Murder on the Home Front (2013) - full transcript

The term autopsy actually derives
from the ancient Greek autopsia,

meaning to see for oneself.

Julius Caesar's proved it
was the second stab wound,

the one to the heart,
that killed him.

Making it highly unlikely
he had time to say: 'Et tu Brute?'

Not that anybody really cares.
But there you are.

If it's useful, it's yours.
'Free gratis', as they say.

Do you want some pie?
I'll never finish it.

Bloody Germans. Who invited them?

And these Anderson shelters
are so damp and smelly.

I live just round the corner.



Ships that pass in the night?

Let's be having you! Chop chop!

Women and children first. Get into
the shelter as soon as you can.

We'll leave them to it, shall we?

I don't even know your name.
Lennox. Jane.

What's that?

Oh, him. That's just, um... Alfred.

Where are you going?
There's a raid on.

I'll take my chances. I've got
a bottle of beer in the... cupboard.

Oi! Get to the shelter
unless you wanna get blown to pieces.

Dr Collins?

DI Freddy Wilkins.
I've been calling.

We've got a murder. Boarding house
in Kennington. Come on.

I hope I didn't
interrupt your evening.



Professor Stephens wasn't available.

Not in the least. I've been
hoping for a decent murder.

I haven't got close
to a crime scene yet.

Well, there's nothing natural about
this girl's death, I can assure you.

Landlady's called Clayton.

The usual lot, shop girls,
servicemen, some theatricals.

Lodger by the name of Ziegler
found the body.

Evening. She's all yours.

Time of death would be a good start.

The onset of rigor mortis
is variable.

So I can only give you a window
in which death occurred.

Professor Stephens
always gives a definite time.

Well, I'm not as
experienced as he is.

So my opinion will have
to be based on fact, not intuition.

Do we have a name?

Mary Williams.
Let's establish a common approach.

Nobody should walk across
this floor. No, it's all right.

We don't mind a little
bit of blood on our shoes.

I'm protecting the crime scene,
not your brogues.

And could I have that sandwich
bagged, I'll need to examine it.

No need, Sir. That's mine, that is.

This is a crime scene,
not a Lyon's tea shop.

Brady, go and clear the stairs
or something, will you?

Right you lot, down the stairs, come
on, Sir! That's the way. Keep going.

Keep moving. This is a crime scene.

Excuse me, Miss. D'you mind?
I just need to get to my room.

I need to change my stockings.
I'm sorry but...

Look! They've laddered
right to the top.

On you go. Yes, fine. Everybody else
downstairs, thank you very much.

Rigor mortis in the small muscles
of the right lower jaw.

Elbow stiffening.

I'd say she's been dead
between four and six hours.

Don't touch that, please. It may
have been used to strangle her.

Don't upset yourself, Mr Ziegler.

It must have been awful finding
her like that. I'll get you a cuppa.

It's always good
to calm your nerves.

There appears to be
some damage to the tongue.

Bloody Nora.
And you are?

I live upstairs.

Mrs Clayton, who is this young lady?

Isn't she with you?

Right. Out! Go on.
Get out of it! Go on! Get out!

Collect all trace evidence.

Makeup, hair brush, clothes,
pillow cases, everything.

Hang on, Hang on. Professor Stephens
doesn't ask for all these things?

Well, he should.

Are you the Pathologist? Yes.
Mind if I ask you a few questions?

Yes. My editor'll
give me a right bollocking

if I don't get a half decent story.
One quote from you and I'm saved.

You're not the only one trying
to make a good impression.

Go on, please.

Most girls I know would've passed out
at the sight of that corpse.

You didn't bat an eyelid? Always
had a strong constitution, me.

True Crime. Get it every week.

That's what I really want to do.
Write crime stories.

Guy's Hospital! Quick as you like.

Get in then.

We're a bit shorthanded,
apparently there's a war on.

Can't say I noticed.

It's the mortuary assistant's
wedding anniversary.

So you'll have to do.
Do what?

Your name again?
Molly, Molly Cooper.

From the South London Gazette.

Trouble is Miss Cooper, nobody
really wants to work in a morgue.

But the war's given us
a unique opportunity

to expand our medical knowledge.

Horrible as it is.

You do have typing and shorthand,
don't you? Why?

You'll need them.
Just a few questions!

The victim?
What was the nature of her injuries?

You can see for yourself.

Type up my notes as we go along.
Erm, use that.

Your notes? I'm here to...
Hurry up, I haven't got all night.

Right, ready?

Caucasian, female,
late twenties, brunette.

Blue eyes, no birthmarks
on the anterior aspect.

Small mole on the left shoulder.

There's a subcutaneous bruise to
the neck possibly caused by a thumb.

And a strange odour
which I can't place. Tongue.

Tongue.

Cross resembling a Swastika
incised on the dorsal aspect.

There is a stamp.
Ink. The letter 'M'. Right hand.

Been dancing then, has she?
Excuse me?

The stamp.
They do that to prove you've paid.

She must have been up the West End.

The Masquerade,
The Morocco, one of them.

Bleeding minimal, gravity is the only
thing moving the blood at this point.

Victim was well accustomed
to sexual intercourse.

You can't talk about
the poor girl like that.

She has external signs of venereal
disease and chronic liver damage.

Even so, she was out most nights
with freshly painted nails

and traces of previous dance hall
stamps on her hand.

Mary Williams was a good time girl.

Corpse can tell you a lot
if you know how to listen.

Night then.
Thanks for the interview.

I'll see you tomorrow morning.
Nine sharp.

You will? why?

I'm going to need an assistant

with good typing and shorthand and
no objection to blood and guts.

You fit the bill.
I've already got a job. Thanks.

I'll match your current wages
out of my own pocket.

Come on, Miss Cooper.

I'm going to be at the heart of every
important investigation in London

and you'll be there with me.

Can't think of a better education
for a crime writer. Can you?

I won't be coming into work today,
or tomorrow for that matter.

I know it's short notice, but
I've decided to become a land girl.

I'm off to the country. Bye.

You must be the new girl? Charlie
Maxton, the mortuary assistant.

Take this across to the photography
department, would you?

Of course. What's in it?

Mary Williams's tongue.

Best not to get too attached
to the stiffs, miss.

Just put it anywhere you like.

And you are?
I'm Dr Collins's new assistant.

Bit of advice, don't wear
anything you cherish to work.

Blood, innards, the dread brains.
That's all I'm saying.

Use this, then throw it in the bin.
Thanks.

What happened to her?

Husband bludgeoned her
to death with an axe handle

and then claimed it was bomb damage.

How horrible.

Almost as horrible as the decor.
What was she thinking?

And the saucepans were reeking.

Seems odd to chuck people
in jail for bad morals

but not for being physically dirty.

Personally, give me
a clean prostitute

over a dirty housewife any day.

The swine will probably get off

on the grounds his wife was
a filthy so-and-so with no taste.

I'm joking. It helps in this job.
I hope they hang the bugger.

I'm Issy by the way.

I should buy you a drink after work.
It would be rude not too.

'There are three waves
in an investigation.

The first is the study of the clues.

The second,
is the study of the crime.

The third wave,
is the study of the psyche.'

The suspects patterns of behaviour
need to be taken into consideration.

We need to share information
with other departments.

Psychology for instance.
We can help each other...

Working solely with the police

is the most affective way of
securing convictions.

Too many mistakes are still
being made. With all due respect.

I fear the only mistake
I've made recently,

is appointing you
to the teaching staff.

You're only here because the war
has taken our best men.

Nobody in this department publishes
an article without my approval.

You remember that.

And smarten yourself up.
You look like a vagrant.

That sounds like
Professor Stephens all right.

He likes to be cock of the walk.

Y'see his opinion
is taken as being indisputable.

They say he can tell the cause of
death just by smelling a corpse.

There's not much about killing
he doesn't know.

His evidence has sent many a man
to the gallows, Miss Cooper.

The voice box fractured.
Blood clot on the upper horn.

Pressure was applied to the throat
like this while the victim was alive.

Not the scarf, then?
No, manual.

Scarf wouldn't
have caused a fracture.

The pressure was sustained,
blocking the upper airway,

causing the victim
to asphyxiate quickly.

Indentation of the thumb
indicates with the right hand.

Lie on the floor please.

Trauma to the left abdominal flank
suggests somebody knelt on her,

using the left hand to carve
the Swastika into her tongue like so.

Thank you, Miss Cooper.

Only one thing doesn't make sense.

You wouldn't use a knife
with your weaker hand, would you?

Could be ambidextrous?
My cousin Alfred is.

He can write with both hands.
Thick as a plank though.

Crimes like this aren't usually
committed in pairs so it's possible.

Exactly, who's ever heard of
Jack and Jill the Ripper?

Word is she had a different man
back every night.

The other tenants heard voices
coming from the kitchen,

but nobody actually
saw the man she was with.

He was in the kitchen?

I want to go back to Mrs Clayton's
boarding house right now. Why?

Locard's Exchange Principle.

The most important factor in
the development of forensic science.

Exchange of evidence. If the killer
was in that kitchen with her,

he'll have left a little piece
of himself behind.

Even a fibre from his coat
may help identify him.

I'd be happier with a witness.

Oh, this is much better than
a witness, Inspector Wilkins.

Physical evidence cannot perjure
itself, it cannot be wholly absent.

You too, Miss Cooper.
Quick as you like.

Looks like a 250 pounder,
what d'you think? Oh, bugger.

That's Wilfred Ziegler.
The one who found the body.

Landlady said he was
always pestering the girls.

Mr. Ziegler?

Everything's gone, everything.

Can we have a word about
Mary Williams?

I warned her. I told her,

'Stop seeing those men.
They don't respect you.'

But she wouldn't listen.

Are these yours?
I collect them.

They're artistic.

Out of interest, how did
you come by the name Ziegler?

My father was German.
But I was born here.

What d'you make of that? 'I warned
her'? Practically a confession.

I wouldn't say that.
Seems to me, he liked her.

I wasn't asking you. I wouldn't
jump to conclusions Inspector.

He's left handed,
it's unlikely he strangled her.

And if the killer was ambidextrous,
like she said?

She's got a name, y'know.

I think we can assume
we've found the kitchen?

Although preserving the crime scene
might be a bit tricky.

I think I know what
the 'M' stands for.

Metropol?

That makes sense. It's a nightclub
in town, mostly a young crowd.

Mary William's last port of call
by the looks of it.

It's dated the night she died.

Why would he incriminate himself?

His name is Ziegler and there was
a swastika carved on the tongue.

Lots of people with German names.
Doesn't mean they're fascists.

If he was, he'd have
been interned by now.

I'm going to check out the Metropol.
See what I can find.

Mind if I tag along?

Ladies and Gentleman,
the Metropol is proud to present

Mr Ken 'Snakehips' Johnson.

Got a light?

I don't want to ruin your night

but have you ever seen
the lungs of a smoker?

Disgusting,
swollen and blacked with tar.

A simple yes or no
would have been fine.

You don't happen
to have a light, do you?

Now that's what I call a gentleman!

Hello darling.

Bloody singles night apparently!
Nobody wants to come forward.

They're all worried their wives or
husbands will know they've been out

painting the town red.

We don't even know if
she met her killer here.

I don't follow.
You want to know what soap we use?

It has a very distinctive smell.

That's because it's scraps.
Mixed into a bar.

Like the government said we should.
Which kinds?

We use whatever we have.
Pilot and Sunlight.

And to be honest, I add a bit of
coconut oil. I like the smell.

Thank you. The killer washed
his hands here, I'm positive.

Brady!
Guv?

I want to see everybody in the
building who was here last night.

Everyone! Now!
Consider it done.

Ooh, You look Ritzy.

Sorry I'm late.
Bloody Nazis bombed our crime scene.

I've had enough of this blitz,
haven't you?

It's completely
ruining my social life.

They even set up a makeshift
morgue at the back of my house.

As if I don't get enough of it at
work. Of course, a bomb hits it

and there's legs and arms
and god knows what else

all over my mother's azaleas. Said
she'll never eat red meat again.

How are you settling in?
So far, so good.

My worry is how will we ever find
a husband stinking of dead people?

I don't want a husband.
I want excitement.

In a morgue?
I want to be at every crime scene,

every autopsy, every trial. I can
get some great ideas for stories.

I want to be a writer, y'see.

In the meantime, we've been rationed
long enough, let's live a little.

Madam, I'll be two minutes,
all right?

Most seem to have
a convincing alibi.

Brady's going to check them out.

But there are three that
cannot prove their whereabouts

for the time Mary Williams
was murdered.

Danny Hastings. He owns the place.

He's got a criminal record
from a few years back.

She was seen dancing with that
soldier. Private Norman Beckett.

He claims to have gone
on to another club

but can't remember
what it was called.

And this chap. Our final suspect.
Pawel Rosanski. Polish emigre.

Lives nearby.
Comes here most nights.

He left early and went home. Alone.

He studied at the University
in Warsaw, escaped through France.

Now works in a munitions factory.

I had no choice. I had to leave.
They were killing intelligentsia.

They will do the same here
when they invade.

I can assure you Mr Rosanski,

they will not find it so easy to
conquer Britain as they did Poland.

May I see your hands?

They don't look like you work
in a munitions factory?

I scrub them. I'm not so used
to the dirt, to being a robotnik.

So, what was your relationship
with the deceased?

My relationship? I like to
have a chat with the customers.

But I don't remember
anybody called Mary.

And you were here asleep,
in the back room all night?

My lodgings were hit.
So this is home for the time being.

It's safer down here
than Churchill's bunker.

Do you mind if I ask... Not that
I'm being cheeky or nothing...

But why would I want to
bump off my own customers?

And you claim to have never
spoken to Mary Williams?

I spoke to lots of girls.
What's so special about her?

And where did you go after
you left this other club?

Straight back to the barracks.

We can't all be in
a reserved occupation, can we?

Somebody's got to do the fighting.

Did anyone see you come in?

They were fast asleep.
Now if you don't mind,

I'm sorry this girl got herself done
in, but I've got a drink out there.

So what d'you make of that lot?

Rosanski wears his watch
on the left wrist

and Hastings has tar stains
on the right fingers.

So both probably right handed.

And Beckett?
Beckett's a cocky bugger.

Her name is Iris Radcliffe.
She recently had a baby.

Eh?

Green ration book for pregnant
women and nursing mothers only.

Good time?
Can't remember much about it.

What did mine do again?
Er... Gunner, I think.

Of course he was. I always go a bit
Khaki Whacky with the hooch in me.

Could do without Freddy being
so grumpy. My brain's gone AWOL.

That smell again.
And the tongue's been mutilated.

A Nazi Strangler?

Miss, I'd be grateful if you kept
your opinions to yourself.

It's talk like that will
make women hysterical

as soon as somebody
looks at them the wrong way.

People are jumpy enough as it is.

Put that down.

If you have to pick something up,
use rubber gloves.

It's a crime scene not a
bloody church fete.

Guv!

There you go, make yourself at home.

What you looking at?
Iris Radcliffe's tongue.

From the relative absence of bleeding
and the lack of any inflammation,

I would say the tongue
was cut after death.

It was the same with Mary Williams.

He must have come back
to cut the Swastika.

How was the Cafe De Paris last night?
Busy?

Who says I was at the Cafe De Paris?

Well, you were dancing cheek to cheek
somewhere? You've got stubble rash

and you smell of
Charter House aftershave.

Lipstick on your neck, your own,
somebody was getting pretty amorous.

Cafe De Paris seems
the most likely spot

as you don't have
a stamp on your hand

and it's one of the few places
that doesn't use them.

If you're so interested,
I'll take you along next time.

Two left feet. Anyway, I'd prefer to
have you at your best in the morning.

And I'd prefer if you'd keep your
exchange principles for the stiffs.

Look what I found on the bandstand.

Jigger button from
a double-breasted suit.

Not only that...
Human hair, dyed black.

Not the victim's.
We should be able to trace the dye.

So if you match that hair to one of
our suspects, you've got your man?

Not quite.
Hair's not as good as a fingerprint.

But could narrow things down.

So if Freddy finds a suspect
with a double-breasted suit

missing an inside button,
who dyes his hair. Then...

The basement everybody. Chop, chop!

Could all staff please
make their way to the shelter.

Have you noticed he wears
the same thing to work every day?

Charlie thinks
it's the only one he's got.

And look at the state of it?
Hardly the swankiest.

When I die I'm coming back as a man.
It is so much easier. Isn't it?

I mean, it's not as if he isn't
attractive or brilliant or anything,

but imagine the pillow talk,
all murder and mayhem.

And who'd really want that?

Really? You don't wonder
what effect all that cutting up

has on the cutter upper?

This is Mr Carver
of Home Intelligence.

And Mr Granger,
one of his investigators.

He's interested in
the double murder you're working on.

Home Intelligence? We've been set up
by the Ministry of Information

to report on the state of morale.

I see.
The public are nervous, Dr Collins.

They see Fifth Columnists
everywhere.

We'd like to make sure this case
doesn't get too much publicity

and comes to a conclusion
as quickly as possible.

Inspector Wilkins seems
to think he's got his man.

Half German, probably a Nazi.

He leaves a Swastika
on the victim's tongue.

The Swastika isn't only
a symbol of Nazi Germany.

It's widely used
in Hinduism, Buddhism.

It can be traced back to Ancient
India and found in Roman mosaics.

But we're not at war with
the Roman Empire, Dr Collins.

Your job is to support the police.
Not impose your own theories.

We need this man locked up.

He'll be executed, Professor,
not just locked up. So?

We're just sending faulty goods
back to the manufacturer, aren't we?

Surely you can find some proof
that this man Ziegler

was in that girl's room that night?

Unfortunately, the girl's boarding
house has been destroyed in a raid.

So any transfer of evidence
that may have happened is lost.

Transfer of evidence? Enlighten me?

Well, for example,

that cigarette butt that your
colleague Mr Granger stubbed out,

could prove that
he was here this afternoon.

Fingerprints, I presume?
There may not be a clean print.

Because it's his brand?
No. Pall Mall's common enough.

He means we might be able to tell
his blood group from his saliva

depending on whether he was
a secretor or not.

Not only that, Professor. It'll
have traces of hair tonic on it,

the same tonic Mr Grainger
uses every morning.

It that may just
be enough to sway a jury.

Keep me informed of your progress.
If you don't mind?

Probable cause of death
is strangulation.

Small purple subcutaneous bruise
on the right side of the neck,

and four small ones on the left
suggests a right handed attacker.

Rigor mortis was advanced. She died
within hours of Mary Williams.

Two in one night?
I take it Ziegler hasn't confessed?

Not yet. We're going to hold him
a little longer.

I'll need hair samples from him,
Beckett, Hastings and, erm...

Rosanski. That won't be
possible just yet, I'm afraid.

Beckett's been reported
Absent Without Leave.

Little bit suspicious,
don't you think?

I'll let you know
when we find him. Oh!

Some of those papers you wanted.

An innocent man could hang for this.
It wouldn't be the first time.

♪ I hear you knockin'
but you can't come in

♪ I know you've been drinking gin

♪ You been cheating
round with other men

♪ I'm busy and you can't come in...

Recognise any of them?
Can't see any sign of Rosanski.

But that's Hastings, I'm sure.

Follow me. Try not to say too much,
you'll stick out like a sore thumb.

Good evening. What can I get you?
Gin and Tonic, please.

Would you like one?

Don't mind if I do.
Haven't seen you here before.

First time.
You one of them women coppers then?

I take that as an insult.

My Uncle Fred's in Pentonville for
something he never done. No offence.

Just that the 'old bill'
have been all over the place

since that poor cow was done in.

You're forgiven.
I'm Molly, that's Isobel.

I'm Danny. D'you fancy a dance?

Private Norman Beckett to see you.

He was found in
an opium den in Soho.

Regular apparently.
Light, Charlie.

Greenish hue in
the right iliac fossa.

That would take at least
two days to appear.

He must have died
just after we questioned him.

Overdose?
Rare to die from smoking opium,

but if he's injected a derivative,

which I think he has,
then it's possible.

Still think he's our main suspect?

This doesn't mean
he didn't kill those women.

If nobody claims the body,
I'd like to keep it.

Research into the affects
of drug addiction.

What are you smiling for?

I'm just wondering
what you're doing here?

We don't always get
the best sorts, y'know.

I can look after myself. My aunt
Queenie's got a punch like a docker.

Well, as your
aunt Queenie's not here,

I'll have to walk you home.

It's a bomber's moon and no mistake.

Still you ought to carry
a torch when you are out.

The Dilly's ain't safe these days.

With troop ships in and out,
you gotta watch. They're using

the blackout to rape and murder,
and nothing nobody can do about it.

It's the taxis I'm more
worried about. They're bloody lethal.

To be honest, some people are doing
very nicely out this bleeding mess.

It's not a bleeding mess,
it's a war against Fascism.

Well, my old man died in the last
one. Didn't do me much good.

And all I was left with
was a whore of a mother.

That's no way to talk about your mum.

You didn't know her.
She was from Malaya.

My old man met her when he went out
there to work in the tin mines.

Tiny little thing.
But what a temper.

Beat me black and blue, she did.

I can make the rest of the way on
my own, thanks. Are you sure?

Sorry. I didn't mean to go on
like that. It's all right.

I was wondering. D'you think
we could see each other again?

It's 'Ladies night' on a Tuesday.
Drinks are half price?

Maybe. But like I say,
I'm fine from here.

I'll see you then.
Oh, you can tell your friend Isobel

she can stop following us now.

Good night, ladies.

Very nice too sweetheart, thank you.

Come on, grab what you can.
We ain't got long.

Blimey! What the...

Come on, quick.
Let's get out of it!

So I've been thinking, Guv...

somebody might have
put her here deliberately

hoping we'll think
she was killed in the raid.

I don't think so.
See what else you can find. OK, Guv.

I spoke to Danny Hastings
last night. You what?

I wanted to get under his skin.

Like you said in your article 'Three
waves'. The third is the psyche.

That was irresponsible
and dangerous.

Well done.

His mother beat him
black and blue, apparently.

Seen this, Dr Collins?

This girl. I saw her the night
we were at the Metropol.

Swastika?
Yes.

And the lack of bleeding suggests
the tongue was cut after death.

The wound to the temple area,
though, appears to be ante mortem.

Our killer may have got
some of that blood on him.

Time of death? Vaguely.
I'd say about 48 hours ago.

That's when we were in Hyde Park.

That's after Beckett died,
but before we picked up Ziegler?

Guv!

When will you lot learn?
Put it down. This is a crime scene.

Yes, I know. It's not
the victim's, she's still got hers.

That could belong to our killer.

Specks of blood on the visor.
Let's get it back to the lab.

Hopefully, we'll find
some saliva on it.

And if it matches Ziegler's,
that'll be the nail in his coffin.

Don't you find it strange
he keeps dropping these cards about?

Excuse me! Excuse me!

A young woman was attacked
round here last night.

Did you see anything?
Maybe. But we can't talk here.

I was with a regular. In the alley
behind the department store.

That's where we usually go.
I saw he had stains on his jacket,

so I says to him,
'What's that then?'

He says a man came out the dark
with blood on his hands

and ran straight into him.
This regular, what's his name?

My customers hear I'm bandying
their names about, I'll lose trade.

Not to mention the 'old bill'.

I can't go to prison,
I wouldn't last a week in there.

We'll keep you out of it, I promise.

Well?
I'm not a charity, you know.

This is just for
information, right?

You sure you don't want
anything else?

No, information's fine. Thanks.

He doesn't give a name.
He doesn't have too. He's famous.

Ronald Terry.

He won't want people
to know that he's a queer.

He'd be finished playing
the hero then, wouldn't he?

My darling, don't cry.
It won't be forever.

I'll be back soon, I promise.

Dry your tears,
and remember, we're young,

we have the rest of our lives
ahead of us. Good grief.

I hope this isn't
a wild goose chase.

I wouldn't know, Inspector.
That's your department. Ssh.

Not even this damned war.

Dear heart, these men
have been in my eye line

through the entire scene!
What on earth are they doing here?

You must understand, I didn't
come forward about what I saw

because there wasn't much to tell.

Mr Terry, importuning means prison.

With all due respect,
you're protecting yourself.

The police aren't interested in you.
Are they, Inspector?

Three young women have been murdered.

The man you bumped into may have
killed them. He could kill again.

You need to tell the police
what you saw.

If I give evidence,
my career will be over.

This man you saw,
what was he wearing?

Does this jog your memory?

Did he have a limp?
I honestly can't remember.

Could you pick him out in an
identity parade? I'm not sure.

Mr Terry, you were seen
in the vicinity of the crime

covered in the victim's blood.

You're not only a witness,
you're a possible suspect.

If not this man,
it must have been you?

I suggest you take another look.

Perhaps. It could be.

Do you have somewhere I can examine
the jacket you wore that night?

For this to work
I need total darkness.

Turn the light out.

How did you do that?
Luminol.

It reacts with iron
stored in red blood cells.

I guess Terry needs to get himself a
better laundry service, doesn't he?

Turn the light on.

Jigger button's still there but it's
new, sewn with a different thread.

Well, what do you know.

I could see what you were doing.
You intimidated him.

He'll say anything to save his own
skin. At last, we have a witness.

He's a suspect too.
You just said it yourself.

I said what needed to be said.

I'm charging Ziegler, that's an end
to it. You can't. I'm sorry?

Terry replaced a jigger button on
this suit. He lost one, we found one.

If the blood on this
is the same as the victim's...

No murders have been committed since
Ziegler was taken into custody.

If I release him he'll kill again
and I can't live with that.

Wilfred Ziegler, I'm charging you
with the murders of Mary Williams,

Iris Radcliffe and Wilma Grey.

Do you wish to say anything
in answer to the charge?

You are not obliged to say anything
unless you wish to do so,

but whatever you say
will be taken down in writing.

Charlie?

Looters. Someone must
have left a window open.

The gas mask? The one we found
at the bombed department store.

Sweet dreams.

Wilfred Ziegler
is not the only suspect.

The same men who killed Terry,
killed those girls?

Ziegler killed those woman.
I didn't do anything.

I get the feeling
they don't want me

looking into
this matter too closely.

If we eliminate Rosanski
as a suspect,

the police will have no choice
but to look at Hastings.

You keep this up and
you're liable to upset me.

I think he's after me, Freddy!

Molly, get yourself
somewhere safe. Now. Molly?

Help! Help! Can anyone hear me?