(ballroom music plays) (thunder) (whimpers) (laughing) (grunts) (laughing) (both laughing) (groans) MAN: Keep your hands up, Hardy!

Hello.

(no audio) MAN: "The Decline and Fall of the Iron Curtain."

Or should that be Milo Hardy'’s academic promise?

Oh, come on.

I worked my ass off on this.

Ooh, it'’s still in decent working order by the look of it.

(laughing) The domino effect is well described... but you'’re thin on the reform movements, and you'’re very weak on East Germany.

How did a country with the most feared secret police in Europe collapse in 24 hours?

You should talk to Richard Helm for firsthand experience of that.

Again, please.

Again?

By next Wednesday.

If you work hard, you might still scrape an upper second.

Here we are, Richard.

Something Wagnerian.

Siegfried and the giant Fafner!

(cackling) (crowd shouting) (grunting) (shouting) Go on, Jack!

(crowd shouting) Go on!

(grunting) (spits) (crowd cheering) (indistinct conversation, shouting) (laughs) I don'’t know why I let you talk me into that.

Oh, a stiffener-- that'’s what you need.

Two glasses of champagne, please.

COLE: Ooh, I suppose she'’s your type, is she?

You needn'’t say it with such distaste.

(laughing) MAN: Excuse me, sir.

I'’m afraid we have a house rule.

You can'’t sign in the same guest twice.

Oh, don'’t be ridiculous!

(stammering): And you... your boss wouldn'’t want my friends excluded.

You'’re risking your job.

Excuse me, sir, I think you'’ve had a bit too much to drink.

Thank you, Ryan.

Nein, das ist nicht gut!

Nationalsozialistiche, ja?

You'’re drunk, sir.

Please leave the club.

Will you calm down.

R.G., calm down.

Or do you want me to phone the police?

Stupid man.

Ah, come on.

(grumbling) Come on!

(over radio): ♪ But my heart is reeling ♪ ♪ When I close my eyes, I can see your face ♪ ♪ I could walk on fire... ♪ (bluesy): ♪ I think about the good times ♪ ♪ Oh ♪ (sighs) ♪ I'’d like someone to talk about it, babe ♪ ♪ But nobody'’s here ♪ ♪ Oh, nobody ♪ ♪ Maybe it'’s not... ♪ (sighs) Ah, yeah.

What have we here?

Ah.

Ah, here we are: Wagner.

(chuckles) Yes... Richard, hurry up with that whiskey, dear boy.

(Wagner'’s Götterdämmerung pl aying) (choking) (string quartet music playing) "As he was valiant, I honor him.

But as he was ambitious, I slew him."

Thank you.

You won.

Did I?

(laughs softly) Sorry to disturb your beauty sleep, sir.

What sleep?

"One sleep, we wake eternally and death shall be no more."

Oh, don'’t give me William Shakespeare at this time of night.

It'’s John Donne, sir.

How'’s the insomnia?

Uh... in better shape than I am.

What have we got?

Deceased is an R.G.

Cole.

He might have disturbed a burglar at his friend'’s house-- both fellows of Saville College.

Here we are, number 38.

Here you are, sir.

Thank you, sir.

Richard Helm.

Got quite a shiner.

LEWIS: Neighbors hear or see anything?

No, but the back door wasn'’t locked.

Hello... Oh, you didn'’t have to get all dolled up on my account.

That was a pickup line in Lewis'’s day.

Judging by the state of his neck, I'’d say he was strangled.

Oh, great.

You obviously don'’t need me, so I can go back to the party that I was enjoying.

Am I wrong?

Bizarrely, not.

From behind, he was pulled backwards and off balance, so he couldn'’t turn and fight.

His attacker must have been very strong, because it isn'’t easy to strangle a man.

Believe me, I'’ve tried.

You can see from the mess he kicked out as he was being throttled.

The body was pulled down onto the floor.

And there was a bit of material snagged on the floorboard nail by his head.

Part of some sort of logo.

Could have come from the ligature.

Wagner.

A lot of books in German.

Apparently, Richard Helm was born in Germany.

Why a burglary?

He says an antique clock missing from over there.

They went through his pockets, did they?

I don'’t know-- I haven'’t looked yet.

May I?

Mm-hmm.

Evening.

When did you find the body?

When, uh, I returned from the off license.

R.G.

wanted scotch-- I didn'’t have any.

How did you come by the black eye, sir?

Uh, we were at the Portobello Club.

R.G.

was rather drunk.

There was a silly scuffle with the doorman.

So, you were gone, what, ten minutes?

And during that time, somebody sneaked in and murdered your friend, Mr. Cole?

That'’s right.

Did you have an argument?

No.

We'’ve been friends for 20 years.

Close friends?

(sighs) Yes, I'’m a bachelor.

No, I had no carnal appetite for R.G.

I am depressingly heterosexual.

And Mr. R.G.

Cole, sir?

He was gay... but he was like family.

He met my father in Germany, when I was at school.

Recommended me for a fellowship here.

(rattling) HELM: Why didn'’t they just take what they wanted and go?

HATHAWAY: No unidentified fingerprints found.

If there was an intruder, he was wearing gloves.

This receipt for the whiskey is time-and-date stamped, but there was still time for Helm to have done it when he got back from the off license.

I want to know if he'’s lying about that black eye.

The Portobello Club confirmed there was an incident between two people and the manager.

INNOCENT: Portobello?

It'’s a new place on Market Street for fashionable idiots.

Actually, Lewis, a lot of quite interesting and intelligent people go there.

Haven'’t you heard of the Kriels?

They'’re South African.

Hansie Kriel owns clubs in New York and London.

Ann'’s, uh, an extraordinary woman.

Knows everybody, does masses for charity.

Take your word for it, ma'’am.

(patrons laughing, talking) No ales.

No taps.

Certainly do do things differently around here.

I was wrong about fashionable idiots.

(laughing) Just idiots.

Present company excepted, I hope.

Hey, I won'’t bite your head off.

I'’m enough of an African to take a joke.

I'’ve got a skin like an elephant'’s hide.

I'’m Hansie Kriel.

And you are?

Detective Inspector Lewis.

Could you tell us anything about the fight that happened here last night?

It was a storm in a teacup, according to my star witness.

Tom, my manager.

Can we talk to him, please?

Sure.

I can tell you that my employee on the door behaved impeccably.

Hi, I'’m Ann Kriel.

Um, is this about that stupid incident with those dons last night?

Yeah.

Okay, why don'’t you let me deal with it?

I was here, so... HANSIE: Okay.

I'’ll catch you later, maybe.

So, we'’ve got CCTV, it should tell you everything that you need to know.

You know, you'’ll see just how wicked these Oxford dons can be.

No surprise there.

Mm... You know, maybe we should bar these academics.

Just let, you know, real people in, like you.

Real?

I'’d hazard a guess she'’s flirting with you, sir.

Call that a haymaker.

A what?

It'’s a John Wayne thing.

Ah, never mind.

HATHAWAY: It'’d be funny, if one of them wasn'’t dead.

Sarah.

Don'’t.

What?

Don'’t say anything funny or clever.

No matter how hard I try, I can'’t seem to keep away.

Milo.

Milo!

Mate!

The lab found traces of DNA on the fabric from the nail.

It'’s pretty low-grade stuff but it might give us an indication.

What was the ligature?

Well, this might cheer you up.

Flexible, black woven cotton twill, with some colored fabric showing.

Turns out to be the logo of a well-known sportswear manufacturer.

Apparently, it can only be this.

Oh, what is that?

It'’s a hand wrap; they use it under boxing gloves to prevent injury to the small bones of the hand.

(fierce grunting) (grunting louder) (panting) R.G.

Cole'’s only relative is an elder sister who lives in Ottawa.

He'’s lived in the same college since he was an undergraduate.

He'’s a lecturer in European History and President of the Wagner Society.

Iris Murdoch School of Interior Design.

I'’ve seen worse.

This is the one he'’ll be famous for apparently.

Hitler and German Culture.

Oh, a calendar.

"College Feast," last night, crossed out.

"Helm Broughton"?

Says he was going to see Broughton again here.

Have a trawl through the university lists, see if you can spot him or her.

Oh, this is a journal.

Never trust tittle-tattle.

Live and breathe it in this job.

"Big row, the Helm obsession.

"Wotan-Siegfried Patricide," exclamation mark.

Case solved.

Helm killed his own father and Cole found out.

Nah, I don'’t think that'’s anything.

They'’re all Wagner nuts, aren'’t they?

Anyway, I seem to remember Wotan was Siegfried'’s grandfather in The Ring, so it can'’t be patricide.

Absolutely did not have you marked down as a Wagnerian.

I'’m not really.

But I knew someone who was.

Hello, what'’s this?

MAN: Come on, Hardy, nice and sharp!

Good lad, good lad!

Inspector Lewis, Oxfordshire police.

Charlie Acres.

We'’re investigating a murder that may be connected with the boxing world.

Could you let us have the names of everyone who trains here?

No problem.

I'’ll photocopy the list.

You just train students?

Seemed a good plan.

This being the University Boxing Club.

I don'’t know what you think you'’re looking for but you won'’t find it here.

Plenty of head-bangers, but no killers.

A man was strangled using one of these.

I'’ve known them used for all sorts of purposes.

Not all of them decent, but not that.

ACRES: All right Hardy, that'’s enough.

Any other boxing clubs near?

Not within 30 miles.

Where'’s Roth today?

How should I know?

He won'’t win his Blue lounging in bed.

The name Broughton mean anything to you?

Jack Broughton was a famous prizefighter.

That'’s the only Broughton I know.

Milo Hardy?

Where were you between the hours of 9:00 and midnight last night?

I was at the college feast and then I was here doing extra training.

Can you prove it?

There was no one here after 10:00.

Why?

What'’s this about?

Your tutor, R.G.

Cole, was murdered last night.

Sorry if it'’s a shock.

I had a tutorial with him yesterday.

He was a bachelor, I gather.

Yeah, as in old queen.

He liked to watch boxing though, didn'’t he?

He wasn'’t looking for sex.

He liked the ideal.

Graeco-Roman perfection.

Look, he was a decent bloke.

Made us laugh.

That'’s an up-to-date list of boxers.

I know every one of those young men like my sons.

None of them would hurt a fly outside a boxing ring.

Let'’s hope so.

Could we take a look at the locker room?

Who'’s locker'’s this?

One loose hand wrap, somewhat soiled.

Whose are these things?

It'’s Jack'’s.

Jack Roth.

Well, this one isn'’t torn but I wouldn'’t mind seeing its mate.

Boxing gets rid of aggression, it doesn'’t cause it.

I reckon you could say the same for murder.

(door closing) Hi.

Oh.

Sorry.

No, you just took me by surprise, that'’s all.

Hey, aren'’t you supposed to be in college?

Aw... (quietly): Aw, honey... Come here.

Mom, have you ever wanted anything so much, you know it'’s the wrong thing to do but you just can'’t stop yourself?

Right, now, you listen to me.

You'’re just a child.

Mum... Oh, come on.

I know you think you'’re not, but... nobody has any right to judge you.

You hear me?

Sure.

What are you looking for, anyway?

Oh, it'’s just... Oh, I'’m just expecting a note from your father'’s lawyers.

You know, we'’re still squabbling over this settlement, and... well, talk about childish.

(bell tolling) (bicycle bell rings) Hey!

Mate, don'’t go all Trappist monk on me.

(grunts) Milo!

Is that loud enough for you?

Look, I don'’t know what you think you saw... Do you want her, yes or no?

If you want her, you'’re gonna have to fight me.

(laughs) You'’re kidding, right?

Last man standing.

Look, mate, it doesn'’t work like that, not once your balls drop.

Great privilege we enjoy in this country.

It'’s called freedom of choice.

Last man standing.

I'’ll bury you.

You know I will.

Jack Roth?

You'’ve been in the wars.

I box.

Not like that you don'’t.

Amateur boxer, protective head gear.

Okay, so...

I was in a bit of a rough pub.

Some townies were mouthing off.

They had a bit of nerve, to be honest, but I shouldn'’t have reacted the way I did, '’cause I was somewhat outnumbered.

Which pub?

The Sceptre.

9:00-ish.

Fists flying all over the place last night.

JACK: Look, um, is this going to take long?

'’Cause I need to be somewhere.

Sorry.

Bit of a day.

If you could just account for your movements between 9:30 and 12:00 midnight.

I, uh, managed to extricate myself from the gutter, crawl into a tux and get to the college feast.

I mean, about 100 people saw me.

Ask Sarah Kriel.

She sat next to me.

We found this hand wrap in your locker.

Any idea where the other one is?

I don'’t really have a locker.

You just take what'’s available.

Are these yours?

Yes.

Would you be willing to give us a DNA sample?

Just so we can eliminate you from our enquiries.

(door opening) (door closes) Mum?

Dad?

Milo!

I didn'’t want to wake you.

You were spying on me?

That'’s my mum'’s stuff.

Well, what would you give me the keys for if you didn'’t want me to use them?

Have you been snooping in my room, too?

Why?

Is that an invitation?

(doorbell ringing) Sarah.

I should get that.

(doorbell ringing) Aah!

Sarah Kriel?

Inspector Lewis, Oxford Police.

Aah!

Sorry.

We didn'’t think you were home.

Right, well, um, Mum'’s out.

HATHAWAY: Actually, we were hoping you could provide us with an alibi for Jack Roth-- Saturday night college feast.

Uh, yeah, college feast.

Yeah, of course.

Jack was there.

So what'’s the problem?

No problem.

We were worried he might have gotten himself into some trouble.

The bruise on his face.

HATHAWAY: He said he was in a pub fight, but the pub in question is currently under refurbishment.

Oh, I don'’t know anything about all that.

I tell you one thing, they'’re bloody awful liars.

(yawning) Have you thought about chamomile tea?

What is this, pastoral care?

All right, go home.

You look done in.

That'’s more like it.

(yawns) Excuse me.

How are you getting on?

Not great, but I like the old place, so I'’ll live with the ghost.

It seems that R.G.

Cole was due to meet someone called Broughton, as well as you, the night he died.

I can'’t help you with that one.

He had pupils in other colleges.

My father.

Your row with R.G.

Cole...

There was a curious note in his journal.

Something about Siegfried and patricide?

I don'’t really remember a row.

Friendship with R.G.

was one perpetual argument.

But you said he knew your father.

He came to our house once when he was a young don researching a book.

I was in my teens.

What was your father?

He was possibly the world'’s greatest authority on Wagner.

Leipzig University.

HATHAWAY: East Germany?

Yeah.

My father died in 1985.

That'’s when we came here.

So Cole recommended Oxford to your mother?

No.

No, in fact, it was a devotee of Wagner who corresponded with my father.

You might even have known him.

He was a policeman here.

Here.

Glyndebourne, 1981.

LEWIS: "Sadly, not a good production.

E.

Morse."

Yes, I-I knew Chief Inspector Morse.

I knew him very well.

I never got to know him.

But my mother... did.

Is she still around?

Oh, yes.

Uh, she works in the music shop on the Broad.

Thank you for your help.

Oh, um, one other thing.

The bouncer at the club whom R.G.

attempted to punch-- I got the feeling perhaps he knew him?

Good night.

(bicycle bell rings) Are you all right?

Yeah... Yeah, I'’m fine.

Was someone following you?

No, no.

I'’m fine.

I was just, um... Would you like me to see you home?

(sighs) Yeah.

(sirens blaring) You seemed really frightened just now.

Oh, no, I'’m fine.

Oh, you live above the shop?

Uh, no.

Hansie, my soon-to-be ex-husband uses it when he'’s in town.

And, well, I sometimes flop here if it'’s a late night and he'’s not around, you know?

Which...

Which is often.

You seem to be burning the midnight oil.

Yeah, well, it'’s the story of my life.

It takes a while to settle down in this city.

Oh no, no.

Oxford suits me just fine.

You know, my daughter'’s studying here for four years.

And, well, Dimittus is based here.

Dimittus?

That'’s where I'’ve just been.

It'’s a, um, charity for refugees.

(sighs) It'’s my soapbox, Hansie calls it.

Here.

This man-- he is one of the greatest musicians in the world.

Now he plays a cora.

It'’s a type of a lute.

And he has got a library of songs in his head that goes back centuries.

But you know, his government see him as a threat, so he is currently in a camp near Dover, awaiting deportation back to prison.

How did you get involved?

Well, um, I'’m just one of those sad people that'’s always looking for a cause.

What?

Just... charities and nightclubs.

It'’s an unusual mixture.

Yeah, you'’re not kidding.

You know, I sometimes feel like I'’ve got an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other.

Who'’s winning?

Jury'’s out at the moment.

But, you know, maybe... maybe one day, once I'’m shot of this bloody divorce, I... Hey, thank you for being so kind.

Ah.

Um, I'’d like to treat you to dinner.

Oh, there'’s no need for that.

I just looked in for five minutes to make sure you were all right.

Yeah, I know you'’re busy, but, um, I think it would be nice.

Well, don'’t you?

Yes, I do, actually.

Milo Hardy, what can I do for you?

It'’s bad about R.G.

Yes.

Before he...

I'’m doing this essay on the last days of Communism.

He said you could give me some stuff on East Germany.

Like how the Berlin Wall fell down, the events that led up to it.

I'’m sure R.G.

Cole'’s death releases you from any obligation to deliver the essay.

I discovered something... by accident really, and it'’s sort of bothering me.

I'’m afraid I can'’t help you.

I got out of Germany when I was 18, before the Berlin Wall came down.

I mean, it'’s about you personally.

What is this, some sort of a joke?

(doorbells jingle) (classical music playing) Hello.

Could you show me where you keep the Wagner?

Yes, of course.

What did you have in mind?

There'’s a recital, you know.

Would I be right in thinking that in The Ring, Siegfried breaks Wotan'’s spear?

Signaling the end of the gods.

Yeah, that'’s right.

Yeah.

But Wotan isn'’t Siegfried'’s father, and Siegfried doesn'’t kill him?

No.

Why?

Oh, was just checking that, uh, patricide doesn'’t come into it anywhere, that'’s all.

I think you might know an ex-colleague of mine.

Chief Inspector Morse?

Yes, I did.

Inspector Lewis.

You were at Morse'’s funeral.

That'’s right.

I was a sergeant then.

His whipping boy.

You must have known him well.

(laughs) He was very good to me.

May I ask why you left East Germany?

(laughs) They were only too pleased to get rid of us.

Why was that?

They just didn'’t like my husband.

Magnus was too much appreciated in the West, perhaps.

How do you know this?

I met your son.

Tell me about R.G.

Cole.

There are Wagner lovers, and Wagner lovers.

You didn'’t like him?

He is one of your typically English liberals.

A Communist in his 20s, and a neoconservative at 50.

Did you not know he'’s dead?

Dead?

When?

He was murdered in your son'’s house.

Mein Gott.

Hasn'’t he told you?

Richard doesn'’t speak to me, and...

...I don'’t read the papers.

Well, I'’m sorry to upset you.

Mein Gott.

Mein Gott.

May I ask you your name?

Waltrude.

With a W?

"Always remembered.

Forever.

W." I haven'’t thought about him in a long time.

It'’s been nice to have met you.

And you.

What have you got?

Um, Acres, the boxing club guy.

You know he was talking about Jack Broughton?

Yeah.

Broughton invented the rudimentary rules of boxing.

Oh, I thought that was the Marquis of Queensbury.

No, Broughton was 100 years before; much more brutal.

No kicking or gouging or anything.

But, basically, the winner was the last man standing.

Bare knuckle?

Yeah.

It could explain Jack Roth'’s injuries.

Illegal fighting in Oxford?

You'’d think we'’d have heard about it.

The farmer up in Halton-- he was holding dog fights for a cut of the gambling operation.

Dangerous Dogs Act did for his little earner.

Exactly, but according to R.G.

Cole'’s calendar, he was due to meet Broughton tonight.

(rock music blaring) ("Mein Schlaf Est Traumen" opera music playing) Come on.

Backup must be in place by now.

I'’ll get these two.

Hold up.

Hold up, fellas.

All right.

Oi!

Oh, hold up.

Hold up!

Hold up!

(overlapping chatter, siren wailing) (sirens blaring) (cheering and shouting) Police!

Everybody, stay where you are!

(crowd clamoring) Get him!

Just a minute.

Hey, I'’ve done nothing wrong.

I heard about this in the pub.

Empty your pockets.

That'’s all legal.

What'’s your name?

Jim Cumbes.

I'’m arresting you.

Eh, what for?

I'’m just a punter.

For giving a false identity.

Your name'’s Ryan Gallen.

You work as a bouncer at the Portobello Club.

Youth detention... theft... and a malicious wounding ten years ago.

We'’ve confiscated 50 mobile phones, two of which had some very interesting footage on Jack Roth'’s fight.

Why didn'’t you tell us you were at the bare knuckle fight?

I didn'’t want to get Jack Roth into trouble.

R.G.

told me I was going to a boxing match.

And what happened at this fight?

Apparently Jack Roth was under pressure from some gamblers to throw the fight, but R.G.

was having none of it.

So who won?

Well, Jack Roth did.

It got pretty hairy afterwards.

You go to a place packed with criminals and a couple of hours later your friend is murdered.

You don'’t think there might be a connection?

R.G.

was killed by a burglar.

It'’s obvious to me.

Why isn'’t it to you?

What'’s in it for you, Ryan?

It'’s like real fighting.

Like the old days.

It'’s cock fighting for humans.

Please don'’t tell us that this is all about sport.

You can'’t stop people having a flutter.

Oh, I'’m beginning to lose my patience with this.

You get some student who thinks he'’s tough.

Except the punters don'’t know he'’s not.

He looks a bit useful, maybe he'’s a bit bigger than our bloke, but he'’s dog meat.

You clean up.

Except that last Saturday night, he won, which means you lost.

I wasn'’t there that night.

We can link you to the murdered man twice in one night.

R.G.

Cole told Jack Roth not to throw the fight.

How much did you lose, thousands?

I don'’t know what you'’re talking about.

And then, afterwards, he caused a bit of fuss at the Portobello Club.

Threw you a Nazi salute; you must have loved that.

I did my job.

Minimum fuss.

He was dead within the hour.

Restraint personified.

There'’s only one problem there.

I never left work.

You ask Ann Kriel.

She'’ll tell you I was there all night.

And if you'’ve got the CCTV footage, you see me go back inside.

I never followed them.

You all right?

Yeah.

Anything?

Nope.

Either he'’s a domestic goddess or... Or he'’s never here.

Nothing in the fridge.

No underwear either.

Nothing in the cupboard?

Freshly cleaned suit and I found this in the pocket.

Dry cleaning fluid doesn'’t seem to work on pencil.

"33M."

Clothing size?

( Götterdämmerung playing) (phone ringing) Lewis.

It'’s me.

Ann Kriel.

Oh, hi.

Are you free for dinner?

When?

Right now, if you like.

Uh...

It would be perfect for me.

What are you up to, anyway?

(timer bell dings) Reading.

Yes, so, I designed and I ran the first club in London and then Hansie brought in the money to expand and we went into America.

Honestly, it'’s like... Well, it'’s like a world tour with him, you know?

How did you get involved in all this?

The hours must be a killer.

Oh, you know, ironically enough, that was the appeal.

I'’m a chronic insomniac.

You and me both.

Ah, you see?

Kindred spirits.

I don'’t know what it is with me.

I normally sleep like a log.

Is it ghosts?

What?

No, you'’re right.

Just came as a shock to hear you say it out loud.

Don'’t look back.

Is that what you do?

Well, I try.

I-I just.... To new beginnings.

(goblets clink) By the way, your manager couldn'’t vouch for Ryan Gallen'’s movements the other night.

Any way he could'’ve slipped out without you knowing?

What'’s this?

Is this shop talk?

I'’m sorry.

No.

No, actually, our video link was down.

And I know he was trying to repair it until the early hours, so... You do know he has a criminal record.

No, I didn'’t know that.

Jesus, he should'’ve been vetted.

I don'’t know, I'’ve been all over the place recently and...

I think maybe this divorce settlement'’s finally starting to get to me.

Don'’t look back, don'’t look back.

HANSIE: Hi.

I'’m glad to see you'’re being well looked after.

That looks like the end of our dinner.

I'’m sorry.

Excuse me.

Every time I go into that flat upstairs, I smell an aftershave that isn'’t mine.

Now I know whose it is.

Not guilty, Mr. Kriel.

I'’m strictly a soap and water man.

That doesn'’t surprise me.

She has a weakness for men like you.

Men like what?

That'’s enough.

How much do you earn?

45K a year, if you'’re lucky.

Do you know what my wife would be worth when she divorces me?

Maybe you do.

LEWIS: Maybe if you stopped harassing your wife, she wouldn'’t need to look for support where she can find it.

What do you mean by that?

(phone ringing) Excuse me.

Yes, Sergeant.

Well, can'’t it wait?

Okay.

Sorry, I have to go.

Milo Hardy.

Yep, that'’s his window up there.

He was found by a night porter locking up.

And, for once, I can give you an exact time of death.

Look.

I found this note in his pocket.

"All for the love of Sarah."

HOBSON: Broken neck.

It may have been unrequited love, but he didn'’t die jumping from his college window.

He was found on paving.

But there was soil found on his clothes.

And more importantly... there were particles of the same soil found inside each nostril.

His last breaths.

Good old Jurassic Oxford clay.

Heavily impregnated with Epsom salts.

Epsom salt?

Magnesium sulfate.

It strengthens your stems and brings out your color.

I can tell you'’re not a gardener.

I would say it was a fair bet he fell among roses.

You think he was moved?

Yes and quickly.

Judging from the body temperature, he'’d been dead from one to two hours.

But I thought the time on the watch said 11:00.

So he was a rubbish timekeeper.

How many tall buildings in Oxford with roses?

Ooh, thousands.

But that'’s your job.

Lewis, I'’ve found nothing to suggest that it was a murder.

Ah, come on!

All I said was the body was moved.

There are no marks on the body to suggest a struggle.

Anyway, what about the note?

Never trust suicide notes that aren'’t handwritten.

(knocking on door) Go easy on my daughter, please.

See you, Dad.

Is it okay to talk?

What happened?

We don'’t know.

He fell.

I understand Milo Hardy was your boyfriend.

How long have you got?

When did you last see him, Sarah?

Milo?

Um... Well, the other evening.

You-You were there.

I remember.

He'’d, um, he let himself in.

I found him at the top of the house.

He often did that, let himself in?

Not really.

Sarah, if you could just tell me where you were between 10:00 and 11:00 last night.

I was in bed.

Alone?

(crying) Jack... Jack.

Enough.

(panting) Milo challenged me to a duel.

Can you believe that?

What sort of duel?

Jack Broughton?

Who else?

And you agreed to it?

Meeting at Halton?

That'’s it.

And Milo?

Bottled.

Or saw sense.

Yeah.

Did you see him, talk to him, (phone ringing) after that?

Excuse me.

Is that it?

For now.

Okay, that'’s great.

Thank you very, very much.

Bye.

At least we know now why Milo didn'’t turn up to his romantic duel.

He was in Berlin.

What?!

There was a ticket for the tram in his pocket to Alexanderplatz.

He took a flight out of Birmingham on Monday night and was back early yesterday evening.

It shows up on his credit card bill and the airline confirms he was on board.

What was he doing in Berlin?

Essay about Communist Europe.

Expensive research trip.

I mean, a bus ticket to the library maybe, but a plane?

How was your dinner last night, sir?

Not bad.

Fillet steak and a lot of posh mash.

"Ich habe Siegfried gefunden."

What'’s gefunden?

Found-- I have found Siegfried.

Schoolboy German.

I knew it would come in handy sometime.

"Wotan-Siegfried Patricide."

The note in R.G.

Cole'’s journal.

Wagner again?

No, neither Siegfried nor Wotan murdered their father in The Ring.

This has got nothing to do with Wagner at all.

Who'’s "Valli" when he'’s at home?

Oh-- Milo'’s spelling it phonetically.

Should have a "W." Walli, the diminutive of Waltrude.

Helm'’s mother.

WALLI: Yes, I think I know him.

Good-looking chap.

He'’s dead.

He was a student of R.G.

Cole'’s.

We found a note for you in his room.

Ich habe Siegfried gefunden.

I have no idea what he meant.

Frau Helm, an innocent man has been found murdered in your son'’s house, and now one of his students is dead.

I want to know why.

Excuse me.

(whispering): I want to work here.

My pension does not go very far.

Please go.

According to Milo Hardy'’s mobile phone records, he only made two calls yesterday.

One from Berlin and one from Oxford about an hour before he died, both of them to Richard Helm.

Come on.

Yes, uh... they'’re still in my call list.

I didn'’t recognize the number.

I don'’t know Hardy well.

I-I didn'’t teach him.

LEWIS: So why do you think he was phoning you?

One of the calls was from Berlin.

He didn'’t leave a message.

He came to me because he wanted to know about East Germany for an essay.

We don'’t think that'’s why he was there, and I don'’t think you do, either.

He wanted to know about the Stasi, the state police, a subject I gladly put to rest many years ago.

My father died of pneumonia while he was under arrest by the Stasi, the so-called State Security.

I gather you and your mother aren'’t speaking.

It'’s a matter of pride on both sides.

She insists on working in a shop when I could easily support her.

It will blow over.

That wasn'’t the impression she gave.

Tell me, Inspector... how many informers do you imagine were working for the Stasi back then?

Half a million.

My mother thought that most of our friends and probably all our family were spying on us.

But, whatever poison was in East Germany, I made a decision as a young man to leave it all behind me.

Perhaps my mother would have been happier if she had done the same.

The Stasi Archive, which is just a few hundred yards away from Alexanderplatz, where Milo got off the tram.

After unification, the German government kept all the surveillance files on ordinary citizens in the East, for public access.

How does a man like Helm'’s father, an expert on German classical music, become an enemy of the state?

Well, it'’s not just any classical music, is it?

It'’s Wagner-- it'’s Hitler'’s favorite composer.

That'’s true.

You know, Morse was always a bit touchy on that subject.

Didn'’t R.G.

Cole go off to Leipzig to meet Magnus Helm about his book?

Cole was a great Socialist back then, wasn'’t he?

Could he have betrayed Magnus to the Stasi?

Giving wife and/or son possible cause.

Morse hasn'’t left me any clues this time.

Just one of his old girlfriends.

HATHAWAY: Walli Helm.

Flat 44.

Top floor.

Must have gone away.

Get out your goody bag.

Grab us a soil sample.

Good news on the search.

Sergeant Layton found this in a skip near Richard Helm'’s house.

Swears he doesn'’t make a habit of it.

One antique clock.

No fingerprints, must be German.

It'’s still working.

Good job.

Also, they found a pair of leather gloves and a slightly torn boxing hand wrap.

I'’ve sent it off for analysis.

Shouldn'’t we be spreading the net wider?

What about boxing clubs in London?

I don'’t think this is about boxing.

I'’d like to send Sergeant Hathaway to Berlin.

Berlin?

What on earth for?

Milo Hardy was onto whoever killed his tutor, but whatever he found out in Berlin got him killed, too.

Well, if you want to call on those sort of expenses, I shall need something on paper.

I think this is about the exposure of a Stasi informant.

If my word is not good enough, I'’ll happily pay for Hathaway'’s flight myself.

Don'’t be silly, Lewis.

Just a paragraph will do, for the accountants.

Fine.

I missed you earlier.

I was, uh, just staying in hospital overnight for some checks.

Siegfried was a code name for the informer who betrayed your husband, wasn'’t it?

Ja.

That was a pseudonym they gave him.

Magnus, the expert on Wagner, and Siegfried, a character from The Ring.

Bet the Stasi officers felt really smug when they came up with that one.

I don'’t think they know how to feel anything.

Did you know who Siegfried was?

No.

I went to the archive last year, but from what little evidence there was, it was clear it was someone who came to our house.

Could it have been R.G.

Cole who informed on Magnus, when he was a guest in your home?

You think Richard killed him in revenge?

No, no, no, no, no.

The timing is all wrong.

The evidence Siegfried gave him was one innocent letter from England, as it happened, and from that they decided Magnus was a British agent.

It was taken from his study long after R.G.

came back to England.

It must have been a close friend, to get into Magnus'’s study.

Perhaps even closer than that.

And that'’s why you and Richard, your son, are estranged, isn'’t it?

I only asked him once.

I could have cut my tongue out.

Why did you suspect him?

Richard loved his father.

But he also wanted American jeans, English pop music... And he risked our security to get them on the black market.

He was always in conflict with Magnus.

His father was the enemy.

"Wotan-Siegfried Patricide."

What?

Something R.G.

Cole wrote in his journal.

Your son must have told Cole that you suspected him.

So, when Cole writes about a "big row," it'’s the one between you and Richard he'’s talking about.

It'’s possible.

Richard called his father Wotan to taunt him.

Did you know Milo Hardy visited the Stasi Archive the day he died?

Milo thought he knew who Siegfried was.

Richard refused to listen, so he came to me.

He didn'’t tell you who he thought Siegfried was?

He wouldn'’t until he was certain.

Are you certain it wasn'’t Richard?

I mistook Richard'’s lack of interest in his father'’s fate for guilt.

I think he dealt with his father'’s loss by... refusing to look into the dark.

This is 30 feet from Milo Hardy'’s staircase.

One of the college servants reported seeing a drunk being supported by a man and a young woman.

Too dark to get an I.D., but it would have been the time when Jack and Sarah said they were together.

You can get a car to the end of the lane there, in darkness.

(phone ringing) Yeah.

Cheers.

Two types of DNA found on the hand wrap in the skip.

R.G.

Cole'’s and Jack Roth'’s.

I already told you everything.

Is this what you people do?

First sniff of weakness, you'’re in for the kill.

No, that'’s boxing.

We'’re detectives.

If you can just help us to understand how your DNA comes to be all over a murder weapon.

Obviously, somebody took it out of my locker.

And who has access to the locker keys?

Charlie Acres, but anybody can get them from his office.

Okay, let'’s talk about Milo.

We have a witness who saw a man and a young woman supporting a drunk, right near where his body was found.

Is it possible that you and Sarah...

I told you, I didn'’t see him after our bust-up.

God knows I feel bad enough as it is.

Why can'’t you accept this is suicide?

Well, aside from the fact that the body was moved and his watch tampered with, you mean?

I saw Sarah that evening.

She got a phone call.

I don'’t know who from.

She went off.

The soil under Walli Helm'’s window tested negative.

No clay, no Epsom salts.

Milo Hardy didn'’t die there.

(sighs) Come on.

Where are we going?

We'’re brain-dead.

We were standing right in the middle of the roses.

I snagged my leg on a thorn.

Remember?

Balcony.

Why have you got Jack in custody?

I think you know the answer to that.

I already told you.

We were together all night.

I'’m afraid that'’s not what he told us.

Sarah, we'’ve just taken a soil sample from that rose bed, and I'’m pretty certain it will prove that that'’s where Milo died.

The only question now is: who pushed him?

Nobody pushed him.

He fell.

I watched him fall.

LEWIS: That'’s your mum, is it, back in the day?

(chuckles) Just as well fashion'’s moved on since those days, eh?

Milo used to like it up here.

And this is where you found him?

He was standing there, where your sergeant is.

And you were?

Down in the kitchen.

And he called for me.

He'’d been drinking.

Nothing new there.

But he'’d obviously been psyching himself up.

Did he say anything?

Just shouting, you know.

This hateful stuff.

How I was the dearest thing in the whole world to him, but I was this poisonous bitch and I'’d ruined his life, and if I really was his one true love, which somehow he doubted, because I didn'’t know the meaning of the word.

Uh, it'’s all right-- slow down.

"Look at this," he said.

"Look at what you made me do."

And he... must have jumped.

But you'’re not sure?

He was on the balcony, and he jumped.

So, why move the body, Sarah?

Well... for Mum, of course.

I just thought, what would it do if it got out?

Big scandal, and the charity would have to shut down.

And all the people that she saves.

Who helped you move it?

Nobody.

Whose car did you use?

Mine.

LEWIS: Thank you.

(door opening) Run a check on those tire tracks.

No way were they made by her dinky little Mercedes.

What you going to do about Sarah Kriel?

Leave her for now.

I want to talk to her mother.

What?

(sighs) HATHAWAY: She'’s a beautiful woman.

You don'’t approve.

It'’s none of my business, is it?

But?

Well, providing it doesn'’t intrude on the case.

I mean, after all, Milo Hardy did die in her rose bush.

It'’s all starting to feel a little bit compromising.

Thank you, Sergeant.

You did ask.

Enjoy your flight to Berlin.

Ann.

Oh, hi.

I'’m sorry-- um... do you know Richard Helm?

Of course.

Excuse me.

Hey.

What'’s up?

Listen, Ann, I wanted to tell you personally.

I'’m afraid your daughter'’s just told us that she was involved with the death of Milo Hardy.

The hand wrap evidence is enough for me to charge you, Jack.

If it was taken from your locker by someone else, I can'’t see who or why.

You'’re going to have to help me.

Did you talk to everyone who used that gym?

All the sparring partners?

Everyone who was on the list Charlie Acres gave me.

Can I see it?

The list?

Why didn'’t you tell us about Ryan Gallen?

What about him?

He'’s not on your list, Charlie, '’cause you took him off it.

You knew we were investigating a murder and that he had a violent record.

Ryan'’s like flesh and blood.

Me and his mum...

I gather.

But he hasn'’t been any trouble for years.

He'’s a lamb.

It'’s like I say, boxing took the aggression out of him.

Does he stay here?

No.

He'’s got a posh girlfriend.

Did he have access to the locker keys?

He knew where they were kept.

He looks after the place sometimes.

HANDKE: So, welcome to the Stasi Archive, Sergeant.

You want my opinion, we should have burned it all.

Why?

New country, new beginning.

Leave the mistakes of the past behind.

All Stasi victims have the right to close their files to the public.

What about Stasi informers?

Well, they... they have no such rights.

Now, this is the Magnus Helm file.

I think it is mostly open.

Yes, see the colored tabs?

It means we'’ve had some new information in the last few weeks.

How come?

When the Berlin wall came down they panicked and tried to destroy everything.

Then they decided it would be safer to run away and save themselves.

We discovered 16,000 sacks of torn and shredded information.

To join these torn pieces by hand would take about 200 years.

But we now have discovered a new piece of scanning software which will do it in five.

There'’s a lot of nervous people out there now.

Some of them very, very high up.

These are all the people that have seen this file?

Yes, yes, you can see.

Anyway, I'’ll, uh, leave you to it.

Let me know if you need a translator.

Where'’s the photocopier?

Uh, no photocopies, please.

But you'’re welcome to take notes.

(phone camera clicks) (footsteps approaching) (footsteps departing) (Lewis taps key) (taps key again) (taps key again) (phone ringing) Sir?

The 33M that you found in Ryan Gallen'’s suit pocket.

It wasn'’t a 33, it was a badly written 38M.

38 Munster Road.

Richard Helm'’s address.

Yeah, I know, an aide-mémoire.

But how did they know R.G.

Cole was gonna be there?

They didn'’t.

You see what I'’m saying?

I think Helm was the target.

Are you listening?

Yeah.

Ryan Gallen was sent to kill Richard Helm but he got the wrong man.

The Stasi wanted to get Magnus Helm, all right, but they needed a decent excuse.

Something concrete.

And whoever was codenamed Siegfried provided it?

Yeah, well, to begin with, he was just reporting on the day-to-day goings-on in the Helm home in return for marvelous Western goods, like their jeans, aviator sunglasses and the soundtrack to Flashdance.

Oh.

Takes me back.

The breakthrough seems to have been a letter.

Have you got it?

No, it wasn'’t there.

The victims of the Stasi were allowed to prevent the public from accessing the files.

Walli left the file open but put a block on the letter.

Could you see who'’d accessed the files, too?

Yeah, after her, an academic: A.L.

Fischer.

Who?

And then, this week, Milo and then Walli again.

Walli?

She wasn'’t at the hospital for a checkup.

Well, the letter was the main piece of evidence against Magnus Helm.

Siegfried stole it from his study.

I wonder what his reward was.

A Bien warmer.

Form of socks, according to the guy at the archive.

Charlie?

Hello, Ryan.

I'’m arresting you on suspicion of murder.

This time I mean it.

I hope you haven'’t killed him.

Hello, Ryan.

You slipped out of the Portobello, you went round to the Boxing Club five minutes away.

You stole a hand wrap from Jack Roth'’s locker and you strangled R.G.

Cole with it.

You left this in your suit pocket when you sent it to be cleaned.

38M.

38 Munster Road.

The address of Richard Helm.

No comment.

These are your car tires.

These are the tracks found near the rose bushes at your house.

Okay...

I helped her.

It was a mad moment; we moved the body together.

I believe Sarah.

It was an accident.

Please.

I'’m not Siegfried.

I know.

I was wrong, please forgive me.

I must talk to you.

Richard, bitte.

You know who I met the other night?

At Wagner?

You won'’t believe it.

The truth hurts.

It'’s going to hurt you.

By the way, what was that word you used?

The German word for "warm socks" in the Siegfried file?

Uh, Bein warmer.

Bein warmer.

You'’d be too young to remember them.

What every fashion victim in the West was wearing in 1985.

Even my missus.

Siegfried was a Stasi joke.

Siegfried was a girl!

I noticed her photograph while we were interviewing Sarah.

She was a bit of a tomboy back then-- close-cropped blonde hair like a Wagner hero, like a Siegfried.

And she wanted all the things that girls behind the Iron Curtain couldn'’t get.

The American jeans, the aviator sunglasses and leg warmers.

Get on to the South African Consulate.

About who?

Ann!

Ann Kriel!

You found me, all right.

Yes.

Yes, she'’s very nice.

Takes a bit of looking after.

Would you like to come along?

You know, it'’s just it'’s getting late and...

I'’m quite safe.

Why don'’t you come in and sit down?

HATHAWAY: Ann Kriel, born Anna Lise Fischer in Dresden.

Her family moved to Leipzig.

The A.L.

Fischer who accessed that file.

Her father was a junior lecturer there.

Both her father and Helm'’s were at Leipzig University.

They were near neighbors.

They lived literally 100 yards away from one another.

So, what we'’ve got is a prominent human rights activist about to be exposed as a Stasi informer.

Milo must have found something in Anne'’s house the day he went up to her room.

The day we saw him there?

Yeah.

And then, after Berlin, he knew everything.

Went round there to have it out with her.

She somehow tricked him onto the balcony.

Well, maybe he fell.

He didn'’t fall; he was pushed.

And then she typed the suicide note and... Oh, God.

What?

Get forensics to go back to Milo'’s room.

Strip it for parts.

I want to know what he found that sent him off to Germany in the first place.

She even set me up as an alibi.

Can you believe that?

No, sir.

You know, you saved my life.

Did I?

Remember how dull and horrible it all was?

We thought Communism would never end, it would go on forever.

We used to talk about what we wanted to do with our lives, but we could do nothing.

You remember I wanted to kill myself?

Yeah... yeah, I remember.

I was going to lie down on the tracks, let a train go over me.

And you talked me out of it.

You said we couldn'’t know what the future was going to be like.

And I held onto that.

And so, you saved my life.

I was in love with you.

Shall we?

Yeah.

(engine starts) Yeah, I'’d like to.

Ann Kriel said, "Kill Richard Helm," didn'’t she?

HATHAWAY: The Englishman calls you a Nazi in German while the German calms his friend down in perfect English.

You got them mixed up.

I asked her what was wrong.

She said the German bloke I'’d just chucked out killed her dad.

So she told you to kill him.

No.

She'’d finished with you and she was about to sack you.

You did it so she'’d be tied to you forever.

RYAN: She didn'’t tell me to do anything.

He was a Communist spy.

He grassed her dad up and her dad was shot.

Her old man is still alive.

Helm wasn'’t the informer, she was!

Ann sent Helm'’s father to his death.

Look at yourself, man.

Do you really think she'’d run off with you?!

You don'’t know nothing about her.

You'’d think somewhere in that big empty skull of his, he'’d have the sense to know when he'’s being played.

He wouldn'’t be the first, sir.

One of these days, Hathaway, some 10-foot Barbarella'’s gonna come along and make a right fool out of you.

And when she does, I'’ll be there, ringside, laughing.

I look forward to it.

You know what the irony is, don'’t you?

She had nothing to fear from Helm.

He hadn'’t even recognized her.

Well, he has now.

I saw them together.

(door-knocker clacking) Helm'’s not here.

Let'’s try the river.

You know, I'’m so glad you invited me.

I also wanted to show you this place.

I never thought I'’d get the chance.

But I'’m afraid this is not at all how I imagined.

I know you betrayed my father.

I understand why, I think.

But... what you did still breaks my heart.

What are you going to do?

It'’s complicated.

I tried to put it in a letter.

Now that I know what you did, I worry that...

I thought R.G.

was killed by a burglar... ...but the coincidence of me crashing into your club like that, after all these years...

So what does the letter say?

I forgive you, of course.

We must leave the past behind.

You were weak.

There were hundreds of thousands like you.

I know you didn'’t want my father to die.

I want to know that you had nothing to do with R.G.

Of course not.

Do you like this spot?

It'’s my favorite.

Mmm.

Do you want me to help you with the lock?

Sure.

I'’ll get it.

(muttering, laughing) Here, let me.

I think there'’s... something in my... (grunting) (gasps, groans) (Helm groaning) (groaning and panting) Oh... (mutters) (Helm groans) Ann... She went in-- there.

(groans) What happened to your head?

(groans) I think... (panting) ...she tried to kill me.

(panting) (Helm sighs, groans) This is a letter from Morse to my husband.

I want you to have it.

I think it'’s time to draw a line under all this, don'’t you?

Richard is right.

Bury the past.

Yes, bury it.

Milo didn'’t die of a broken heart.

He died because he was pushed.

But the suicide note.

Mum said...

There'’s no nice way to say this, Sarah.

Milo was killed because of something he found out in Berlin.

Something your mum did years ago.

No!

He-He was raving.

He was screaming about me, and...

I tried to save him, and he jumped.

Sarah.

I can'’t be witness to this.

Shut up.

Ann called her...

Shut your mouth!

And she got Sarah to tell her dad that she was with Milo when he fell, so that he would help her shift the body.

His name was Magnus Helm, a family friend back in Germany.

Your mum betrayed him to the Stasi, and he... died.

But how could she say that... Milo died because of me?

How could she lie to her child about a thing like that?

She was only young at the time, in Leipzig.

She was 18, same age you are.

Yeah, but she'’s grown up now, isn'’t she?

(sobbing) ("Heil Dir, Sonn" opera music playing) (knocking on door) Ah, Jim.

Hi.

The place looks tidy.

I told you I'’d had a good clear-out.

Sir, forensics found this hidden in Milo Hardy'’s room.

Oh?

It'’s from Ann Kriel'’s former Stasi controller, dated about a month ago.

Presumably writing to tell her that they were both about to be rumbled.

Milo must have found it that day at her house.

I thought you'’d make short work of it, what with your German.

Well, while we'’re swapping old letters, you better take a look at this.

Walli gave it to me today.

It'’s the letter missing from the Stasi file-- the evidence they used to arrest Magnus Helm.

It'’s from Morse.

Just a note to thank Magnus for a book.

Whoever was censoring the mail from capitalist Britain wasn'’t very alert.

It'’s got an Oxford Police franked postmark.

Anna Fischer was a bright girl.

The minute she spotted that, she knew what it could do for her.

Contact with an English policeman.

That would be all the evidence the Stasi would have needed.

Morse probably never even knew.

If only he'’d bought a stamp.

A simple human error that anybody could'’ve done, and all those pointless deaths.

(opera music crescendoes dramatically) Any chance of something a little bit more cheerful?

It'’s my place.

I choose the music.

Oh, go on.

(turns opera off) That'’s better.

(Thin Lizzy'’s "Gunfire" begins playing) (sighs) Sometimes, Hathaway, I worry about your taste in music.

Sometimes, Inspector Lewis, I worry about your taste in women.

I'’ll drink to that.

Prost.

Prost.

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