Captioning sponsored by VIEWERS LIKE YOU (thunder) (woman wailing) ♫♫ MAN: I wouldn't worry, I've got a whole wine cellar full of the stuff.

(laughs) (diners chatting) (laughing) It's a true story.

(indistinct conversations) Come on, don't get me started on the tales of med school.

It'd be better if there wasn't red tape everywhere you turn.

Well, there is a lot of history to protect in Oxford.

I'm just saying, these planning regs, they cripple a small business like mine.

Maybe it's time to stop being a small business, then, Bri.

That way I might even get some return on my investment, eh?

That's the one good thing about Croatia.

You can do what you like with your own property.

♫He was a man and a friend always♫ ♫He stuck with me in the bad old days♫ ♫He never cared if I had no dough♫ ♫We rambled round in the rain and snow♫ ♫So here's to you, my ramblin' boy♫ ♫May all your ramblin' bring you joy♫ ♫So here's to you, my ramblin' boy...♫ (indistinct conversation) It's going to be my project, you know.

Are you all right?

I need a drink.

All right?

Fine.

Thanks.

Would you like some more wine, Jack?

Oh, thank you, just a... just a drop.

Thank you.

We're still on the wine.

I'm going on to the grain.

Oh, wonderful.

So we can expect embarrassing jokes any time now, then.

Jack?

Would you come over here and help me open the dessert wine?

Come along, good doggy.

LOUISE CORNISH: I know he's a bit of a flirt.

It doesn't mean anything.

Thanks, Robbie.

I didn't know who else to talk to.

He said he'll pay the mortgage and send money for the boys, as if that's all that matters.

Well, I'll try to talk to him.

This flat he's taken?

Yeah.

Right.

I'll call him first.

Yeah.

He's blocking my calls, but he'll listen to you.

Well, I'll do my best.

I'm sure it's just a... People don't change that much.

Jack's a good bloke and he thinks the world of you and the boys.

I know he does.

Top up?

Driving.

A drop more?

MAN: Mmm... that'll be great.

Beverley?

Jack, it's Robbie Lewis.

Just touching base.

You know, see how you are?

Give us a ring sometime.

Well, anytime.

If you think there's anything I can do to help in any way.

You must miss the boys a lot and... well... ♫♫ (sighs) There you go, wild youth.

Wild lass.

Great, Dad.

More jobs like this and I can stop doing Mr. Miller's funerals.

Don't turn your nose up at funerals.

We all die eventually.

Good steady income.

(laughing) Morbid.

And you, do some studying.

I will.

(faint banging) Are you okay, Dad?

You're not...?

No, I'm not!

You're sure you won't...?

One day at a time, yeah?

Don't worry.

Sober as a judge.

♫♫ Jack, can I get you a liqueur?

Thanks, no, driving.

I thought you just had to flash your warrant card if you got stopped.

Those were the days.

(door opening) (footsteps) It was really lovely.

We had a really lovely time.

TARA: Stop!

(glass breaking) Get away from him!

Are you getting in, then?

It's all kicking off in there.

"Stop being a small businessman."

Who the hell does he think he is?

My boss?

(rustling) (peaceful organ music playing) ♫Havin' my baby♫ ♫You're the woman I love♫ ♫And I love what it's doin' to ya...♫ RUTH: You're supposed to be studying.

(in falsetto): ♫I'm a woman in love♫ ♫And I love what it's doin' to me...♫ ♫I didn't have to keep it♫ ♫Wouldn't put you through it...♫ (laughing) Gross!

That's never going to happen to me, babe.

Good.

That's me.

Just got to hope it sticks.

I was supposed to get my hat from work.

Oh, Li, I knew you'd forget.

It's all right, I can go and get it.

You stand no chance.

Everyone goes as Dracula.

Yeah, but not everyone has a beautiful corpse.

(imitating accent): There is more to Dracula than a set of fangs, you know.

(women laughing) All packed and ready to go?

Time for a last pint.

So, Prishtina... Holiday resort, is it?

Not quite a resort, no.

Right.

But it's seaside?

Not exactly, sir.

I've cleared my desk.

I don't think there's anything outstanding.

Aye, the poster boy of police efficiency.

Try and stay that way.

Sir?

People change.

Try and keep hold of who you are.

I'm going on holiday for a week.

I'm not joining the foreign legion.

They wouldn't have you.

Too posh.

(laughing) What?

What are you like?

I'll see you in ten minutes, tops.

(chatting merrily) ♫♫ (bag thuds) You took forever.

Where is it?

The hat?

There was someone there.

You know, viewing a body.

Never mind.

Come on, the others went in ages ago.

Put your fangs in.

(birds chirping) LEWIS: Have a look round the immediate area, see what you can find.

Morning, Robbie.

Laura, what we got?

A gentleman of mature years.

Been dead some time but a bit of a puzzle; no maggots, no visible pooling.

Tongue's not distended, the nails...

Spare us.

Best suit, polished shoes, clean white hanky in top pocket, no underpants.

No keks?

Ah, you can take the lad out of Newcastle... Not your usual focused self, Robbie.

Where's Hathaway?

On his holidays.

Did you ever meet Jack Cornish?

Fast-track detective, destined for great things.

Yeah, I've met him, why?

It's just... We were always great mates.

You know, cut from the same cloth and... Ah, ignore me.

Is that it?

Afraid not.

Saving the best till last.

If I were to say "all the usual offices have been performed"?

Thing is, Robbie, this gentleman's already been put through the tender hands of an undertaker.

Interesting?

"Best before the 15th."

That was when, last week?

You're a single bloke.

Zap it in the microwave.

It'll be fine.

You know Jack Cornish well?

Yeah, I worked with him for three years.

Well, the big gossip-- that even I can't avoid-- is he's having an affair with Tara Faulkner.

Peter Faulkner's wife?

Have you met her?

Well, I've spent a few fruitless hours interviewing her husband.

We didn't like each other much.

So I hear.

Not a good partner for an ambitious copper.

Your pal needs to extricate himself double quick.

Haven't you got a body to investigate?

(water spraying) There's no obvious cause of death.

No broken bones, the skull's complete, hyoid's intact.

So not battered or strangled, then?

The soft tissues are too decomposed to tell us anything, and the organs have been mucked about with.

I can't do a blood test due to the embalming fluid in his veins.

And still no identification?

No, been through all his pockets.

You're enjoying this.

I'm just wondering how you're going to start untangling it.

With great skill.

And without Hathaway.

Be like having one hand tied behind your back.

So I suppose there's not a lot you can do until you find out who this gentleman is, or was... No, we're waiting for the search results, ma'am.

And in the meantime...

Yes, come in, Gray.

Sorry, ma'am.

I'm DC Gray, sir.

Right.

I was told... DC Gray is your right-hand man in Hathaway's absence.

He's just out of uniform.

Is he?

Good.

Maybe you could... Of course.

Right.

Yes.

Detective Constable?

Thank you, ma'am.

When I asked for volunteers to work with you, he was the only one who put up his hand.

Be nice, Robbie.

If Inspector Morse had been nice, I'd still be a sergeant.

Yeah, well, that man's got a lot to answer for.

♫♫ None of these essays lightened my heart, but Liam Jay... words fail me.

Where is he?

Any idea?

I thought he'd be here.

Sorry.

Why should you be sorry?

That's hardly your fault.

Usually when work is cribbed wholesale from the net, some small effort is made to disguise the fact.

Do tell him.

HOBSON: Don't be grumpy.

Hathaway's having a holiday.

He says he is.

Oh, it's like that, is it?

Come on...

He thinks I don't know about it.

Some old churchey pals of his have roped him in for some do-goodery.

Oh, no!

Fixing up an orphanage.

More or less press-ganged him into it.

Poor James.

Ah, give over.

He'll fit straight back in with all of them.

He wouldn't know fun if it jumped up and smacked him in the gob.

But you would?

Oh, I've had my share.

In the distant past.

Although you did give yourself up to wild abandon the other night.

Friday?

Drinking in the beauty of the river.

Standing in the dusk and just gazing at the sight.

Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah.

A body.

Well, I thought I saw a body.

But it... well, it wasn't.

It was a log.

(laughs) What?

(phone rings) Yeah, Lewis.

Neil Strickley.

Good, thanks.

A name band, cut off his wrist or his ankle.

Found about 100 yards from the body.

Still, it's something to work on.

Sorry, your treat.

We're not asking you to break any confidences.

I'm already late for my calls.

He'd been our patient for three years.

Nothing unusual about his death.

Cancer.

Do you know the family?

I don't know any families.

I just sit in there, like a priest in a confessional, and they bring me their scabs and their limps and their imagined ailments, one after another.

You like your job.

Probably as much as you like yours.

Sorry I can't be more help.

You're the undertaker?

Mr. Miller, Detective Inspector Lewis.

Yeah, there's no way this is Mr. Strickley.

We cremated him on Tuesday.

You'd recognize him?

Of course, I laid him out.

I prepared him.

(sighs) Mr. Strickley was in that coffin.

I put him in it.

I drove the hearse to the crematorium.

So why didn't you stop him clambering out?

So you always check the name?

Yeah, don't want to send the wrong one off, do we?

(machine whirring) Is that it?

Yeah, pretty much.

So how do you know there's anything inside it?

Well, it comes from the undertaker.

There must be.

And it gets carried in, so we'd know if the coffin was empty.

It needn't be a body.

It could be books, bricks, anything.

I always check the furnace.

Spy hole.

Coffins burn away in minutes, made out of rubbish, mostly.

What, and you can see the body in there?

Yeah.

I was on duty for Mr. Strickley and I always, always check.

It's just a habit.

Last person to see him, you could say.

Okay, on you go.

INNOCENT: And this is the sum total of your knowledge?

I can remember a few lines of "The Ancient Mariner,"ma'am.

The search team's still on the scene, but it's a favorite spot for fly tippers, so it could take some time.

What?

Peter Faulkner should be on that list, sir.

According to Companies House, he owns 80% of Miller's business.

He's an investor.

That doesn't mean he's directly involved.

It doesn't mean he isn't.

(sighing) Okay.

You can renew your old friendship.

Just be nice.

♫♫ PETER FAULKNER: I have several business interests: garages, construction, all sorts.

But you already know that, don't you?

I do, but I'm concentrating on this latest investigation, sir.

When did you last have any involvement with the funeral company?

I look at the accounts from time to time.

When did you last go there?

Couple of years ago, when it opened.

So, there'd be no need to take your fingerprints for the purposes of elimination?

Absolutely not.

And your wife?

Does she look as if she hangs around funeral parlors?

Would it be possible to speak to her, sir?

Tara's on holiday.

And she isn't taking calls.

Where's she staying?

No idea.

Some mysterious destination.

She's run off with one of your lot.

When was this, sir?

One lovely summer's night.

The 17th.

Where do you think she might have gone?

The world's her oyster.

Now I've got work to do.

You're not worried about her, sir?

Tara's a grown woman.

Predator on predator.

Worthy opponents.

Heart warming.

It is.

No one I know can put up a half decent fight.

Present company included.

I come in when Mr. Miller needs a pall bearer.

And sometimes they need me for a repatriation, bringing a body back from Spain or somewhere.

That pays really well.

Funny job for a student.

My dad got me it.

You were at Neil Strickley's funeral.

Anything unusual?

No.

You seem very sure.

I am.

Mmm... Corby Manse, 6:00 p.m., the 17th.

The police have been... Liam, surgery's over.

They say we've lost a body.

Mr. Strickley.

It was that night, it has to be.

I knew it was something weird.

You don't know anything.

Calm down.

Why would anyone steal a body?

Why, indeed?

It's nothing to do with us.

You're sweating.

Do you need something?

LEWIS: You were at Corby Manse four days before the Strickley cremation?

About that.

They had one of their famous suppers.

Dr. Whitby, his girlfriend, all the usual suspects.

Sorry, unfortunate turn of phrase.

Good evening?

Very.

Everyone on good form.

How long since Peter Faulkner had a look around his investment?

Came here, he doesn't.

I run the place.

I'm the boss.

(birds chirping) 9:00, my appointment.

How much longer?

He may have been called out to an emergency.

Has he not got a mobile phone?

(gasps) You just can't get enough of me, can you?

I'll take out a restraining order if you don't pack it in.

Looks like another GP suicide.

No note?

Not so far.

Okay, well, I won't be here long.

Reeks of whiskey, and the pills tell their own tale.

The postmortem should be pretty straightforward.

That's what you said about Mr. Strickley.

Another fine mess you got me into.

The next of kin... Find them?

No sir, that's it.

His next of kin is Tara Faulkner.

(sighing) Sorry, I can't take it in.

He killed himself?

And you still haven't heard from your wife, sir?

Only as Dr. Whitby's next of kin, we really do need to speak to her.

I've already told you.

When did you last see Dr. Whitby?

Not yesterday.

The day before.

And this is everybody that was at your dinner party?

EMMA: Will you let me in, please!

Peter!

Peter!

Peter!

GRAY: Madam, just a second.

Mr. Faulkner.

EMMA: No, I'm sorry, excuse me... Peter!

I've just come past the surgery.

Someone said... Is it true?

But he can't be!

Not Matt.

Why would he be...

Probably topped himself to get away from her.

The limpet.

What time did you leave the party?

First to go.

I'd had enough of the humiliation.

I'm sorry?

I bored him.

He made me feel like a sad old academic spinster.

You and Dr. Whitby were... We were together.

Sometimes.

Never quite sure if we were on or off.

Not a match made in heaven.

Purgatory, maybe.

LEWIS: Were you the last guests to leave?

BEVERLEY: Yes, I think so.

Um, maybe Matt Whitby.

And I'm not sure about the policeman.

He was still there?

Might have been, unable to tear himself away from Tara Faulkner.

She will be in pieces about her brother.

She didn't have any other family.

Or none that wanted anything to do with her.

You don't like her much?

Tara Faulkner's only hobby is upsetting people, banging on about her architect or her interior designer, the latest thing being some precious farmhouse in Transylvania or somewhere.

No, Croatia, that's it.

(phone beeping) I'm not going to make you a happy man.

I'm always happy.

My face is misleading.

The assumed suicide... Might just be murder.

He was poisoned.

A mixture of PCP, methanol and formaldehyde.

Formaldehyde?

Embalming fluid.

Combined with the alcohol and the Diazepam, and there was some of it in his lungs.

Any sign of bruising to indicate he'd been held down?

Possibly, but he's been face down on his desk all night and it's very difficult to find bruising through lividity.

All right, I'll have another look.

I'll try not to pester you, but if you could...?

Hurry it up?

Don't push it.

GRAY: You saw Dr. Whitby several times over the last few months.

Liam, isn't it?

Second time we've met this week.

What were you doing at the doctor's?

It was nothing.

A routine visit.

GRAY: He didn't have an appointment, but Dr. Whitby said he'd see him, and he was at the Faulkner's dinner party, sir.

A waiter.

And you work at Miller's.

What's that got to do with Dr. Whitby's death?

Probably nothing.

Can you tell us why you went to the surgery?

It's private, sorry.

Any objection if we take a look at your room?

GRAY: I ran a check on Dr. Whitby's mobile, sir.

Didn't seem to use it much, no calls on the day he died.

LEWIS: Okay, and no texts?

GRAY: Didn't text, and only ever received one that was way back on the 20th, 10:00 p.m. Just says, "World cup."

"World cup"?

From a pay-as-you-go phone, bought that same day.

Hasn't been used since.

INNOCENT: How's it going?

This is Liam's room?

LEWIS: Yeah, worth a look, ma'am.

Yeah, he was at Mr. Strickley's fake funeral and he was the last patient to see Dr. Whitby.

Have you found anything interesting?

Couple of old Diazepam bottles.

Both prescribed to him.

So not at all interesting, then.

We're getting nowhere fast.

Well, not entirely.

The Faulkners have a farmhouse that he neglected to tell us about, in Croatia.

And?

Well, I'd just like a chat with Mr. Faulkner, ma'am.

Horse's mouth and all that.

(sighs) Hi.

Sorry.

Sorry, everyone.

Have I missed much?

Just most of the term.

Oops.

You'd better go.

Sorry?

I'll inform your senior tutor that you've left my course.

That's not... You need to find out what options you have.

Whatever they are, you will not be rejoining this course.

(door slams) RUTH: You have to see your senior tutor.

You've not been sent down.

(book splashes) Stop it!

Liam!

Most fun I've had in weeks.

You idiot!

Yeah, I am!

It's not my fault.

It's in the genes.

I'm like my dad, a loser.

Your dad.

Call him.

Tell him; he'll know what to do.

Yeah, right.

He's off on a binge, like always.

It's what he does, Ruth.

Lets you down.

Just like me.

♫♫ And it didn't occur to you to mention your Croatian property when we asked where she might have gone?

If you knew my wife and you'd seen that farmhouse...

It's a wreck.

It's damp, half derelict, no electricity.

My wife wouldn't be seen dead there.

On the night of your supper party... Oh, not again!

We believe you had an argument with your wife.

Probably.

It's how we like to round off the day.

Can you tell me what it was about?

My client chooses not to say anything.

Chief Superintendent Jack Cornish.

I couldn't stomach it any longer.

We had a slanging match, and the two of them left.

Together.

Do you know where Mr. Miller stores his embalming fluid?

What?

In the embalming fluid cupboard, I suppose.

How long do I have to take this for?

Do you and your wife often take separate holidays?

Sometimes.

How would you describe your marriage?

Heterosexual.

What the hell are you on about?

When you fought that night after your guests left...

Argued.

I think you hit her.

Or she hit you.

We have forensics officers at your home.

There will be forensics.

I strongly advise you to remain silent.

In the fight, I think your wife died.

So you swapped her body for one at the undertaker's.

And somehow her brother found out, so... (knock at door) What?

Sorry, sir, you're wanted downstairs urgently.

All right, two minutes.

Two minutes!

Chief Superintendent Innocent said to stress it's urgent, sir.

This had better be good.

It's through there, sir.

One more minute, we'd have had him charged and locked...

I don't think you've met Mrs. Faulkner.

Sorry, guys, we're all stood down.

Search over.

All right.

♫♫ I just need a bit of help.

Get me some pills, say you're depressed.

No.

Right, fine.

Go your own way and I'll go mine.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

You're not making any sense.

Get me some pills, anything.

You're ruining everything.

You're messing up your life and now you want to mess up mine.

No, I don't!

I won't!

(laughing) I'll sort myself out.

We're over.

That's right, walk out on me.

Everyone does.

Liam... You're not going to do anything stupid?

Something I should have done days ago.

Where are you going?

The police.

A shooting star.

That's what he is.

Lighting up the night sky, exciting and amazing.

But what is he really?

They burn out, you know.

They turn into useless lumps.

Trust me.

LEWIS: Maybe if you take Mrs. Faulkner home, sir.

We will need to talk later, but it can wait.

Oh, bloody hell.

Not that stupid missing body thing again.

How many times do I have to... Can I see him?

Of course, I'll take you over there.

I can take her.

No.

Why isn't it you lying dead and cold instead of Matt?

I want to say goodbye to him in private.

Sir.

There's a young man wants to talk to you.

Liam Jay.

LEWIS: I can't talk to him at the moment.

He says it's urgent... bit agitated, sir.

Get him to wait.

Mrs. Faulkner?

Who did this?

Was it a patient?

We don't know.

I'm sorry.

It was.

I know it was.

Some druggie.

He was too good to them.

I told him.

(crying) Liam Jay?

Got tired of waiting.

Call me if he turns up again.

Maybe his sister's right.

If this student... Liam Jay.

...was the last patient to see him, and we know he's on prescription drugs... People kill for crack cocaine, ma'am, not Diazepam.

And this kid's no killer.

Famous last words.

I know you think I'm fixated on the Faulkners, but if Jack Cornish was looking into their affairs and they thought he was getting a bit too close... Maybe they killed him?

It's a bit of a leap.

Well, he was at their party and he has gone missing.

Someone was cremated, ma'am.

You said that was Tara Faulkner and now you reckon it's Jack Cornish.

It's just a bit random, Robbie.

Well, there was a fight, and if Jack was getting close to making an arrest...

If, if, if!

He wasn't investigating the Faulkners.

I've spoken to his number two.

We still don't know whether Tara Faulkner left with him.

Maybe she went off on her own.

(phone ringing) Is anyone trying to track her movements?

Yeah, we're onto the Border Agency.

Hobson.

Hi.

Excuse me, ma'am.

Yeah.

Right, why don't we try and meet halfway?

♫♫ I've found your antemortem bruising on Dr. Whitby.

Two areas of pressure, either side of the neck whilst he was sitting.

Probably too drunk to get up or fight them off, because the bruising was pretty light.

Final toxicology report, nothing new.

Same as before.

Drunk, stomach awash with whiskey and undigested pills.

Faulkner's into whiskey.

As are a lot of people.

Yeah, Faulkner said, when his wife suddenly turned up, he said, "Not this stupid lost body thing again."

But if she went off on the night of the party, she hadn't been in touch with anybody since, why didn't she say to him, "What are you talking about?"

Well, you'd just told her that her brother was dead.

No, no, no, no.

She knew.

Her and her husband pretend to be at each other's throats but actually they're thick as thieves.

No, not if she ran off with Jack Cornish.

No, I'd bet my pension she didn't.

He wouldn't have anything to do with a woman like her.

You think it was him in that coffin, don't you?

I hope not, but...

I think he might have been about to uncover something, something big.

So the Faulkners killed him.

And Dr. Whitby?

You think he was in on the murder?

I don't know yet.

But I'm sure his murder links back to the Faulkners too.

Never mind.

There's a lad wants to tell me something.

Maybe he's going to wrap up all the answers for us, nice and neat.

Looking for Liam Jay, sir.

I didn't need him today.

Okay, I'll try his girlfriend.

That number.

1966.

Used to be 1066, but we changed it.

Why would that be on Dr. Whitby's phone?

I don't follow.

A text.

"World Cup".

Did you send it to Dr. Whitby?

You've lost me, Inspector.

I never sent anything to Dr. Whitby.

Who else knows the entry code?

Everyone who needs to.

Right, how often is it changed?

Why's that open?

LEWIS: Shouldn't it be?

That leads through to the refrigeration room.

No one?

You get some stupid kids daring each other.

Ghouls.

Check the fridges.

What?

We haven't got anyone.

Mr. Miller?

999!

Ambulance!

He's dead.

Yeah, not far off.

Go on, phone!

Now!

Come on, son, stay with me.

Stay with me!

(oxygen pumping) You've not been here all night?

Just got here.

I thought maybe he'd be up to talking, but...

They've sedated him.

He won't be saying anything at all for now.

When I asked, they wouldn't tell me anything.

You've not got the knack yet.

It'll come.

(loud sizzling noise) What the hell?

It's not real, sir.

Electronic.

Right.

Trying to kick the habit, sir.

Sorry.

So you think it was someone trying to shut Liam up, sir?

Tried to kill him, usually has that effect.

So he might know who stole the body from the undertaker's?

Yeah, or who they cremated in its place, or he might know something about Dr. Whitby's murder.

I'll try and trace his next of kin, sir.

And his girlfriend.

But she's not a relative.

We don't want him waking up on his own.

He's only a lad.

LEWIS: This is our first clear link between the stolen body at the undertaker and the murder of Dr. Whitby.

So this is the night before Neil Strickley's funeral and three nights after the dinner party?

Yeah, this is the main street.

And this... is Dr. Whitby.

I.T.

have managed to clean it up a bit.

But it took him 38 minutes to travel between the two cameras, about 300 yards.

So he was at Miller's for a good half an hour?

Yeah, enough time to take one body out of a coffin and put another one in in its place.

I've ordered a deep search of Whitby's house, see if we can work out what he was up to.

How well do you know Liam Jay?

Not at all.

This is nothing to do with me, Inspector.

Whatever's going on... You lose a body.

Someone in your employ is the last person to see a murder victim alive.

The murder weapon is embalming fluid and now somebody tries to kill Liam on your premises.

(phone ringing) Yes, Gray?

Ruth Wilson, yeah?

Well, she's probably at the university.

Okay, well, when you do find her, take her straight to the hospital, and on the way, try and find out if she knows what it was that Liam was trying to tell us.

Good.

I apologize for not returning your essays.

A close friend of mine has died and it's rather thrown my routine.

Unexpectedly.

One lectures about life-changing events, but when it actually... (knock at door) Come in.

Ah, the police have arrived.

Is this a bust, officer?

Ruth Wilson?

Not with this group, I'm afraid.

Does anyone know where she is?

And you have a right to that information because...?

Just tell her that her boyfriend's in a critical condition.

She's to call us.

Thank you.

Where is he?

Which hospital?

What's happened to him?

He's one of my students.

Well, was.

If something's...

I'm sorry, I can't give any information.

You were at Corby Manse, the night of the dinner party?

What's happened to Liam?

How well do you know him?

He's my student.

But he was there that night, wasn't he?

Yes.

Him and his father.

LEWIS: If it wasn't for DC Gray here, we still wouldn't know anything about Johnny Jay, would we?

It was an oversight.

Good God.

Oh, course it was.

You know, the more I investigate who was in the coffin at Mr. Strickley's funeral, the more involved you seem to be.

I remembered the waiters, I forgot about Johnny Jay.

He was always there, like the wallpaper.

It was an oversight.

So how do I get in touch with him?

No idea.

He was a drinker.

He falls off the wagon from time to time and vanishes.

He was stinking of booze all through the party.

I doubt if he'll remember anything about it.

So you have no idea where he might be?

Rat-arsed in a bar somewhere.

Yeah, that's very helpful, sir.

Thank you.

Oh, look.

Your ferret's not doing very well.

Losing his teeth.

LEWIS: The young lad who waited on you that night is fighting for his life in intensive care.

I'm getting very tired of secrets.

I need to know where you and Jack Cornish went that evening, after your party, the evening of the 17th.

Jack's flat.

The next morning, we drove to the Lake District.

Why there?

My aunt has a cottage.

It's empty; I know where she keeps the key.

Did anybody see you arrive?

No.

We stayed for one night and that was it.

He wasn't my handsome prince after all.

Just another frog.

I went to Barcelona.

Not Croatia?

(scoffs) God, no.

It's not my idea of relaxation.

I've no idea where he went.

Really, I've no idea.

Sir?

Found in Dr. Whitby's bedroom, sir.

Who are they from?

Oh, unsigned.

No clues on the envelopes, sir, and just two sets of fingerprints-- one's Whitby and the other's not known.

"There's no doubt.

"Three tests and all positive.

You need to deal with this."

LEWIS: "I don't want to cause you embarrassment, "but I will if I have to.

You have to acknowledge this child."

(laughing and giggling) LEWIS: And another one dated three months ago: "Beautiful little girl.

"Perfect.

Never breathed."

Stillborn baby.

Whitby was obviously worse than useless.

Tell them to keep searching his house, his car, everything.

No stone unturned.

When your child is born dead, do you really head off and kill the father?

Maybe not, but he was killed.

Maybe her grief and anger was motive enough.

He's a cold fish, Whitby.

We know from the CCTV that he was involved with the body swap.

You say that like it's an achievement.

We still don't know why or who he swapped the body with.

The first thing he said: "Get rid of it.

I'll book you in."

And your baby was stillborn at the beginning of last year.

Three days after my 44th birthday.

My perfect little last-chance baby.

Ellen Mary.

But you were still friendly with the father?

With Dr. Whitby?

When he couldn't get a date with anyone else, he'd settle for me.

He'd turn up, usually unannounced, usually late, usually a bit pissed.

How humiliating is that?

When was the last time you saw him?

That awful supper party.

I told him I was...

He'd gone down to the cellar to get more wine.

I told him I was pregnant again.

He laughed, said he wasn't even sure Ellen ever existed.

I slapped him.

And are you?

Pregnant?

I'm going to have a baby, though.

I'm going to adopt.

(tower bell ringing) HOBSON: She'll be lucky.

Single woman, mid-40s, with a history of recent child bereavement.

LEWIS: Yeah, wishful thinking.

She has an alibi for Matt Whitby's time of death?

Yeah, and no way really of getting hold of any embalming fluid.

So back to square one.

Who was in the coffin?

Who killed Matt Whitby?

Who tried to kill Liam Jay?

What has Jack Cornish got to do with any of this?

I'll tell you one thing: I could murder a curry.

(liquid splashing) Oh, hang on.

Have we got a minute to make a little detour?

Is it the scenic route?

Ruth Wilson, she lives on a boat down here.

We've not been able to contact her all day, so she doesn't know about Liam yet.

We're out of step.

That's a good sign,that is.

(chuckling) Oh, God... Be careful, Robbie, there'll be gas bottles!

Fire brigade.

There's a fire on a boat near Luke Lane.

(glass shattering) Oh, thank God.

LEWIS: Someone attacked Liam to try and stop him talking to us.

And then they tried to do the same thing to you.

But I don't know anything.

Liam didn't tell you anything?

Maybe something about Neil Strickley's body going missing?

That day of the funeral...

When Liam got to Miller's, the body was already in the coffin.

He said he went to check the name tags, but Miller stopped him, said he'd done all of that.

Said he'd come in early to get a head start.

And that was unusual?

Was that all?

No.

There was something else, but I don't know what it was.

He was upset about something.

Kept saying it was too horrible.

You know Liam's dad.

Johnny.

Yeah.

Any idea where he might have gone?

No.

Off on a binge?

No.

No, he was doing really well.

He'd been sober for months.

LEWIS: When I was here yesterday, I took a phone call.

You overheard it.

Well, yes, but... You knew I wanted to speak to Ruth Wilson.

Who did you tell?

No one.

Why would I?

What interest is she to me?

The morning of the funeral that never was, who identified Neil Strickley?

I've told you a dozen times.

Yeah, well, tell me again.

And this time tell me why you didn't want Liam Jay to see the body.

What?

Was it because you knew fine well that the body had been switched?

No!

No.

Where were you between 9:00 and 10:00 last night?

What?

Why?

Where were you?

There was a civic do.

You can ask anyone.

And what time did you leave?

Midnight.

I was on the top table.

Why?

Someone tried to kill Ruth Wilson, Liam's girlfriend.

Why would I want to kill a student I barely know?

The Faulkners own 80% of your business.

If Peter Faulkner asked you to do something, would you do it?

He doesn't give me orders.

We're an equal partnership.

And friends.

Yes.

SOCO's turned up some more interesting finds at Dr. Whitby's house, ma'am.

Better late than never.

He was a vegetarian, life-long.

Wouldn't have meat in his fridge.

But under all his rubbish, two bloodstained plastic bags.

They're analyzing them now.

Sneaky pork chop.

LEWIS: Maybe.

But we're starting to see a few chinks of light now, ma'am.

Peter Faulkner reckons that Johnny Jay was drunk the night of the party, but according to Ruth Wilson, he's been sober for months.

Now, if Johnny killed somebody that night...

Possibly Cornish... Well, I think we can say probably now, ma'am, and then went on to kill Dr. Whitby, I reckon it's possible he's hiding out at that Croatian farmhouse.

I'm going to put through a call to Prishtina.

Where's that?

Where we just happen to have a man twiddling his thumbs.

Policia?

Policia?

Bang bang.

Me policia, yes.

Bang bang, no.

Yawn, yawn.

Bang bang!

Bang bang!

If you insist.

(phone ringing) Bang bang!

Bang bang!

You called, sir?

LEWIS (on phone): Ah, you're up, great.

What's the time difference?

About a century.

And you're in Prishtina, yeah?

Yeah...

Right-- I need you to get down to the central nick, which is off... Oh, hang on.

Yeah, it's on the Luan Haradinaj...

However you say it.

Sir, I've got a very busy schedule.

Yeah, it won't take long.

I'm going to fax you a photo of Johnny Jay.

Who is...?

Possible witness.

Well, possibly even a person of interest.

In what?

In an investigation, keep up.

Well, what do you want me to do, interview him?

Well, just ask him a couple of questions.

I'll also send you a few notes, a sort of summary of where we are so far.

Sir, I'm on holiday.

It won't take long.

You need to get to a farmhouse just outside Split.

Split!

Yeah, I think that's what it's called, isn't it?

Yeah, that's right, Split.

You know Split's in another country?

Only recently.

Up till 20 years ago it was all one big happy family.

Sir!

Listen, I'll clear it with Innocent, get you an extra couple of days.

I don't want an extra couple of days.

Oh, no problem then.

Thanks for this.

Appreciate it.

KIDS: Bang, bang!

Bang, bang!

(laughing) And he didn't tell you to get stuffed?

Oh, it was there, in the subtext.

(both laughing) Are you okay?

Mmm.

They gave me a once-over at the hospital.

No, not that, Robbie.

You.

Yeah.

You know me.

I'm always all right.

Would you tell me if you weren't?

If all this funeral stuff was getting to you?

It's not.

Reminding you of Val?

(sighs) It doesn't seem to get any easier, does it?

Well, that's it.

It does.

I was stood outside the crem the other day waiting for the pain... Val's slipping away.

Time's passing.

There's nothing you can do about that.

It doesn't mean that you can't... Yeah, I know.

At first it felt like a betrayal, but no, I'm just turning over the page on a new chapter.

Right.

I hate you, Robert Lewis.

(banging) Well, well, Sergeant... Don't tell me, I never forget a face.

Hathaway?

(machinery beeping) Li!

I thought you'd dumped me.

Last chance saloon, mate.

(chuckling) LEWIS: That just about decides it, ma'am.

Tara's alive, Jack's alive.

The only person still missing from the 17th is Johnny Jay.

So he's the body in the coffin?

Don't tell his son until we've got all the facts.

What are we doing about Jack Cornish?

Refusing to come home.

Can't Hathaway interview him in situ?

Find out what he's doing there?

Cornish told Hathaway to put all his questions in writing.

Shut the door in his face.

And did he?

Put the questions in writing?

He's on holiday, ma'am.

Oh, for God's sake.

So can we now stop pretending that Cornish is Dixon of Dock Green?

Yes, Ma'am.

LEWIS: So you were told to meet your father at the undertaker's in the evening?

You didn't think that was odd?

When your dad's Johnny Jay, you sort of get used to weird stuff.

And you're sure the message was from him?

Yeah, the text alert's "Whiskey in the Jar."

I'll show you.

You didn't have a phone when we found you.

So when you got there, what happened?

I remember all the breath going out of me, then nothing.

Have you heard from my dad?

Why isn't he here?

We don't know where he is, son.

I'm sorry.

But the text... Could we talk about Dr. Whitby again?

He was great, Dr. Whitby.

He was the only one who listened.

That's why you went to see him the night he died?

To talk to him?

Tell me why you went, Liam.

Why was it so urgent?

He...

He gives me Diazepam.

Ever since my mum died.

My Dad went to pieces, so I was all alone.

Dr. Whitby, he helped me.

By getting you hooked on prescription drugs?

On the night he died?

I'd run out of pills.

He got me some more.

There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?

No.

(knocking) Thanks.

Heartless, attacking two kids, eh?

Well, I can't see who'd want to.

Nice kids, too, hard working lad, do anything to earn any... Should I be getting on with something?

Repatriation.

Miller brings bodies back from abroad.

Expats, people who've died on their holidays.

(phone ringing) Just in time; Hathaway.

Morning, Sergeant.

Do you know how hard it is reading road signs in Serbo-Croat?

LEWIS: I had a weekend in Wales once.

Amusing, sir.

I popped into the police station.

Any of them speak English?

Yeah, better than I speak Serbo-Croat, fortunately.

They came out straight away.

They've been watching the place for months.

Just looking for an excuse.

Here, I'm going to put you on loudspeaker.

(button beeps) Laura Hobson's here, so mind your language.

Morning.

Hello, James, you having a good time?

Yeah, can we do all that when he gets back?

Crystal meth, sir.

The farmhouse is a crystal meth factory.

Well, well.

No wonder the Faulkners have such big fat bank balances.

Yeah, they ship the stuff all over Europe.

So where's Cornish now?

Rotting in some Serbo-Croat cell?

Vanished.

Ten minutes after he saw me, probably.

Right, I'll make sure we put a watch on all the airports and ferries.

You ever tried one of these electronic cigarettes?

Sorry?

To help you give up the habit?

You ever tried one?

No!

Well, you should.

(dial tone) How much crystal meth do you reckon you could hide in a coffin?

Yeah, let's start off with funerals for expats, shall we?

You won't find anything wrong there.

You've got a private ambulance, a coffin, all the way from the Costa del Sol, then the cremation itself, for £3,000.

That seems very reasonable.

How do you manage to do it that cheap?

Well, by bringing them overland.

That's what makes it cheap, isn't it, Brian?

BRIAN: Cheaper than a flight and couriers and insurance and... Do you want to fetch your jacket?

GRAY: Sir.

Crystals, sir.

Only traces, but they've gone for analysis.

Crystals as in crystal meth?

You bastard!

You lying bastard!

I knew there was something wrong, I knew it!

Tara crooked her little finger at you, did she?

Take him in.

Might do him good to stare at four walls for a while, think about life.

I'll get round to him later.

LEWIS: Jack Cornish didn't just fall into drugs, did he, through poverty or a chaotic life?

He walked in with his eyes wide open, knowing people are going to die, lives are going to be ruined, and he just didn't care.

Well, you'll put a stop to that.

Well, we've closed the factory.

Still got to nail Faulkner and his mates.

You will.

And when I do... do you fancy a ride one night after work?

A "ride"?

What?

I mean a bike ride.

(laughing) There's a bike hire shop... (laughing) Oh, Robbie.

You?

On a bike?

(laughing) Dr. Barnes!

Welcome to your new home.

You can't sleep on someone's sofa forever.

Oh, you got me this room?

I spoke to the accommodation office, yes.

Now, tea?

Coffee?

LEWIS: They didn't just transport and smuggle the stuff, ma'am.

They made it, too.

Cutting out the middleman, making them all extremely rich.

Just crystal meth?

Yeah, we've traced three bank accounts, all in various names, but all leading back to Dr. Matt Whitby, with large sums deposited every month or so.

And the next day, the money's transferred out abroad.

We lose sight of it.

And the Faulkners?

Two separate accounts.

Both emptied regularly, just like Whitby's.

(cell phone beeping) Excuse me.

Can you spare a minute, ma'am?

I should probably get some sleep.

The doctor said I should rest.

Yes, of course.

It's all right.

I know.

I know everything.

And I'll help you.

I mean, I can do more than help.

I can take the whole problem out of your hands, if that's what you want.

My baby died.

Our baby, Matt and me.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Are you all right?

And you can see her whenever you like.

Or never, if you like.

Did you set fire to my boat?

No!

Now, don't upset yourself.

You mustn't upset yourself.

Think of the baby.

There is no baby.

You lost it?

No, I...

I'm on the pill.

I've...

I've never been pregnant.

LEWIS: Turns out it's human blood, ma'am, from two different people, found in Matt Whitby's dustbin.

I don't...

The blood was on the outside of the bags.

Right... And on the inside, crystal meth, ma'am.

Yeah, if that's what they were smuggling.

Where does the blood come into it?

Not just blood, ma'am.

Liver cells found on the outside of one bag.

Bringing expats home to their loved ones?

There's a little cursory check in customs, but nobody wants dogs scrambling all over a coffin, do they?

Go outside for five minutes and have a pretend fag.

They embalmed the bodies, ma'am.

So that if a customs officer was a bit too officious, the chemicals would put the dog off.

The bags were smuggled in body cavities.

They packed the corpses with drugs.

You were so happy and so excited.

And that morning, not feeling well.

And they say it, don't they?

They say "blooming."

And you were blooming.

And then the row, and he was ruining your life.

And I thought... Stupid, stupid me!

I thought...

I hoped... LEWIS: Six repatriations this year.

And every time you were asked to fetch some expat home for cremation, you'd give the Faulkners the details.

I want my solicitor.

Yeah, he's on his way.

You traveled out to the body, they got the drugs to you in Spain or wherever so you could do the surgery.

A pretty gruesome branch of a pretty filthy trade.

Sir.

The phone we found in Mr. Miller's desk.

We charged it up.

How do you explain it?

"World Cup."

I've never seen it before.

Your prints are all over it.

You sent Matt Whitby that text.

You made it possible for the body swap.

You're the lynchpin of this smuggling ring.

(cell phone beeping) How many years do you reckon so far?

Peter Faulkner made pretty damn sure that it'd be you ending up sitting in that seat talking to me, didn't he?

Time to stop doing his bidding.

Look after yourself.

It was Johnny Jay in the coffin.

He got drunk, took a load of drugs.

That's what he did.

He was out of control.

He had a heart attack.

Heart attack?

They lied to you.

You must realize that by now.

Results from SOCO, sir.

Right.

We'll leave you to think about things for a few minutes.

Consider your future.

INNOCENT: There comes a time when you have to accept that the game is up.

I went to Split on holiday.

I stayed in a friend's house, and that's it.

Following the party at Corby Manse, why did you scurry off to Croatia?

Sex with Tara Faulkner, mostly.

She says she went to Barcelona.

She must have called in on the way back.

No idea.

What were you running from?

There was a fight after the dinner party, wasn't there?

Not as far as I know.

Why choose Croatia?

Why not?

Sun, cheap wine.

And a crystal meth factory.

It's news to me.

Look, I was just trying to get my head together after my marriage broke down.

I blame the job, you know?

Inspector Lewis couldn't believe anything bad about you.

Robbie Lewis and The Ladybird Book of Policing.

We're making inquiries with the Border Agency, so we'll soon know where you went and when you went.

Border Agency?

(chuckles) You'll be lucky.

You know what happens to a police officer in prison?

That's why I'm not going there.

(door opens) We've just had the findings from an examination of your house, Mrs. Faulkner.

Blood, hair, scuff marks.

I don't know anything about that.

LEWIS: And we have a missing man.

Luckily, we also have his son, so it should be easy to check the DNA.

Who killed him, Tara?

You or Peter?

No comment.

Brian Miller told your brother how to get into the funeral parlor.

A clumsy code for 1966.

You and I both know that forensics are going to tell us that Johnny Jay was killed in your house.

A week later, your brother's dead.

These things must be linked.

We don't know why Johnny was killed yet, but we will find out.

Good.

That's what you get paid for, after all.

Peter and Matt never really got on, did they?

I think Peter killed Johnny, and you and your brother were appalled.

You never signed up for murder.

And Cornish, for all he was a corrupt copper, well, he didn't want to know about murder either.

So you had a row with your husband and you went off with Cornish.

But your brother... he was so angry about Johnny's death that he couldn't leave it alone.

Maybe he even threatened to tell us what had happened.

But whatever he said, your husband went to Matt's surgery and killed him.

I don't believe you.

Got your brother very drunk.

He forced Matt to swallow a cocktail of drugs.

Not a pleasant way to go.

Whiskey dribbled down his shirt front, half-dissolved tablets in his mouth, down his throat, choking on them...

Struggling.

Your husband put his hands either side of his neck to force him back into a sitting position.

And when your brother was too drunk to fight anymore, Peter poured formaldehyde down his throat.

Embalming fluid.

The brother you loved.

My husband killed Johnny Jay.

ATTORNEY: Mrs. Faulkner... Johnny knew nothing about the crystal meth, but he found a notebook my idiot husband had kept; consignments, the dates, everything.

Johnny didn't know what the stuff was, but he knew it had to be drugs.

And the dates would tally with Liam's trips out of the country.

Johnny was threatening to go to the police.

He turned to go and my husband hit him.

Hard.

ATTORNEY: That really is enough, Mrs. Faulkner.

Hit him with...?

A stone doorstop thing.

And then you had the brilliant idea to switch the bodies?

They did that together, Matt and Peter.

Peter was supposed to bury the other body, but he's so useless he couldn't even do that properly.

He said he'd been interrupted.

The fly tippers.

And then he tried to kill Ruth in case Liam had told her something.

And that was my fault, too.

I told him that Liam was waiting to talk to you.

So much of this is my fault.

When Johnny realized his son had been used to smuggle drugs, he went mad, threatened to go to the police.

He was raging.

So I shut him up.

No one else would.

But of course, that was wrong, according to the great humanitarian Matt Whitby.

Then when you found the other body and came sniffing around, he wouldn't shut up.

"Thug, bully boy, psycho."

He threatened to feed me to the wolves.

You lot.

I just wanted to kill him.

So I did.

You killed Johnny Jay and Matt Whitby.

Yep.

Because they threatened your drug smuggling operation?

Yep.

And Brian Miller's role?

He embalmed the bodies, packed them with the drugs, then got them out again this end.

While you sat back and raked in the cash.

I financed the thing, didn't I?

That was my bit.

Crystal meth, made in Eastern Europe, supplied to the holiday hotspots.

One body packed with two kilos could net us 80,000 quid.

How long would it take you to earn that?

And Cornish?

How did he fit into this?

The wife's little bit of rough.

MAN (over headset): ♫He left me here, to ramble on...♫ (humming along) ♫My ramblin' pal is dead and gone♫ ♫If when we die we go somewhere♫ ♫I'll bet you a dollar he's ramblin' there...♫ I told Dr. Whitby I'd seen someone unloading something at Miller's.

Did you see who it was?

Just the van, shadows...

I thought it might have been a body, but it was so odd.

And then you came round asking questions, and I didn't know what to do.

If in doubt, tell the police.

I was going to.

But Dr. Whitby said Dad was involved.

Up to his neck in a drugs racket.

Your dad didn't do anything wrong, Liam.

He died because he cared about you.

A drink, for old time's sake?

There isn't a spoon long enough.

For supping with the devil?

Very good, Robbie.

Almost witty.

You do know that from now on everybody in the force'll be on your back?

You'll have to find me first.

See you.

(car driving off) LEWIS: A battle between an owl and a ferret.

Which one would win?

I'm allergic to fur, sir.

And feather.

You did okay in spite of it.

GRAY: So who would win, sir?

The one with the dull car, the cheap shoes and the raging thirst.

Cheers, ma'am.

Thank you.

Oh, here he is.

The boy wonder!

I thought you had another three days, James?

I knew he'd be bored out of his skull without us.

Not far wrong, sir.

Here, I'll get you a drink.

No, no, you... No, you sit down.

Well, I've enjoyed being the inspector's sidekick.

It's been all right, hasn't it?

Ma'am.

Don't listen to anything he says.

He's been a lonely little soul without you.

I've been thinking about doing that all day.

Same here.

Evening.

James-- gosh, you're sunburnt.

Thank you.

I'll... get the drinks in.

No, I'll get them.

No, no, we'll both get them.

You can have that one.

How long...

I turn my back for five minutes.

(chuckling) It was good of you, but we could've got a taxi.

You'll have a load of stuff to sort out with the coroner in the next few days.

Take my advice, if anyone holds out a helping hand...

Grab it?

My dad died suddenly, too.

I was 16.

Police and coroners and all that.

Did someone hold out a hand to you?

Yes.

A policeman.

A Geordie.

Is that why you became a police officer?

Yeah.

He doesn't remember it.

I'll never forget.

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