Season 1 | Expiation

(thunder rumbling, wind whooshing) (woman wails) (baby crying) (woman singing aria) Daddy says there isn't Special K, and there is, because we got some.

Tell Daddy I'm on my way.

GIRL: Don't touch the plug or Daddy will go, "Bzzz!"

Daddy's going, "Bzzz!"

as it is.

I'm gone.

Sorry, I know you're trying to finish, um, Thingy's curtains.

No, Thingy can wait.

She's coming tonight, she can have it then.

Oh, God, I'd completely forgotten.

Dinner!

Mmm, I know.

Tonight?

Yes, and it's all completely under control.

(door bell ringing) Come on, girls.

That's amazing, actually picking up our children on time.

FATHER: Hello, boys.

Hi!

MAN: Morning.

GIRLS: Hi!

Any chance of an unscheduled swopsy?

Sorry, typical bloody story.

Her Maj has got to get to Mayfair all of a sudden-- usual bollocks.

Dad!

I'm allowed to say "bollocks," you're not.

You're on book three?

Yeah.

Michael's on book three.

He's been moved up a set.

You're a clever boy.

MOTHER: Okay, troops.

Everyone in the car.

I think I might do a shop on the way back.

Rachel, you are a goddess, and I am a pain in the arse who cannot be relied upon to wipe his own nose.

We hold these truths to be self-evident.

Amen.

(woman laughing) WOMAN: I've found you a Jack Yeats.

(laughing): Aren't I just!

They're emailing the catalogue print to you as we speak.

(laughing): He's now happy, is he?

(kids shouting) Is she all right about that?

MAN: Rachel's fine about everything, on principle.

Did you offer Hugh a lift?

"I like my bike."

Peasant gentleman in a hat, yeah.

Three mill on the nose.

Won't go higher.

Sterling.

Well, I am glad, 'cause I'm on my way to Bond Street to buy it.

Bye, Mummy!

Bye, Mummy!

MAN: As Bertrand Russell observes, absolutism has always been accompanied by some form of slavery.

MAN 2: Serfdom?

Title page.

"In Praise of Idleness.

Fo r Edward le P. Keep pecker firmly in the vertical-- Bertie."

Keep it; I've finished with it.

(door bell ringing) Hello?

Hello.

Jane Templeton.

Hello.

Am I expecting you?

You've been expecting me since you were nine years old.

(sniffs) Bastard.

(sniffs) Morning, sir.

What's the matter with you?

You been crying?

I always cry when I know I'm going to spend the day with you, sir.

(groans) I have to make a speech.

Hmm?

To the press.

Puffing the police.

Who does?

You?

You're joking.

(laughing) Priceless.

INNOCENT: To your advantage is the fact that you get to choose the venue, which gives you the opportunity for an introductory witticism, so speaking, for instance, to Fulham Football Club, you could say, "It's lovely to be here at Stamford Bridge."

(snickers) That's the... the Chelsea ground.

Yes.

That's the joke.

Yes.

Speaking in public, Lewis, is a duty a senior officer is expected to discharge.

Without fuss.

Hathaway, find me some dead people.

Sir?

Crime, now!

Or I shall discharge, and it won't be a pretty sight.

Sir.

Now, just relax.

(machine blowing air) Well done.

Good.

That's all right.

Well, you have what we optometrists call "pointy eyeballs"-- perfectly all right.

Rather distinguished.

It just means that conventional mass-produced lenses tend not to fit.

You're going to sell me something expensive.

You're not a detective for nothing, Mr. Hathaway.

HUGH: Well, I hope that was painless.

Thanks for squeezing me in.

Our pleasure.

Now the lovely Bella here will look after you, i.e., take money off you.

So, good.

Welcome aboard.

BELLA: Mr. Mallory.

Excuse me.

I did try and stop Mr. Hayward just now.

It is his turn.

Ah, that's all right.

There's a lady waiting.

Miss Templeton.

(whispering): I told her you'd already gone beyond the last session of the day, but she was rather determined to see you.

Looks like one of Rachel's.

My wife's a bit of a saint.

In her spare time, she's a collector of lost souls.

Please, take a seat.

Right.

What can we do for you?

You know, don't you?

You know.

Do I?

That's handy.

What do I know?

Oh, you're good.

Please, would... Hi, Stephanie!

Hi, Hugh!

How are you?

Fine.

Daniel's driving me to the brink of a psychotic episode.

It's a pretty standard afternoon.

Has Rachel given you those curtains yet?

Nope.

Come on.

Come on in and get them.

Mm.

God... garlic...

Your curtains are supposed to be in a box, here.

They're not here.

Okay, let's consult the authorities.

(phone ringing) Oh, for God's sake, what's the point of having a mobile phone?

Bloody women.

Mm, God, this is delicious!

I'll bet they're upstairs, just sitting there.

Come and identify.

(woman screaming) (woman singing aria) Bit of a coincidence, this.

I met him a couple of hours ago... sorted out my eyes for me.

How was he?

Charming.

Where's he been all day?

Work.

Let's check.

You poor girl.

Female suicides, Hathaway.

What's the first thing you look at?

Depends on the cause of death.

No, it doesn't.

Think.

Psychology.

The drama of the moment.

Left hand.

Married women throw away the ring.

Last thing they do.

She didn't.

She did not.

That's the first thing that doesn't smell right.

No note?

And that's the second.

She'd just hoovered the stairs.

She's a wrong 'un.

(low, indistinct conversation) (siren wails in distance) Cast of characters?

Hugh Mallory, his business partner, David Hayward, and his wife, Louise.

Okay.

Stephanie Fielding-- next-door neighbor, divorced-- and her son who's off school today, sick.

WOMAN: Come and say good-bye to Daddy.

Bye, girls.

Um... Granny?

That's Hugh's mother.

She's come to take the kids.

Why is there an ambulance, Daddy?

HUGH: Because Mummy's had an accident.

But... she's... Come on, darling.

Bye then.

If you're scared, just ask.

Call me old-fashioned, but isn't it a bit strange, Uncle David, is it, sitting in the back cuddling the kids while Aunty drives the car?

You are old-fashioned, sir, but, no, it is strange.

No!

(clock ticking) When my wife died, I drank a bottle of brandy every day for a year.

And then I considered my situation like an adult.

And the following year, I drank two bottles.

And the year after that?

I had a headache.

(door opening) MAN: Inspector?

Nathan Cook.

Depping for Hobson.

Where's the dead woman?

(whispers): Show some professional respect, Doctor.

COOK: Right.

Uh, some time this afternoon.

Until I get her on the slab, I can't...

Cause of death-- what is it?

Well, she was, um... she was hanging from the banister, so, uh... Did she die as a result of asphyxia inflicted by herself or by someone else?

Oh, uh, herself.

Yeah, the-the lesions on her throat and neck entirely congruous with suicide by hanging, so it's, uh... (sighing) Well, look, I'm sorry if you find my diagnosis disappointing.

(bell tolling) You haven't converted to Islam on the sly?

Not hungry.

Never see you eat.

How dreary life must be without the spectacle of me masticating.

Well, if you're going to be disagreeable, I shall read the local newspaper.

Aloud.

(groans) Ah, this will amuse you.

"Summertown Woman Found Hung."

Hung.

One despairs.

Is there a name?

What, the author?

The woman!

Oh, print's rather... "Mrs. Rachel Mallory.

Mother of two."

(blowing loudly) (crying) Just goes to show you, doesn't it?

What, exactly?

Oh, you think you know people, and you-you don't know them at all.

Mrs. Mallory wasn't one to get depressed?

No.

No.

She used to say to me, "Bella, I'd dearly love to be depressed, I just don't have the time."

HATHAWAY: Mr. Mallory?

(sighing): Oh... Lovely man.

Lovely man.

Always hurrying home to be with her.

Did he hurry home yesterday during the day?

What are you suggesting?

I'm professionally obliged to ask the question.

There's only one way in and out of this building, and I sit right by it.

(phone beeping) Mr. M arrived at 9:00, and left at 6:00.

Oh, that's that then.

Thank you.

LEWIS: Who's trying to contact me now?

(Bella crying) (phone beeps on) LEWIS: Dr. Edward le Plassiter.

Regius Professor of Jurisprudence.

You know what that means?

The moral integrity of the law.

Whether or not it has any.

It means he's a stonking great cheese.

What-What he wants with me all of a sudden, I have no idea.

It is the question of Stoker.

Stoker came up in 1989.

Was a grammar school boy.

Very serious, quite brilliant and absolutely without side.

No money, no strings to pull.

(chuckling): Well... of course, in this college, he was... conspicuous.

One night some of his coevals managed to get him drunk.

He became joyously noisy, declaimed a lot of poetry from the top of the college tower in the middle of the night.

The occasion was essentially harmless.

However... the eyes of the senior common room were upon me.

So I wrote Stoker a note, inviting him to take sherry with me.

It was a formula.

It meant a wigging and a small fine.

Embarrassing for both parties, but had to be done.

We talked in a general way.

It was uncomfortable, but bearable.

And then at last I said, "Mr. Stoker, we really must address this other business."

And he nodded.

Then I kissed him.

He thanked me for the interview politely and left.

It was as if the incident had never taken place.

But it had...

I found I couldn't bear to see him around the college.

In the end I said, "Oh, bugger this.

"I didn't break the law.

Why should my life be compromised by him?"

So you had him sent down.

(sniffs) What color is his hair?

Hathaway's a blond.

Then I had him quietly removed.

It wasn't difficult, he never contested it.

He just packed his bags and went.

I ruined Stoker's time at Oxford and quite possibly his whole life.

I want you to find him for me.

You're thinking, Hathaway.

What are you thinking?

I'm thinking you should address yourself to a private agency, sir.

Oh, absolutely.

But I have other affairs to put in order, and they concern the police.

No, I've decided I can't talk with the blond boy in the room.

(doorbell ringing) (sobbing) Oh, bugger, sod it.

Bollocks.

Unusual words of condolence, Lou.

I was not going to bloody cry.

It's not helpful.

It's for her benefit.

(sighs) No one knows what to do.

No.

It's tricky.

Whatever it takes, I'll make it all right.

I promise.

Are you sulking about that, or can I tell you what he said?

Both.

He says Rachel Mallory was murdered, but... the punch lines are: One, it's not suicide.

Two, Le Plassiter can point us to the killer.

But the price of his cooperation is us finding and bringing in this Stoker bloke.

What do you say to that?

What do you want me to say?

Arrest him for withholding information.

Interrogate him gently.

Ask him to sit on a chair that's not there, that sort of thing.

He's days from death.

Says who?

Says the Radcliffe Infirmary.

There's a letter sitting on his desk.

Treatment discontinued.

He's living on morphine.

There's no time for anything like official procedure.

Just taking Le Plassiter off the premises would probably kill him.

So it's his rules or we're not even in the game.

But how do we know it's not some sort of deviant opportunistic scam?

That he hears about Rachel, he uses her to get the thicky coppers to find his boyfriend.

You're not telling me you trust him?

Morse really rated Le Plassiter.

Reckoned he was the real thing.

Say it.

The psychology of this is all wrong, sir.

I know.

But it's all we've got.

In the meantime, I want a word with Uncle David.

Did you ever study law, sir?

Law?

No.

Eyes.

Medicine, not law.

So you never came across a Dr. le Plassiter?

I'm finding this conversation a bit confusing.

Ah, darling, help us out.

This is Lewis.

How can we help you, Inspector?

Give me a reason... ...why Rachel Mallory should take her own life.

God knows.

Rachel's life was so good.

Hugh loved her to pieces.

She had two wonderful children.

Good friends at every turn.

I mean, we all adored her.

So why did she kill herself?

I don't know.

(sobbing): I don't know.

DAVID: Hey, shh, shh, shh.

Darling.

Hey.

I do hope that's been useful, Inspector.

(sniffling): Right.

How can I help?

A quick word with Duncan, please.

Duncan's the ex-husband.

He's in New York.

The child is Daniel.

Daniel.

I'm so sorry.

Ugh!

It's been a long day.

I've opened a bottle of wine.

For God's sake, please, have a glass.

Otherwise I'll drink the whole bottle and it'll be your fault.

A quick word with him, first?

My nephew has this stuff.

Daniel, can you answer Mr. Lewis, please?

He's only asking because you were actually here when it happened.

I didn't see anything, okay?

I don't spend all day, like, looking out the window.

I'm sure if Daniel remembered seeing anything that the police ought to know about, he'd speak up.

Lewis is where?

Interviewing a neighbor of Rachel Mallory's, ma'am.

And you are doing what?

Getting a bit of essential background on her.

Well, trying to, but every time I...

So you're both fully occupied investigating a death medically confirmed as suicide?

You and I need to have a little chat.

Anyway, Dunc buggered off.

Left me with this life I didn't choose in a place I don't particularly like.

Too much information.

You can never give a cop too much.

It's a close-knit old bunch up here in Summertown.

Who's the king and queen?

Oh, Hugh and Rachel, hands down.

Close-knit... in the sense...?

No, no.

Hey.

These couples don't swing.

They just form very intense alliances.

Not necessarily with me.

Stephanie, what is it that everybody's not telling me?

If you're forcing me to say...

I'm not forcing you to do anything.

I'm just sitting in your front room, having a nice glass of wine.

Then no.

Sorry.

I suffer, you see, from loyalty to my friends.

An old-fashioned virtue.

I'm an old-fashioned girl.

On the other hand... you could speak to Hugh's mother.

That's all I can tell you.

HATHAWAY: I've just received a rather bracing lecture from our superintendent.

I'm sure you're a better person for it.

I'm not to discuss it with you.

Quite right.

What'd she say?

In short, you've been told you're not to commit overburdened resources-- that's me-- to the investigation of this case.

And that it's not a case, it's a statistic.

I'm sorry, but she made me bloody mad, and I didn't stick up for you, and I just feel ashamed.

She's got a point.

No, she doesn't.

Yeah... She doesn't.

We've received information from a legitimate source.

Oh, Le Plassiter hasn't given us damn all.

Yeah, but he will.

I've found Stoker.

He's in Oxford.

Look, we've both been warned off this case.

Now I'm old and bloody-minded enough to not do as what I'm told, but you're clever-- you should know better.

I do, and I've decided the best course of action is to continue investigating the case with you, unofficially, against the rules.

Well, if that's the case, get your finger out.

Fix me up a whole rogues' gallery of all the faces in the case, but put it somewhere where Innocent's not going to see it if she pokes her head in to have a moan.

And I didn't say that, so you can't quote me.

I'm off to see the granny.

Can I tell you what I think?

I think there's something wrong here.

Isn't there?

You know what it is and I don't, but I assure you, I'm going to find out.

And the sooner I do, the sooner we get to know what happened to your daughter-in-law.

So... any thoughts?

(sighs) In the first instance, Rachel was not my daughter-in-law.

If we're going to be technical about it, my daughter-in-law is Louise Hayward.

Hugh is married to Louise?

But he talks about Rachel as his wife.

Yes, that's tiresome, but it's... it's what they agreed.

Ten years ago, Hugh married Louise.

It was a good match, as far as one could tell.

David, Hugh's best friend and business partner, married Rachel.

The four of them went away on holiday together.

To Madagascar.

Left the babies at home.

Whilst they were there, Hugh supposedly declared his hidden passion for Rachel.

David and Louise turned to each other for consolation, So, by the time they came back to England, there was a new configuration.

So, what, the two couples just exchanged partners?

It was decided that the mothers should keep their own children.

And the fathers renounce theirs.

Take what you want, as they say, and pay for it.

In the space of three weeks, marriages thrown away like clothes gone out of fashion.

"Supposedly" declared his love.

(sighs) You don't believe that it was Hugh that initiated all of that?

He's always said he did.

And he never lies.

Never.

But it's strange.

Why?

Because when David's around, Hugh rarely initiates anything.

Where David goes, Hugh follows.

It was the same when they were friends at school.

Maybe it was the one time in his life Hugh needed to impose his will on the relationship.

That's exactly what Hugh said.

And I don't believe him.

No.

That's what Granny says.

Is Granny to be believed?

I've seen the wedding photos.

You see, they each chose the wrong person to marry.

So they rectified that with a formal redistribution.

They were happy with it.

So happy Rachel killed herself.

(people laughing in distance) She didn't kill herself!

I would stake the crumbling remains of my career on it.

That girl was murdered.

Mr. Stoker?

I'd like to talk to you about Dr.

Le Plassiter.

Is this a good time?

Is he dead?

No.

The Professor's very sick, Mr. Stoker... with cancer.

He's going to die soon.

He asked us to track you down-- he wants to speak to you urgently.

How would you feel about that?

Mr. Stoker?

I used to take a lot of pills.

I've stopped now.

But I sometimes find it difficult to... think clearly.

To concentrate.

I do hope this won't take long.

Me, too.

We have obviously no idea when Hugh will be returning to work and well... life goes on.

Except for Rachel.

Well, no.

Good grief.

I'm asking you in confidence, Mr. Hayward, is there anything we should know about Rachel's mental health?

Like what?

Like had she had enough of a marriage based on musical chairs?

It's in your mandate to sneer at the emotional lives of private citizens, is it?

It's in my mandate, sir, to ask obvious questions based on the information I have discovered.

Why did Rachel kill herself?

Okay.

I shall answer that.

I was always taught that being polite to policemen is the only way to make them go away.

Worth a try.

Louise thinks Rachel ultimately couldn't bear the disparity.

To you, no doubt, we all appear rich.

Louise and I are rich.

Rachel and Hugh are not.

But Louise is not very bright.

And there are some things she does not know.

Rachel Mallory, aged ten.

Parents go for a drive one afternoon.

Beachy Head.

They walk to the edge of the cliff... and they jump.

No note, no nothing.

And if that sounds familiar, it's because it's meant to be.

Hayward's selling me suicide as some bad family habit.

Well, it often is.

Not this family.

Tell me something encouraging.

Stoker has agreed to see Le Plassiter.

Oh, good!

Oh no, but sir, he's fragile.

God knows what's going to happen.

Look, can I say this now?

I think we're staking a hell of a lot on a conversation between a dying man and a terminally damaged one.

Yep.

(mocking tone): Yep.

At Cambridge, this is called a "court."

On my first day, the porter said to me, "Mr. Hathaway, would you kindly..." I, uh...

I have to go to the bathroom.

Okay.

Please sit down, Mr. Stoker.

As you wish.

The quality of your silence suggests you're not going to talk.

That, of course, is your prerogative.

But I'm very much afraid, Stoker, that I have spoiled your life.

A small indiscretion blossomed hideously into an act of great unkindness, at a time when you were very vulnerable.

I believe you thought the world had turned its face against you, and that you would never have success in it.

That is my fault.

I wish I had my eyes back, so I could see you.

I am so very sorry.

Could you leave us, please?

Go.

What's he gonna do, kill me?

If that's what he's after, he's gonna have to hurry.

When you give me something, I'll go.

Until then, I stay.

Jane Templeton.

Would you like to step into my office?

This is your office?

Quickly?

I thought nurses weren't allowed to smoke in here.

I'm not a nurse.

You will observe the cigarette is unlit.

Have you ever seen me smoke before?

No.

It's merely an indicator of stress.

If I light the cigarette, you know I'm about to scream.

I understand, in my absence, you've had dealings with Dr Cook.

Yes?

How can I put this with professional integrity?

The man's a complete ninny and outstandingly crap at his job.

Sometimes, you know, I worry that we're not on the same wavelength-- but on this occasion... Yeah, I'm like you, Lewis, I can't delegate.

And if I have to delegate, I have to check.

You're gonna tell me my suicide wasn't a suicide.

Well, not unless she managed to strangle herself with her own hands and string herself up half an hour later.

Dr.

Le Plassiter... the indiscretion committed in the Michaelmas term of 1989-- my first term-- altered the course of my life.

When you had me sent down, I did not return home to my parents.

I went to live in London, in a hostel.

There I...

I became ill...

I became dependent on anti-depressant drugs.

You are right to judge that you are to blame for all of this.

However, it has not escaped my notice that you are now a blind person.

You were not a blind person when you taught me.

You may believe your going blind is some kind of punishment.

It might be, it might be.

Dr.

Le Plassiter, please listen very carefully.

I have suffered since you did what you did, but so have you.

My life has gone all wrong, but so has yours.

I don't believe it's possible to put mine right, but yours, it seems, can be repaired by my forgiveness.

It is in my power to make life better for one of us.

My power.

(whispers): I forgive you, Dr.

Le Plassiter, completely and unconditionally.

It's unnecessary for you to think of the matter ever again.

The incident is closed.

And you had a knife.

I needed to concentrate.

(line rings) LEWIS: Yeah.

He gave me a name.

Jane Templeton.

(shouting into distance) Oh, God.

Sorry.

Go on.

Sorry.

I found her.

64 Hinksey Rise.

I'll meet you there.

Sorry, I've got to go.

You haven't arrived yet.

That's modern policing.

Was it something we could discuss over dinner?

Yeah.

8:00?

I'll tell you where to meet me.

All he gave was the name?

Yeah.

I want some old-fashioned boring police work done on this case.

I want to know the whereabouts of all those Summertown jokers At the time of Rachel's death and I want the alibis checked.

We're sliding around all over this case.

It's time we got our hooks in.

(cell phone beeps) What the hell's that?

Is that text speak?

It's a restaurant on the Banbury Road.

(engine idling) There's an engine running in here.

(both coughing) Ambulance!

Oh, God, you're dead, aren't you, you stupid cow.

(grunting) Do it, Hathaway!

I recognize her.

What?

I've seen her somewhere before.

Ambulance.

64 Hinksey Rise.

You didn't want to gas yourself in your car, Jane, eh?

Some bugger made you.

You might let me start speaking before you express boredom.

I've never been so excited in my life.

Just keep it simple.

These bony protuberances, we doctors call them "shoulder blades."

Well above the shoulder blades you will see two areas of contusion here and here.

May I?

Mm-hmm And that is how you grab somebody unawares and force their head into a pillow until they die.

And then put them in the car with the engine running and a pipe through the window.

So it's no longer murder, it becomes suicide.

And what is emblematic of death by exhaust fumes when the subject is sitting, is blood in the knees and the ankles, the color of bubble gum.

This she does not have.

She was already dead.

What she does have, deep in her nasal cavity... is this-- a filament of goose down.

Doctor, you bring me all this because you secretly love me.

If I bring you anything at all, Lewis, you cocky sod... it's because I secretly love Hathaway.

(kids laughing) If you don't mind me saying so, this is becoming bloody intrusive!

Absolutely your prerogative to ask us to leave, sir.

Why don't you just say what you came to say?

All right.

It's been established that Rachel's death was not suicide.

We'll be wanting to speak to you all formally later.

I'm telling you this now, as a courtesy, in case there's anything you'd like to say to us informally.

Are you all right, Daddy?

You should also know that we're investigating a second murder which we believe's connected to this case.

We'll let ourselves out.

WOMAN: Isn't the fire lovely?

Do you need some help?

HATHAWAY: Family life, eh, sir?

LEWIS: Yeah, I miss it.

I was being ironic.

Even an ironic family life; I'd settle for that.

Damn!

I'm so sorry.

I forgot.

(laughing): Okay.

Am I refreshed by your honesty or just pissed off?

Bit of both, I should think.

WAITER: Care for a drink, sir?

Yeah.

Is it expensive?

Alternatively, I could buy you a small car.

(chuckles) So...

So?

It's my way of distracting you, throwing open the conversation.

So?

Is that the small talk done?

God, I hope so.

Can we cut straight to the reason that you came to see me earlier?

Yeah.

I came to tell you...

This is gonna change the whole character of the evening a bit... ...or a lot, not necessarily for the better.

Rachel Mallory was murdered.

(sobbing) You all right, Stephanie?

I'm sorry, but there's no doubt.

And I thought this date got off to a rocky start.

I could not have told you.

That would've been dishonest, sitting here talking to you and thinking about that.

Yes, I appreciate that.

Would you mind very much... if I went home now?

I had a lovely evening, for about 20 seconds.

(chuckles) Listen, Louise has this appalling idea that she should give a drinks thing to cheer up Hugh.

I think it's a crazy idea, especially now.

Will you go?

If you take me.

Who else is going?

Is that what you usually ask a girl when she invites you out?

Stephanie, it's a murder enquiry.

The flashing blue light makes it kind of difficult for me to go to something like-- I don't know-- the other guests might be suspect.

Who cares about you?

I'm fed up with going places on my own.

Will you come with me?

I take that feeble grin as a yes.

LEWIS: Tell me why we're here.

HATHAWAY: Psychology.

I knew you were going to say that.

(purring) What's the true common denominator between Rachel's friends?

Wife-swapping.

I don't know.

Where they went to school?

No.

It's where their children went to school.

And they all go here.

Malcolm Croft, Headmaster.

Now, look, the first thing I want you to be absolutely clear about is that here at Park Town, we are a very broad church.

Glad to hear it.

We have 14 Muslims in the school and 32 children of mixed parentage.

I do feel it's important to foreground this.

(bell ringing) Quite.

You should be entirely confident of the pastoral care that your child would receive here.

Darling, I think you should explain.

Yes, it's a terrible business.

I can't honestly see the children returning this term.

My wife thinks something can be done.

Luckily the parents are insured to the hilt.

You checked that?

The bursar informed me immediately we heard the news.

Your wife, sir?

She's a psychiatrist.

Head of Pastoral Care.

She's arranged with Mr. Mallory to counsel Izzie and Hannah.

We know the Mallorys socially, of course.

It might be useful for us to pop back for a bit of a rummage, sir.

Rummage?

Through the paperwork here.

With your permission, of course.

I'm not altogether sure permission is mine to give.

Is Dr. Croft about the place?

Yes, I'm sure she's here somewhere.

CROFT: I can't talk about the children.

Client confidentiality.

But the parents, on the other hand... LEWIS: Open season.

CROFT: Yeah, good therapy for a therapist to indulge in some serious indiscretion.

God, that was frivolous.

How successful was the exchange, do you think?

Surely David was furious that Hugh had nicked his wife?

No, I don't believe so.

They seemed to come to some kind of arrangement.

David sees the children whenever he wants.

They don't know that he's their father, but it works somehow.

And even if didn't, are you seriously asking me if I think David is capable of murder?

Yes.

Well, he isn't.

I mean, David's soft.

I've worked with murderers, they all have this extra bit of wiring that can actually make them kill, and David simply doesn't have that.

Who does, amongst her circle, would you say?

Nobody.

And her "circle," as you put it, is far wider than you can possibly imagine.

Her husband was as jumpy as a rabbit about us looking through his stuff.

What?

Jane Templeton.

I remember where I saw her.

(bell ringing) Mr. Mallory.

Have you seen her?

Yes.

I have.

So have you.

She came to the practice.

One of Rachel's Lost Souls.

They turn up there every now and again, usually because they've got the idea she works there... bit disappointed to get me.

You know, Rachel... she couldn't buy a pound of sausages without soliciting a full marital history from the butcher.

No.

In the scheme of Rachel's general acquaintance, this person was nothing out of the ordinary.

Not worth telling us about on the day that Rachel was discovered dead?

Rachel's life was overflowing with curious people, for whom she cared.

This Templeton woman was entirely unexceptional.

The fact of it didn't seem important then; doesn't seem so now.

How did you know her name was Templeton?

You know I've endured your insinuations today since the moment you arrived, but I really have had enough.

She told me!

She said "my name's Templeton."

It gave me a clue.

We're just trying to catch a murderer, Mr. Mallory.

(sighs) Yes, I'm sorry.

Look, obviously I'll help.

I mean, do you want me to talk to her?

I'll talk to her.

That won't be necessary, sir.

LEWIS: Recycling, sir?

What?

Actually, Inspector, I am in rather a hurry.

That's apparent.

Would you like to open the boot again?

I've got a great deal to do today.

Just open the boot please.

I'd prefer not to.

Look, unless there are body parts in the bag, Mr. Croft, I really recommend that you do.

Confiscated... all this filth.

I can't even put it in the bins.

God knows how the boys manage to get hold of it.

You should have a word with the newsagents...

There's nothing illegal here.

Nothing whatsoever to do with children.

Just, uh... ...just consenting adults.

Nothing to be ashamed of.

Please don't tell my wife.

I'm afraid I'm going to have to, sir.

(whispering): Please... Well, let's think about this, shall we?

Malcolm, you're not eating my nibbles.

I'm offended.

Caroline, is your husband pregnant or something?

Probably.

Knowing him.

No, thank you.

Darling, you're a bully.

(laughter) Why Inspector, honey.

This surprises me.

It makes you ill at ease.

I'm surprised.

It just seems a bit disrespectful.

That's the way it's done round here.

Who the hell does think she is, bringing that goon?

It's bad enough having to entertain her.

Her oik of a son, without the laughing bloody policeman.

(tapping on glass) Look, I'd just like to say something.

We're not addressing something that should be addressed.

Your speech?

Don't do it like this.

Dear Rachel has started her new life.

But it's a new beginning, too, for Hugh, and for the children.

From this point in their lives, everything will be different.

I think they need us to know that we support them, we appreciate them.

And we love them.

Hear, hear.

Does that sound pompous?

Only from you, Headmaster.

(laughter) Well done, Malcolm.

That was lovely.

Hugh darling, let me get you something.

I can't believe this is happening.

I've met stranger people in stranger places.

Is this both the children?

Yes.

And this concludes our transaction, is that clear?

Don't push your luck.

Daniel, the very man.

Now listen, something happened the morning that Rachel was killed and you saw it.

What was it?

Come on, Daniel, you see everything.

I see you and my mother.

Not everything is what it seems, Daniel.

HATHAWAY: The files on the kids.

How the hell did you get these?

Age and guile.

Very thorough.

Caroline Croft.

No emotional stone unturned.

But do you know what's underneath all those stones?

Nothing.

The kids are happy-- Izzie and Anna.

Never smacked, never shouted at, never bored.

Just loved around the clock.

"Mummy likes to... (door opening) "Mummy likes to see paintings and stuff and sometimes she takes us and it's actually really fun."

The Mallorys, perfect parents.

The Haywards, ditto.

Can you smell that... smell?

It's time Dr Le Plassiter woke up.

Jane Templeton has been murdered...

The killer tried to dress her death up as suicide just like they did for Rachel.

Who's doing this?

Professor, unless you talk to me, I shall stay right here, asking you questions, while you are trying to die elegantly.

The public makes a very great error in supposing that violent criminals on their release from prison are merely tossed back into society.

They are watched.

Very closely, very secretly, and for a very long time, by a special unit of undercover social security officers, colloquially known to themselves, as "man watchers."

I now draw your attention to the case of Alison Bright.

I was at the time the Home Secretary's special adviser in these matters.

When she was very young, Alison, who her parents judged to be a mature and responsible little girl, was left in charge of her infant brother for half an hour.

But the baby kept scratching at his face, making it sore.

Mittens wouldn't stay on.

So Alison cut off his hands with the kitchen scissors.

When the parents returned, they found Alison in the bathroom with her mother's sewing kit... God... doing her best to reattach the parts she had removed.

Alison Bright grew up to be Rachel Mallory.

It was Rachel who was being watched.

By Jane Templeton.

The Templeton woman watched Rachel for 20 years.

Watched the reconstructed child-killer blossom.

Her own life, on the other hand-- no loving husband, no delightful children.

Nothing but a characterless bungalow in a godforsaken suburb.

Templeton was on the down escalator and Rachel was on the up, and the gap was getting wider.

It was not to be borne.

She told you this?

It was unfair.

Her word.

HATHAWAY: She told you she was going to blow the whistle on Rachel, sir?

Sir?

No, he's gone again.

Professor, wake up!

He won't; he's in a narcoleptic coma.

It could be a couple of days before we get him back.

That's if he doesn't die in his sleep.

LEWIS: Of the known inhabitants of Rachelworld... Hugh Mallory.

He knew about her past or didn't.

Either way, he loved her, and he was at work all day.

He's acting like he's got nothing to hide.

David Hayward.

Now there really is something stinky about him.

All that strutting around, beating his chest.

And he was married to the woman, for God's sake.

And he's alibi'd to the hilt.

Louise?

She's always falling over herself to say how wonderful life was with David and his fine collection of modern money.

Not her.

Stephanie Fielding?

Well, opportunity, yeah.

At home all day, movement only corroborated by her son.

Motive?

Motive: jealousy of a happy marriage.

It's possible.

Le Plassiter?

Well, yeah, wouldn't that be good?

How would that work?

Waging some Hannibal Lecter-ish war of attrition on the phone.

Moving his pawns about.

Stoker?

Not a pawn.

No, but he's a lost soul.

(cell phone beeps) Hathaway, that damn telephone!

It's yours, sir.

Oh, perfect.

INNOCENT: What in God's name were you thinking?

A cocktail party with the prime suspect in a double murder case?

Who told you, out of interest?

The headmaster of Park Town Prep.

He thought your presence at the party was irregular, and he was spot on, wasn't he?

Hmm, more balls than I thought.

What?

I said the ball's in your court, ma'am.

I'm sorry.

It was the right thing to do at the time.

You get this sorted, Lewis.

You and Boy bloody Wonder.

You do it right now and without the slightest trace of impropriety, or I will have you back in a tall hat pedaling a pushbike before you can say "Where's my pension?"

Have you got that?!

The gist, ma'am.

Absolutely.

Le Plassiter.

One last dance.

Here I am, sir, as promised.

Ruining the moment.

And don't pretend to be dead.

It's bad manners and it won't work.

My God, you're a frightful little man.

Why should I tell you anything?

You can't go to your death unshriven.

Your soul must be clean.

(wheezy laughter) Do I detect the whiff of Papism at my bedside?

How delightful.

You must tell us what we need to know to catch this killer.

That is your true act of contrition.

The visits of Rachel Mallory.

The terms of the order were very clear.

Nobody was permitted to know whom Alison Bright had become, not even me.

I couldn't have found her if I'd wanted to.

But of course she knew how to find me.

She called me on the telephone.

She'd invented some incredible charade about writing a paper on the subject and needing to talk to me about it.

I knew it was her.

She pretty soon realized that I knew who she was, but neither of us ever admitted it.

I told her about Stoker.

It was her moral example that made me seek propitiation for that sin.

I asked her to seek him out for me.

I think she tried.

What did Rachel tell you?

(gasping in pain): Oh, my God!

Cancer's a bore!

Tell us what she told you.

Don't take it with you.

(gasping) This is it, sir.

He's going.

"Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy."

Edward!

Try.

"A kid'll eat ivy, too."

You're about to stand before your God.

(gasping) The head shrink.

(gasping): Oh, my God... oh...!

Who?!

Who's the head shrink?

Go out of the room.

I want to die alone.

(bell tolling) WOMAN: Look, Rachel was not my patient.

Not officially, but, I mean, of course she was.

How could I be privy to the most appalling secret and not try to help her?

For two years, I subjected her to the most comprehensive therapeutic trawl through her unconscious.

I hypnotized her.

Uncovering what?

Nothing.

That's the point.

There was no lurking trauma pre-dating the killing of the baby.

She was never abused, physically or mentally.

For what she did, there was no objective excuse.

The evil had come from within.

She was trying to stop the boy from hurting himself.

That wasn't evil.

It was a terrible mistake, but it was borne of kindness.

Would you believe that if you made your baby brother bleed to death?

Her whole life was a relentless struggle to surround herself with goodness; to be loved, to be needed, and to be reminded constantly that people were not dolls to be torn apart and stitched back together again.

Did David know about Alison?

Yes.

And what about Hugh?

Well, she wanted to tell him, desperately.

but she never did because she thought it might drive him away.

Suppose Hugh found out about it-- how would he cope?

He'd have managed, somehow.

(door bell jangling) Uh, excuse me!

When did Rachel tell you the truth about herself?

It's my guess she wanted to tell you when you proposed to her, but she just couldn't do it.

Had to have that ring on her finger first, yeah?

Whenever.

That was when you decided to palm her off onto Hugh.

Not unreasonable.

Who wants to be married to a psycho?

Don't take that tone of blokey sympathy with me.

It demeans us both.

She told me everything on our honeymoon.

I went for a long walk.

I came back and told her it was... it was okay.

I could live with it.

But when the children were born... You found yourself hiding the scissors.

Worse.

She found me hiding them.

She was hysterical.

She told me she would do anything to make it right.

I just...

I just looked at her and I knew that that was that.

There is some knowledge that's so terrible it crushes all trust, all hope.

So you steered her towards Hugh.

Listen... Hugh wasn't right with Louise.

He always joked that he only got married because I did.

Louise is, um... is a sexual animal.

Hugh found that alarming.

Right.

So all your spadework's done before you even go to Madagascar.

Hugh's intimidated by Louise, Rachel's making eyes at Hugh like some frightened rabbit; Louise is looking for something a bit more vigorous, and you've told Louise "keep the motor running," you'll be right with her.

Louise had no idea at the time.

And Hugh thinks he's made all this happen.

Hugh's never achieved a damn thing in his life.

I wanted him to have this.

Oh, so it was act of charity?

You didn't tell Hugh about Rachel's secret, did you?

No.

You sold him a house with an unexploded bomb in the cellar!

Caveat emptor, Lewis.

I am not my brother's keeper.

No, sir.

No one could ever accuse you of that.

Hathaway?

Sir?

I tell you what I think.

I think Hugh Mallory's dirty.

Loulou, I'm numb.

There isn't anything you can possibly tell me that'll shock me or even upset me.

David wants his children back.

I'm sure of it.

He doesn't care about me or our children.

He never did.

He certainly doesn't care about you.

What David wants are his girls.

And whatever David wants, he gets, always.

I can't remember if you take sugar.

No, most unlikely, you're a woman.

What I'm saying, Hugh, is watch out.

You're under attack.

Madagascar.

It didn't happen the way you thought.

It didn't happen the way any of us thought.

The only person who really knew what was happening was David.

Did you set much store by Rachel's opinion?

Yes, of course.

Yes, because she always said you were a terrible liar.

(whack, clattering) Amusingly, I only found out the truth about Madagascar (crying quietly) quite recently.

But I'm afraid I can't accept the suggestion that David kept you in the dark about it.

Or about anything else for that matter.

No... you knew everything.

Everybody knew everything.

But now... hey, poor old Hughie-come-lately.

He knows it, too.

He's gone!

Hugh's gone!

Lunchtime, the day Rachel died, did you see Hugh Mallory come back?!

Tell me the truth, Daniel, or you'll regret it!

Yes.

Say it again!

I saw him come back.

He was there for half an hour.

That's what you saw?

Yes.

Good lad.

Get out of my house, Lewis.

Get out!

(siren approaching) Bastard hit her with a kettle.

Where's he gone?

To pick up the kids.

In that case we have a problem-- because Mallory's the killer-- and he hasn't finished killing yet.

Get to them, before he does.

I'll see you later.

Where will you be, sir?

Intimidating his receptionist.

I've no time for games!

Tell me why you lied!

I did it because he asked me to.

Because I love him.

I love Hugh Mallory.

I...

He killed Rachel.

That cow.

That holier-than-thou bloody cow.

Queening over everyone like Mrs. Muck.

The alibi you gave Hugh enabled him to kill another woman.

I don't care!

If it was useful to him, I'm glad.

(phone rings) Tell me.

HATHAWAY: Not good.

Mallory arrived ten minutes ago to take the kids away for a surprise.

Where's he taking them?

Well, I don't know or it wouldn't be a surprise, sir, would it?

Sir... he's going to kill the kids and then he's going to kill himself.

No, he's not, Hathaway.

I won't allow it.

Get me tech.

Yes, sir.

IZZIE: Is this the surprise?

Yes.

Are they real?

Completely real.

Cool.

I wanted you to see them because they're so special to Mummy.

Did she like them?

Not exactly, no.

She thought they looked like she felt.

Inside.

But Mummy's pretty.

But Mummy didn't feel pretty inside.

Somebody told her about these guys, so she used to come here, apparently, quite a lot, so she could look at them and think, "Yes, that is exactly how I am.

"Squashed.

Deformed.

Grotesque".

Daddy?

Yes, darling.

You're hurting my shoulder.

Oh...

Sorry, sweetheart.

Missing Mummy a bit.

Right, who wants a dinosaur?

Well, I do.

Izzie, hold Daddy's jacket.

I'm going just there, to that lady with the shop.

You stay right here, okay?

I don't like the little faces.

(phone ringing) Mummy?

Eh, c'est mignon.

C'est degueulasse!

(woman laughing) Not allowed to use these in here, darling.

They're still in the city...

They're indoors, uh, somewhere big with an echo.

A church?

Not a church.

It's too busy.

A library?

The sound over the word is a woman laughing.

You wouldn't laugh like that in a library.

(audio rewinding) Gueulasse.

Degueuleasse.

I think that's French.

Uh, degueulasse.

Makes you puke.

It's amused disgust.

Where would Hugh take the kids to look at something that tourists find so repulsive and yet still funny?

"Mummy likes looking at pictures and stuff."

What stuff?

Where does she go on her own to look at stuff?

I need to ask you something, Mr. Stoker.

You didn't ever meet, by any beautiful chance, Rachel Mallory?

Rachel Mallory.

Rachel, yeah?

Thank you.

Alison.

What?

Yes.

Alison.

I carry her groceries to the car.

She lends me books.

Told me her secret name was Alison.

Did she tell you any other secrets?

Did she tell you about the Head Shrink?

I'm the one who told her.

I know where they are.

So do I. I'm looking for a guy with two little tiny girls; blonde-haired girls.

Sorry, mate, I haven't seen them.

Quick, quick, quick, quick!

One last surprise!

(whispering): Sod it!

HATHAWAY: Sir!

They're here!

Up top!

(panting, grunting) Through here!

(girls whimper, cough) But where are we going, Daddy?

Come on, Anna.

You run like an old woman!

Daddy, why are we running?

Go!

Go, go, go!

Anna.

ANNA: Daddy... it's dark in here.

(pounding on door) HATHAWAY: Open the door, Hugh!

Here we are!

Hugh!

HATHAWAY: Hugh!

HUGH: Here we are!

Come on, girls.

LEWIS: Hugh!

Careful.

HUGH: Magdalen College.

That's where they sing on May morning.

Hugh... Might be a good idea, you know, health and safety, if the children came over my way a bit.

Ouch!

Daddy, you're hurting me!

Come on, kids.

Stay where you are.

It's all right.

Stay where you are.

ANNA: I-I want to get up.

Okay, look...

I'm going to count to three.

No!

I'm going to count to three.

One... Hugh...

I can still see you.

Look at the kids!

Two!

Hugh, look at them!

Three!

(yells) (sirens wailing) Now, stay there for me, okay?

Right there.

Better for all the children if you're alive, even in prison.

Oh, will you give it a rest?

What do you know about it?

I mean, your wife died, boo-bloody-hoo.

My wife wasn't even my wife, she was someone else's.

(girls whimper) Shh.

She belonged to everyone in the world, except me.

Tell me, 'cause I...

I need to know if I've got this right.

Templeton confronted Rachel.

Rachel called you, said, "Come home now."

And out it all came.

Alison Bright.

Everything.

She told me about it and I still loved her.

I said, "We're stronger than this.

A love like ours could burn down a city.

LEWIS: But she couldn't stop.

Daddy!

Shh.

She had to tell you about Madagascar.

Everything built on a lie.

Your love.

Everything.

Meaningless.

So you strangled her.

Silly thing is, the person you really wanted to hurt was David.

God, I'm tired.

ANNA: Daddy!

(screams) (groans) (girls screaming) (Hugh screaming) GIRLS (crying): Daddy!

(girls screaming) Daddy!

Daddy!

You're holding onto my arm, Hugh.

(girls crying) It's because you want to live.

Say it!

Say it.

(screams) Say it!

Yes!

Yes!

Yes!

(groaning) ANNA: Daddy?

Daddy.

Daddy... Intimidating witnesses, Lewis, one of whom was a child.

Oh, for heaven's sake, I just pulled a face at Daniel to stop him lying.

I never raised a finger... Well, you may have to prove that because the mother's taken advice.

But you.

You take the cake.

I'd like to explain, ma'am.

I bet you would!

If I want your opinion, Hathaway, I'll ask for it.

The incident was witnessed by the public, by children, by the press!

If Mallory had let go, you wouldn't be looking so bloody smug now, would you?

I'm not smug, ma'am, it's the unfortunate shape of my face.

I'm sorry.

It just seemed like the right...

Apologies are not enough!

...right psychology, ma'am.

This is demotion to the ranks.

"Right psychology," my royal English arse.

If you put Hathaway in uniform, ma'am, I go with him.

Calling my bluff, are you, Lewis?

Do you really think that's wise?

If it gets me out of giving this bloody speech.

Oh, it's just bloody spiteful, making me do this.

Well, it's better than walking up and down the High Street telling tourists the time.

Sir?

What?

Thank you.

Ah, give over.

Well, I just wanted you to know how grateful I am before I get drunk, so that you know I mean it.

Oh, for God's sake, just write this thing for me, will you, Jim?

(clears throat) (moans) I might have to get this eye seen to.

Do you know anyone?

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