

So what's your line, then?

College?

That's right.

Thought so.

You look the type.

Just having a gasp, Tom.

Yeah, well, that's not what you're paid for!

Be lucky.

(indistinct conversation) Come on.

Really?

Mm-hmm.

Righto.

(tires squealing) LARRY: Nice wheels, Kenny.

(phone rings) Hello.

Hello.

I saw you down the Royal last night.

What were you doing at the bingo?

Well... (laughs) Work.

Oh.

Look, I don't know the ins and outs and it's probably not my place to say, but the caller... Paul Marlock.

I'd give him a wide berth, maybe.

You're right.

It's not your place to say.

(doorbell jangles) May I help... you?

Well, actually, Mrs. Lorimer, I'm hoping that I can help you.

Paul Marlock, your boyfriend.

He's a con-man.

You should drop him.

Did Felix put you up to this?

Well, you can tell him, better a con-man... than a... Than a... than a what?

My God, you've no idea, have you?

I think you should go.

Or do you want me to call the police?

I am the police.

Better a con-man than a what?

I think Felix killed someone.

A man called Clissold.

When I first come here, I worked at Clissold Fashions.

Clissold had me model the line for buyers just to make a bit of extra cash.

One of them said he had a friend in the film business.

That he could get me a try-out.

It sounded like fun.

Only wh... when I got there...

They weren't making Gone With the Wind.

It was just the once, and I told him I wouldn't do any more.

I left Clissold's and put it out of my mind and got on with my life, and I met Felix.

Everything was wonderful.

Then last year, he went to a party for one of his students who was getting married.

Had a bit of a film show, did they?

I begged him to let it go.

But he was terrified one of his colleagues might see it.

Decided to find out where it'd come from.

Which led him to Clissold.

But what makes you think he went so far as to kill him?

Felix told me he threatened Clissold.

That unless he destroyed the film and all the prints that he'd be sorry.

How did Clissold react?

He told Felix to get lost or he'd put his name to a list of customers he kept in a pad.

The one he used for work, I suppose.

I remember he was always very cagey about it.

Never let it out of his sight.

We didn't find anything like that on him.

Unless... Well, he had been to the bank the morning he was killed.

You think he might have left it there?

At the bank?

Would you recognize it?

Of course.

It's just a carbon pad.

Pick them up at any stationers.

Thank you.

For believing me.

I'm not sure that I do, altogether.

I'm not lying.

I'm not saying that you are.

You think what you think, but the Dr. Lorimer that I know wouldn't be capable of such a thing.

Oh, I looked into your Paul Marlock.

Well?

He's a fraudster, but there's nothing in his history which would lead me to believe that your wife is in any physical danger.

Out of interest, where were you Wednesday afternoon, between 2:00 and 3:00?

I had a lecture.

Why?

It's not important.

Just something your wife said.

You've seen Nina?

Something, isn't she?

Let it go.

For your own good.

That's rich, coming from you.

Well, that's all I came to say.

If you'll excuse me.

MAN: ...pursue it if I were you.

My ears and whiskers!

Is that young Morse I spy?

Oh... hello, Jerome.

Oh, um, run along now, Randall.

I shall be with you in two shakes.

Alas, I fancy, a lover of oysters.

For all my blandishments.

What are you doing cloister loitering?

Looking up old friends?

Felix Lorimer.

Ah.

Felix these days is chairman of the Greats examiners.

Oh, yes, I'd heard.

What had you heard?

That he hands out vivas like dolly mixtures?

Is this college gossip, or did he beat you to a place on the board?

That's neither here nor there.

It's about standards.

Let me tell you, I had of late the great misfortune to tutor the stroke in the Oxford boat last year, and a greater dullard may you never meet.

Yet somehow... somehow this bank manager's son, scarcely able to construct a sentence let alone a logical proposition, ended up with a first.

Of course, I imply no impropriety.

But what of you?

Oh, nothing to report.

I must be going.

Where might I find you?

I want to hear all your news.

Cowley Road Police Station.

I'm a detective with the City Police.

I've just spoke to the old man on the phone.

We need to have a shufti of the surveillance footage.

He wants us to see if we can get any more ground covered before Kidlington takes over.

Who's that?

Kenny Stone.

Car thief and sometime stock car racer.

Fancies himself another Jim Clarke.

Getaway driver, perhaps?

For Clissold.

I know Bernie Waters, but who's that with him?

Tommy Thompson.

No, no, to the right of Thompson.

Larry Nelson, small fry, runs around picking up crumbs after Pete Matthews.

That's Peter there.

Peter's wife Sheila.

Peter's wife doesn't seem too keen on the widow.

That's because Peter's knocking her off.

Larry Nelson's very solicitous of the wife.

Keeping in Peter's good books, isn't he?

He looks shifty to me.

Well, Larry just does what he's told.

Hm.

I wouldn't be so sure about that.

Cole and Peter about?

They've gone to see their mother.

She took poorly.

Looking after the place for a couple of hours.

We're looking for Larry Nelson.

Larry?

I wouldn't know.

Don't come that, Bernie.

Larry breaks wind, you know he's had one egg for breakfast or two.

MORSE: What's the story with Larry and Peter Matthews' wife?

Story?

They seem very close.

What do you mean?

Time like this, everything up in the air, man might try and break out on his own, wouldn't you think?

I couldn't say.

Well, you have plenty to say when it comes to putting the black on Inspector Thursday, though, eh?

Yeah, I've got rights!

Can't go round knocking people about like that.

(groaning) Your sort don't have rights, Bernie.

That's enough, that's enough!

You come for one of ours, I will skulldrag you, do you hear me?

All right!

If you see Larry, tell him we're looking for him!

(coughing) Don't ever do that again.

I'm questioning a suspect, I expect you to back me.

Questioning a suspect?

If you want to take a leaf out of Thursday's book, there's better places to start.

Look, let's get one thing straight, matey.

You don't tell me, I tell you, all right?

Job calls for brains, you'll be the first in the queue.

Something like this, leave it to those who've got the sand.

(scoffs) GIDDERTON: Morning, Mr. Fordyce.

Mr. Gidderton.

Weekend float's just pulled up.

Very good.

Tell them we'll open up the rear.

Morning, Joanie.

Morning.

Morning.

(doorbell rings) MORSE: What if it wasn't a wages snatch?

I've been talking to my old "Mods" tutor, Felix Lorimer.

His wife's got involved with a bingo caller from the Royal, Paul Marlock, a con-man and a fraudster.

The Royal's a front for the Matthews Brothers.

If Marlock's caught up with that lot... Well, the point is, when I warned her about him, she told me she suspected her husband of killing Clissold.

She's wrong-- he didn't.

How do you know?

He was giving a lecture at the time.

Those blue films I found in Clissold's boot.

Turns out Nina Lorimer had made one for him.

She told me Clissold kept a record of everyone he'd sold them to in some sort of note pad.

Now, if we can find that, maybe it'll prove one way or another who was involved.

I suppose she has an alibi, has she, for the time in question, Mrs. Lorimer?

Well, she works in a florist and she was there, so far as I know.

So far as you know?

Well, you watch how you go then.

Getting mixed up in other people's affairs seldom ends happily for anyone.

I know what I'm doing.

Do you?

I'm not the one currently suspended.

Was it worth it?

Bernie Waters.

Bernie Waters is up to something.

It wouldn't matter if he was or wasn't.

Sam going off to the army, this bullet you're carrying around.

You just wanted to hurt somebody.

Well, you won't have to worry picking up after me anymore, will you?

Your Sergeant's come through, you'll be off.

And maybe it's about time.

Everything in its season.

(sniffs) Mind how you go.

(door opens) (door closes) (sighs) This is a most unusual request.

Ordinarily, we'd require a judge's order.

Well, unfortunately, time is of the essence.

It may have a direct bearing on Mr. Clissold's murder.

That's Lonsdale, isn't it?

The young man in the photograph?

My son William.

He took a first in Greats last year.

Well spotted.

My old College.

Indeed!

My subject, too.

Under Felix Lorimer.

Ah.

Charming man.

(knock at door) Quite charming.

(door opens) Mr. Clissold's safety deposit box, sir.

I'll need a signature.

Of course.

And this.

Thank you, Gidderton.

Is that it?

It looks to be.

I have someone with me who could be able to verify it.

Morse?

People will say we're in love.

Small world.

But I wouldn't want to paint it.

Does it look familiar?

That's it!

All right, nobody move, this is a robbery!

Hands where I can see 'em.

She's going for the button!

Okay.

Stop!

Don't look at me!

(women shrieking) Do exactly as you're told and no one will get hurt.

Five minutes, it'll all be over.

Get on with it!

What are you waiting for?

Put the money in the bag!

You, where's the safe?

It's in here!

Right, come on then, with me.

You stay here!

Come on, I haven't got all day!

All right!

Move it!

(phone rings) C.I.D., Strange.

Right, get it open.

Open it up, come on.

Where is it?

Get it open.

Come on!

Move!

Get down there!

Don't look at me!

Come on.

Anonymous tip-off, sir.

There's a raid taking place at the Wessex Bank on Cross Street.

He's had his 20 minutes.

Excuse me, Madame?

Yes, sir, how can I help you?

MAN (on radio): All units from Information Room.

Sorry, sir, one moment.

MAN (on radio): Suspected robbery at Wessex Bank on Cross Street.

(gunshots) (screams) Down!

TREWLOVE: Clear the street!

Clear the street!

Come on, let's go!

Get on your feet!

Get on your feet!

Move!

Move it!

Move it!

It'll be okay, they're here now.

(sirens wailing) (tires screeching) Get back!

(guns cocking) Talk to me, Tommy, what's going on?

It's the kid.

He shot a copper.

He's done what?

He's done what?!

(indistinct radio chatter) Sir.

This is Chief Superintendent Reginald Bright of the City Police.

To whoever is inside the Wessex Bank, you are completely surrounded by armed officers.

Lay down your arms, and come out now with your hands up.

BRIGHT (loud speaker): I repeat.

You're completely surrounded.

Lay down your arms and come out with your hands above you head.

(quietly): Well, this is no bloody use.

Sir?

My name is Bright.

Let's not make things worse.

Put him down.

What?

Wait!

Who asked you?

Don't be so bloody stupid.

Stupid?!

Do I look stupid?

I'll show you who's stupid, shall I?!

I just meant if you gun down a senior police officer in cold blood, they'll hunt you to the ends of the earth.

That's all, that's all.

Tell him we want transport.

And safe passage, guaranteed.

We want a car and safe passage.

Guaranteed.

Or we start shooting.

I'm not sure that can be arranged.

You've got one hour.

Or one of this lot gets it.

Your choice.

Whoo-hoo!

Whoo-hoo!

Come on!

Cole?

Cole!

What are we gonna do?

Get 'em locked up downstairs.

You're the manager, right?

That's right.

Are there any other ways out of here?

There's the rear entrance.

No, no, no, they'll have that covered.

What about downstairs?

No, that's just used for storage-- account records, that sort of thing.

Show me, come on.

Move it, come on.

Get in there.

I need you to brief D.I.

Barcroft.

You'd better send a car... actually, go yourself.

Where the hell is Morse?

Get down there now.

Come on, move it, move it!

All right, what have we got?

(coughing) (phone ringing) (muttering): Would you believe it?

(phone continues ringing) All right, all right.

I'm coming.

(indistinct shouting in the distance) I want to go home.

We'll all go home.

The police will sort it out.

They haven't made much of a job of it so far.

It's a raid that's gone wrong.

The getaway driver's panicked.

The men upstairs are stranded, frightened, and in it up to their necks.

They didn't seem frightened to me.

As soon as they realize the fix they're in, they'll surrender.

We all just need to keep calm.

(crying) What's next door?

A hotel.

Any tools in the place?

Crowbar?

Sledge-hammer?

Come on!

There's a fire-axe.

Where?

Show me, come on!

(shouting echoes) Are you all right?

Is that the one?

Yeah.

Not that I can see it means anything.

Oh, it means something.

Clissold didn't want anyone else to read it.

It's enciphered.

Can you read it?

Not without the key.

Good luck.

It's all Greek to me.

(gun cocks) It's a good job you're here.

I mean, I'm glad.

If it's any comfort.

Me, too.

Don't worry.

It'll be all right.

What's this?

A puzzle.

Why would a man carry around a menu for a restaurant that long ago went out of business?

I give up.

Why would he?

More to the point, why would he circle just one item on the menu?

Number 26.

"Chicken Meat in Sweet Corn Soup."

Do you know?

Mm.

Well, of what are there 26?

Teeth?

No, that's 32.

Bones in the human foot.

There are, but that's not it.

26 Cantons in Switzerland.

Or is it 25?

Letters in the alphabet?

Of which the last and 26th is... Zed.

So, 26 equals Zed, equals C for Chicken.

And so it goes on.

One gives us... D. That's right.

And two is E, and so on.

So, what does it say?

Well, so far I've got "Royal Palace 50" "Dark Venetian 80" and "Greek Scholar 200."

Maybe I was wrong.

You're welcome to grab a bunch of numbers and start turning them into letters.

You're just trying to keep us occupied, aren't you?

Well, which would you prefer: terrified or distracted?

I'd sooner be thinking of a way out.

What can I do?

Do?

I'm not going to sit on my hands.

With the way things are, I'm afraid you may have to.

Look, I'm leaving for the station in a moment.

Division want a progress report.

I'll brief you on the way.

Where's Morse?

I don't know.

Can't get hold of him.

Mrs. Thursday, please try not to worry.

Fred, what did he mean, "With the way things are"?

Mrs. Thursday.

Inspector.

There's no story, Miss Frazil, not today.

DOROTHEA: I know, I know.

I just thought we could have a cup of tea.

There's nothing on the record today, Inspector.

I'd just like to help.

I wouldn't mind a cup of tea, Fred.

I'll be at the station with Mr.

Bright.

I won't be long.

DOROTHEA: Come on.

WIN: Thank you.

All right?

They just shot him.

Like it was nothing.

Here.

For the nerves.

Keep the pack.

Stick 'em behind your notebook and nobody'll know.

Thanks.

Tip my old governor gave me.

Sergeant Vimes.

Cable Street.

All right?

(indistinct shouting) (whispering): You'd better look after this.

What did you mean about Paul?

Just I've come across him in my travels, that's all.

You deserve better.

He asked me about work.

About the bank.

When we had deliveries for the weekend float.

I thought it was just conversation, but it wasn't, was it?

Did you let on about...?

Dad?

No fear.

Well, that's something, at least.

(sighs) You two know each other, do you?

We've a mutual acquaintance.

Oh, yeah, who's that then?

No one you'd know.

It's like that, is it, then?

It's like that.

GILLIAN: "Charlott own."

Doesn't make any sense.

Charlotte without an E, "own."

Charlotte owns what?

(door opens) You, what's your name?

It's Ronnie Gidderton.

And you?

Morse.

Right, on your feet.

(whispering): Just in case... TOMMY: Aw, yeah, yeah, very touching-- move your arse!

(door slams) It must be nice, a daughter.

She's a good girl.

The best.

I know I'm her mother, but... She'll be all right.

Yeah.

Fred'll sort it.

He always does.

(coughs) BRIGHT: Yes, sir, understood.

Of course.

I'm sorry, I'm afraid Division won't wear it.

You are to remain suspended from duty.

Thursday... Before the Blenheim Vale files were sealed, one final piece of evidence was abstracted.

I don't suppose anyone will miss it in 50 years.

(loud smashing) All right, you take over.

(loud smashing) (coughs) That as far as you've got?

Who's in charge with you lot?

What's it to you?

I want to talk to him.

Oh yeah, about what?

Something to your advantage.

Fetch him.

What are you doing sat on your arse?

RONNIE: Cole?

COLE: What?

RONNIE: One of the hostages wants to speak to you.

The young blond-haired one.

So?

You want a coach, don't you?

What if I could make sure you get it?

Ronnie... Banking, it's all about trust.

Investment and return.

The customer gives us their money, they trust us to invest it wisely, and for their trust, we make sure they get something back more than they originally gave.

If I trust you with something guaranteed to get you what you want, that's got to be worth something, hasn't it?

Like what?

Letting you walk out?

Not just me.

Everybody.

Well, nearly.

Why not?

So what have you got?

I need your word.

Huh, the word of a bank robber.

All right, you've got my word.

Him.

He's a policeman.

He's lying.

He doesn't know what he's saying.

He's just trying to get out of here.

They know you've got one of theirs, they'll have to give you what you want.

I've never seen this man before today.

I came in here for a loan!

I came in here for a loan, didn't I?

Well, somebody's lying.

And I don't like liars.

He'll have identification.

It's clean.

Nice try.

No, no, I can prove it!

How?

How?!

Someone else knows him.

She'll tell you.

(door opens) (whistling) (footsteps approaching slowly) (whistling continues) (bell tolling) That's the hour, isn't it?

More or less.

They won't really make good on their threat, will they?

Come on.

You, come here.

Come on!

What's your name?

Joan.

Joan what?

JOAN: Strange.

Joan Strange.

That right?

Joan Strange?

Yes.

And who's this?

I don't know.

I've never seen him before.

(laughs) You see, this one... ...says that one is a copper.

He says you know him.

I don't, he's just a customer.

He's just a customer?

No, he isn't!

Joan, tell him.

Is that right?

He's just a customer.

JOAN: Yeah.

So if I was to... (screams) Oh my God!

Look at me!

If I was to do that to him, that'd be all right with you?

Just leave her, he's telling the truth, I'm a police officer.

Let her go.

Yeah, E. Morse.

Detective Constable, City Police.

You knew all along, you bastard.

It was on his desk.

I told you.

I don't like liars.

But I hate a grass!

She'll be all right.

STRANGE: Where do you think you're going?

You're not the only one who took an oath.

Bless you, Doc, but I can't let you go.

"Let me"?

You do your job, I'll do mine.

If they have made good on their threat, we're gonna need you for after, to make it stick.

Please, Doc.

If anything happened to you, Mr.

Bright'd have my guts.

Who's she?

Joan Thursday.

Please, no more violence.

(laughs) Good man.

Remind me.

An Inspector outranks a Constable, doesn't he?

So what do I need you for?

Kill me, you'll never know who set you up.

What?

You think it's an accident that I'm here?

That we had the place surrounded in five minutes?

Somebody sold you out.

Maybe we should hear him out?

Put him down.

No!

No, please!

Be a man.

(phone rings) (sighs) Answer it.

Wessex Bank.

Howard Fordyce, manager, speaking.

He wants to speak to whoever's in charge.

Who's this?

THURSDAY: You know who this is.

Listen to me, Cole.

You let the staff and customers go now, and that's that.

The law takes its course.

Say we don't.

Then I'll put you in the ground.

Big talk for a lung-er.

I'm a lung-er, all right.

Doc's given me three weeks.

Bad luck for you.

Bad luck for both of us.

How's that?

I can go in my bed with posterity gathered solemn round, or I can go standing toe-to-toe with you.

I know which I'd sooner.

But it's your choice.

What's it to be?

I'll take my chances.

Never bet against a man with nothing to lose.

Oh, you've got something to lose, all right.

I'm looking at her right now.

We've got another of yours here, too.

Cocky little toe-rag.

Name of Morse.

So you listen.

You get your people off the street.

We want a coach and safe passage to London Airport.

I see one copper between here and there, your girl will be the first to go.

(coughing) (coughing continues) (coughing more violently) (breathes heavily) I'm sorry, Joan.

Shush now, come on.

Help's on its way.

I just wanted to get everyone out of here.

I know, I know.

Be a hero.

(breathes heavily) (breathing stops) (crying) We were never going home, were we?

No.

It was life from the second the boy took a pop at a copper.

Back inside?

We'll give 'em a dance, though, eh?

Mr. Fordyce, your son was stroke in the Oxford boat last year, wasn't he?

What of it?

You wrote a check for £1,500 made out to cash.

Last July.

What was that for?

You have to tell me the truth now.

(bus honks) (door opens) Right, take 'em out.

Move it, come on!

Clissold's pad.

Oi, you're not coming?

No, we'll buy you time.

Keep 'em busy if they try anything.

Open the doors!

No, no, no, not you two.

Through there.

Move it, come on!

MORSE: All right.

Go!

On you go!

Move it, come on.

Move it!

Just let us go, we'll only hold you up.

No, no, mate, you're our ticket out of this.

Leave her at least, she's done, you only have to look at her.

She'd better get a second wind then, hadn't she?

With me.

If anything happens, give this to your father.

What is it?

It's the reason Cedric Clissold was killed.

It's blank.

MORSE: Charlottown, Park Royal, Dark Venetian-- they're horses, all of them.

Move it!

It was always about the money.

What was?

Tell your father to arrest Felix and Nina Lorimer and Paul Marlock for the murder of Cedric Clissold.

But I thought it was a robbery.

Well, we were meant to, but they intended to kill him.

Keep it down!

Where are they?

It's locked!

Blow it off.

(loud gunshot) Come on, move!

Move it!

Bloody hell, open the door!

Drop it.

Move it, come on.

Come on, get on with it.

(gun cocks) Right.

Go, go, go.

Move it.

Armed police!

(gunshots) Come on!

Get down!

Move it!

(cries out) Pete!

You all right, Pete?

(screaming) Throw the gun out!

Or she gets it!

Drop it!

Put it down!

Chamber's empty!

And he's too stupid to count to six.

I'll show you stupid!

(cries out) Take me in, then.

Lawman.

(gun cocks) (cries out) (breathing heavily) Do it.

Do it!

MORSE: Sir, don't.

Not here, not like this.

Don't let her see you do this!

Dad!

Show them who you are.

This is who I am.

No, it never has been!

We hold the line!

If you cross it now, then there's no way back.

(footsteps approaching) BRIGHT: With me, now.

Thursday?

Sergeant Strange!

STRANGE: Sir.

Take him in.

Get up.

No!

Oi, how many was it?

Was it five or six?

Tell me!

How many?

I told you, you were empty.

BRIGHT: You all right?

Morse?

MORSE: We have to act fast.

The one loose end in Lorimer's plan is Paul Marlock.

How's that?

Let me explain.

Clissold lent Lorimer thousands of pounds to pay off his gambling debts.

Lorimer was obviously in way over his head.

In order to meet the interest, Lorimer started selling degrees to undergrads that didn't merit them, such as Harold Fordyce's son.

When Clissold's fashion business got into trouble, I think he called in the loan.

THURSDAY: Only Lorimer couldn't pay.

MORSE: No.

THURSDAY: So that's why they killed Clissold.

Well, that's why they conspired to kill him.

Nina knew Paul Marlock from the Bingo.

It was him that pulled the trigger.

But she was never serious about him.

She only had eyes for Lorimer.

Marlock's real job was to get the pad listing Lorimer's debts.

But the pad wasn't there, so they used me to get it.

So it was nothing to do with the blue films?

No, that was all a ruse intended to lead me up the garden path, which it did.

Number one.

Kelly's eye.

Harold's Den.

Number ten.

Three-oh, blind 30.

Paul Marlock, you're under arrest for the murder of Cedric Clissold.

(people gasping) Going somewhere?

End of term.

Detective Inspector Thursday, Dr. Lorimer.

City Police.

Oh, Mrs. Lorimer.

All forgiven?

We've decided to give it another go after what happened at the bank.

Nearly losing Nina like that.

Well, you got what you wanted: Clissold's carbon pad listing exactly what you owed him.

You destroyed it, presumably?

I don't know what you mean.

Then it's a good job Morse pinched out the carbon copies.

You're lying.

NINA: When?

MORSE: A situation like that, it could easily have been mislaid.

We've also got Paul Marlock, your intended patsy.

He's already talking about turning Queen's.

You used me.

You've always had a weakness for the fairer sex.

People don't change.

It was nothing personal.

I had to get back Clissold's pad.

You do see that?

So you had a man killed.

Not a very nice man.

Not one of us, Morse.

If it had come out about my selling degrees...

I had to think of College.

You were thinking of yourself.

No.

Actually, it was Nina.

You ruined her life, dragged her down with you.

I didn't have a life until I met Felix.

I don't want one without him.

You know what I was.

Please!

One moment, please.

He was the first man who ever looked at me as if I was something more than just a good time.

I'd do it all again without a second thought.

Love, Morse.

Imagine that.

So where's the money?

We'll find it at Paul Marlock's.

The gun, too, I should think.

Who tipped us off about the bank raid?

My money's on Larry Nelson.

He's after Peter Matthews' wife.

At least that's how it looked at the funeral.

So he tips us off, Cole and Peter get lifted, and he can carry on with Sheila.

Maybe get a shot at the title himself.

I saw what you did for Joan.

There was a bullet left in the chamber, whatever you told Cole Matthews.

You knew it.

You drew his fire.

You should get back to her.

See she's all right.

(sighs) JOAN: I just keep seeing Ronnie.

It's my fault.

No.

You fell foul, that's all.

Good night's sleep, you'll feel better in the morning.

Eh, Mom?

Nature's remedy.

Yeah.

A good night's sleep.

Night.

She'll be all right.

(gasps) RONNIE: I just wanted to get everyone out of here.

Do I look stupid?

Put him down.

No!

JOAN: It's a good job you're here.

I mean, I'm glad.

MORSE: Me, too.

It's probably best if I wait in the...

I think it's probably best if you just do as you're told.

JOAN: What do they call you, then?

Morse.

Morse.

Thought I'd be all right with a copper.

MORSE: There are coppers and there are coppers.

JOAN: And what sort are you?

I'm the sort that see young ladies safely home.

JOAN: I think this is the bit where I say, "Thanks for a lovely evening," and we have a long kiss under the porch light until my dad taps on the window, and then I go in and you go home.

JOAN: Love, I suppose.

You don't know until you meet the right one.

MORSE: No, I don't suppose.

(birds chirping) (engine starts) Miss Thursday?

Where are you going?

(dog barking) Like this?

I have to.

Well, where will you go?

I don't know.

Stay.

I can't.

Just give it time.

Everything that happened... Just give it a chance.

You mean the world to them.

(voice breaking): You mean the world... (sighs) Look after them.

Dad won't understand.

(sighs) If you need anything-- money, or a voice on the phone-- you know where to find me.

You should get something on that.

(train whistle blowing in the distance) Take care of yourself, Morse.

You too, Miss Thursday.

(footsteps retreating) (train whistle blowing) (silent dialogue) Go to the Masterpiece website, listen to our podcast, watch video, and more.

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Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org