Pylon

ALAN CUMMING: This is "Masterpiece Mystery!"

This where you've been keeping yourself, is it?

You hardly know me.

It doesn't feel like that.

CUMMING: Shaun Evans returns in "Endeavour."

MORSE: He could have left her body anywhere-- why there?

THURSDAY: You think he did it?

I'm uniform.

I don't get paid to think.

This ain't going to be Geneva Convention.

Can I count on you?

MORSE: How can you stand it?

"Yes, sir, no, sir" to a man like that?

You're worth a hundred of his sort.

JOAN: Have you found them?

You'd better.

MORSE: There's something you should see.

MCGYFFIN: You stop him or we will.

THURSDAY: You don't know Morse.

CUMMING: "Endeavour."

Beginning tonight on "Masterpiece Mystery!"

(thunder claps) (whimpers) (click) Oxford's Cowley Police Station is closed, Detective Inspector Fred Thursday demoted, the old team dissolved.

New guys are in charge-- younger, tougher, more willing to bend the rules.

It's what everyone does now.

Except him.

Even reduced to wearing the uniform of an ordinary cop, he's still the same opera-loving, dogged, brilliant Endeavour.

Season six.

♪ ♪ (car door closes) ♪ ♪ (children shouting, talking in background) ♪ ♪ (cart wheels squeaking) Next one, please-- thank you.

That's lovely.

(camera clicks) (camera clicks) That's beautiful.

♪ ♪ Big smile.

(camera clicks) ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (man sniffs) ♪ ♪ (school bell ringing) ♪ ♪ (children talking in background) ♪ ♪ PRINCE CHARLES (on radio): I, Charles, Prince of Wales, do become your liege man of life and limb and of earthly worship... ♪ ♪ (brakes squeak) (bus rumbling) ♪ ♪ Hello, Pat, it's Karen.

Is Ann with you?

No, I just wondered if she'd come back with Jeanette after school.

♪ ♪ (Puccini's "Vissi d'Arte" playing) (typewriter keys clacking) (aria continues) (bell rings) Shop!

(typing stops) (aria continues) This is where you've been keeping yourself, is it?

I was passing.

People tend to.

Look, I, uh... come bearing gifts.

MORSE: C.I.D.

closed, month after I arrived in Woodstock.

Budget.

It was uniform or nothing.

What about you?

You know me, I'm doing all right.

There was a piece in the "Gazette."

An inter-departmental something or other?

The Inter-Departmental Forward-Planning Steering Committee.

Steering what, exactly?

Resources, manpower.

It's a sort of quasi-managerial anticipatory role.

Is it?

Just shuffling paperwork, mostly.

(clears throat) Seen the old man?

I've called the house a few times.

Left messages.

I'd have told 'em where to stick it.

Would you?

Division don't like to lose police officers.

Full disciplinary, though.

Busted down a rank.

It wasn't right.

And we're still no nearer to finding who did for George.

"We"?

I'm here, you're there, Thursday's at Castle Gate, Bright's at Traffic.

I mean... there is no "we," nor is there likely to be.

We said... No, you said.

Heat of the moment.

I meant it.

Yes, I'm sure.

But it's not how it's turned out, is it?

It's never how these things turn out.

We are launching a fresh appeal to the public to be on the lookout for Ann Kirby, who went missing on the first of July on her way home from school, and who hasn't been seen since.

Now, obviously, as the days pass by, we're becoming more and more concerned for her safety and well-being.

To that end, I would urge anyone who has any information about her disappearance to come forward and to contact the police.

Your call will be treated with the strictest confidence and may be made anonymously.

If you have any information, any at all, no matter how slight or trivial it may appear, then please, do contact us as soon as possible.

Now, I, uh, I will take just one or two questions from the press... REPORTERS: Chief Inspector...

Yes, Miss Frazil.

Is there any suggestion she might have been kidnapped?

No, no.

There's no indication that such is the case.

DOROTHEA: How are the family?

Well, as you can imagine, they're worried about their little girl.

REPORTER: Chief Inspector...

BOTTOMS: One at a time, please.

All right, settle down, settle down.

♪ ♪ Well, then, matey.

Look, let me know next time, and I'll bake a cake.

(chuckles) Oh, I saw Joanie.

Said to say hello if I ran into you.

Started in as a trainee with the Welfare.

So I suppose it all works out in the end.

(keys jingling, car door opening) We shouldn't let it go, what happened to George.

Well, don't you care?

Would it make a difference?

♪ ♪ (engine starts, car drives off) ♪ ♪ (birds chirping) ANCHOR (on radio): Police have made a fresh appeal to the public for information concerning the whereabouts of missing schoolgirl Ann Kirby, aged ten.

(tapping razor, water splashing) BOTTOMS (on radio): Obviously, as the days pass by, we're becoming more and more concerned for her safety and well-being.

To that end, I would urge anyone who has any information about her disappearance to come forward... (birds chirping) (car door closes) ♪ ♪ There's been a young man hanging around.

I think he's been sleeping in the porch.

This was in the nave.

(clears throat) (brakes squeaking) (car door opens, closes) Good morning.

Sergeant Morse.

Mr... Tingwell, is it?

Yes, that's right.

Well, how can I help you?

Information Room said something about a missing horse?

Skynner here was due to collect a Connemara from me this morning, only it's not in the field.

Right.

Well, when was the last time that you saw it?

Yesterday afternoon.

15 hands, gray.

Well, I can pass the description on to neighboring stations, and I'll keep an eye out for it when I'm on my rounds.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ JOAN (voiceover): I've got night class.

It's important.

Got to do something for me-- I can't sit by the window and wait for someone to tell me my life can start.

I can't do it anymore.

I can't do this anymore.

(police radio running in background) SHERIDAN: I suppose I should have shut the window upon retiring to bed, but it was really rather hot.

And one just doesn't expect that sort of thing out this way.

So... (clears throat) It's seven snuffboxes and a couple of lighters, all silver, is that right?

Dr. Sheridan?

Uh, yes.

Yes, that's right.

But it's only the snuffboxes that have any real value.

Right.

Most of them are Victorian, two of them Georgian.

(chuckles): They're something of a passion with me.

I see.

I can let you have a photograph if you give me a moment.

Hello.

Hello.

Was it the boy that did it?

What boy would that be?

There was a boy watching the house from across the road yesterday evening.

Oh, yes?

And what did he look like?

Like he could do with a good wash. (both chuckling) SHERIDAN: Yes, I knew I had a picture...

I'll be with you in a moment, Sophie, dear.

Oh, I just came in for my book.

Yes, well, as you can see, the officer is busy.

I'll bring it to you.

The terrible teens.

I'm afraid the Police Training Manual is silent on that subject.

(chuckles softly) (brakes squeak, engine idles) (engine stops) (snorting softly) ♪ ♪ (crow cawing) (horse neighs) ♪ ♪ (horse neighing) (neighs) (horse neighing, Morse shushing) (snorting) ♪ ♪ (shushing) (snorting) ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (crow cawing in distance) MORSE: No sign of her satchel.

JAGO: Well, we'll find it.

MORSE: What do you think to the flowers in her hair?

Well, it's probably best we leave it to them that gets paid to ask those questions, eh?

All right, mate, thanks for your help, we'll take it from here.

Now, if you could do something about the nag.

There's a horsebox on its way.

Well, we've got a tea urn coming out.

If you could find a spot for that?

Don't you want my report?

When the gaffer gets here.

She's not going anywhere, is she?

♪ ♪ MAX: Well, you do get about.

I thought I hadn't seen you.

What's the, uh...?

Dead about 24 hours.

Sizeable bruise on the skull, same to her hip, too.

But nothing to say how she died, at first glance.

And... No.

Okay.

No obvious sign.

(clears throat) DS Jago says you found the body.

Sir.

Sergeant Morse, sir.

A former colleague from Cowley.

I remember.

Didn't recognize you.

So?

I had a report of a horse stolen from Tingwell's Farm last night.

I was on my rounds, I saw an animal matching that description.

I came into the field, I... found her, and I called it in.

Right.

Fair enough, that's you done, then.

Well, it's... standard practice in such cases to ask if anybody unusual has been reported in the area.

Have they?

Yes.

There's a young man's been seen hanging around the church.

A rough sleeper.

The offertory box was forced last night.

Right.

Mmm, possible drug use.

I've a syringe recovered from the church.

You might...

Stick it in your report.

Make sure it's on my desk by tea.

And next time, try to remember we put a cordon down so uniform don't go trampling all over the scene of crime with their size nines.

Standard practice, in a case like this.

♪ ♪ (quietly): Right.

Fred?

Guvnor.

(birds chirping) BOX: Pervert?

Are you asking if there's evidence of sexual assault?

Is there?

Not at first glance, no.

Be able to tell you more after the postmortem.

Shall we say 4:00?

You can say what you like.

I'm not one for seeing kiddies carved up.

Liaise with D.I.

Thursday.

I'll brief upstairs.

Can you take the parents?

If that's what you want.

See you back at the factory.

He's come from Robbery.

Not the Lucy Clayton?

Still, it's nice to see you, Inspector.

And Morse, of course.

One might have known if anyone was going to find her, it would be him.

(Tallis's "Spem in Alium" playing) (typewriter keys clacking) (motet continues) (motet fades) (word catching in throat) Not my Ann.

(voice breaking): Not my Annie.

It's a mistake.

Love...

They've made a mistake.

You, you have made a mistake.

It's got to be some other girl.

Tell him, Joe.

Tell him it's got to be some other girl.

(voice trembling): Come on, love.

My sincere condolences.

♪ ♪ (elevator dings) (people talking in background, phone ringing) ♪ ♪ My report.

Syringe is in the bag.

I'll see the guvnor gets it.

Anything?

Early days.

You know how it is.

Mind how you go.

You're looking at the Emily Bayard case, presumably?

Berkshire case.

Disappeared on her way home from school.

July 1966.

Very, very similar circumstances.

Only she was never found.

The DCI's ruled it out.

Is he up to it?

Box?

A sergeant doesn't question a detective chief inspector's fitness to lead an inquiry.

"Robbery?

I've (no audio) 'em," wasn't it?

Things change.

I'm sorry about your disciplinary.

You deserve better.

I don't know about that.

I was in charge.

Well, if you fancy getting a drink sometime?

Yeah.

Yeah, we, uh... We must do that.

Give my regards to Mrs. Thursday.

It won't be any stroke of genius that finds him.

Long hours and shoe leather'll see this one right.

No obscure motive to be uncovered, just depravity.

Some... nobody.

On file already, like as not.

Initial reports said she was wearing an Alice band in her hair when she left school.

It wasn't at the scene.

Could be in the field.

Why there?

He could have left her body anywhere.

In a ditch, in the middle of the field somewhere.

She wouldn't have been found until harvest time.

Why leave her at the foot of a pylon?

Showing off, maybe?

No, it matters.

Same as the flowers, it's important.

(footsteps approaching) Sergeant Morse delivering his report, sir.

BOX: Nicked your little thief yet?

Not quite.

Well, don't let us keep you.

(phone ringing in distance) Sir.

♪ ♪ (breathing shallowly) ♪ ♪ (sniffs) (twig snaps) (footsteps approaching) ♪ ♪ Hey!

♪ ♪ (both grunt) (breath slowing) ♪ ♪ (camera clicking) Stanley Clemence, date of birth October the 4th, 1951.

Of no fixed abode.

What about family?

He hasn't asked for anyone to be informed.

JAGO: We've got a string of juvenile previous on him.

Been in trouble on and off since he was about ten.

Next of kin's an aunt in Torquay.

You want to brace him now, or when the dew's still on him?

Let him sweat it a minute.

I haven't had me tea yet.

See your report's here first thing.

I can do it now, if I could take a lend of a typewriter.

Pool's gone home.

I kept my old machine.

It's all right, isn't it?

So long as he keeps his beak out of anything else.

Hard to see how he could've kept Ann Kirby holed up all this time, if he's been living in a squat.

BOX: Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Wait a minute.

He's your collar, sergeant.

This goes the distance, could be your ticket back to Big School.

Unless you want to stay counting cabbages out in the sticks.

THURSDAY: Sergeant Morse's got a point, sir.

Thief and drug addict's one thing, a child murderer's something else.

If he's not involved, how's he come by her satchel?

MORSE: Oh, I was just asking.

What if he didn't do it?

It's the court's business, not ours.

We just get them up the steps.

You think he did it?

I'm uniform, I don't get paid to think.

I might know him.

How?

(thunder rumbling, rain pattering) (car door closes) ♪ ♪ (camera clicks) (baby crying in distance) ♪ ♪ (baby crying) So who killed his mother?

His father.

Philip Clemence, commercial traveler.

Knocked out brushes door to door.

And did he go down for it?

♪ ♪ 13 Jubilee Row.

Funny how some things stick.

His maternal aunt and uncle took him on.

Decent people, as I recall.

(inhales): Well.

Mind how you go.

♪ ♪ THURSDAY: Tell me about Ann Kirby.

(sniffling): I don't know her.

Then what're you doing with her satchel?

I found it.

Look, man, can you help me out?

I don't feel good.

Found it where?

(sniffling): I don't remember.

On the road, maybe.

(sniffling) I'm serious.

I'm sick.

I need something.

What do you mean, you need something?

A doctor!

I need to see a doctor.

Come on, man.

You can see I'm not right.

BOX: We know all about you, Stanley.

You're bad blood.

I'm not blaming you.

It's not your fault.

(sniffling) But you help us out with Ann, we'll see about a doctor.

Help you out how?

Just put your hands up to it.

(sniffling) I can't.

I can't say I did something I didn't do!

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ What was she like?

THURSDAY (quietly): Who?

My mum.

Did you know her?

Yeah.

Yeah, I knew her.

She was a good 'un.

(sniffling) And him?

(chuckles) (bicycle bell ringing, bell tolling) VIV: Don't give me that old bollocks.

He's still a minor, he's got rights.

Uh-huh.

Oh, is that right?

Well, you tell him Viv Wall is coming.

Wall, as in Berlin, as in bricks.

As in about to come down on your round head like a ton of.

Want me to spell it for you?

(slams receiver down): Prick!

Uh, the... psychiatric assessments for the Pendleton hearing.

Oh, don't worry about that now-- fetch your coat.

Why?

Where are we going?

To war.

No, wait for it, wait for it.

And remember, "If the pelican can, then so can you."

(laughing) There he goes.

Right, then.

(clicks switch): Back to work.

Fred.

MORSE: And tell me, is this the young man you found sleeping in the porch?

That's him.

I did feel for the poor boy.

Nowhere to live, he said.

No family, no money.

I told him to try some of the farms hereabouts.

Skynner, the slaughter man, sometimes takes on casual labor.

You think he robbed the offertory?

I shall pray for him.

Well...

I've kept you from your flock long enough.

Thank you.

Very pretty.

All from the vicarage garden.

Friday, a funeral, Saturday, a bride, Sunday, a christening.

The lot of a country parson.

VIV: Stanley Clemence is 17, a minor.

We should've been notified.

You have been.

At once.

Not the best part of 12 hours later.

Now, according to the custody record, he's not been examined by the police surgeon.

BOX: What's this?

JAGO: Welfare.

About Clemence.

DCI Box.

VIV: You've interviewed him.

Of course we have.

He's facing a serious charge.

I don't care what he's facing.

There should have been a solicitor present.

He declined.

He's an addict.

I doubt he was in a fit state to decline anything.

I want him independently assessed, and I want the duty brief notified.

We'll look into it.

You'll do it.

Or I'll know why.

In the absence of family, we stand in loco parentis.

Word to the wise.

Little girls who squeak out of turn are liable to find themselves over my knee.

Oy!

It's all right, Viv.

Like to see you try.

Would you?

So who're you, then?

The Sorcerer's Apprentice?

My daughter, sir.

Joan.

Well, there's a thing.

Railroading a kid into the dock?

I expect better of you, Fred.

I want to see him.

We want to see Stanley Clemence, now.

Dad.

(footsteps retreating) Small world.

Sorry, I wish I could help you.

I've not seen him.

It's to do with this kiddie, is it?

Oh, no, I'm just trying to locate his whereabouts for the past few days.

Where you two off to, then?

MAGGIE: Take her books back.

Library's in Bladon.

What's this, then?

Well, the sergeant, he's asking after some lad.

Sorry, um, this is me wife, Mags.

Sergeant Morse.

MAGGIE: Didn't he do a couple of days last year?

SKYNNER: What, that's the same lad?

Stan?

Yeah, that's him all right.

My, uh... My wife wasn't too keen.

Oh, why's that?

MAGGIE: He just had a weird way about him.

Didn't sit right with me.

Thought we'd seen the last of him, but I saw him last week hanging round the church.

You should talk to the reverend.

(car door closes) (engine starts, rattles) (revving unevenly) Oh!

Oh, sorry.

I haven't got round to taking the plates off yet.

It's not an offense, is it?

Well, I won't say anything if you don't.

She only passed last week.

It's... it's third time lucky.

It'll be a godsend to be honest with, um, with Laurel.

It's muscular dystrophy, so... Mmm.

Taking her into town for check-ups and that, you know?

It's... Up to now, it's either been the bus or me, so... Usually means taking a day off work.

You got kids?

Sorry, it's none of my business.

No, no-- need a wife first.

Not in this day and age, you don't, do you?

(chuckles) Look, um...

I don't think there was anything in it, what Mags was saying about the boy.

To be honest with you, I felt bad about letting him go.

Put him Tingwell's way.

Right.

Well, thank you for your help.

TINGWELL: Yes, Stan helped out here.

But it was only for a few weeks.

Come autumn, he just lit out.

Not seen him since.

He wasn't a great worker, if I'm honest.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

How do you mean?

Takes after his old man.

Oh, you knew his father?

Oh, yes.

Phil Clemence and me were choirboys together at St. Christopher's.

Shared our first cigarette up in the organ loft there.

I bet if I went back today, I'd find our old pack of Woodbines still behind the pipework.

No.

It was a bad business.

(rock music playing inside house) (lighter clicking) (music continues) The door was open.

It's always open.

What do you want?

Some information on Stanley Clemence.

I'm told he's been living here.

Who wants to know?

Police-- Sergeant Morse.

When did you see him last?

Couple of days, he came and went.

Well, I'd like to see his room.

(chuckles): You... You need a warrant or something, don't you?

You've got a couple skinning up on the mattress over there, and the place reeks of Red Leb.

Do you want me to call the drugs squad, or do you want to just show me his room?

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (bell tolling) (projector carousel clicking) ♪ ♪ (carousel clicking) ♪ ♪ (coughing, wheezing) (groaning) (moaning, rasping) ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (Beethoven's Ninth Symphony playing) ANNOUNCER: Go!

(symphony continues) (laughing, children shouting) (bell rings) (symphony continues) (exhales) (symphony continues) (drops tray): Oh!

(opens door) ♪ ♪ (children laughing, shouting) (bell rings) ♪ ♪ I don't know what you got to come back for.

How do you mean?

There was another copper came by.

What other copper?

(floorboards creak) ♪ ♪ (children shouting in distance) So what's all this?

What's all what?

All that.

Incognito.

(chuckling): In disguise or hiding from someone?

You don't look like you.

What does me look like?

Not like this.

Well, there you go.

Maybe I'm not me.

Not anymore.

Things change.

(bell ringing in distance) Well, that's too bad.

That's just how it goes.

You?

I'm still me.

Well, good for you.

Morse... MRS. JOHNSTON: Help!

Please!

Somebody help me!

Please!

I can't find my little girl.

Excuse me.

Excuse me, please.

Sorry-- thank you.

All right, what is it?

What is her name?

Um, um, Rosie.

Rosie, and what is she wearing?

Pink dress.

Right, right.

♪ ♪ (sounds blending together) BOTTOMS: All right.

As you were.

Ronnie.

Rosie Johnston, sir, from Cowley.

JAGO: We've got a sighting of a man with a little girl that sounds like Rosie stood by a vehicle in the car park.

BOTTOMS: Do we have a description?

JAGO: Witness didn't see his face, only that he was wearing a Panama hat.

Doesn't sound like Stanley Clemence.

MORSE: I've a photograph of Rosie Johnston for circulation.

You took your time.

BOTTOMS: What about a registration?

JAGO: No, just the, the make.

Vanden Plas, two-tone.

I've ordered roadblocks, sir.

15-mile perimeter.

Well, that's something, I suppose.

Though I suspect he'll be long past any cordon by now.

Unless he's pulled off the road.

Ronnie, I can leave you to liaise with Chief Superintendent Bright?

Of course, sir.

Very glad of Traffic's assistance.

BOTTOMS: Hourly dispatches, yes?

For good or ill. Find Clemence, find the child.

We don't know that it is Clemence, sir.

Our chief suspect for the abduction and murder of a little girl skips hospital, and hours later, another girl goes missing.

Yeah, but it could be a coincidence, couldn't it?

What're you saying?

We've got two perverts on the ground?

Well, it is a possibility.

Unless Clemence had nothing to do with Ann Kirby.

I mean, I don't suppose anybody's considered the locus of the body or the flowers in her hair.

BOX: Listen.

This kiddie was taken out from under the nose of you and Johnny Morris here, so I'll have no lectures.

If you'll excuse me, I have a child to find.

There's strong evidence Clemence had Ann Kirby at his place.

What evidence?

The blue Alice band she was wearing.

D.I.

Thursday turned it up not three hours since.

Where?

At his place-- now be told.

But where at his place?

In his room, under a loose floorboard, along with drug paraphernalia and a notebook.

Fred?

I hate to admit it.

♪ ♪ (flipping pages) (shuts book, places it down) Anything from Traffic?

Not yet.

If there was a blue Alice band under the floorboards, it wasn't there when I looked.

You've been there?

When?

Well, before you, clearly.

You think I did it?

Well, somebody did.

Whoever it is, somebody is trying to frame Stanley.

Well... You keep it to yourself.

Gets back to Box you've been poking around in business that's none of your concern...

But it is my concern.

He's not going to get to the bottom of it, you know that.

He's senior officer.

He's a fist with a warrant card.

He's going to pin Ann Kirby on the first passing suspect-- your boy Stanley-- is that what you want?

You get caught with your (no audio) in the wringer on this one, I won't be able to help you.

I'm not looking for your help.

How can you stand it?

"Yes, sir, no, sir," to a man like that?

It's called the chain of command.

Well, you're worth a hundred of his sort.

Don't forget it.

Because I won't.

♪ ♪ (door opens) Your license, sir?

We've enough to nail Clemence, then.

Just a question of picking him up.

(sniffing): If it's hers.

Course it's hers, why wouldn't it be?

Handy, it turning up when it did.

(chuckling) You turned it up, Fred.

Credit where it's due.

You know, it's funny.

We had trouble making it stick against Stanley's father.

That right?

Couldn't crack him, love nor money.

In the end, it was a young DC-- my old bagman, Arthur Lott-- found the hammer he'd used concealed in the cistern of the outside lav at his address.

Lucky break.

Yeah.

Miraculous.

Given it wasn't there when I had a feel around two days previous.

People miss things.

Even you.

That's what I told myself.

It's what did for him, though.

Even so, he went to the gallows swearing his innocence.

But he wasn't.

Was he?

He was a wrong 'un.

So's his boy.

Bad stock.

We don't know he did it.

We never know.

It's a balance of probabilities.

You go with your gut.

What's important is types like that get put away.

And if we've got to nudge the jukebox to get the penny to fall?

What are you saying, Fred?

Not sure I'm saying anything.

We're just talking.

Something coming in to Traffic now.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ THURSDAY (voiceover): He was picked up at one of the road blocks.

Been teaching here for ten years, apparently.

Thought I recognized his name from your report.

(object moving) Opium.

What're they doing here?

All hands to pumps, I thought.

We've got Sheridan in custody.

This is our show, not Banbury's.

The uniform wants to make himself useful, he can get back on his own ground and search for the girl.

♪ ♪ That upstairs.

It don't mean anything, it's... just his way.

Well, there's a daughter, Sophie.

You should get Welfare over there.

Right.

Oh, I went through the items at 13 Jubilee Row.

You did what?

You can't keep your fingers out, can you?

He was a brush salesman, wasn't he?

Stanley's father?

Door to door?

So?

So I was thinking he should have a sample case, shouldn't he?

Of brushes.

The past is the past.

Dead and buried.

Done.

♪ ♪ THURSDAY (voiceover): A man answering you description, wearing a Panama hat, was seen with Rosie at the fair.

SHERIDAN: Well, there must have been 50 men there wearing Panama hats.

We found your photographs.

Children.

Young girls in not much more than the altogether.

That's art.

I'm interested in photography.

You're interested in something.

Those are historical images.

They were taken by the Reverend Charles Dodgson.

Lewis Carroll?

The man who wrote "Alice in Wonderland"?

(scoffs): Prince Albert and Queen Victoria were great collectors of child nudes.

BOX: I doubt they were in the habit of abducting young girls from country fetes.

No more am I.

Look, there was a young man watching my daughter at our house the night before that, um... that Kirby girl was found.

That's the man you should be looking for.

Where were you on the afternoon of July the first?

July the... oh, I'd need to consult my diary.

The day of the investiture, if that helps.

Tuesday last.

Oh.

Yes, well, in that case, I was in my rooms.

I watched the ceremony on television.

Anyone who can vouch for you?

Yes.

The bursar at Crozier.

♪ ♪ (exhales) Bursar confirms he spoke to Sheridan.

They talked about the investiture mostly, what the queen was wearing.

And a call was made at 1623.

Line was in use for 26 minutes.

If he was at home talking to the bursar, he can't've been out picking up Ann Kirby.

Stand down the warrant for his gaff now.

THURSDAY: What about the opium?

Can't prove it's his.

I can't see a jury buying it, can you?

I'm sorry, Fred.

I know you wanted it to be him, but it's Clemence.

It's always been Clemence.

We've just got to find the little bastard.

(door closes) Guvnor.

There is a known pervert seen back in the area.

Maybe he knows where the boy is.

Maybe.

Look.

This ain't going to be Geneva Convention.

So if you've got reservations, now would be the time to say.

Whatever it takes.

I mean it.

Can I count on you?

Always.

(shouting and calling) (camera clicks) Been on your holidays, Gilbert?

We've been looking for you.

(breathing nervously) You've got known associates, Gilbert.

God knows how you freaks find each other, but I know you do.

Swapping your nature studies like cigarette cards.

We're looking for him.

I don't know him.

(Gilbert breathing nervously) (groaning) That a boy!

(Gilbert groaning, breathing with difficulty) (TV playing) (door closes) (keys drop) Do you want tea?

You're back, are you?

Yeah.

I'm making tea.

Not for me.

Right-o.

"Gunsmoke," is it?

I don't know.

Something.

What've you done to your hand?

Oh, I don't remember, um...

Caught in a door, probably.

Doesn't hurt.

I'll put the kettle on.

(water running) ♪ ♪ (breath trembling) (cloth rustling) ♪ ♪ I didn't do it!

I'm innocent!

Thursday!

(trapdoor releases, rope snaps) (Allegri's "Miserere mei, Deus" playing) ♪ Miserere mei ♪ ♪ Deus ♪ ♪ Secundum magnam misericordiam ♪ TINGWELL (voiceover): Phil Clemence and me were choirboys together at St. Christopher's.

Shared our first cigarette up in the organ loft there.

I bet if I went back today, I'd find our old pack of Woodbines still behind the pipework.

(music continues and fades) (door creaks, closes) ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ MAX: That's the sixth this year.

THURSDAY: Overdose?

He was an habitual user, but... no.

If he's anything like the others, it's what the heroin's being adulterated with to make it go further that's the problem.

Quinine.

Not a happy combination.

And if someone doesn't cut off the supply, he won't be the last.

(siren blaring in distance) I'm sorry.

I let him down.

His father, too.

Arthur Lott fitted Phil Clemence up, and I sent an innocent man to the gallows.

I've read the case files.

There's something you should see.

Clemence's sample case.

He'd hidden it at St. Christopher's.

So Arthur Lott may have planted the evidence that got him convicted, but you were right.

He was guilty.

That's not how they'll see it upstairs.

Or in the papers.

You know how it works.

If I fitted up Phil Clemence, who else have I fitted up over the years?

But you didn't.

You think that'll matter?

They'll look at every single case I ever made.

We ever made.

Well, as it stands, nobody knows.

We know.

(latches case) Bury it now, we're no better than Arthur Lott.

An Alice band, a hammer.

It's corruption.

♪ ♪ No.

Tell the truth and shame the Devil.

I'll turn it in.

♪ ♪ Well, if you want to do things by the book, it's actually in my custody.

So I'll take responsibility for it.

Any news on Rosie Johnston?

(dog barking in distance) We're still looking.

If Stanley took her... She's still alive.

Stanley didn't take her anymore than he killed Ann Kirby.

You know that, and I know that.

I'd better get back to the nick.

♪ Amplius lava me ♪ ♪ Ab iniquitate ♪ (engine starting) ♪ Mea ♪ ♪ Et a peccato meo ♪ ♪ Munda me ♪ (chair creaking) (music fades) MORSE: Mr. Croglin?

That's right, yeah.

Sergeant Morse, Thames Valley.

Ah.

You had a stall at Blenheim fete.

Yeah, that's right, yeah.

What's this about?

Do you ever do any work in Berkshire?

No, I've all I can manage here.

Hmm.

But you took this.

Uh... yeah.

Yeah.

And do you remember this little girl?

From the photo you took here last week?

That's the girl that was killed, isn't it?

My little bookworm.

How's that?

Hmm?

Well, I'd had to change a roll, see.

So I had a couple of more minutes with her.

Mm-hmm She was telling me that she was reading, um, "Black Beauty."

I said, "Oh, yeah, that's nice."

You know, just to make conversation.

She said, "Yeah."

(breathing deeply) Only she was worried.

About what?

As it's... quite a long book, you see.

She wouldn't be able to get it finished before it had to be back to the library.

I said, "You'll have to buy a copy."

She said, "I'm not made of money."

Just like that.

(chuckles): "I'm not made of money."

We rolled up.

Anyway... That was... my little bookworm.

(birds chirping) (brakes squealing, engine stops) MORSE (voiceover): The last time you would have been here was when?

Was it the first of July?

That's right.

Can you tell me if this girl came by on that day?

Her name's Ann Kirby.

If you give me a minute.

Do you stop in Deddington?

No, that's not on the rota.

Weeping Cross is the nearest we come.

Yes.

Here we are, Ann Kirby.

Returned four books and took out four more.

Four?

Mm-hmm.

"Caring for Your Pony," "Ride Like the Wind," "Blue Ribbon for Binky," and "Gypsy Wins Through."

Four books every visit.

Like clockwork.

♪ ♪ (motor humming) ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (engine stops, parking brake engaging) (door opens) (birds cawing, insects buzzing) I carried a little boy out of a bloodbath.

That's got to mean something.

Guilty or innocent, I can't give up on him.

So you returned to the scene of the crime.

Hoping for what?

That the killer would return?

Sometimes they come back.

Sometimes they do.

But this isn't the scene of the crime.

You were right, I was wrong.

There is no obscure motive.

No stroke of genius.

Just shoe-leather.

Little girl goes missing, turns up dead.

One thought springs to mind.

Yeah, 99 times out of 100, it's the right one.

But not this time?

(birds chirping) THURSDAY: Mr. Skynner?

Detective Inspector Thursday, Thames Valley.

I believe you know Sergeant Morse.

It's about the girl found in the pylon field.

Oh, yes.

The day that Ann Kirby disappeared, she got off the bus a few stops early to return books to the mobile library, where she collected four more.

♪ ♪ I checked to see which would be the best shortcut from Weeping Cross to her home.

There's a field with a lane with a very nasty blind bend.

(song playing on radio) ♪ ♪ (radio losing reception) (radio squawking) (crash, gasps) ♪ ♪ (breathing shakily) ♪ ♪ I recovered a piece of an L-plate there, broken off in the collision.

Alfie?

It's all right, Mags, go home.

See to Laurel.

THURSDAY: Actually, Mrs. Skynner, it's probably best if you stay here.

Please.

I'm sorry, Mr. Skynner.

What's going on, Alf?

They know who was driving.

It was an accident.

She was just there.

I wasn't going fast.

There was nothing I could do.

She panicked, that's all it was.

MAGGIE: I thought, if I brought her back, Alf could do something.

Make her right.

Only she never came to.

We thought that she'd come round.

Then the longer it went on... MAGGIE: She just slipped away.

I went to get her a cold flannel.

I... couldn't've been gone a minute.

(voice breaking): She just slipped away.

SKYNNER: I knew the maintenance gang were going to be out seeing to the pylons.

(quietly): And I thought they'd find her.

(voice breaking): They skipped over to the next valley.

So, you put the horse in the field, knowing that Mr. Tingwell would report it stolen.

I didn't want her lying out there.

With animals and all sorts.

I didn't...

Didn't want her messing with.

For her parents.

And you put the flowers in her hair?

♪ ♪ MAGGIE: I thought I'd get in trouble.

Laurel-- our daughter... With Alf working, I'm all she's got.

(weeps) ♪ ♪ (picks up object) ♪ ♪ Well.

Who's a clever bastard?

They're nothing to do with Rosie Johnston.

Well, seeing as Stanley is cooling in the fridge, we've still got some work to do to find her.

Fred?

(door closes) What's this?

Well, I wouldn't swear to it, as one looks much like another, but...

I'd say that's Ann Kirby's Alice band.

It was under the driver's seat.

Must have fallen off when they... ...got her out of the car.

We didn't have the best of starts.

(glasses clinking) I hope we can straighten that out.

Bury the hatchet.

(unscrewing cap) You got a raw deal over George Fancy.

Everybody knows that.

It's you should be sitting here, and me standing there.

How it goes.

Maybe.

But it doesn't make my job any easier.

You're Fred Thursday.

That means something to these blokes.

I don't know about that.

I do.

Look... My manners aren't all they should be, but everything I've got in this game has come through this and hard graft.

And I reckon you're the same.

We can do something here.

You and me.

Sort this place out.

Make it somewhere decent.

Kids can grow up safe.

But I need your help.

You in... or out?

(phone ringing in distance, people talking in background) (talking softly) Oh... Sir?

Morse?

It's her.

Who?

Emily Bayard.

The missing schoolgirl.

He's using her as a model and period photographic techniques to pass the images off as vintage photographs.

Who is?

Dr. Sheridan-- that photograph's a fake.

Looks like a photograph to me.

MORSE: No, I mean it's inauthentic.

If you look at the sculpture on the plinth, it's by Degas.

Couldn't have being cast until the early 20th century?

That's not a Victorian photograph, that was made about three years ago.

How do you know?

Because the girl in the picture is Emily Bayard.

Sophie.

Sheridan's so-called daughter.

"So-called"?

Yeah, it's the same girl.

♪ ♪ MORSE: Emily?

Emily!

Emily, it's the police.

You're safe now.

It was here.

THURSDAY: What was?

The statue.

He must have taken it with him.

Where?

Well, wherever he takes the photographs.

Presumably where he stashed Rosie after he took her from the fete.

Trapped in an upstairs room.

She's a bit...

It's all right.

You're all right.

Nobody's going to hurt you.

You're safe now.

Where is he, Emily?

♪ ♪ What is this place?

(car door closes) Badgett Manor.

Former church land.

Sheridan was a local history buff.

He knew all about the place.

JAGO: He knew it would be empty.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ Rosie?

(bottle clinking) Uh, she, she's perfectly all right.

She'd better be-- Morse?

Laudanum.

A sedative.

(stammering): I can assure you, she's quite unharmed.

And Emily?

Three years your captive and God knows what else?

How harmed is she?

It's, it's just photographs.

You take the photographs and what?

You sell them on to other freaks?

Freaks?

No, no, hobbyists.

Men of a, a like aesthetic bent.

Men?

You're not a man-- you're not a man's arse.

I never laid a finger.

Perhaps.

But what did you intend to do with her?

Just sell her off to the highest bidder?

And that's why you took Rosie, because you needed a new model.

Because Emily had grown up.

She was... perfect.

Sugar, and spice... and all...

Things nice.

(groans) Whoa, whoa, whoa, that's enough!

That's enough, that's enough!

♪ ♪ All right, Rosie.

Now then, hand you over to this lady here.

And she's going to take you home, all right?

I expect he lied to Rosie, the same way he lied to Emily.

Told her her parents were dead, that she was going to come and live with him, and she wouldn't have to go to school anymore.

Sick bastard.

She'll be all right.

They both will.

Like Stanley?

(engine starting) I'll see you around.

♪ ♪ (car driving off) ♪ ♪ Transfer I asked about, sir.

If I could trouble you for a signature.

"E.

Morse."

He's, uh...?

Oh, yes, sir.

One of the College lodges, I believe.

Thank you, sir.

BOTTOMS (voiceover): Dear Mr. E. Morse, Please find herewith notification that you are being reassigned from your current station to take up the position of detective sergeant with the Criminal Investigation Department at Castle Gate police station.

♪ ♪ Report for duty at 0900 hours, Thursday, July 17, to DCI Box to receive your first assignment.

♪ ♪ (engine starting) (gear shifting) ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (click) CUMMING: Next time, on "Masterpiece Mystery!"

I'll let you get settled in.

I thought we were here to get to the truth of what happened.

You're here to follow my orders.

HILDEGARD: There was a car accident.

They were both killed.

I warned her not to go, Colonel.

(gasps) What is it you do here?

We help people.

(woman shrieking) CUMMING: "Endeavour," next time, on "Masterpiece Mystery!"

♪ ♪ Go to the "Masterpiece" website, watch full episodes, listen to our podcast, and more.

To order this program on Blu-Ray or DVD, visit ShopPBS.org.

Also available on Amazon Prime Video.

♪ ♪