Season 2 | Episode 7: The Point of Vanishing

(ballroom music plays) (thunder rumbling) (whimpers) ♪ ♪ (horn honking, tires screeching) (laughs) I'’ll be two seconds.

Night, Coleman.

Night, ma'’am.

(door closes) (dance music playing) WOMAN: I can'’t wait, sweetheart.

I'’m so excited.

Couple more days.

(distant siren blaring) There'’s a whole new world out there.

♪ ♪ (distant dog barking) (water running) (gasps) (groans) (groans) (muffled screaming) (raucous laughter) What?

I see you'’re on the pull tonight.

Every man has his weakness.

Yeah, fast cars, single malts, nurses with starched white cotton.

Garlic bread?

Calls herself a woman of the world.

Um, I know tonight'’s soiree has been in the diary for weeks, but, um, I happen to have stumbled on some rather spectacular news.

The fact is, I'’ve just had word that one among our number has been awarded an extraordinary promotion.

So I won'’t go on, but suffice to say, thoroughly well deserved, completely out of the blue.

If you'’ll please raise your glasses to Inspector Fiona McKendrick.

(applause) Congratulations!

Thank you so much.

She kept that quiet.

WOMAN: I don'’t know how we'’ll get by without you.

Here lies Inspector Lewis.

Eclipsed by a woman of 28.

Thirty-one.

What'’s her gender got to do with it?

Where'’s she going, anyway?

Somewhere with heavy rainfall and plenty of sheep.

No, Scotland Yard.

Commissioner'’s Office.

Blimey.

There'’s contacts for you.

WOMAN: Bye.

Good-bye, Robbie.

Good luck, Fiona.

Congratulations.

Thank you.

Good-bye, then.

Keep in touch.

Will do.

All right?

Yep.

HOBSON: That water was once extremely hot.

You may find some, uh, surface burns on the killer'’s hands.

Unless he was wearing gloves.

Pedant.

LEWIS: Anything stolen?

SOCO think not.

Name?

Any ID?

Found that in a bag by the door.

We'’re submitting a DNA test, just to be sure.

Okay.

How come I never get those scrappy burglar caught in the act killings?

'’Cause you'’d be bored stiff.

Steven Mullan.

Where do I know that name from?

Hmm.

If you get any closer, she'’s going to poke your eye out.

Just studying the evidence.

I found this in his jacket pockete.

It'’s in the Ashmolean.

Florentine.

What?

You said Venetian.

Well, how do you know?

I'’ve got this at home, on a set of coasters.

No name.

"It was no dream."

Anything on our database?

Yeah, he'’s got a record.

Drink driving October 2006, went to Pentonville, got out seven months ago.

That'’s right, Steven Mullan.

Only it was a bit more than drunk driving.

Try attempted murder.

He live here alone?

Neighbor says there'’s a housemate.

Alex Hadley.

Uniform are out looking for him.

Steven Mullan.

MAN: Stevie?

Where?

LEWIS: At his place, over in Marston.

Crumbs.

He'’s supposed to be on at 3:00.

Well, I suppose I'’ll have to get Janine to cover for him.

We'’re very sorry for your loss, Mr. Cotton.

Well, he'’s only been here two minutes.

HATHAWAY: Can you be more specific?

How long was he working here, love?

Three, four months?

WOMAN: Yeah.

Something like that.

Yeah, part-time, he was, the odd afternoon.

No great workhorse.

Still, good with the ladies.

And the gents.

Some of them.

Yeah.

I can'’t hardly believe it.

Sure you don'’t want to, uh, top up that tan, seeing as you'’re here?

That'’s not tan.

That'’s blood pressure.

Oh, pick up, babe.

Please, come on, pick up.

Come on, pick up.

(knocking on door) COTTON: You okay in there?

(doorknob rattles) Love?

Yeah, I'’ll be out in a minute.

Open the door.

Love.

(pounding door) Open the door.

Oh.

Oh, God.

I'’ve always wanted to have a go in one of those.

Alex Hadley?

Sergeant Hathaway, Inspector Lewis, Oxford Police.

We need a word about your housemate.

Steven Mullan?

Steven?

I'’m afraid he was found dead in your place earlier this morning.

What?

No.

You okay to answer some questions?

(distant bell tolling) Yeah.

Yeah, go ahead.

You lived with Mullan long?

Few months.

We were housemates.

I-I rented the back room off him.

Old friends?

No.

I...

I saw the ad in the local paper.

He, uh...

He needed the extra cash after he got out of prison.

Did you get on all right?

Yeah.

We'’d work out together some evenings.

You know, lose some weight and then put it all back on down the pub.

You know, he was trying to keep fit for some girlfriend.

Who was she, this girlfriend?

I have no idea.

And where were you last night?

Double shift.

I, uh...

I left the house around 10:00, and Steven drove me into town.

I was just about to clock off when you guys caught up with me.

Anyone confirm that?

Ask my boss, if you like.

LEWIS: Did Steven ever talk about his life before he went to prison?

He said he was a different man back then.

LEWIS: He didn'’t mention any troubles?

Old grudges?

A man called Tom Rattenbury?

Who?

No matter.

Is that it?

HATHAWAY: Not quite.

Forensics say it'’s yours, if you want it.

Fingerprints?

Plenty of smudges, but nothing definitive.

Tom Rattenbury, physics don?

Yeah, until he morphed into... celebrity atheist.

Absolutely ubiquitous at one point.

Books, newspaper articles.

(ringing bell) I saw him in a TV documentary once.

Not half bad.

Yeah, if you like that sort of thing.

Not your cup of tea?

Well, it'’s just popular science and saber rattling.

I dare say it reads rather well on a beach.

(chuckles) It pays the bills.

You are?

Detective Inspector Lewis, sir, Oxfordshire Police.

This is Sergeant Hathaway.

You are forgiven.

Enter.

We'’re all in the conservatory.

(indistinct chatter) Yeah.

Yeah, I know.

It'’s amazing.

(indistinct chatter) Cecile, darling, these gentlemen are from Oxford Police.

(laughs) What'’s he done now?

We'’re here regarding a Steven Mullan.

He was found murdered this morning over at Marston.

What?

It'’s all right, love.

Don'’t expect we'’ll be sending flowers CECILE: Tom.

I am sorry.

This is our son Daniel and his inamorata, Hope.

Students, obviously.

Pleased to meet you, Inspector.

CECILE: Our daughter Jessica.

Mullan.

Not the guy...?

Yeah.

Steven Mullan was a certain sick and twisted individual, who one night...

Darling, time and place.

Better she hears it from us.

One night, three years ago, after he saw a promotional billboard for my husband'’s latest television enterprise...

It was one of your more red- blooded attacks on the church.

Wasn'’t it?

What did it say?

Anyway... this man Steven Mullan climbed into a ten-ton truck and drove it, in the name of Jesus Christ our savior, straight into our hatchback.

He tried to kill me.

CECILE: Only it wasn'’t Tom at the wheel, as he'’d thought.

It was Jessica.

Broken spine, ruptured spleen.

Torn pancreas.

11 operations and still counting.

Jess?

(Cecile sighs) I'’m sorry.

Don'’t be.

We were all having such a nice afternoon.

If you could each just confirm your whereabouts last night, then we'’ll get out of your hair.

When last night?

After 10:00.

(Cecile sighs) I was here with Jessica planning her birthday party.

Tom, you were?

In my study, working up my notes.

I may have gone for a drive at some point.

What time, sir?

Don'’t know.

It was dark.

My machete was in the boot.

Don'’t be funny.

LEWIS: Anyone vouch for you?

Anyone see you?

No.

What about you, sir?

I was revising up in the loft.

By the way, I don'’t suppose this means anything to either of you?

We found it at Mr. Mullan'’s.

Uccello.

Nothing at all.

If you could try and remember your route from last night, sir, we might be able to pull something off the traffic cameras.

You can do that?

As a last resort, yes.

Your daughter okay?

CECILE: Thursday afternoon swimming club.

You know, Inspector, what that man did to us was unspeakable, but in a strange way, it'’s brought us all closer together.

Neither Tom nor I dwell in the past.

We'’ll be in touch.

Ceel?

The postcard.

Not now.

(woman speaking Spanish over audio guide) You know, this looks more like a race than a hunt.

What do you mean?

Well, uh, these riders, the dogs, these spear carriers.

What are they?

Stags?

It looks like they'’re all in it together.

They'’re all racing off in the middle of the night.

Where are they trying to get to?

Go on, enlighten me.

You know you'’re dying to.

Il punto di fuga.

Vanishing point.

First law of perspective, Giorgio Vasari.

Don'’t pretend you didn'’t get that out of the book.

Anyway, there has to be more to it than that.

There is.

You'’re quite right.

In Renaissance terms, the hunt was a courtly metaphor for the pursuit of love.

The hunter, the male rampant.

The hind, or deer, the defenseless female.

But in the game of desire, the chase is so much more uncertain.

Is the deer fleeing for her life, or leading her lover away, deeper into danger?

The hunter doesn'’t know.

That'’s the point.

But he can'’t stop himself.

Sorry.

Forgive me.

I... No, no.

Not at all.

It'’s our most treasured canvas.

By members of the public, not just old show-offs like myself.

Does this mean anything to you?

"It was no dream."

Thomas Wyatt.

Right.

Who is?

"They Flee From Me That Sometime Did Me Seek."

And regretfully, I must do the same.

Hmm... Hmm... Hobson'’s postmortem report.

A woman of few words, obviously.

Time of death?

Between midnight and 1:00 Wednesday night.

Official cause of death-- drowning.

50% burns couldn'’t have helped.

Anything from Forensics?

Prints?

Fibers?

Yup, plenty of both, but nothing we can get a match on.

You still fancy Rattenbury for the murder?

Yeah, well, Mullan tries to kill his daughter, and all he gets is a drunk driving charge.

Hardly justice, is it?

How'’s that for high art?

That'’s the billboard that Mullan saw the night he went after Jessica.

So you think he was asking for it?

Well, I wouldn'’t go that far, but he must have felt his fair share of culpability.

He hasn'’t been on telly since.

What do we know about Steven Mullan?

In and out of Young Offenders'’ Institutions.

Got into the Bible in a big way when he tried to get off the heroin.

The Bible became his new addiction, according to the parole reports, so he jumps to the obvious conclusion that it seems that Rattenbury'’s the anti-Christ.

What?

No.

It'’s just, you make him sound almost like a monk.

Yet, in his room-- nude pictures on the wall, marijuana in the ashtray.

(people clamoring) What'’s going on?

Tintoretto.

Now, for all his Sturm und Drang, he cared about craft.

A master of the vanishing point, rather like our American cousin, who obviously has better things to do with her time than slum it here with us lot.

No matter.

(indistinct shouting) Get in, miss.

Get away from the car, please!

Stand back!

HOPE: So much for sitting out the storm.

LEWIS: You okay?

Yeah.

(sighs) This is Coleman, everyone.

Hi, Coleman.

Hi.

Can I have a gander at that?

Sure.

Oh, I thought I recognized you.

What am I missing?

I'’m... Hope Ransome.

Rhodes scholar daughter of Carl Ransome.

Carl Ransome, the U.S. defense secretary?

Close.

Secretary of state.

And the next leader of the free world, according to my mom.

Blimey.

Where to?

DANIEL: It was all my idea.

We'’re just finding it hard to shake off...

The Hulk.

The Hulk.

CECILE: The Hulk being?

(Daniel clears throat) Right.

DANIEL: He takes the bodyguard thing to a whole new level.

Guy'’s like a 300-pound chastity belt.

Sorry, Inspector.

We really must.

CECILE: Oh, we have to get my husband across town.

He'’s coming out of purdah at last.

RATTENBURY: I had my arm twisted.

Some silly debate at the Oxford Union.

Why I agreed to the bloody thing... Do you a power of good.

What is it you call them, Dan?

Uh, bearbaiting for the overprivileged.

I'’m afraid we'’re not done yet.

You told me last night that you were working on Wednesday night.

In the loft here, you said.

Misleading a police investigation, that'’s not good.

Oh, mitigating circumstances.

Would you like to put the record straight?

He was with me all night.

Sir?

Uh, she'’s right.

Uh, we'’d left college at around... when was it, 9:00?

And I dropped her home around 4:00?

Now, if you'’ll forgive me.

Of course.

What is your talk at the Union?

Uh, "Doing Without."

Without...?

Who do you think?

(chuckling) JESSICA: Mum'’s beside herself.

With joy, that is.

About your brother'’s whirlwind romance?

Of course, she practically set them up.

Friends in high places.

So, does she know the Ransomes?

She hung out with them in the Vineyard when she was working in the States.

Mum used to be the editor of Harpers magazine in the good old days.

The editor-- I didn'’t know that.

Well, she came home after my accident to take care of me.

So, she gave up her career?

She kind of blamed herself.

And Dad, obviously.

It'’s so silly-- it'’s not like, if she'’d been around more, none of this would have happened.

How did you feel about Steven Mullan'’s death?

(sighs) You met him, though, didn'’t you?

No.

His prison records say that you met him in, uh, March last year-- that restorative justice program, where the criminal and the victim meet face-to-face.

Oh, that.

How did it go?

We just sat in a car park.

Mum said, "If you don'’t go through those gates, "you'’ll never be rid of him.

He'’ll be in your head for the rest of your life."

But I couldn'’t do it.

I just couldn'’t.

The stupid thing is, she was right.

He'’s still here, even though he'’s dead, even though I never even saw his face.

She tends to be right about most things.

Well, mothers aren'’t always easy to live with.

Not easy to live without, though.

Thank God for swimming club.

It'’s my one hour of freedom.

Not that she entirely approves.

Why not?

Because she can'’t control me there.

She'’s obsessive.

She made me a promise after my accident that she was going to throw me the biggest party ever for my 21st.

Anyway, it'’s on Saturday, and... and they'’ve taken out this massive loan, which I'’m not supposed to know about.

Is that you?

JESSICA: Sort of.

She looks so alive, doesn'’t she?

Still, I don'’t miss her one bit.

Would you like to come?

To the birthday party.

I could do with some moral support.

Sure.

CANTER: Atheists like Tom here suffer from one thing and one thing only.

It'’s pulpit envy.

They see the golden light, and they want it all for themselves.

WOMAN: Quite so!

(applause) Oh, I get that a lot.

People look at me and they say, "What have you learned, Tom, from your stint in the wilderness?"

Of course, what they really mean is, "Are you one of us yet?

Are you ready to put up and shut up?"

Fat chance of that.

RATTENBURY: Well, I'’ve got news for all you good people.

Even in my darkest hour, I still think I'’m better off without some helping hand pushing me down the one true path.

"The responsibility is mine," Bertrand Russell said, "but so, too, is the opportunity."

Opportunity?

Opportunity.

This man makes a martyr of his only daughter, and still, he won'’t shift an inch.

Is that what you really think?

Do you honestly think, if I could have my time over, I wouldn'’t change a thing?

You may believe what you like.

Choirs of angels, UFOs, the power of Prozac.

Whatever helps you sleep.

I may not share your illusions, but I'’m no happier without them.

Ah, Inspector Lewis, Dr. Manfred Canter.

Shouldn'’t you be in uniform?

Not since they issued them in flares.

You teach theology?

(chuckles) This old rent-a-gob?

Don'’t be fooled, Inspector.

They only invited him along '’cause he'’s good for a scrap.

You'’ve known each other a long time?

Oh, we were students together.

Frightfully brilliant.

Of course, Tom beat me to a fellowship by a poxy three weeks.

Ceel turned the whole thing into a silly competition.

My wife'’s idea of a joke.

What was the prize for this competition?

Ten quid, was it?

It was rather more than that.

Well, where have you been all my life?

HOPE: Not yet born for most of it.

(laughter) CANTER: Ouch.

Dr. Canter is running a course on Italian art.

Next stop, Early Renaissance.

Uccello and all that?

Among others.

Well, we missed you at the seminar today.

Frightfully dull.

Expect you coped.

Oh, well, I...

I I muddled through.

As one does.

But always hankering after something more.

CECILE: Spoken like a true prophet.

"Then I saw her face," and in the words of Mr. Neil Diamond... "Now I'’m a believer."

Shut up!

I'’m so sorry.

CANTER: No need.

(cell phone ringing) Daniel, what'’s the matter?

Yeah, Hathaway?

DANIEL: I don'’t like the guy coming on to you.

I know, but you can'’t throw a drink in his face every... Yeah, good night-- see you later.

(Hope and Daniel continue arguing indistinctly) Daniel okay?

Sure.

He just gets kind of jealous, that'’s all.

Does he have reason to be?

Oh, come on, I'’m not that flattered.

Anyway, Manfred'’s just a show-off.

He'’s one of life'’s eternal flirts.

Hmm.

Has he played up like this before?

Daniel, I mean.

A little, but, you know, nothing that'’s not age and gender appropriate.

Can you please stop rescuing me?

I'’ll try not to make a habit of it.

Maybe you should come work for my dad.

Nasty feeling he wouldn'’t understand my accent.

I could be your interpreter.

Couldn'’t afford you.

Too old for ambition, is that it?

I'’ve seen where it gets you.

(laughter, chatter in distance) They here for me?

Afraid so.

Come on, this way.

(overlapping shouting) (distant bell tolling) I had this crazy dream that over here I could-- I don'’t know-- disappear.

Sounds very human to me.

Oh, boy.

You know when you'’re a long way from home, and you do stupid stuff?

You want to tell me about it?

Some rock.

Congratulations.

They'’re all set to announce the engagement at Jessica'’s birthday party, and I don'’t know anything about him.

The night of the murder, Daniel says he was with you until 4:00.

And my sergeant spoke to the press photographer who took those snaps for the paper.

According to him, the pair of you slipped out of the nightclub just before midnight.

Daniel proposed outside college.

He said he'’d forgotten the ring.

He needed to go pick it up.

How long was he away, Hope?

About three hours.

Please, don'’t say anything.

LEWIS: There'’s no point lying to us, Daniel.

After you left Hope at college, what then?

Listen, I was getting engaged.

It'’s a big step.

I...

I just needed some head space.

There.

Now, can you please leave him alone?

LEWIS: Where did you go?

DANIEL: Home.

Got my head straight.

What?

Drove or...?

Walked.

Yet to pass his test.

Lazy so and so.

Thank you, Daniel.

Mind if we show ourselves out?

The last time Mullan was seen by his housemate was when?

10:00-ish.

He dropped Hadley in town.

Yeah, exactly.

He dropped him in town.

What does that say to you?

Mullan gave him a lift.

Right.

Spool back three years.

He'’s sent down for drunken driving.

But he gets one more penalty.

Yeah, driving license revoked for ten years.

So he was driving without a license.

Right.

That, the dope in his ashtray, the dirty pictures on his walls.

The guy was meant to be born again.

Something'’s not right.

I knew it the minute I walked into his room.

Get on to Hobson.

I need to see those DNA results.

HATHAWAY: Wrong corpse.

Right corpse, wrong name.

Your murder victim is not Steven Mullan.

Innocent'’s gonna love this.

Come on.

Forgive me if I'’m struggling to get my head round this, but the man formerly known as Steven Mullan is in fact... Alex Hadley, late of this parish.

And he was formally identified by?

By his housemate, whose name is in fact... Steven Mullan.

Swapsies, ma'’am.

Try to look as if you'’re enjoying this a little less, would you?

Is this your mess?

Actually, don'’t answer.

Just get it cleared up, will you?

Before the press start doing cartwheels outside my office.

(sighs) Alex Hadley.

What, if anything, do we know about him?

Well, he'’s a bit of a drifter, according to his sister.

Son of a highly-decorated Naval officer who died when he was a kid.

Not much contact with the family.

Spent most of the last decade in Goa.

INNOCENT: Is he known to us?

Had his wrists slapped last summer for class C drugs possession.

Which is how his DNA wheedled its way onto the national database.

But why on earth, if they were living together...?

What does the real Steven Mullan say about this?

I'’ll be sure to ask him when I find him.

HATHAWAY: He hasn'’t turned up to work since he falsely identified our corpse.

I'’m keeping his place under surveillance in case he gets homesick.

We think he'’s our killer?

He'’s certainly acting like one.

A motive might help.

(muttering) I mean honestly.

No.

Let me finish.

You tear the life, the soul, the innocence, out of your own belief system, and you sit there like some old relic from a dead empire blathering on about the purpose of faith.

This is the bit where I clear my desk out under the cover of darkness.

Do you want a hand?

I'’m almost done, thanks.

Not much, is it?

Three years.

One box.

Good night and thank you.

I'’m pleased for you.

You know that, don'’t you?

(laughs) No, you'’re not, James.

You are never going to be.

I'’m sorry.

Yeah.

See ya.

See ya.

Well, the other night when our leader announced McKendrick'’s promotion-- your long-faced sergeant...

He'’s always long-faced.

Hathaway has his reasons.

He sees his contemporaries rising through the ranks, and thinks, "Why not me?"

(laughs) What?

When we came to say good-bye, do you remember, you and McKendrick air-kissing like a couple of tarts in an operetta?

Garlic bread notwithstanding?

I was just being polite, as I would with any seven.

Yeah, but what did Hathaway do?

Hug?

Kiss?

Mexican wave?

I don'’t know.

I...

Nothing.

That'’s what.

Two colleagues, worked together for years.

Absolutely no bodily contact.

Now why would that be, Detective?

He'’d have told me.

Wouldn'’t he?

(bell buzzing) Mullan'’s not dead?

LEWIS: That'’s correct.

Well, at least that lets me off the hook.

Anyway, I wanted you to hear it from me first.

Thanks.

(quiet clatter) Oi!

No cheating!

I'’ve got eyes in the back of my head.

The rest of the family not in?

No, Ceel took Dan and his girlfriend off for a curry.

You weren'’t tempted to join them?

Hmm.

We'’d only cramp their style.

LEWIS: By the way, just for the record, did you remember your movements in the car?

On the night in question?

Sorry.

Up to my eyes.

Lecture first thing.

Oh, thank you for your support.

My misadventure last night at the Union.

I wouldn'’t call it that.

RATTENBURY: Now, don'’t be polite.

I was certifiably awful, but I don'’t mind.

Perhaps I need reminding.

Of what?

Ah, standing in a pool of light.

Telling other people how to lead their lives.

It all seems somehow soiled.

What were they after, any idea?

Sir?

Mullan and the other fellow, swapping names.

Oh, I-I don'’t know yet.

Mm-hmm.

Fresh start perhaps.

Clean slate.

You know, I almost envy them.

What was his real name?

Your victim?

Alex Hadley.

Mean anything to you?

No.

(door closes) Jess?

I don'’t want to play anymore.

Oi.

Steven Mullan?

Half the force is out looking for you.

It was Alex'’s idea.

The swap?

That'’s right.

Why?

Why would Hadley...?

He was going about with this girl... Name?

I don'’t know.

Maddy, Madeleine.

Married to someone else, of course.

Anyway, the husband found his texts, and it was game over as far as she was concerned.

And then one day, in he comes, hands me a beer.

"I'’ve got a little confession to make," he says.

He'’d only gone and got himself a job at the husband'’s shop.

And when the bloke asked his name, he said he was... Steven Mullan.

Yeah.

This shop.

Solarium, was it?

Yeah.

I was out of work at the time, and Alex was on at me to swap names.

He kept saying "What have you got to lose?"

He swore it would be two weeks!

He swore it would be two weeks, but he was-- was too busy enjoying himself messing about with the wife underneath the old man'’s nose.

Why did you put up with it?

Did Hadley pay you, threaten you?

Come on... look at me.

Look at what I am.

I'’ve spent the last three years of my life running away from my own shadow.

Someone comes along and says start over.

New name, new life.

I'’m not going to think twice, am I?

I didn'’t kill him.

It'’d be a lot more convincing if you'’d put that thing down.

I didn'’t kill him.

No way.

I may have given up on the Bible, but I still try to make every choice the right one.

Well, make the right choice now.

Come inside with me.

Let'’s get a statement written.

No.

Well, then, I'’m going to have to arrest you.

Please, I d...

I don'’t want to hurt you.

One more day.

What for?

Why do today what you can put off until tomorrow?

Story of my life.

One more day.

One more day for what?

He didn'’t say, but I trusted his sincerity, if that makes any sense.

I was so sure that Rattenbury was at the heart of this.

Have a word with Hadley'’s girlfriend Madeleine.

Yeah, worth a punt.

Or you could run it past Inspector McKendrick, get the female perspective.

What?

Well, seems like a bright girl.

Not my type, obviously.

What'’s Fiona got to do with anything?

Well, you brought her up.

No, I didn'’t.

Any sign of Mullan this morning?

No, I'’ve got all the units out looking for him.

(grunting) Oh, come on, darling, you can do better than that.

I know you can.

Please.

You know the rules.

When you'’ve had enough, you say the password.

Gazebo.

Gazebo is not the password.

What is it then?

What is what, dear?

The password!

You know perfectly well what it is.

(grunts) I'’ll get your wheelchair.

Oh, for pity'’s sake.

Has she told you?

It wasn'’t Mullan who was murdered.

You want to stay strapped in that wheelchair for the rest of your life, be my guest.

Ceel, that'’s enough.

Go on, stick up for her, like you always do.

I hope it makes you feel better about yourself.

(doorbell rings) Madeleine Cotton?

Yeah?

Sergeant Hathaway, Oxford police.

Can I come in?

Thanks.

Going somewhere nice?

Yeah, I'’m running late as it is.

I know, I'’ll be as quick as I can.

Alex Hadley.

You might know him as Steven Mullan or, well, both.

(doorbell rings) (gasps) That'’ll be my taxi.

(man speaks indistinctly) Yeah, I'’ll be, um, I'’ll be five minutes, mate, thanks.

Mr. Cotton not joining you on your trip?

(chuckles) What, fresh start?

Well, there'’s no crime there.

Going far?

India.

Goa?

That'’s it.

Alex loved Goa, didn'’t he?

Yeah, his spiritual home.

That'’s what he used to say.

How did you meet, you two?

Uh, at the solarium.

Okay, so let me get this right.

Your husband employed him for, what, 13 weeks?

(sighs) Only I found a text on his phone from your phone from two months before that, which means that you two were together from way back.

My guess is that your husband found out about it and demanded that you end it.

Am I right so far?

Yeah.

Only it didn'’t stop, did it?

Then Alex is killed and you'’ve got to ask yourself: "What if my husband found out about it and...?"

No... no.

You lose those sunglasses for me, Madeleine?

Your husband knew Alex Hadley was your lover.

Right or wrong?

(sighs) I don'’t know.

We can protect you.

You know that, don'’t you?

(door opens) You'’re home early, love.

LEWIS: Check out the suntan on that.

Go ahead, take a peek.

Seven quid an hour you were paying him?

For what, to bump and grind on your own electric beach?

That must have stung.

Once more with feeling, Mr. Cotton.

Wednesday night, 11:30.

Like I said, I was doing an all-nighter in the shop.

Anyone see you, anyone at all?

No.

You sure?

I already told you.

I thought he was gay, what with all the highlights.

I only found out he was carrying on with Maddy after you told us he was dead.

I caught her sniveling in the storeroom and I...

Gave her a slap, Mr. Cotton?

If I was you, I'’d get a move on with that alibi.

HATHAWAY: "And she caught me in her arms long and small, "therewithal sweetly did me kiss.

"And softly said, '’Dear heart, how like you this?

'’ It was no dream: I lay broad waking."

(beeping) "But all is turn'’d thorough my gentleness into a strange fashion of forsaking."

A lover'’s rebuke?

Pretty much.

See, according to the notes, Sir Thomas Wyatt was passionately in love with Anne Boleyn, but she had her hands full with Henry VIII so poor old Wyatt hardly got a look-in.

"They flee from me that sometime did me seek."

Literally flirting with danger, wasn'’t he?

Making moves on the king'’s wife.

Do you think Madeleine Cotton could have sent this to Hadley?

She denies it.

Oh.

Do you think Marc Cotton'’s capable of murder?

Though it pains me to say it, I actually believe his story.

So if Maddy didn'’t send this, who did?

That'’s interesting-- what passes for romance.

Why no name?

Adds to the mystery, I suppose.

Hmm, or uncertainty.

Sorry?

Well, you said that they swapped names.

Perhaps whoever sent that genuinely didn'’t know.

Any joy with the wine stain on your jacket, sir?

See for yourself.

Little tyke.

This jacket'’s older than he is.

Was that a one-off or do you and Daniel Rattenbury generally not get on?

Well, I can'’t say I'’ve ever warmed to the child, though why he chose that occasion to throw one of his tantrums...

Protective, perhaps, of his girlfriend?

Of Hope?

Yes, perhaps.

Does he have cause to be?

Well, not on my account, though she is rather beautiful to look at, if a man of my age may be allowed to say such things.

Well, I suppose he was also very protective of his sister.

Oh, he'’d have her under lock and key, given half the chance.

Poor Jessica.

Everybody seems to forget she'’s now a young woman.

Well, still, Daniel must have been very angry after the accident.

Driving a truck into the path of a young teenage girl is not an accident.

Was he angry, sir?

Yes, yes, I suppose he was.

HATHAWAY: Are we keeping you, sir?

Well, yes, as a matter of fact, you are.

Jessica'’s 21st-- flash old bash.

Cecile'’s reliving her glory days.

Oh, fudge.

Forgot.

Well, well, well.

Hathaway plus guest.

Is this your date for the evening?

Oh, yeah, we'’re inseparable.

Come on, sir, let'’s go and tuck you into your tux.

I'’m better under my own steam.

Thanks all the same.

How long?

You and her?

Me and who?

Fiona.

Oh, for pity'’s sake, man.

How long have you fancied Fiona McKendrick?

Call a spade a shovel, why don'’t you?

What, you two... Yeah.

For a while.

Well, we were even trying to work out how on earth I was going to break up with you, sir.

You know what she'’s like-- fast track and all of that.

Office romance doesn'’t look too hot on the C.V., does it?

So, she went her way, I got lumped with you.

(chamber music playing) Either your father'’s had a massive advance for a new book he'’s kept quiet about or your mother'’s just inherited a fortune.

I know.

I only hope your memories are better than the hangover.

Who asked you?

Oh, Daniel, don'’t throw that fizz at me.

It'’s far too good to waste.

This man thinks he can walk all over my family.

Not here.

Not tonight.

Dan?

What is wrong with that boy?

I knew I should never have come.

He'’s right.

I wouldn'’t spoil your evening for the world.

Well, thank you for coming.

I'’m very sorry.

Why don'’t I walk you out.

He'’s just an angry young man, Manfred.

Don'’t take any notice of him.

CANTER: Tom.

He'’s not welcome here.

HOPE: Daniel.

Who invited Canter?

Look, don'’t worry about it, all right?

Just keep yourself together.

It'’s ridiculous.

I know it'’s ridiculous, but just try and keep yourself together, okay?

Okay.

Okay.

Sorry to go on, but is there really nothing you'’re not telling me?

You and that art professor?

Oh, give me some credit, will you?

Daniel seems to have doubts.

I wouldn'’t read too much into that.

Just nerves, I guess.

Big night.

I suppose these are here on your account?

HOPE: Dad'’s, mostly.

Ex-Marines.

Your father'’s here?

Private chopper from London.

He should be here before nightfall for the big announcement.

Introduce you, if you like.

Maybe Dad can persuade you to come work for us.

(chuckles) She'’s trying to tap you up.

She made some passing remark.

Just being kind.

I was quite flattered, to be honest.

You reach a point in life, you'’ve got to conclude that basically you'’re invisible to beautiful women.

I know that feeling.

(string quartet playing) Have you noticed the rather large, burly gentleman around...?

Well, it'’s security because I understand that Mr. and Mrs. Carl Ransome will be arriving shortly.

That'’s Hope'’s parents.

I'’m incredibly touched.

They'’ve just flown in from Washington.

♪ ♪ Where'’s Jess?

And I promise you I'’ll make sure... Mum?

She knows where we are.

That'’d be wonderful.

(bird chirping) (gasps, groans) Is that you?

(groans) (grunts) Help!

Yeah.

(siren blares) That'’s correct.

Bloody man.

Tonight was meant to be so perfect.

You'’re sure you didn'’t see Mullan'’s killer?

I could almost touch him.

Can this not wait?

A man died tonight.

Jessica, I need to be clear on this.

You think Steven Mullan was coming for you?

Coming... Obviously he was planning some sort of an attack-- the man was insane.

What else would he have wanted?

Was he coming for you?

I was so scared.

And-and then your dad came... what, straightaway?

No.

No, I kept calling, he couldn'’t find me.

Where is your husband, Mrs. Rattenbury?

Do you know, Inspector, I have absolutely no idea.

Hey.

Dad?

I know I'’m a rotten father.

Dad, are you okay?

I love you, you know that.

I never say it, and I should.

Obviously, I'’ve only got myself to blame for that.

Blame for what?

Dad... whatever it is, it'’s not your fault.

The point is, it'’s still not too late to understand that there'’s still time.

What are you...?

To make amends.

LEWIS: What happened to the leader of the free world?

Apparently, Mr. Ransome turned his helicopter round the minute he heard the news.

Fair enough.

We might have to let Maddy'’s jealous husband off the hook.

Marc Cotton?

For this murder, yeah, but... No, no, no, for both.

He finally coughed up an alibi for Wednesday night.

Uniform turned up with this.

"Battleship Potempka"?

Aka Brenda Gormley.

An ageless beauty of uncertain gender.

She confirms that she was with Cotton in the solarium between the hours of 11:00 p.m. and 1:00 a.m. 80 quid, full body massage.

Very competitive.

You think this is what he meant?

What?

Mullan.

"Give me one more day," he said.

One more day to go after Jessica all over again.

How could I have got him so wrong?

It'’s left here.

(beeps) (phone line rings) (ringing) Ceel... it'’s me.

Half my life pummeling Christ, and here I am at the end of it, chasing redemption.

(tires squealing) (crashing) Number one victim.

Stabbed with this.

Any print?

No, nothing yet, I'’m afraid.

In the back... one upward thrust into his lung.

Not easy felling a big chap like, um... Steven Mullan.

Hmm.

Moving on to your crash victim.

Since when was he my crash victim?

Since I had a rifle through his pockets.

Here.

For you.

Crushed under his own windscreen, the poor sausage.

And, uh... there'’s this.

(sighs) Where?

Where was the collision?

The A40.

About a mile west of the ring road.

X marks the spot.

That was the place where Mullan ran into your daughter?

He'’s been nailed to that spot ever since.

DANIEL: What'’s going on?

CECILE: "I'’m putting an end to it all.

"I got my man.

Second time lucky."

(sighs) It beggars belief.

Can you confirm the handwriting?

Oh, it'’s Tom'’s.

Any idea why?

You mean apart from the obvious?

(sighs) CECILE: Everyone knows that when that man attacked my daughter, no one felt the wound more deeply than Tom, because I think he believed it was his fault.

Mum.

I'’m sorry, darling, but it'’s the truth.

As he saw it.

If he hadn'’t have set himself up as a target in the first place... And I suppose... he must have seen that... psychopath following Jess into the maze last night.

And he must have thought, "This is it.

This is my moment."

And for all anyone knows, he may just have saved Jess'’s life.

Dad couldn'’t hurt a fly.

He wasn'’t wired that way.

Who knows what anyone is really capable of?

We didn'’t find a note for you, his family.

Often, people want to say good-bye.

Did he leave a message here?

A text or... Not that I'’m aware of.

Oh, we... (sighs) we found this.

I wouldn'’t read too much into that, Inspector.

It'’s a family heirloom.

Tom'’s father was a priest in some godforsaken parish up near Carlisle.

Well-well, why would he... Oh, something to hang on to, I expect.

A lucky charm.

(weeping) (banging) Okay, Miss Rattenbury, I'’m really going to have to ask you to leave now.

It'’s all right.

Leave me alone.

It'’s okay.

Leave me alone, leave me alone!

It'’s okay.

HATHAWAY: Jess.

Get you home now.

All right?

Come on.

(whimpers) Are you saying... apart from the signed confession and the other blind alleys, how sure am I that Rattenbury is our maze murderer?

Basically, yeah.

Well, I'’ll tell you this.

Mullan died of arterial wounds.

All that blood, you'’d expect some of it to end up on the killer'’s clothes-- splash-back-- but so far, the only blood type we'’ve found on Tom Rattenbury... is his own.

HATHAWAY: So, what'’s the hypothesis?

Rattenbury made a mistake?

He killed Alex Hadley, thinking it was Steven Mullan?

Hmm.

What?

Hadley was murdered around about midnight, right?

Now, even if that light was out, there'’s a street lamp right outside the window.

Look.

He would'’ve seen his victim'’s face as he forced him under.

Now, Jessica never went near the trial, but her dad was at the court every day.

He'’d have known what Mullan looked like.

And he would'’ve known it wasn'’t Mullan he was drowning.

Tom Rattenbury confessed to both killings.

All this time, you'’ve been so sure he was our man.

Why do you have to go unpicking everything?

I'’m just saying, reasonable doubt-- how'’s a jury going to react?

(door opening) Hathaway, say something sensible, for pity'’s sake.

Mr. Rattenbury'’s movements Wednesday night.

The first killing?

Yeah.

Remember he said he went out for a drive?

Then refused to give us his route.

We had a thought.

Rattenbury?

Eight minutes past midnight.

Same time as the first murder.

He'’s off the hook, whether he'’d have liked it or not.

But this is...

The exact spot where he died last night.

Rattenbury'’s been going back there regularly.

Such a personal thing-- no wonder he wouldn'’t tell us about it.

So, this suicide note... Is a lie.

Such a public figure.

Why confess to something he hadn'’t done?

What if he was trying to protect someone?

(groans) We'’ve been through this 100 times.

Mum, it'’s okay.

I went looking for Jess and got waylaid.

Why?

Coleman.

I was showing him how to make a margarita.

That'’s easily confirmed.

And just for the record, Wednesday night...

I told you, I never went near Hadley.

I left Hope outside college.

My head was spinning.

I mean, only footballers get married at 22, right?

Are we finished now?

Daniel checks out.

There'’s a queue of grateful cocktail drinkers who swear he was never near the maze.

If Tom Rattenbury wasn'’t covering for his son, who was he protecting?

The wife?

Cecile?

Drowning a fit young man in his bath?

Stab a big, strong lad in the back?

Besides which, same problem with her as with Tom: she'’d have known she was killing the wrong man.

No, what'’s-his-name, Marc Cotton, did his alibi stand up?

Yep, solid-- Potempka went to battle.

(phone ringing) Here'’s your chum.

HOPE: Thank you so much.

If you could just dump it all by the porter'’s lodge.

See?

Chivalry is alive and kicking.

Given the right encouragement.

I'’m so glad you'’re here.

I wanted to say good-bye.

Oh?

I'’m being airlifted back to reality.

Papa'’s orders.

What about Daniel?

Collateral damage.

Something like that.

He was meant to be here, see me off.

Who knows?

Maybe he had a better offer.

Actually, I'’m kind of relieved.

Oh, don'’t say that.

Oh, why not?

Couple of weeks, he'’ll be so over me.

I was going to mail this to him.

I don'’t suppose... No problem.

Thanks.

Thank you all so much.

I really appreciate it.

All done?

Thanks.

Well... good luck.

And hey, that offer is still open.

My dad can always use a good man.

Hope?

What is it that I'’m not seeing?

The night you got engaged.

Tell me, if only for Daniel'’s sake.

You'’ll probably find him down by the boathouse.

Ask him again.

Ask him what?

Try to catch him on his own this time.

Hope asked me to give you this.

What do you think?

Pretty?

Can we go through it again?

You left Hope outside the college... Give it up.

Please, Daniel.

You'’d forgotten?

The ring.

So?

So I went to pick it up.

Where?

In the car.

I thought you told me it was at home.

Yeah?

You went home, Daniel.

What did you see?

What did you see?!

Early hours of Thursday morning, just a couple of short hours after the first murder, you were seen by Cecile'’s son.

He came home to pick up his engagement ring and walked in on the pair of you.

Yes, poor chap.

I'’d call that a rude awakening.

I suppose you'’ve always been infatuated with Cecile?

That wager you had with Tom Rattenbury when you were students-- what was the stake again?

Ten pounds?

Bit more than ten quid, wasn'’t it?

You lost out on the love of your life.

Well, he was welcome to her.

She was out of my league.

Still, a man can have delusions of grandeur, can'’t he?

(laughing) Piss in the wind.

Either charge my client, or let him go.

This is a search warrant for your rooms, Dr. Canter.

Well, tell them not to break anything, for God'’s sake.

Ah, there'’s no worries on that score.

Forensics are painstakingly precise.

They'’ll crawl over every square inch until they find a match with Mullan'’s place.

RECORDING: You have one message.

MAN: Alex, sorry to chase, but we didn'’t see you earlier.

Are you coming in next week, or...?

Sorry.

Got to go.

(beep) RECORDING: Message one.

MAN: Alex, sorry to chase, but we didn'’t see you earlier.

Are you coming in next week, or...?

Sorry.

Got to go.

(beep) Canter kills Alex Hadley, and later that night, he comes round here to your place for half an hour on the fireside rug.

It was considerably shorter than that.

Do you know, I had a terrible feeling it was his first time?

Well, I hope it lived up to the billing.

Oh, for heaven'’s sake.

Manfred turned up in a state, because of one of his students.

Anyway, it was all very silly and not to be repeated.

A sympathy shag.

Isn'’t that what you call it?

Tom and I were always very forgiving about these sort of things.

Where is my bloody phone?

He was a close friend of your husband'’s.

(sighs) You make it sound so salacious.

There'’s nothing less salacious than a dead body.

I'’ve been around a few.

And there was I, thinking it was your aftershave.

Mrs. Rattenbury, stop!

No!

No.

You stop.

And answer me this.

In this exotic revenge fantasy of yours-- why now?

I mean, why would I possibly want to kill Steven Mullan now?

When I have been building, brick by brick, a fu... (sniffles) ...a future for my family?

Unlike Tom, I don'’t wallow in what can'’t be helped.

Now, if you'’ll excuse me, I have a husband to bury.

(phone buzzing) RECORDING: You have one new message.

Message one.

RATTENBURY: Ceel, it'’s me.

Half my life pummeling Christ... and here I am... Are you lost?

In the forest?

I keep thinking, if I stare at it long enough... You'’re in danger of turning into one of our regulars.

Where exactly is this vanishing point anyway?

Out there in the dark...

Mind you don'’t lose your footing.

You think we'’re barking up the wrong tree?

Well, I think we'’re missing something.

Why would Tom Rattenbury go to his grave to protect his wife'’s lover?

And why now, as she said.

What would drive a woman like Cecile, after all this time, to conspire in murder?

Out there in the dark.

She didn'’t know who he was.

Miss Wheeler?!

Yes.

This man-- is he one of your regulars?

Yes.

You'’re sure?

Yes, great stocky fellow.

When was this?

Oh, it was months ago.

I wouldn'’t normally remember, only, he had someone with him.

A girl in a wheelchair.

Thank you, Miss Wheeler.

So Jessica sent the postcard to Mullan.

A lover'’s rebuke.

Come back to her, be there for her.

She said she'’d never met him.

Oh, she met him, all right.

He probably trailed after her, waiting for his chance, wanting her forgiveness.

And when she asked him his name, when he had the chance to tell her the truth, he bottled it.

He said that he was... Alex Hadley.

Maybe he just couldn'’t bring himself to tell her.

How did you work it out?

That painting.

All those hunters in the forest.

She was one of them.

Reaching out for someone to hold onto.

Blind grope in the darkness.

But she was misled.

She had no idea it was him.

Where were they meeting?

Wheeler says they haven'’t been here for months.

That'’s right, and that postcard was only sent last week.

MAN (recording): Alex, sorry to chase, but we didn'’t see you earlier.

Are you coming in next week, or...?

Sorry.

Got to go.

(clamoring in background) (beep) His work?

Yeah, but why say next week on a Thursday evening?

He worked full-time, didn'’t he?

(beep) MAN: You coming in next week, or...?

Sorry.

Got to go.

(clamoring in background) What'’s that?

Sorry.

Got to go.

(clamoring in background) Echoes.

Kids?

Sorry.

Got to go.

(clamoring in background) Swimming pool.

Oh, not again.

Is your daughter at home?

I expect so, but if you think you'’re going to go and disturb her... She said she was going for a swim.

She didn'’t tell me.

LEWIS: St. Margaret'’s in Summertown?

Get over there fast!

♪ ♪ 2:30 every Thursday, was it, this swimming club for the disabled?

We don'’t do that word.

No, of course.

Sorry.

Still, it must take some organization.

I mean, apart from the staff, you'’d have to draft in extra part-time helpers so that it'’s one-on-one.

Strong swimmers, physically fit.

Like Steven Mullan.

LEWIS: They just wanted somewhere they could meet.

Where no one would stare at them.

A bit of fun, physical contact.

You saw them, didn'’t you?

CECILE: No.

LEWIS: And Jessica'’s injuries-- they were yours, too.

Isn'’t that what compassion is?

Fellow suffering?

Fellow sacrifice.

And you played your part.

Jacked in the brilliant career to be an unpaid physio.

And there'’s your daughter, imagining she can just fall in love with who she wants.

Touching her, letting her believe he was someone else.

(tires squealing) You persuaded Canter to kill him.

Your idea, was it?

The drowning?

Pity he got the wrong bloke.

And of course you got your man, "second time lucky."

You must have guessed that he and Jessica would want to meet up on the night of her party, so that he could explain, ask for her forgiveness.

What I can'’t see is, what would make your husband take the blame?

Why die to protect a man like Manfred Canter?

Damn.

I'’m not used to... To this knife?

Where is your best knife, Mrs. Rattenbury?

"I'’m not used to being interrogated," I was going to say.

(heavy breathing) (coughing, gasping) I didn'’t kill him.

I didn'’t kill anyone.

Would you do something for me?

Hmm?

Would you please try not to hate him?

Steven?

I see now he only lied because he wanted to help me.

Her lie... ...her lie was like poison.

Whose lie?

What a thing to say-- my mother is like poison.

(cell phone ringing) Jessica, darling.

Are you all right?

DANIEL: Jess, what happened?

Is she all right?

Yeah, she'’s fine.

Thank you.

What on earth were you thinking of?

Jess, what were you doing?

Have you got a blanket for her?

Another one, please.

She confess yet?

(ringing continues) Almost.

Lewis.

We'’ve got him.

One dinner jacket, found in your bathroom, under the floorboards.

And not just wine stains anymore.

Mullan'’s blood all over it.

Forensics will give us chapter and verse shortly.

You couldn'’t bring yourself to chuck it out, could you, Dr. Canter?

No, that'’s half my trouble.

I'’m always hanging on to things I should have let go of.

I have a feeling I was wearing this when I met her.

And there-there was a point when I really thought she was going to be mine.

But, then I realized that, um, passion is something that only happens to other people.

In life, in... in books, in paintings.

But never to me-- not once, you see.

And then... ...then she took my hand.

My Cecile.

I suppose I imagined that if I just did as she asked, I, uh...

I don'’t expect you to understand.

Well... look at the three of us.

Can we all please stay strong?

For Dad'’s sake.

(door slams shut) Aren'’t you going to ask why he stormed out?

I told him, Mum.

I told him about your lie.

What have I done now?

I always knew it was Steven.

Deep down.

No.

No, you didn'’t.

Yes, I did.

And I loved him anyway.

No.

Yes.

And I forgave him.

You...

I tried to forgive you, but I can'’t.

RATTENBURY: Ceel... it'’s me.

Half my life pummeling Christ.

And now I'’ve come to the end of it, I'’m chasing redemption.

You'’ve told me Daniel killed those men.

So I'’m going to take the blame.

And he can walk free.

My life for his.

On one condition.

(crying) Clean slate.

I hope I'’m finally forgiven.

(sobbing) (Cecile sobbing) HATHAWAY: Do you want me to, uh... No.

Let them finish.

Forensics confirmed that the blood on Canter'’s jacket came from Steven Mullan.

So with Cecile'’s confession that'’s conspiracy to murder.

I just wish we could get her for her other crime.

Mmm?

Lying to her husband.

Telling him at the Blenheim maze that their son was a murderer.

You know, I think she hated him.

For the accident?

Yeah, it was their little secret.

But what about this?

You tell me.

St. Christopher.

Patron saint of travelers.

Perhaps it just happened to be in his pocket.

Yeah, maybe.

No, here.

This way.

I thought we were going for a beer.

Not yet.

Got a little job for you first.

Oh, no, what are you up to?

What was that story Jessica Rattenbury told you?

About the restorative justice program?

Sitting in a car outside the prison, her mum said, "Go through that door, look the man in the eye.

Otherwise, he'’ll be stuck in your head forevermore."

Look, I know your pride'’s taken a beating.

But don'’t do what ifs.

Go in there.

Say good-bye properly.

No, I can'’t.

Of course you can, go on.

Lay the ghost to rest.

Either that, or we feed you to Battleship Potempka.

80 quid, full body massage.

Your call.

I'’ll have a pint.

(door closes) ♪ ♪ Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org