Inspector Lewis (2006–2015): Season 6, Episode 1 - The Soul of Genius - full transcript

Whilst digging in the woods botanist Liv Nash unearths the corpse of academic Murray Hawes,a man seemingly obsessed with solving the riddle of the Snark in the Lewis Carroll poem. Just before his death he had spent two hundred thousand pounds on an original copy of the poem which he felt held the key and was financing himself as a medical guinea pig to Dr Alex Falconer. Forensics show that he was killed in the Oxford Botanic Gardens and carried to the woods and amateur sleuth Michelle Marber places Falconer in the gardens at the time though he confesses to an affair with their curator,Liv's boss Helena Wright. Michelle tells Lewis she feels that Falconer and Murray's brother Conor were responsible for the death of her son Stevie. Conor founded a club for genius students and hounded Stevie to join but now Conor is the next victim after arguing with two new prospective candidates. Lewis finds that sibling rivalry,the quest for medical cures and extra-marital affairs all play a part in solving the brothers' murders.

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Thank you, Susan.
I'll take it out to her.

Hi, everyone.
Thanks for coming here to Roak Woods.

- Hi, Liv.
- Morning.

It's a simple job today. We're
looking to dig up this little
beggar.

Rhododendron ponticum. Highly
invasive. We need to eradicate it at
the roots.

So we may have lots of hard digging
to do, I'm afraid.

But it'll all be worth it in the
end. So, thanks, everyone. Let's go.

Mr Atkins.

Vincent, Vincent.

Liv!



Male, adult. Must have been in there
a couple of weeks.

First inspection reveals blow to the
front right side of the skull above
the temple.

Probable cause of death.
All pretty straightforward, really.

It's my day off. I had plans.
I was trying to have a life.

Instead of which, as usual,
I'm up to my knees in body parts.

Sorry. I don't think there'll be
any surprises in the postmortem.

But the grave's pretty interesting.

Body was wrapped in a fine cloth,
very fine. And this was laid on the
chest.

He was buried with some ceremony,
then.

And care.

There's an inscription on the back.

Nulli secundus.

Second to none.
Who found him?

Liv Nash. She's a botanist,
based at the Botanic Gardens.



And what brought her
all the way out here?

They were doing some conservation
work.

Are you Liv Nash?

I'm Detective Sergeant Hathaway.

I'm sorry.

I keep thinking that I must have
hurt him, while I was digging.

Isn't that mad?

I know I couldn't possibly have hurt
him. He's dead.

I'm sorry.

Look, it's a very traumatic thing to
find a body.

I've got a... a number here
if you need to talk to someone.

Thanks.

Thanks. I will... I will call them.

You don't have a tissue, do you?
I'm covered in snot.

Standard issue.

You must see stuff like this all the
time.

Yes.

So who do you call?

Good question.

The dead man found in Roak Woods
was a Professor Murray Hawes.

Reported missing a couple of weeks
ago. And one other thing.

He was ritually buried.
Shroud, cross of twigs on the body.

We're waiting for the postmortem.
Next of kin been notified?

Yeah, his brother,
Reverend Dr Conor Hawes.

He's the chaplain at Carlyle
College.

Chaplain? Must know a thing or two
about burials and rituals.

Just a thought.

Dr Hawes? I'm sorry to disturb you.

DI Lewis, DS Hathaway.

I'm afraid we have something for
you.

My father gave him this watch.

When my brother first came up to
Oxford.

He was only 15, you see,
and something of a prodigy.

Thank you.

Can you think of anybody who
might have wanted to hurt your
brother?

Was he in dispute with anyone?
No, not to my knowledge.

But I... I hadn't seen him for some
time.

When did you last see your brother,
Dr Hawes?

I don't know. Um...

Six months? A year?

We kept away from each other.

Your brother was found with a cross
made of twigs laid on his chest.

What do you make of that,
as a man of the cloth?

That the killer had a conscience.

All right, thank you, Dr Hawes.

If you do think of anything
significant,
will you ring us at the station?

Oh, yes, yes, of course.

As expected, no surprises.

Cause of death, blow to the head.

There's some bruising and abrasions
to the face, which suggests a
struggle.

Blood tox?
Nothing fatal.

But not a happy picture.

Caffeine, nicotine, alcohol,
amphetamines.

Cigarettes and coffee
for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

He didn't do things by halves.
There speaks the voice of
experience.

Whatever gets you through.

Not a happy man.

It's quite spartan for a professor.
Mm.

Fallen on hard times?

Mr Murray Hawes?

I take it that's not from Amazon.

'Gracey Books. Lot 92.

The Hunting Of The Snark:
An Agony In Eight Fits.

Original working manuscript
annotated by Lewis Carroll.

Dated January 1876.'

Annotated by Lewis Carroll.
I studied this. This is incredible.

You studied it? I thought it was a
poem.

It's a profoundly theological
piece of work.

It's theological and philosophical.

It's a 10-man crew in search of a
Snark.

And what's a Snark?

That's precisely the question.
Nobody knows.

Nobody knows what they're looking
for. Sounds familiar.

Nobody knows what they're looking
for, the danger is in finding it.

For when they do, they will
"softly and suddenly vanish away".

It's about the search for meaning,
being and nothingness,

the unanswerable questions of
existence.

It's... It's the impossible quest.

He's got 10 copies of it here.

He had quite an obsession.

'The Hunting Of The Snark is a poem

over which a sensitive soul might
well go mad.'

A map.

The Oxford Botanic Gardens.

This place was
a favourite haunt of Lewis Carroll's.

He used to come here for picnics.

Stupid sodding... Oh!

We're looking for the head of the
gardens.

Professor Wright? I think she's in
the lodge.

Thanks.

So how are you? How are you feeling?
Much better, thanks.

I called that number you gave me.
It really helped.

I'm glad.

So what are you doing here?

Well, by a curious coincidence, our
man in the woods used to come here.

Murray?!

He was nice. Eccentric.

He forgot his shoes here once,
came back for them the next day.

So he was our man in the woods.

How did he end up all the way out
there?

Professor Wright? DI Lewis.

Yes.

We're investigating the murder of
this man, Murray Hawes.

I believe he has a connection with
the garden.

Yes, he used to come here often.
He was a Lewis Carroll fan, wasn't
he?

We get it all the time.
It's a place of pilgrimage for them.

Did you know him to talk to?

Inspector, I'm the director of the
gardens.

We have 7,000 plants here.

We are one of the pre-eminent
botanical research centres in the
world.

I spend my life chasing funding,
worrying over visitor numbers.

I have neither the time nor the
inclination
to talk to crackpots.

What about the police? Do you have
the time or inclination to talk to
us?

Yes. Yes, of course. I'm sorry.

It's... It's a difficult time at the
moment.

I'm... I'm not sleeping very well.

Why's that?

It's personal.

So did you know Murray well?
You spoke to him?

Oh, yeah. He liked to talk.
He used to monologue a bit.

What about?

He was trying to solve something.
I don't know. A calculation.

He was always taking measurements
and pacing distances out.

There was someone he wanted to beat.

That's right.
He was always talking about winning.

My triumph, my victory, stuff like
that.

Did he mention anyone in particular?

Thing is, to be perfectly honest,
I used to zone out a bit.

But he had an axe to grind, that's
for sure.

What are you planting here?
'Plants and their Uses.'

It's Helena's thing. Botanical
history.

Textiles, dyes, medicines.

This is our Doctrine of Signatures
flower bed.

The Doctrine of Signatures was...

Great herbalist con of
the 17th century.

You know about the Doctrine of
Signatures?

No-one knows about the Doctrine of
Signatures.

God has signed his intention in the
look of things
that man may know their purpose.

Healing properties of plants,

most of which have
no healing properties whatsoever.

Signatura Rerum.

And he speaks Latin.

I should...

Yes. See you, then.

See you.

Hope you remembered
to ask her some questions.

Yes, sir, I did. Thank you.
In fact, she was very helpful.

Murray Hawes, it would seem, had a
rival.

Mr Gracey?

Bloody mice.

Chewing my books to buggery.

I'll have to put something down.

Oxford Police.

Oh, yes. The Snark.

Well, it was a bidding war,
but there were four parties.

An American university, Murray
Hawes, a Swiss bank and one was
anonymous.

We need an itemised billing
for Gracey's Books...

What clinched it for Murray Hawes
was that he paid in cash.

The seller was looking to make a
quick sale.

He paid cash? How much?

200,000.

When was this?
Do you know the date of the sale?

He paid on the ninth
at close of business, six o'clock.

And he was supposed to come again
in the morning at nine

to take possession of the
manuscript.

We had to get it
out of secure store overnight.

But he never showed up. So, in the
end, we sent it high security.

How did he seem that evening?

He was ebullient, overjoyed,
triumphant.

He was going to solve the riddle,
wasn't he?

The riddle?

The riddle of the Snark.

Carroll was a great one for
acrostics, poems that are also
riddles.

There are those who believe

that there's a code to be cracked in
the Snark,

a puzzle to be solved.

Look, is that all?

Only, you know, I've been through
this once already and I do have to
get on.

You've already been through it once?
How do you mean?

One of your lot was in earlier
asking questions, a woman officer.

A woman? Innocent?
Chief Superintendent Innocent?

No, that wasn't her name.

Marland. DI...

Marber. Yeah, that's it. DI Marber.

DI Marber?
Strange old bird.

Who the hell is DI Marber?

How did Murray Hawes get his hands
on 200 grand in cash?

Heads up, gents. Nutcase alert.

There's a lady with bags waiting for
you. Says she has information.

Interview One.

Good afternoon, Inspector, Sergeant.

Forgive the impertinence, but I have
some thoughts to share with you.

The dead man, Professor Murray Hawes,
was a Lewis Carroll enthusiast.

He had a particular interest
in Carroll's epic nonsense poem

The Hunting Of The Snark.

Yeah. Mrs...
No, no, Inspector.

I'd like to carry on. I don't want to
stop the flow.

You may have heard of the riddle of
the Snark.

You may even have discovered that
Mr Hawes was trying to solve the
riddle.

However, if you are labouring
under the assumption

that Mr Hawes died because of the
Snark, I'm afraid you're greatly
mistaken.

Who are y...

There is only one line of inquiry
you should be following, gentlemen,

and that line relates to this man,

Dr Alex Falconer of the Davy
Institute of Clinical Medicine,

where Murray was a frequent
participant
in clinical drug trials.

It's not illegal to run a clinical
drugs trial, Mrs...

Marber, Michelle Marber. No, but...

Mrs Marber. Have you been making
your own inquiries into this case?

You have to understand
that impersonating a police officer

is a serious offence.

No, no, Inspector. Forgive me.
I should have explained.

I'm conducting a wider investigation
into Dr Falconer.

So you're a private investigator?
Not as such.

All right, that's enough.
But I haven't finished.

Yes, you have.

Murray's bank statements.

Didn't have much coming in.

There's a payment here from Davy
Clinical Medicine for Ј2,000.

And one for 1,500.

And another the month before.

She was right about the drug trials.

Alex Falconer's advertising
for new guinea pigs.

Yes, Murray. Murray was a regular of
ours for the last three or four
years.

What's the most anyone could get paid
for taking part in one of these
trials?

It's highly regulated.

There's a cap on what we can pay.
A couple of thousand.

When was his last trial?
Can you remember?

It's a few months ago. The last one
he came in for, we couldn't put him
on.

He didn't pass the medical.
Too much rubbish in his blood.

That fits. When was that?

It was six weeks ago.

You must have got to know him quite
well over the years.

I don't know about well.

He was an obsessive. He only had one
topic of conversation.

The Hunting Of The Snark?
Snark. Yes.

We think he might have had a rivalry
going with someone. Did he mention
that?

Yeah. Yes, it was... it was bitter.
It's what drove the obsession.

It was a sibling rivalry. His rival
was his brother, Dr Conor Hawes.

Dr Falconer, there's a phone call for
you.

Would you excuse me, Inspector?
Of course.

Thanks for your time.

I'm absolutely fine. Everyone's
making such a fuss. I'm perfectly
all right.

I won't go back to work this week.

I'll take some time off
so I can be here to look after you.

All I really need is a cup of tea.

I'll make you some.

Well, then, it hardly seems worth it
with only three of you here,

but let's try and make a seminar of
it, shall we?

So, is the truth always the highest
good?

Kirsty, you always pitch in first.

Give us the benefit of your
perspicacity.

The truth has to be the highest good.

It's not an ethical question.

It's a moral choice.

What is the truth anyway?

This isn't A level philosophy.

No, and you aren't Socrates.
Go on, Mr Vega, dazzle us.

Did some extra digging last night.
Late last night, was it?

Mm.

Honestly, man, give yourself a break
every now and then.

Yes, Mum. No, I mean it.
Less work, more sleep.

I need your brain, all 10 tons of
it, in full working order.

As I said, I did a little extra
digging last night.

"The Finding of the Snark"
by the Reverend Dr Conor Hawes.

Published last year. He claims to
have solved the riddle, and that's
not all.

The phone trace on the anonymous
bidder for the annotated Snark
manuscript

brought up the main exchange
for Carlyle College.

Bravo, Vincent. A stout defence.

Everyone give the lad a round of
applause.

Come.

It's the feds. It's a bust.

We need to speak to you

about your brother, sir.

Leave.

You told us
you and your brother weren't close.

No, we weren't.
We had nothing in common.

Not even The Hunting Of The Snark?

You didn't share your brother's
passion for it?

My brother's passion for it
bordered on the deranged.

He conceived the notion that there
was some kind of arithmetical
calculation encoded in the text.

Ludicrous and tedious, and wrong.

Whereas you'd written
that you'd found the Snark.

Oh, that. Well, I wrote that just to
wind him up.

Do you have brothers, either of you?

Did you never give your brother
a Chinese burn or hide his glasses?

No. I always liked my brother.

Used to beat me at Subbuteo, mind.

Before he died, your brother placed
a bid on a rare manuscript of the
Snark.

Well, all right. Yes, I admit it.
I also placed a bid for the Snark.

I had a long-running rivalry with my
brother.

It began when I beat him at chess
for the first time.

He couldn't bear it. He screamed. He
wept.

He began to keep score.
He kept score for the next 40 years.

And the Snark, of course,
is the ultimate puzzle.

Well, for myself I had no interest
in it,

but I couldn't just let Murray win.

Not after a lifetime of it.

Oh, for God's sake. You don't
seriously think

I would kill my own brother for the
sake of a puzzle?

Murray disappeared on the night of
the ninth,

sometime between 6pm
and nine the following morning.

Where were you that night, Dr Hawes?

The ninth?

That was the night
of my cocktails and ethics party.

I throw one once a month.

It's the only way I can get the
students in.

They'll only discuss Cyrenaic
hedonism if they can practise it.

"Eat, drink and be merry, for
tomorrow we die."

Aristippus of Cyrene.

What was your name?
Detective Sergeant Hathaway.

Dr Hawes? The party?

Well, they were at it until the early
hours. Pretty much all night.

I couldn't get rid of them.

"Violation, poison, the dagger and
the flame

If these have not wrought
their pleasing patterns

Upon the banal canvas of our pitiful
destinies

It is because the soul, alas,
is not sufficiently bold."

I am bold.

Are they still there?

Yes. They're talking.

Close the curtains.

Close the curtains.

Thanks.

Forensics. Arid soil, traces of it
all over the front of Murray's body.

Arid soil? You're telling me
Murray Hawes died in the desert?

No, he died in Oxford. There's only
one place in Oxford with arid soil.

The Botanic Gardens.
The arid house, to be precise.

How long will all this take?
I don't like closing the gardens.

A man's been murdered, Professor
Wright.

Well, of course. I'm sorry.

Where were you on the night of the
ninth?

I was here, at home, at the lodge.

Did you see or hear anything? No.

I find that difficult to believe,
Professor. You are right on the spot.

I was... drunk.

I... I drink every night these days.

Who has access to the gardens after
hours?

Only the staff have keys,
but it's not difficult to get in.

Students are always climbing
over the railings, so it's...

I'm used to hearing people in the
gardens at night.

I don't notice it any more.

That's one way in and out.

Hey, Liv!

So, have you heard?
I know, it's terrible.

I can't believe it.

They're saying he died here
and not in the woods.

It's so awful, and weird.

He died here where I work,
and I'm the one that found him.

I'm gonna have to ask you where you
were on the night of the ninth.

Of course, yes.

The ninth...

It was a friend's birthday.

I'm afraid I got rather drunk
and had to stay over.

Can I get a name?
Johnny Reeve.

Johnny. J-O-H...

He's an old friend. I've known him
for years, since we were kids.

A friend of my brother's, really,
but...

Have I made it clear enough
that he's not my boyfriend?

Just making a note of that now.

Oh, um... Yeah.

Have you... ever seen this man
at the gardens?

I don't think so. I don't recognise
him.

OK, well, if anything
comes back to you, or, um...

if you think of any...
anything, um,

then, um...

give me a call.

Any time.

Did you just bow to her?

Yeah, I think I did.

Oh, God. Miss bloody Marple.

Mrs Marber, I sincerely hope
you're not pursuing your inquiries.

I've been trying to find you.

You didn't let me finish.
You didn't hear the whole story.

And I'm not gonna hear it now.

Witnesses have come forward.
They're at the station.

But...
Go home, Mrs Marber.

Go home and stay home.

Vincent Vega, Mia Wallace.

Vincent Vega?

My... My dad's Spanish.

So you were in the woods when you saw
two men behaving suspiciously.

What were you doing in the woods?

We were there for romantic reasons.

We spent the night there.

We joked about what they must be up
to, you know, burying a body or
something.

And then we read about Murray Hawes.
And we know his brother...

Conor Hawes. We're both at Carlyle.
We had to come forward.

Could you describe them to us?
I've got a photographic memory.

So you could describe them
for the police artist?

I could draw them myself. I'm a
proper artist.

There's something not right about
these two.

They blink too much.

Come on, let's take a stroll
over to Carlyle College.

I shouldn't really do this,
but I never liked the little tyke.

Why's that?

Well, in my opinion, sir, he doesn't
show enough respect for the
university.

He never goes to lectures.

Spends all his time on the river,
messing around in punts.

Does he now? Thanks, Mr Atkins.

Vincent Vega, Mia Wallace. Pulp
Fiction.

Bit slow for you, that.
I hope you've got a warrant.

But then again, it's Vincent's room,
so on second thoughts, I don't care.

Nobody seems to like Vincent Vega.

Vincent Vega?

Simon Dawkins.

And Mia's real name is Isobel Strong.

Changed their names by deed poll.

Why?

There's this kind of person at
Oxford.

They've been told their whole lives
that they're one in a million,

Oxbridge material.

Then they get here
and find they're one of a million,

cos everyone here is just like them.

"You've been noticed."
What are these? Do you know?

Must be Wednesday Club stuff.
Looks like it.

Wednesday Club? Are you sure the
Wednesday Club exists?

It's this legendary club for
geniuses.

Only the most extraordinary need
apply. I've heard stories about it.

Everyone's heard stories about it.
Things that people'll do to get in.

I thought they were apocryphal.
I thought it was an urban myth.

No, no, it exists.

Club for geniuses?

Club for narcissists. How it works
exactly, I don't know.

But they talk about it all the time,
Simon and Isobel.

They're fixated on getting in.

Maybe messing with the police
is their idea of clever.

Where have you been? We've been
waiting.

We're star witnesses.
We're not just anyone.

Very funny.

Wasting police time
is a criminal offence, Simon, Isobel.

Those aren't our names.

Allow me to escort you off the
premises.

So that's it? You're not gonna
charge us?

The thing is, you want us to,
so, no, we're not going to charge
you.

You're not worth the paperwork.

Inspector...
Timewasters Anonymous.

Please don't dismiss me. Just hear
me out.

Give me strength. All right, let's
have it.

There was a visitor last night,
to the Botanic Gardens.

He let himself in with his key
at 12.41am

and didn't leave until dawn.

Dr Alex Falconer.

And you just happened to be passing?

Were you following Dr Falconer?

He's a regular visitor
at the Botanic Gardens.

I've seen him there on more than one
occasion. Always after hours.

All right, we'll look into it.

But, Mrs Marber, you have to listen
to me.

You must leave the detective work to
us.

You corrupt one piece of evidence,
this whole case could go down.

Do you understand me?
Yes.

Gold Cheyne Hall.
Seat of the Falconer family since
1465.

Winner of Best New Attraction 2008
and Best Garden 2010 and '11.

And yet he's hanging around
the Botanic Garden's all night.

According to Michelle Marber.

Quite a place for a scientist
to live, isn't it?

It says here that Alex Falconer

comes from a long line
of gentleman scientists.

His great-great grandfather
worked with Lord Kelvin

on the discovery of absolute zero.

We'd like to speak to Alex Falconer.

Alex? Whatever for?

I'm Thea Falconer. I'm his wife.

Where is your husband, Mrs Falconer?

He's in the garden, but...

I'll take you through the house.
It'll be quicker.

I remember this place from when I was
a kid. It was always locked up.

Yes, Alex was away a lot when he was
younger. He was a great explorer.

South America, Africa, Indonesia.

He always hated the hall. He was
often left alone here as a child.

All alone in a great house like
this. Can you imagine?

You can't tell me what this is
about, Inspector?

We're investigating the murder of
this man,

Murray Hawes.

I don't know him, I'm afraid.
You've never met him?

He hasn't come to the hall?

No. Why would he?
He knew your husband.

This one, ma'am, is it?
Yes, Sam, thank you.

You will be especially careful
with this one, won't you?

Are you selling your collection,
Mrs Falconer?

Alex did sell a couple, to help
finance the work on the gardens.

It's been worth it. Numbers are up.
We're even managing to make money.

This one's being taken
for some restoration work.

It's the house and grounds
as they were in the 16th Century.

The heyday of the gardens.

It was my idea to restore them
to their former glory.

Hello, Inspector.

Dr Falconer, we have information

that links you with the place
where Murray Hawes died.

Botanic Gardens. Perhaps you could
shed some light on that for us.

I am, um...

What's that awful word?

Involved with Helena Wright,

the head of the gardens.

You're having an affair?
Yeah.

I take it your wife doesn't know
about this?

God, no, no. She doesn't know
anything.

Where were you on the night of the
ninth?

I was here.

You seem very sure.
Most people need to check with dates.

No, I remember.
We had a fight, Helena and I.

She wanted me to spend the night
with her. I wanted to stay with
Thea.

I don't know much about affairs
personally,

but isn't it usually the other way
round?

My marriage is... it's very difficult
at times.

Helena offers me comfort,
and I'm weak and I take it.

But I love my wife.

And you'd do anything
to keep the truth from her?

Why are you selling your collection?

My collection?

We've only sold two pictures.
It's for the gardens.

Not to pay off Murray Hawes?
Did he find out about you and Helena?

He needed money
to buy his Snark manuscript.

What, blackmail? No, Murray Hawes
wasn't blackmailing me.

Murray Hawes wasn't my problem.

Helena, she is my problem.

Helena.
What is it? What do you want?

I've gotta go.
I found this. It's Murray's.

I don't know what to make of it.

Yeah, he left it behind. I was meant
to put it in the lost and found.

I remember he asked for it, but I
couldn't find it.

He was always losing things.
Yeah.

Give it to me and I'll give it to
the police.

Have you finished the orchid house?

Yes.
Are you sure?

You wrongly labelled three
specimens last week. I had to
correct your work.

It's not good enough, Liv.
But I double-checked.

And now you're correcting me.

Look, I've got to go out.

I'll be back in a couple of hours,

when I expect to find the gardens
pristine.

You'll find him downstairs.

I'm here. I'm here now.

Poor old Alex Falconer.
The reluctant Lothario.

Which of these would you trust the
least?

Too close to call.

Michelle Marber, the lady with
bags... Don't tell me.

I've got two complaints against her.

One from Gold Cheyne Hall,
the other from the porter at Carlyle.

She's been harassing people there
on a daily basis.

I did warn her.

We ran a check. It turns out she's a
serial cop-botherer.

She's got injunctions against her
from the Met and Edinburgh.

God only knows what damage
she's doing to the investigation.

Get it sorted, Robbie. Now.

It's an incident room.

I like to lie on the floor sometimes,
look at the whole picture.

I think if I can see it all in one
glance,

I might understand it better.

But I never quite seem to.

We hear you've been out and about
with your little notebook again.

I'll check the rest of the house.
Mrs Marber?

Oh, Inspector. Yes, sorry. How can I
help you?

Would you like a cup of tea? I don't
know whether I've got any tea.

We warned you that impersonating
a police officer was a criminal
offence,

as is harassment.

You've been making trouble again.
Sir!

Mrs Marber.
Sir.

What?! You've gotta come and
look at this.

Oh, for God's sake.

Stevie. My son.

He was found dead in his room.

He was doing his postgrad at Carlyle
College.

The coroner returned
death by misadventure, an overdose.

But she was wrong. Stevie would never
have been so stupid.

It's an over-used word these days,
but he was...

He was a genius.

My miraculous boy.

My little pal.

Michelle, why didn't you tell us?

I've learnt it's the surest way
to be dismissed.

They give you a little card
with a number on it, a helpline.

At least as Miss Marple
I got a few extra days,

got a little bit closer.

I started by going backwards,
trying to piece together the last
days,

but it was all too confusing.

So I started at the beginning.

I must have visited every day
of his life since he left me.

But I still don't know why he died.

That was his first day at Davy
Institute.

His first day as Alex Falconer's
research assistant.

All that promise, all that
excitement.

And no idea what was to come.

What happened?

Alex Falconer, never satisfied.

Nothing Stevie did was good enough.

He didn't work hard enough.
He wasn't rigorous.

Stevie had his own way of working.

But Alex Falconer is such a narrow...

He sacked Stevie.

And then he came to the inquest
and he stood up there in front of me

and told me that my son was a drug
addict.

My son did not die of an overdose.

My son would never have been so
stupid.

How do you think he died, Michelle?

But you blame Alex Falconer for his
death?

I don't know what he did.
I don't know how it happened.

You actually think he killed him?
Yes. Yes, I do.

With every fibre of my being.
But why would he kill your son?

Perhaps Stevie found something out,
something about Alex.

Like what?
I don't know. I don't know.

All right, I'll put a brew on.

You're rather nice, you two.

Michelle, you've got nothing in.

I can't be bothered to eat.
I just need to sleep.

Nip out and get her
a bit of shopping in, will you?

I don't know, simple stuff,
teabags and milk.

Hello again.

Oh, hi.

Are you all right?
Yes. Yeah, sorry. I'm a bit...

I'm in a bit of a rush, actually.
I can't really stop.

No, of course. Are you sure you're
all right?

Yeah, yeah, just had a bit of a day.
Boss from hell.

Look, I've gotta go.
But I'll see you round, OK?

Coroner's report on Stevie's death.

Blood tox, amphetamine and cocaine.

Drug-related paraphernalia
in Stevie's rooms,

and all his fellow students,

well, they testified that he was
well-known for his drug use.

Two-day inquest. Open and shut case.

He had eclectic tastes.

Kurt Cobain.

Da Vinci notebooks.

Ralph Waldo Emerson.

"Science does not know
its debt to imagination."

"Love, love, love,

that is the soul of genius."

Mozart.

"You have been noticed."

Wednesday Club.

"You are under consideration."

"You have been chosen."

Sorry to wake you.

Michelle, was Stevie a member
of the Wednesday Club?

They were very keen on Stevie, of
course.

But Stevie wasn't interested.
A club for geniuses?

He knew what he was. He didn't need
to be in a club to prove it.

One of the tutors at Carlyle College
wanted him to join.

I think he was involved in some way.

He hounded him, in fact. But Stevie
couldn't have given a damn.

One of the tutors? Which tutor?

Conor Hawes. The Reverend Doctor.

Well, Stevie was
an exceptional talent, but arrogant.

Arrogance is, in my opinion,
the grossest of all stupidities.

In rejecting the Wednesday Club,
in thinking himself too good for it,

he proved himself unworthy of it.

And yet you hounded him.
That's what we're told.

And Vincent Vega and Mia Wallace?

They were down at our station
yesterday hell bent on wasting police
time.

Were they?
Well, yes, that doesn't surprise me.

Vincent and Mia are a couple of
self-styled postmodernists.

They're attempting to perpetrate an
act of living postmodernism.

An act of living postmodernism.

They're seeking to challenge
the authority of the establishment.

In this instance, the police.

But I'm afraid they won't get in.
There's no real depth to their
thinking.

It's fancy-dress intellectualism.

They're simply not interesting
enough.

And yet they're under consideration.
They must have done something right.

What are you suggesting?

You placed a bid for the Snark
manuscript to goad your brother.

You hounded Stevie Marber.

You've got these kids waiting and
hoping.

What I'm beginning to sense from you,
Dr Hawes,

is a taste for manipulating people.

You have a morbid horror of talent,
don't you?

I see you're wearing your brother's
watch.

"Second to none." That's you now, is
it, now that Murray's dead?

Don't leave Oxford, sir.
We haven't finished with you yet.

Living postmodernism. I've never
heard such a load of old cobblers.

That's not what they're up to.
That's not how they were gonna get
in.

Let's just suppose that Murray was
getting close to a solution to the
Snark

and Conor has to try and block him.

And then Murray gets his hands
on this manuscript that holds the
key.

Conor can't let his brother win.
He'd rather let his brother die.

And he's got these two kids
who are desperate to get into this
club.

So he can get them to do anything
just on the promise of it.

It's a story.

Yeah, but do people
really plot and scheme and kill

over some daft puzzle?
A misguided person might.

"Will no-one rid me
of this turbulent priest?"

Murder by mistake?
Murder by misinterpretation?

Whichever way you look at it, it's
murder by proxy.

Tell us about the Wednesday Club.
Legendary, isn't it?

This club for geniuses,
for the extraordinary.

Maybe it's just a club for people
who want to be extraordinary.

It is an elite, for the truly gifted.

You really want to get into it,
don't you?

Except that you're only under
consideration at the moment, isn't
that right?

Not quite gifted enough, I suppose.

Or maybe there are other ways into
it.

Maybe it's not about being gifted.
Maybe it's about being useful.

"For the Snark is a strange creature

and will not be caught
in a commonplace way."

A peculiar creature.
"The Snark is a peculiar..."

You know The Hunting Of The Snark.

Quite a little crew we're building
up.

Murray Hawes, Conor Hawes,
Vincent Vega.

Look, I'm studying it for my
dissertation.

Not for Conor Hawes?

Who, by the way, doesn't think
you'll get into the Wednesday Club.

Simply not interesting enough.
Was that how he put it?

Don't protect him.

If he's manipulated you, made you
promises...

You know, in our incident room,
we have a white board,

and right at this moment
all the arrows are pointing at you.

Then charge us.

If you really had a case,
you'd have charged us already.

I already know the answer to this,
but do they ever find the Snark?

Baker finds him. And then softly
and suddenly vanishes away.

I'll tell you what, I'm getting sick
of nonsense, poems or otherwise.

I'm sick of timewasters.
I'm sick of speculating.

I want facts. I want evidence.

There must be something we're
missing about Murray.

And I want to do a fingertip search
of his house.

Just you and me.
Not uniform, not SOCO. Just us.

We know what we're looking for.
Well, we will when we see it.

There's something about this house,
isn't there?

Gets into your soul, doesn't it?

Any luck?
None as yet.

Lab H.

Lab H?

Is that a clue? I've forgotten what
clues look like.

Yeah, hi. I'm trying to locate
a particular laboratory, Lab H.

How do you number your labs?

With numbers. Right, thanks.

No Lab H
at the Department of Pharmacology.

No Lab H at the Department of
Chemistry.

No Lab H at the Department
of Clinical Medicine, Chemistry,

Biochemistry or Pharmacology.

It's looking more and more like a
clue by the minute.

A clue we can't solve.

The impossible quest.

I can feel myself disappearing.

Are you all right?

My clothes smell of dry rot.
Murray's house.

All these lonely people pouring
their lives into puzzles that can't
be solved.

Ignore me. I've got a touch of
existential flu.

What?

I'm gonna say it just this once.

For your sake, you need a partner,
James.

You need someone in your life.

Let's call it a day.

I want to check on Michelle.

I'm just gonna look in, make sure
she's OK.

Michelle?

Upstairs!

You must remember to lock your door.

And please stop leaving lighted
ciggies all over the place.

You're like a walking
public safety warning, woman.

I know, I know. I've just got too
much to think about.

Have you got some news for me?

No. No, on second thoughts, don't
tell me.

What do you mean?

Stevie dies a hundred times a day in
my head.

I see it, his last breath.

It plays on a loop.

And then I fall asleep and I dream.

I dream that I can't get through the
door.

If I could get through the door,
I could save him.

If I knew how he died,
at least I could stop imagining it.

But, then, if I knew,
would I not just imagine that?

And what if it's worse?

If you knew, you could think less
about his death, more about his life.

This investigation,
I'm not finding anything out.

All I'm doing really is retracing
his steps.

I go to a coffee bar and I sit in a
chair,

and I think, "Maybe this is the
chair he sat in."

And I can almost feel his presence.

But as soon as I feel it, it's gone.

It slips away from me
like mist under the sun.

Softly and suddenly vanishes away.

My wife.

I think about her every day.

But about it, about the accident,

only every other day now.

I think about her as she was.

Her laugh, her smile.

I miss her.

I talk to her all the time, around
the house.

Don't tell my sarg.

But I don't relive it, not any more.

Well, anyway, not as often.

How did you get there?
I don't know how to get there.

I think it was when I accepted it.

When I stopped fighting it.

But...

how it happened, I couldn't tell
you.

What I said about not wanting to
know, I do, I do want to know.

Please don't keep anything from me.

Michelle, we're not investigating
Stevie.

We're investigating Murray.

The chances are
I won't have anything to tell you.

Yes. Yes, of course. You must do
your job.

Is my hair all right?
You look perfect.

Ready?

Come.

Hello, my little jailbirds.
But where...?

Where is the Wednesday Club?

What did you expect,

men in hoods and high hats?

Pomp and ceremony?

A gathering of bishops
and grand high wizards?

This is it?

It's just you.

Just me? Just? That's not a very
pretty word.

You decide on a whim who's in?

It's meaningless.
It's all completely meaningless.

Yes, my dear. I'm afraid you're
nothing special.

You're just another precocious child
mistaken for something more.

What, you think you're special?

Oh, my God,
you don't even touch the sides.

My brother, my brother, the prodigy,
the beloved of God,

look upon his genius and weep.

He has turned death itself into a
marvel,

his own death the puzzle of puzzles,

and the answer is me.

He has made me the answer.

But I'm not going to be the answer.

I'm not going to lose this one.

I'm not going to be the one who takes
the blame.

For once it's going to be
the spoilt brat who gets it.

Don't talk to her like that.

No-one talks to me like that.

Oh...

He didn't go down without a fight.

If I'm not mistaken, this little box
is the Wednesday Club.

It's the Wizard of Oz, isn't it?

Just a little man behind a green
curtain.

It's looking to me like this
Wednesday Club

was just a sorry exercise in mass
bullying.

Sir.

"You have been summoned. V&M."

Oh, no.

He had more than one caller last
night.

Michelle.

I'll go and talk to her.

With respect, sir, I think it should
be me.

You're too close.

All right, yeah.

We found this this morning
in Conor Hawes's rooms.

Yes, I went to see him last night.

I went to ask him for his help.
You'd given up on me.

And he refused you? He refused to
help?

What?

Conor's dead, Michelle.

Alex Falconer killed him.

Conor was going to go and confront
him.

Alex Falconer killed my boy
and Alex Falconer killed Murray
Hawes.

And still you don't believe me.

Alex Falconer has no motive.

No reason to kill your son, no
reason to kill Murray and no reason
to kill Conor.

None that you know of.
Enough.

You have more reason to kill,
to frame Alex Falconer.

I've lived with death for the past
six years!

I'm sick of it! I'm ill with it.

Do you really think I'd want more?

Where's Stevie's jumper?

I'll get it.

V&M.

Vincent and Mia?

No. We don't wanna be
called that any more.

This is you, though?

We found it in Conor Hawes' rooms.

He summoned you last night.
Why? What did he want?

To humiliate us.

To hurt us.

To make us take the blame.

And now Conor Hawes is dead.

What's Lab H?

It's one of the labs Stevie used.
I've never been able to find it.

Looks like something,
but it's really a dead end.

No, it's something.

Michelle, we're gonna need
to analyse that blood.

You don't need to take it.

I can tell you, it's Conor's blood.
He'd been in a fight.

He was bleeding and he bled on
Stevie's top.

I tried to wash it out.

I'll return it to you, I promise.

How did you get those bruises?

Conor. We had a fight.

Two against one?
But he won.

No, he didn't.

Yeah?

Yeah.

Right.

Postmortem's in. So now we'll see,
won't we?

We visited him last night.
Conor's blood.

She said he'd been in a fight. Could
you get this to Forensics for me?

You always give me the nicest
presents!

Sorry.

Not just any old case, this one?

No. Go on, Laura.

Right. Cause of death,
single blow to the back of the skull.

There are some bruises,
so there must have been a fight.

Vincent and Mia are covered with
bruises.

Then the body fell into the river.
Fell in?

So he was killed beside the river?

Yes. There's fresh mud from the river
bank compacted into the treads of the
shoes.

Then the body drifted some way
downstream by the look of it.

Lots of wear and tear after death

and silt in the pockets
and folds of his clothes.

Conor was found there.

Square one.

Inspector.

Can I speak to you?

Go on.

I found a notebook...
here, in one of the tool stacks.

It was Murray's.

I didn't know what to make of it.
He was always losing things.

And Helena explained it away,
said she'd give it to you.

I suppose I knew in my bones
something was wrong.

And now this.

I'm sorry.
Where's Helena now?

She's in the lodge. She hasn't got
up yet.

I'm not a dishonest person.
I didn't know what to do.

Helena, she's... she's fragile.

She hurts herself.
I just didn't know what to do.

Missing pieces of the puzzle
are sort of our stock in trade.

Half the time we can't even see
what's right in front of us.

Where were you last night?

I was here. I was in bed. I was
alone.

You were stood up?

Yes.
By Alex Falconer?

Have you spoken to him?

Do you know where he was last night?
No.

Oh, come on, Helena.

Look, I don't know where he was.
I don't know anything.

Not good enough. Look, I have
two murders linked to these gardens.

I have Murray Hawes' notebook hidden
here.

And you want me to believe that you
knew nothing at all about it?

All right, let's see if a trip
down the station gets you talking.

What are these?

These are the seed pods
off the laburnum tree.

I have to pick them up
before the kids do.

They're full of cytosine. It's
highly toxic.

Laburnum anagyroides.

Every single bit of this tree's
poisonous.

But it's glorious when it's in
bloom.

The flowers are bright yellow.
Beautiful.

I think they're laburnum trees
in the picture at Gold Cheyne Hall.

There's this hall
and then a long line of golden trees.

I'm sure they're laburnums.

The hall was probably named after
them.

When the tree was first
introduced to Britain, it was known
as the Golden Chain Tree

because the flowers hang
in golden chains.

So another name
for Gold Cheyne Hall would be...

Laburnum Hall?
Lab H.

Sir!

It's not Lab H. It's Laburnum Hall.
Laburnum Hall?

Laburnum Hall is another name
for Gold Cheyne Hall.

Lab H is Gold Cheyne Hall.

Check upstairs.

You, Professor, are gonna show me
what this is all about.

Alex.

You told us you'd sold one or two
paintings.

It looks like you've flogged the lot.

We have sold a number of pieces,
yes.

And how much have you raised so far
from the sales?

It's somewhere in the region
of Ј2 million, I believe.

You're not spending all that
on the garden, are you?

What are you using this for,
Dr Falconer?

Alex, don't speak to him.
Don't say a word. I'll get a lawyer.

No. No, Helena. There's no point.

The jig is up. The jig is up.

No, Alex, it'll be all right.
Please don't let them take you away.

Don't let them take you away from me.
Please, please, Alex.

What kind of work are you doing
here?

The Signature Of All Things by Jacob
Boehme.

This is the Doctrine of Signatures.
The healing qualities of plants.

Where did these come from,
Dr Falconer?

The laburnum tree.

Laburnum seeds.

Full of cytosine. Highly toxic.
Murray Hawes's tox report.

Caffeine, alcohol, nicotine.

What do you always notice about
Michelle's house aside from the
obvious?

She's a smoker. Always smells of
smoke.

Murray Hawes's house
smells of dry rot, not cigarettes.

Murray Hawes was not a smoker.

So why was there nicotine in his
blood tox?

Yeah, Laura, I need you to do a
check

on the blood tox of Murray Hawes.

The nicotine reading. Yeah, can you
do it now?

It's just I think the lab
might have made a mistake.

I can tell you. It is, it's cytosine.

Yeah, I'll hear it from my
pathologist, thank you.

Yeah, still here.

You're right, there is a mistake.

It's a tiny molecular difference.
It's not nicotine. It's cytosine.

But it's not its usual state.
It's been engineered.

Thanks, Laura.

Engineered cytosine, Dr Falconer?

He's trying to find the cure.
The cure for cancer.

Lucrative. Or is it the Nobel Prize
you're after, Doctor?

No, it's nothing like that.

It's for me. He's trying to find a
cure for me. Skin cancer.

He can't accept that there's no hope.

But I thought I was the only one
taking it.

She didn't know.
Thea didn't know about Murray.

Oh, God, Alex.

What have you done? What have you
done?

Cytosine is a vasoconstrictor.

There's been some good work done

on vasoconstriction
as a means of shrinking tumours.

And laburnum flowers are yellow.

It's a yellow plant, full of
flavonoids, nature's sun screen.

Yellow. Signature of the plant's
purpose.

I know it sounds mad. It's crazy,
I know.

I'm crazed.

I can't lose you.

I won't be able to live.

You'll have me.

Dr Falconer, Murray Hawes?

He needed cash and I needed a guinea
pig.

We agreed three doses.

100,000 per dose.

He was gonna come here, but I took
him to the Botanic Gardens.

I didn't want Thea asking questions.

I didn't... I didn't want to lie to
her.

And you, Professor Wright,
what part did you play?

None, none. She...

No, I acted... At all times, I acted
alone.

So you gave Murray
the third dose at the arid house?

The first two doses went well.

I got over-confident.

I raised the third dose.

He began fitting almost immediately.
He hit his head as he fell.

So you took the body out of the
gardens, you buried it in the woods,

you came back to the gardens
and cleared up the arid house,

while the professor, your lover,
who lives in the gardens,

saw absolutely nothing?

That's right. She...
She knew nothing about it.

I never meant to hurt him.
I was trying to save my wife.

You didn't mean to kill Murray,
but you killed Conor.

He came to see you, didn't he?
He came to confront you.

So what happened?

He came to the gardens. He wanted
answers.

He said he was the prime suspect.

He said he wouldn't leave
until he'd found out the truth.

He was angry and desperate.
He was violent.

And so you killed him.

You killed Conor

and you chucked his body into the
river like some piece of old junk?

Yes.

Don't touch her. Thea, darling, no.

I didn't. I didn't kill Conor.
No, look at me.

You know I didn't. I didn't kill
Conor.

You know me, I...
You know I didn't. I couldn't have.

He couldn't have done any of it
without me.

He couldn't have managed any of it
on his own.

He needed me. You needed me.

For once, you needed me more than I
needed you.

I killed Conor.

One blow was all it took. One blow.
It was easy.

I did it for Alex.

All for Alex.

And still...

still he doesn't love me.

Stevie Marber, was he another person
you didn't mean to kill?

He found out about your experiments?

Stevie? No, no.

He was helping me. He was working
with me.

It was the worst day of my life when
Stevie died.

He would have got there, you see.
He was... He was that brilliant.

If I'd got him working, got him
clean,

he would have made the breakthrough.

He would have succeeded
where I have failed.

You have not failed.

I thought you'd leave him to me...

I was waiting

for you to leave him to me.

Helena, it was a comfort to me.
I don't want him to be alone.

I never saw this possibility,
that I'd be the one left behind.

He won't be able to bear it
if he can't be with me when...

He won't be able to bear it.

I'm very sorry.

Thank you.

I read the Snark last night.

Didn't understand a word of it.

I've come to think that that might be
the point.

Aye.

Apparently a girl once wrote
to Lewis Carroll, asked him,

"Why don't you just explain the
Snark?"

And he replied, "Are you able to

explain things you can't yourself
understand?"

What do I say to her?

How do I tell her the truth?

Tell her with kindness.

You're good at that.

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