(uptempo music) 76 percent, ladies and gentlemen, for the less mathematically inclined amongst you, that is equivalent to three of every four biological males, as well as six of every 10 biological females who have, at some stage in their life, for one reason or another, fantasised about committing murder.

For women, it is members of their family or more particularly, their spouse's family who are most at risk in their deadly imaginings.

For men, however, it is more likely to be someone at their workplace who provokes these homicidal thoughts.

Please.

Of course, only an infinitesimal proportion of those of us who have contemplated an unlawful killing proceed to turn thoughts into deeds.

Which begs the obvious question, what distinguishes the very few who do from the vast majority who do not?

In a nutshell, is there such a thing as the DNA of a murderer?

(theme music) (birds chirping) We're all of us busy people, Officer, that's no excuse.

I've got a serious criminal matter to report.

Perhaps I can be of assistance, Sir?

-And you are?

-D.S.

Lisa Donckers.

-A Detective Sergeant?

-That's right, Sir.

Well, I'm gonna need to speak to someone more senior than you.

Okay.

The first one arrived at my husband's place of work three days ago.

The second one came this morning Although the postmarks are the second and the sixth, shows you can't even rely on the Royal mail to deliver a death threat promptly these days.

We'll send them for fingerprinting.

And you've no idea who may have sent these, Mr. Davies?

That's a stupid question.

It's the first thing I would've mentioned if I did.

Is your husband in the public eye?

You know, the sort of person who might become a target for cranks or trolls?

He runs an artisan bakery.

I mean, I say run, but it's me who does all the books and handles all the orders.

He just chats bloody sourdough all day.

(door knock) D.S.

Winters.

We'll give it our top priority.

Top priority?

It was the only way I was ever gonna get rid of him.

I could see you're struggling in here, Boss.

I came straight in, just bear that in mind, maybe mention it to Christina.

Thank you, Winters.

(playful music) (handkerchief flaps) Oh, dear.

Are we going back to doing that?

Might I suggest you see it as an endearing little ritual?

Alright.

Can you control your thoughts, Jasper?

Of course.

Then don't think of a white bear.

Hm.

Wegner's bear, 1987, by suppressing a thought, it becomes inevitable.

(sighs) Look, this is not a game of chess.

You know, it's not, it's not psychological one-upmanship.

I can't help you if you're determined to anticipate and forestall every reasonable line of inquiry.

And I cannot be blamed if your methods are predictable.

Well, your disdain for them, and for me, is obvious.

I wonder if you'd be happier with a different therapist, a male practitioner, perhaps.

I fail to see how your biological sex is relevant.

Like you fail to see the patterns of your hostility towards women in general?

I'm not hostile towards women, merely neutral.

(scoffs, laughs) Oh, God, you sound like you're Switzerland.

I mean neutrality does little to help human relationships prosper and endure, Jasper.

(light music) You need to discover and start expressing some positive sentiments towards the women in your life.

I'm wondering why you left it up to your husband to report it.

It suggests you're not taking it seriously.

That's probably because I'm not.

(laughs) Why would that be?

Get death threats every day?

Look, it's probably just one of my friends.

You know, a bit of banter.

-Funny kind of banter.

-Funny kind of friends.

Oh, alright.

Not friends then.

Uh, acquaintances.

Like, I'm a member of the local baking club.

Won Star Baker at our recent awards night.

There's been some sniping that I should be disqualified for being a professional.

That and a nasty rumour that my sourdough is artificially enhanced.

I figured it was just one of the baked goods nuts trying to warn me off.

There are other ways that don't involve a colossal waste of our time.

No other issues or disagreements that you can think of?

Uh, we're in a legal dispute with our neighbours, former neighbours, I should say, er, but that's been going on for years and the solicitors are handling everything.

(birds chirping) (laughs) Beard.

See you Friday.

Is it personal or professional?

Hm?

You always dawdle when you've got a question to ask me.

I was admiring the notice board.

You keep it verysymmetrical.

And I was wondering, given your recent foray into online dating, whether you wouldn't mind advising me on arranging an intimate evening with.

a member of the opposite sex.

Let's see.

Salsa with Estefan tomorrow.

Couple's massage with Klaus on Wednesday.

Oh yes, eight PM Thursday I'm free for dinner.

Oh, uh, I am so sorry.

I did not mean You weren't seriously thinking of inviting D.C.I.

Brand to dinner without rehearsing it properly?

(playful violin music) Rehearsing?

It's in your diary.

(door opens) (car doors close) I can't believe Rabbit is making us follow up on this.

Oh, you've got better places to be do you?

(doorbell rings) I do, actually.

(door opens) Hello.

STEVE: Debbie, some idiot's parked in front of our drive again.

(door opens) That idiot would be me, I'm afraid, Mr. Sanderson.

I'm D.S.

Winters, I'm with the Cambridge Police, this is my colleague, D.S.

Donckers.

They've been asking about Malcolm, hun.

Oh, you've got to be kidding me!

(door slams) Seems like we touched a nerve.

You'll have to excuse Steve, Officer, he's a teddy bear, really.

But Malcolm, that is a sore subject.

There's been some kind of legal dispute we're led to believe.

Oh, it goes a long way back before that.

They were in business together for a few years, they ran a small delivery firm after Steve was discharged from the army.

Broke two bones in his back.

He's never been right since.

DAN: So, what happened?

Oh, well, Malcolm was always a sweetheart, hmm, unlike his other half.

We've had the pleasure of Aiden's acquaintance.

Yeah.

Chalk and cheese, but they hit it off from the moment we bought this place.

Workmates, best mates till Malcolm told Steve he didn't want to do deliveries anymore.

Just like that.

No warning.

Did you ever get to the bottom of what happened?

Not really.

They stopped talking after that.

Next thing we know they're suing us over a fence.

About a year later they moved out, started renting the place out.

Do you know how they could have afforded that?

Well you didn't hear this from me (keyboard clacking) DA N: That was a stroke of luck.

DEBBIE: A stroke of luck?

More like a bloody miracle.

Malcolm's never been known to bet a penny in his life.

(kissing sound) A bit suspicious, don't you think?

What is?

Someone who makes a big thing of never gambling would win tens, maybe hundreds of thousands on some lottery.

We've only got the neighbour's word for it.

And who knows what goes on behind the net curtains?

In case you've forgotten, Dan, it's not Malcolm Davies we're supposed to be investigating.

It's whoever's been sending him death threats.

Well, it seems like Steve Sanderson has plenty to feel aggrieved about.

We all have plenty to feel aggrieved about.

Hm, is that what you'll tell Rabbit, when he asks how the case is going?

No, (laptop closes I will tell him to stop wasting our time on petty domestics.

Where are you going?

Home, to see my dad.

Are you coming?

Yes.

Obviously, I'm coming.

(dog whimpers) I don't do performance art, darling.

No point standing there rubbernecking.

If you've come to borrow the dog again, the answer's no.

I'm afraid Kafka's all at sixes and sevens.

I came to see how you were.

What do you want, Jasper?

I do not want anything.

I merely wondered if these might be of used to you in your artistic endeavours.

A gift, for me?

Miss Snares throwing them out.

Well, it's like my birthday, Christmas and Mothering Sunday all rolled into one.

Do not confuse sarcasm with wit, Mother.

Don't be so touchy, darling.

I'm delighted with them.

Truly I am.

I was interested to observe if you might think so.

(soft music) If this is the result of your therapy, then it's definite progress.

Only next time, pearls and champagne, please.

Hm.

(birds chirping) (Lisa moaning) (phone buzzing) Hello?

RABBIT: Sorry to wake you, Donckers.

Oh, it's no problem, Boss.

You better head in ASAP, there's been a development in your case.

What now?

Did somebody poison his cat?

Malcolm Davies has been found dead.

Oh.

Gees.

Can you get a message to Winters?

Yeah, I'm sure I could track him down.

(phone beeps) (dramatic music) Your assignment is to write a description of no more than 500 words of each of the criminal typologies we have discussed today.

In all instances, please refer to the big five personality domains, and explain what you have learned about them as predictors of criminal behaviour.

Next time we shall consider Eysenck's Criminal Personality Theory, which postulates a link between extreme neuroticism and extroversion, and a tendency towards acts of a violent criminal nature, as we continue in our search for the DNA of a murderer.

(bell rings) Thank you.

DAN: Professor.

We could do with a bit of your theorising on this criminal personality.

He's certainly the quarrelsome type.

He put up a fence between the properties without consulting his neighbours, while they were on holiday.

The Davies claimed it was on their side of the boundary.

Won a restraining order.

Sanderson countersued.

It's been grinding through the courts ever since.

He's ex-military, and reputedly has a temper.

He fits the profile.

And yet here you are.

The dispute's been dragging on for years.

The Davies moved out a while back.

It doesn't seem like a trigger for slashing someone's throat.

Any more than an argument over a loaf f bread.

We spoke to one of the baking buddies of Malcolm when we were investigating the death threats.

No one makes sourdough that perfect every time.

He must have been using a commercial dough conditioner.

Sounds like you don't crust him.

You gonna buy that?

-Yeah, yeah, I will.

-It's cheating.

Plain and simple.

You seem pretty sure.

Yeah.

He's a lovely fella, but he hasn't been himself these last weeks.

I could tell his conscience was troubling him.

Maybe he was just upset you were calling him a liar.

Pretty publicly, from what we hear.

That's the kind of bloke I am.

Trust me, if I was going to threaten someone, I'd do it to their face.

How much is it, then?

For individuals with extreme personality traits, no trigger is too small or trivial to be discounted.

(dramatic music) But in a case of premeditated murder, whilst you piece together the how, where, when, what and why, you must always be mindful of the who.

Who, amongst the suspects, displays the personality type that would enable them to kill with calculation?

Antisocial, paranoid, remorseless, convinced the world is against them.

(door opens) Thank you, Detective Sergeant.

Oh, and thank you for continuing to seek my advice.

I find the consultancy we do together very, um I find working with you stimulating too, Professor.

You are frequently impatient and occasionally hostile.

But I suspect he may score reasonably highly on the agreeableness scale.

(laughs) What did I miss?

Donckers, Winters.

You too, Professor, if you want.

You might be interested to know what good, hard evidence looks like.

(whispers) I think that was a compliment.

Really?

He never even said hello to me.

Turns out Malcolm Davies was a witness in a murder trial eight years ago.

His evidence was key to the successful prosecution of Larry Buckland for the murder of his boss Sunil Mehta, who owned a boat-building business Larry was sacked for fighting with an employee, and heard making violent threats against his boss.

So how was Malcolm Davies connected?

Poor bloke just happened to be making a delivery on the night in question.

He testified he heard raised voices and saw Buckland leave Mehta's office.

He found Mehta bleeding to death, stabbed in the neck with a short blade, something like a letter knife.

And it was Buckland's threats that convinced them it was premeditated?

That and 170 grand missing from the safe.

So, we could be looking at payback then.

Maybe, but I'm assuming Buckland is still inside?

He is.

But guess where his wife and son are now living.

(dramatic music) (pages flick) They're renting Malcom and Aiden Davies' old place Moved in a few weeks ago.

I'd say we get them both in for questioning.

RABBIT: Really?

It's a total coincidence?

You can see why we might find it difficult to believe, Mrs. Gilmore.

No more than I did when I found out.

Malcolm came round to fix the door on the washing machine.

I recognised him right away.

Took him a little longer to place us, looked like he'd seen a ghost.

I don't believe in coincidences.

Just like I don't believe in ghosts, Jonah.

Why would I lie?

We've moved half a dozen times in the last eight years.

I was just grateful to find somewhere.

I can imagine.

I only dealt with the letting agent.

If his name was on the contract, I certainly didn't see it before signing.

You'd have thought your landlord might have done a bit more due diligence.

Except I've gone back to using my maiden name.

He'd have had no way of knowing our connection to Larry.

Where were you last night between 8pm and 12 midnight?

(scoffs) At home.

Doing a college assignment, watching TV.

Anyone who can vouch for you?

My mum was out watching a film with a friend, got back late.

LISA: Mm-hmm.

(scoffs) You know, I'm not my dad.

Whatever it is you think you know about him, it doesn't apply to me.

The sins of the father are to be laid upon the children.

Shakespeare.

The Merchant of Venice.

If you say so.

It must have been painful for you to be associated with your father's crime from such an early age.

To be labelled the son of a killer wherever you went, whoever you met.

(dramatic music) You have no idea.

Well, if you have nothing to hide, I'm sure you won't object to us conducting a search of your property, will you?

(office sounds) Oh, I didn't expect to see you here.

And yet this is exactly where I hoped I might find you.

You were looking for me, were you?

I have something to ask you.

Well, can it wait?

I'm running late.

It can wait.

Okay.

Fancy tagging along?

I have rather a lot to catch up on.

(upbeat music) (ominous music) Dan Donckers.

(dramatic music) Look what the search turned up.

We found that knife in Jonah Gilmore's shed.

And it looks a good match with the wounds on Malcolm Davies' neck.

Has it been fingerprinted?

Not yet.

but my bet is that he'll have wiped them off.

He's not that stupid.

Although evidently stupid enough in your estimation to hide the murder weapon in his garden shed?

If they weren't a bit stupid, we never catch'‘em.

He has a motive and no alibi, Jasper unlike his mother.

Plus, what looks likely to be the murder weapon found on his property.

There's nothing for you to solve here.

I have scrutinised the reports of the psychologists who assessed Jonah in the years since the trial.

He is said to be well adjusted, conscientious, trusting.

Anything but vengeful, despite the trauma of his father's conviction at such an early age.

So, what are you implying, Jasper?

That Jonah Gilmore does not have the DNA of a murderer.

(dramatic music) (laughs) Someone is communicating intimate sentiments towards you, I surmise.

Jasper.

So, uhso what is it that's, um that's so important that's made you want to stay here all afternoon to talk to me in private?

I wish to ask you to dinner.

If you toy with his affections, my wrath is a terrible thing to behold.

Well, I I don't think that would be a very good idea, Jasper.

On the contrary.

My therapist believes that encouraging positive interactions with women will help with my phobias.

(laughs) Uh...

I think your chat-up lines might need a bit of work, Jasper.

But, yes, of course.

If it's, it's part of your treatment, of course I'll come.

Hm.

Screws in here.

How much do you think they get paid?

Are you thinking of a change in career, Dan?

Thanks for seeing us, Mr. Buckland.

You've heard we've taken your son, Jonah, into custody, I take it?

My wife phoned last night.

(laughs) What?

You lot.

You're a bloody joke.

Not content on one wrongful conviction, now you're going for the full set.

And you're still saying you're innocent.

I've been saying it for eight years, mate.

(ominous music) DAN: Buckland admits he'd had a skinful.

Decided it was a good idea to go and ask for his job back.

And he accepts he lost his temper when Mehta refused to reinstate him.

Beat him senseless, in his own words.

But he's adamant he didn't stab anyone.

And I am yet to find anything to prove that he did.

Rather you than me, Professor.

Well, it looks like you could use a hand with this haystack, Professor.

Oh.

Wish I knew which particular needle we were looking for.

Anything unexplained or inconsistent with the known facts of the case, Detective Sergeant.

There's a Steve Sanderson in reception for you, Winters.

Says he wants to make a statement about Malcolm Davies.

Oh, fancy sitting in, Boss?

More than I fancy that bloody great pile of paperwork.

(Dan laughs) I will observe, if I may.

Great.

Thank you for your corporation.

Unlike the other day, from what my colleague tells me.

When you came knocking, I didn't know he was gonna wind up dead, did I?

Or maybe you did.

We'll check out your alibi, Mr. Sanderson.

But I have to be honest, we can't yet eliminate you from our investigation because of your long-running dispute with the deceased.

Well, that's all over.

Aiden knocked on our back door the night after Malcolm was killed.

He told us he wanted to settle as soon as possible.

Was willing to pay for the fence to be built in the original place, even offered to cover all of our legal costs.

We figured out it must have been the shock of Malcolm's death that made him act so out of, um, you know, out of character.

Yeah, he said he'd just come around from squaring it off with his tenants.

He'd even been taking a look at the site in the garden in the dark.

(dramatic music) Mr. Sanderson, I have a question.

DAN: Uh, this is Professor Tempest.

He's our leading consultant.

When you were running your delivery firm with Malcolm Davies, was it common for you to operate outside office hours?

Oh, not back then.

Most places shut up shop about half five, six at the latest.

So, it would be unusual for him to be making a delivery at twelve minutes to nine in the evening?

Most definitely, yes.

Unless he was running around after Aiden.

Cause he was always at his beck and call.

Hmm, bossed him about.

He always spoke down to him like a child.

Hmm.

Okay, thank you so much for your help.

I think you're onto something, Professor.

The solution to every cold case is to be found in a painstaking review of what may seem inconsequential details, D.S.

Winters.

A fingertip search, if you will, of that proverbial haystack.

Hello, mate.

Yeah, I'm not gonna make it, I've gotta work late.

(dramatic music) (birds chirping) Oh, did we have fun last night?

(upbeat music) (slurps) Hmm, hmm.

(laughs hysterically) (sighs) (door opens) (door closes) It took us till three in the morning.

But look what Dan found.

It was right at the bloody bottom.

This was taken Sunil Mehta's office by forensics after he was stabbed.

The delivery box from Mr. Mehta to Mr. A. Cockett.

Dated five days before Sunil Mehta was murdered.

Guess who A. Cockett turns out to be?

Aiden Cockett.

Freelance accountant, AKA Aiden Davies who has taken his husband's surname but still uses his birth name for professional purposes.

It was a simple matter of looking at his website.

If Aiden Davies was Sunil Mehta's bookkeeper, Malcolm may well have known about the money in the safe.

Which gives him a motive for murder.

And if Malcolm Davies murdered Sunil Mehta, that suggests a motive for Jonah Gilmore to murder him in turn.

(dramatic music) DAVIES: I cannot believe your impertinence.

I made it perfectly clear about my professional connection to Sunil Mehta with the investigating officer at the time.

-We can only apologize, Mr. Davies, if you think we're going over old ground, but it was new information to us.

And it was a different complexion on your husband's association with the case.

I expect more than a mealy mouthed apology, Detective.

I shall be making a complaint to your superior officer.

You're wasting my time raking through stone cold ashes when you should be focusing on tracking down my poor Malcolm's killer.

Do you mind?

Perhaps I might impose on you to take us through the events on the night of your husband's murder.

I've been through it countless times.

And no doubt it sounds a little more implausible with each retelling.

A nanosecond in your company, Mr. Davies, is ample time to ascertain that you are not the personality type to let the family budgerigar, let alone your spouse, go out in the middle of the evening without telling you precisely where they were going and who they were meeting.

(dramatic music) I suspect that your husband left home to meet Jonah Gilmore on the night of his murder.

What is more, I suspect that you are fully aware of that fact.

Which bit didn't you understand, Jonah?

It may harm your defence if you fail to mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court.

Look...I should have said something.

I was in shock about the knife turning up in our garden.

I thought if you knew I was supposed to meet him that night, well then, case closed.

It's certainly looking that way.

I didn't...kill Malcolm Davies.

That's exactly what your dad said about Sunil Mehta.

Maybe because he was telling the truth.

(dramatic music) When Malcolm showed up at our house, I took it as a sign.

It was time to do something to prove Dad's innocence.

I started going to his shop.

Weekends, lunch times, pestering him to see if he remembered something about the night of the murder, anything.

And how did Mr. Davies react?

Well, he just ignored me at first.

And then he got agitated.

Very agitated.

Said he'd evict us if I didn't stop.

So, you backed off?

Sort of.

Look, I was thinking of giving it all up, to be honest.

And then he asked me up for a drink, out of the blue.

On the night he was murdered?

Yeah.

I waited over an hour, some bloody pub in the middle of nowhere.

He never showed up.

Should be easy enough to check out.

There'll be CCTV cameras at the pub where they arranged to meet.

Penny for your thoughts, Jasper?

They're worth a good deal more.

I was musing on the criminological significance of our inherited biology.

It is not a fashionable view to hold, nevertheless it is one to which I subscribe with unshakable conviction.

We cannot escape the destiny imprinted in our genetic code, ladies and gentlemen.

Whether foisted on us by nature or fostered there by nurture.

Some of us are predisposed to criminal violence, even murder, by the twisted molecular complexities of our DNA.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, in other words.

Precisely so.

In more prosaic terms.

RABBIT: A jury won't buy it.

The dad's a convicted murderer, so the son must be too.

I would advise against seeking to prosecute Jonah Gilmore, Detective Inspector.

He's most assuredly innocent of the murder of Malcolm Davies.

Just as his father, Larry, is innocent of the murder of Sunil Mehta.

There is only one man in these photographs who fits the profile of a murderer.

You see, inherently quarrelsome and paranoid people like you, Mr. Davies, do not become peacemakers overnight.

(ominous music) Aiden knocked on our back door the night after Malcolm was killed.

He told us he wanted to settle as soon as possible.

He said he'd just come around from squaring it off with his tenants.

He'd even been taking a look at the site in the garden in the dark.

(rain pattering) I suspect you were hiding the knife in the shed of your tenants, Jonah and his mother, when Mr. Sanderson saw you.

(tense music) So, you distracted them with your uncharacteristic offer to settle your legal dispute and pick up the bill.

Your neighbours are guileless and goodhearted, Mr. Davies.

But I believe the worst of human nature.

We use darkness to cover our transgressions.

LISA: So, he planted the weapon we found.

The knife that killed his husband.

Yeah.

So, if that's true, then Then he must have killed him.

But why?

Your husband had not been himself for weeks.

He was overcome by guilt, not at having bent the rules at a baking competition, but at being confronted every day by the son of a convicted murderer, a man he knew was innocent.

You're suggesting my client's husband killed Sunil Mehta?

I'm asserting that he lived for years with the knowledge of who did without saying anything.

Malcolm was not a murderous type, was he, Mr. Davies?

Everybody said so.

Oh, Malcolm was always a sweetheart.

Hm.

But you most certainly are.

(tense music) (men shouting) It was you, and not your husband, who was present when Larry Buckland left Sunil Mehta's office.

(crashing sound) (tense music) It was you who saw the opportunity to take the money from the safe.

(stabbing sound) I'm sure it was easy enough to bully Malcolm into claiming he returned the files, and saw Larry Buckland leave the scene.

PROF T: There never was a win on the lottery.

You gave him the money to open the artisan bakery he'd always dreamed of to soothe his ticklish conscience.

And it worked for eight years.

Until, by a remarkable twist of fate, he was confronted by the son of the man whose life his lies had ruined.

Poor Malcolm.

You were worried he was gonna crack, confess everything.

So, you told him to arrange a meet-up, and you went along to keep him on track.

(ominous music) You told him to stop along the way, didn't you, Mr. Davies?

Why are we stopping here?

To talk through what you were gonna say?

This is all your fault.

(stabbing/slashing sound) (choking) Aiden, Aiden!

(gasps) (tense music) Do you have a shred of evidence to support this story, Detective?

You have less than 11 hours to charge my client, or to let him go.

He's right, of course.

We don't have enough to charge him.

We'll look again at the murder weapon, now we've got his fingerprints.

But I don't hold out much hope.

(sighs) What about the car?

It's his husband's vehicle, his DNA will be all over it.

The Professor has an idea.

-Jasper?

-Let me talk to him.

Perhaps his own lies, in conjunction with the evidence will uncover the truth.

(door opens) (door clangs closed) Surprisingly commodious.

Though I might not think so if, like you, I was destined to spend the next 30 years in one.

It is switched off, Mr. Davies.

There is no way of proving that the conversation we are about to have actually occurred.

You can continue to make no comment on the criminal acts that led to your arrest, as is your right under the law.

And you may be fortunate.

The police could fail to find sufficient evidence to make the case against you.

It is more likely, however, that they will uncover what they need to link you to the scene of your husband's murder.

A sharp object forced into human flesh at close range produces what is known as blood splatter, a sanguineous miasma of tiny droplets that leaves thousands of microscopic stains on anything it comes into contact with.

Who knows with advances in forensic science they may even find a trace of Sunil Mehta's blood on that charming paper knife you keep on your desk.

(tense music) Then there is the money, and your implausible story of a lottery win.

It should not take much to disprove it.

You would make a fascinating case study for my students, Mr. Davies.

Disagreeable, litigious, quick to take and give offense, unburdened by moral scruples.

I do not need Eysenck to tell me that you are a neurotic extrovert, capable of icy self-control and great calculation.

And calculation is what is now required.

Should you stick with your current strategy, say nothing, and hope for the best, or twist and plead guilty to the manslaughter of your husband.

As your former neighbours have testified, you have proved you are able to impersonate someone with agreeable personality traits.

It should not be beyond you to convince a jury of your peers that you were psychologically terrorised by your husband to stop you revealing what you knew about his involvement with Sunil Mehta's murder.

If that is the case, Mr. Davies then you acted in self-defense.

(dramatic music) Thank you!

(door opens) (door clangs closed) For the record, can you confirm that to your certain knowledge, your husband, Malcolm Davies, is guilty of the murder of Sunil Mehta, and that he gave false witness at the trial of Larry Buckland eight years ago?

(tense music) RABBIT: Mr. Davies, for the record please?

Yes.

Yes what?

My husband killed Sunil Mehta.

And did you, Aiden Davies, in fear of your own life and the lives of others kill Malcolm Davies on the ninth day of this month?

YesI killed my husband.

(crying) (tense music) Of course what Aiden failed to calculate is that sending death threats to your own husband, someone you later confess to killing, suggests premeditation on his part.

It will definitely make it more difficult to plead manslaughter rather than murder.

Or to persuade the jury to acquit him.

I think we've got him.

Has the paper knife been sent to forensics yet?

Just now, Ma'am.

They think there's a good chance of DNA.

You never know, we may even get him for Sunil Mehta's murder as well.

Great work, Donckers.

Mostly the Professor's, Ma'am.

-Lisa.

-Yeah?

I'm umthinking of putting you forward for promotion.

There have been times when your constant need to question has seemed a little bit like insubordination, but I think more recently you've been making the right call more often than not.

Ma'am?

Well, like today, and on the Tidswell case when you worked so well with Professor Tempest to get the investigation back on track, despite my orders.

You know, this isn't, um... this isn't for public consumption, but D.I.

Rabbit has put in a request for leave of absence while he sorts out the child custody arrangements for his granddaughter.

Mum's the word, Ma'am.

So, I'll be looking for a temporary head of department.

You've passed your inspector's exams.

I think you'd make an excellent candidate.

(laughs softly) (soft music) You know, change can be challenging, Lisa, especially for those we're closest to.

Something to think about, maybe.

Of course.

Are you going somewhere, Ma'am?

I'm, uh, on a dinner date.

It's just an old friend.

(opera music playing) ADELAIDE: My darling boy.

Mother.

The great giver of gifts.

To what do I owe this latest honour?

I was wondering if you could advise me on the best way to open an oyster?

With a knife, Jasper.

Yes, I surmised as much.

Could I trouble you to be a little more specific?

It's all in the wrist, darling.

Prise and wiggle.

Wiggle and prise.

You didn't take me literally, darling, did you, when I had my little joke about pearls and champagne?

Of course not, Mother.

Then you must be going to all this effort for someone else.

I hope you've thought this through, Jasper.

You know what they say about oysters.

(phone bangs into cradle) (sighs) (doorbell rings) (door opens) MISS SNARES: Show time.

(lively music) A gentleman always takes a lady's coat.

And you should offer champagne as an aperitif.

Of course.

Would you like a glass of champagne?

Uh, sparkling water please, I'm driving.

Ah.

(romantic music) (slurps) You do not like oysters?

I'm a little surprised you do.

It is part of my exposure therapy.

To systematically desensitise by embracing phobic stimuli.

Right.

Besides, I am reliably informed that they are nutritious and utterly delicious.

(slurps) Mm.

(laughs maniacally) You can't go wrong with them.

Jasper.

What's the idea behind all of this, what's it all about?

(romantic music) Do you think that I have a problem with women, Christina?

(laughs hysterically) I think you have a problem with everyone you've ever encountered.

(laughs) I think that's a question for you and your therapist.

Mm.

Uh, uh, no shop talk.

Ifound these old photographs.

I wondered if it might bring you pleasure to see them.

(Christina laughs) You could make a woman very happy.

(lively music) I've been trying to find a time to tell you.

I've started seeing someone.

I need not ask whom.

Simon is very thoughtful and very considerate.

II think you might like him.

Simon is an unknown quantity, and you cannot possibly know him.

I believe you to be foolishly infatuated.

You are not in a position to lecture me on my private life, and you are definitely not qualified to make that kind of a statement.

(soft music) Goodnight, Jasper.

LISA: That's Aunty Charnette.

Her daughter, Laura-Leigh.

Charnette?

Yeah, Dad, your sister.

And that's you and mum looking about 15.

(Mr. Donckers laughs) And there's me.

The proudest day of my life.

What about your wedding?

The proudest day of my life.