Inspector Lewis (2006–2015): Season 7, Episode 1 - Down Among the Fearful: Part 1 - full transcript
After young psychic Randolph James is murdered he is exposed as a fraud,a psychology research fellow called Reuben Beatty,who leaves a young wife Polly and baby - as well as a healthier bank balance than expected. Reuben's colleague Vicki Walmsley tells Lewis Reuben pretended to be a psychic to gather research and their boss,Professor Andrew Clare,endorses this. However Vicki also says that Clare wanted Reuben to use a truth drug he was developing for a project involving the armed forces. Investigations lead to a bereaved couple,the Dhuttas,who believe in euthanasia and Justine Skinner,a psychic who visited Reuben and saw he was a fraud. She tells the police she senses danger,involving one Frank McLean,but he too turns out to be a psychic who exposed Reuben online. Then Vicki is killed.
Come on, Sarah, please.
Just a little bit. One little bit.
Yeah?
Good girl. Good girl. Good girl.
OK.
Yeah? Good?
Good girl. Good girl.
Were you taken to church as a child?
This is not about indoctrination.
God was in my life before I was born.
And is that what they taught you?
At church.
Is God the law?
Yes.
Can he see you doing wrong?
Of course.
How's my gorgeous girl?
Both my gorgeous girls.
Hello.
Reuben. She's having her lunch.
She needs routine.
She needs changing, I'd say.
Then Daddy came back just in time,
didn't he?
Beans on toast OK?
Why not?
It was yesterday.
Are you afraid of God's judgment?
He is gracious and merciful.
He's also vengeful.
Angry.
Like any concerned parent.
Yes. One who imposes irrational
rules no child can follow.
It's up to us to rationalise what's
in the Bible.
The essence of faith is love.
Hello?
Hello, Mr Beatty. It's me.
Don't forget your first one's in
half an hour. Yeah. I'm on my way.
Who's that?
Vicki. There's a department meeting.
She was just reminding me.
Reuben.
Love you.
Your CD must be scratched.
Don't you find the repetition
meditative?
If meditative's another word for
monotonous, then yes. Very.
Highly effective in combating
stress.
Yeah? But I'm not stressed.
You don't think you're stressed.
You've assimilated it.
God, man, watch out!
Come on!
There is someone trying to get
through.
She's a little disorientated.
She didn't expect to go so soon.
Can you see her?
Does she look OK now?
She's standing on a road.
There was an accident?
Yes.
A car crash.
She's in a safe and peaceful place.
Any time you need to talk.
If you can get a word in edgeways.
Ha! That's Tina for you.
I can't thank you enough, Mr James.
Randolph, please.
Thanks.
Not the best way to get a copper's
number.
It wasn't her fault.
It was the woman who crossed the
road. She...
You're sounding a bit tense, James.
Remember to grab your CD from the
car.
Brilliant.
Mack.
Who's Mack?
Was anyone in your family known as
Mack?
My name's McLean.
I'm sensing an older man.
Grey hair.
I can smell smoke.
It sounds familiar.
He's very proud of you, Frank.
It can't be my dad, then.
Oh, I think it is.
He's saying he appreciates
everything you did for him towards
the end.
But it was a great relief to go.
To escape my mother?
He's laughing.
He loves you very much.
He's with family now.
On the other side.
This is so strange.
It shouldn't be.
You see, my dad...
is in the pub down the road.
So I looked through his phone...
Poll...
Found a text message from his
colleague Vicki.
She's pretty, super-bright.
So are you.
With lovely shiny hair
that doesn't smell of baby sick.
What did it say?
"This afternoon was fun.
Can't wait to do it again."
Right.
And a kiss.
Not a word to Mum.
Hell no.
She'd kill to have you back home.
You and Sarah.
Give us our little fleapit any day.
He'd better not be cheating, Josh.
Not after everything I've given up
for him.
Neck OK, is it?
After your shunt?
Mm-hm.
Give it time.
Hello?
Mr James?
Mr James?
Mr James?
She's in the car.
Get back a bit, please.
Thank you.
The door was open?
Yes, so I went in.
Did you see anyone in the building?
No. No-one at all.
Any lights on in any of the other
offices?
I don't think there were.
Have you been here before?
Yes.
I'd come to talk to Geoff.
Who's Geoff?
My husband.
Does he work here, too?
No, he's dead.
Randolph James is a psychic.
Oh, right. I'm sorry.
Sarge.
Found this on the body.
Geoff and I always liked a natter.
I tell him all my news.
About the kids. Footy.
Randolph James, you say?
Well, he hasn't been shot,
strangled, stabbed, beaten,
bludgeoned or had his neck broken.
If we're listing things that haven't
happened,
why not include that he hasn't been
struck by lightning or savaged by
wolves?
Robbie, do I stand in your office
asking "Have you caught them yet?"
What is it about those eyes?
Strong painkillers, warm bath.
That's Robbie sorted. How about you?
Witness identified him as Randolph
James but he's Reuben Beatty on his
debit card.
So he's leading a double life?
Randolph James is a practising
clairvoyant.
He certainly looks like he's seen a
ghost.
He was at the department.
Maybe it's not Reuben.
Someone could have stolen his card.
That's why we need him identified.
Do you need a minute?
I need to know.
Thanks.
Mrs Beatty, is it Reuben?
What happened?
We're still waiting for the autopsy
report.
Until we decide otherwise, we're
treating your husband's death as
suspicious.
What was he doing in some office?
We've reason to believe
he was moonlighting as a psychic.
That's absurd.
He's a junior research fellow at
the Department of Psychology. He's a
scientist.
He investigates systems of belief,
why people believe.
Could it have been part of his
research?
Well, he never mentioned it.
Then again, he was hardly home.
Are you sure?
One of his clients found him.
She knew him as Randolph James.
It just gets worse.
What does?
"We'll never have secrets."
That's what he said.
"When love strikes like this,
you've got to trust it."
We met at a fresher's ball.
Took us six days to get engaged.
And when we weren't together,
we were incomplete.
Couldn't function.
Whirlwind romance, eh?
That's what my mum said.
The sooner we get her back home the
better.
Right. Thanks.
Not one word.
There was no meeting in the
Department of Psychology yesterday
afternoon.
Not cancelled. Never scheduled.
Reuben Beatty lied to his wife.
Why doesn't that surprise me?
Yeah, poor lass.
Lost not only her husband
but all her faith in him, too.
Stuck at home with a little 'un,
no idea what he was up to.
Probably thinking the worst.
If he was moonlighting,
she didn't get a whiff of any cash.
Bearing in mind what she was used
to, it could have driven her to
desperation.
Not kill, though, surely.
Well, she said her husband
investigated people's belief
systems.
He destroyed hers.
According to the landlord of his
office building,
Randolph James
was six months into a 12-month lease.
The rent was paid out of a building
society in the name of Reuben Beatty.
He and his wife had a joint account
but this one was set up in secret.
And he topped it up weekly
with wodges of cash.
Found no other trace of Randolph
James.
It seems to be an identity
confined to a psychic's chair.
Why would Reuben,
a postgrad scientist, moonlight
as Randolph the clairvoyant?
Well, lots of scientists have
irrational beliefs.
Isaac Newton thought the Bible
was a cryptogram set by the
Almighty.
Walking Wikipedia.
Only more accurate.
We found four sets of 40 quid at the
scene, which means he was doing it
for the money.
Just taking advantage of
the recently bereaved.
Some people are so gullible.
Well, if believing in the spirit
world gets them through, who are we
to knock it?
Get on to his colleagues
from the Department of Psychology.
Yeah. Maybe they had some idea what
he was up to.
Sorry to hear about your bump.
Thanks, ma'am.
Must bring back memories, the collar.
Only when it itches.
This is my home.
You're not thinking clearly.
Why is it whenever I make a decision
you don't agree with I'm not
thinking clearly?
This flat belongs to the college.
Reuben is no longer a student here.
A bit of compassion wouldn't go
amiss, Mum.
Someone has to keep a clear head.
We can always rely on that from you.
Yes, actually, Joshua, because
I'm the one that brought you up.
If I was pushy...
Only you could turn Reuben's death
into a platform for your sacrifices
as a single mother.
At least I got a good settlement out
of your dad. Reuben's left you with
nothing.
You always hated him.
I hated how he rushed you
when you had so much potential.
They're going to ask you to leave
sooner or later.
I can't. Not yet.
I've got your old room ready.
You'll have my support.
I know how hard it'll be.
Think about it, Polly, please.
Apologies for the delay, gentlemen.
It took some time to find.
But if you screw your eyes up really
tight,
you'll see a tiny puncture wound.
A bite?
Eight-millimetre hypodermic needle.
Delivering what? An extremely
powerful paralysing agent
called M99.
Pharmaceutical name Etorphine.
It's a controlled substance
strictly for use on large mammals.
Etorphine's a sedative. He didn't
seem very sedated when he died.
That's because first of all
he was fed barbiturate.
How?
Piece of cake.
For you maybe.
He was fed a piece of cake
soaked with barbiturate.
Surely the barbiturate would have
eventually stopped him breathing.
Why two drugs?
If you want him dead...
Barbiturates operate in three broad
stages.
Sedation stage, unconsciousness and
death.
Based on his weight and height,
I've calculated he was only given
enough barbiturate to sedate him.
So his murderer wanted him woozy
but not completely out of it?
Yeah, and then some time after
injected him with a lethal dose of
Etorphine.
Like James said, why not just finish
the job with a lethal dose of
barbiturate?
That would involve a complete loss
of control and a lot of wild
thrashing about.
Could be messy, noisy.
Attract unwanted attention.
Mm. Whereas a massive overdose
of Etorphine would shut down
respiration in seconds.
It explains the look on his face.
Conscious enough
to know what was happening to him
but unable to do anything to stop it.
But no physical pain.
On that front his murder was as
considered as the most compassionate
form of euthanasia.
If this Etorphine's used to knock out
animals we should get on to all the
local vets,
see if any significant dosage has
gone missing.
'Guess what, we're not here
but you know what to do and when to
do it.'
'Hello. It's Vicki.
'Vicki Walmsley from the department.
'I just wanted to say, Polly, I'm
really sorry.'
Hello.
Parapsychology...
The study of contested mental
phenomena
such as telepathy,
near-death experiences,
clairvoyance, psychokenesis...
If any of you believe in such
phenomena, then knock three times.
Or should I say, more fool you.
No other species lives
within such a complex framework
of competing beliefs.
You will learn under my guidance
how to conduct a rational attack
on the subject's beliefs,
thereby identifying the mechanisms
that retain them.
Thank you very much. That's all.
Gentlemen...
Professor Crane?
Inspector Lewis.
This is Detective Sergeant Hathaway.
I didn't have you down as
volunteers.
It's such a shame about Reuben.
Professor Crane...
This is Vicki.
She worked alongside Reuben.
We're sorry for your loss.
Do you know how he was killed?
He was sedated and then given
a lethal injection of Etorphine.
Oh, my God.
Excuse me. That's mine. Sorry.
It came as a great shock to the
department.
Have any idea why someone
may have wanted him dead?
None whatsoever. He was well liked,
he was very popular.
He was one of my best postgrads.
A true sceptic.
What, he didn't believe
in the paranormal?
Of course not.
Were you aware that he was practising
as a psychic in the centre of town?
I'm sorry.
There must be some mistake.
Excuse me. I'm sorry.
I'm going to have to take this.
Gentlemen, please. Thank you.
Excuse me. Sorry.
Excuse me.
Yep?
Vicki?
Who's Vicki?
Hi, Mum.
Darling, it's a truly terrible thing
that's happened
but you need to think about
restarting your life.
Yours and Sarah's.
She needs you to be strong.
Polly.
Polly.
Yeah. OK, Mum.
What the hell was Reuben up to?
Going out on a limb,
going against everything he ever
believed in.
Maybe he was questioning
the rationalism imposed on him
by Professor Bumptious.
Excuse me.
I wasn't as honest in front of
Professor Crane
as I might have been.
About what?
Reuben.
What he was doing.
Crane is old school.
Conducts all his experiments
under laboratory conditions.
Our subjects know what they've
signed up for.
Reuben had this idea
that he'd get better results in the
field.
Real people.
People who've just lost their loved
ones, in the depths of despair.
Nice.
Do you believe in God, an afterlife?
No.
But I don't believe in conning
people, either.
How about you? I don't think that's
relevant, is it?
We all know there's nothing after
death but people cling on to the
idea.
They carry their lives on as normal.
Why aren't they running
down the street telling people
that no-one really dies,
or why aren't they killing
themselves to be with their deceased
loved ones?
Faith and rationality aren't
mutually exclusive. That's what we
wanted to investigate:
the mechanism that allowed
that exact dissonance between what
we believe and how we behave.
So you taught Reuben the art of cold
reading,
rented an office
and stuck an ad in the local press.
Yeah. Tuesdays and Wednesdays.
Took money from people.
To pay the office rent.
Well, there's the best part of two
grand left over.
Reuben reckoned there was no
difference between him or any other
clairvoyant.
Apart from he knew
it was nothing more than a trick.
He still helped them.
Do you have any idea how lonely it
feels?
Having this discussion
without him to back me up.
If you want to know what loneliness
feels like, ask his wife.
And she could have done with
some of that money.
Were you having an affair with him?
No.
Do you have any idea who his clients
were?
He kept an appointment book.
I never saw it, never knew their
names.
Why would you? They weren't
important. They were only subjects.
That appointment book
wasn't in Reuben's office.
Maybe he kept it at his flat.
Take a look.
Was she lying, do you reckon, about
an affair?
Not sure but I do think she loved
him.
Vicki's defence of Reuben was that
he knew he was exploiting people.
That's disturbing.
I'd find it more disturbing if he
actually believed he could talk to
the dead.
Vicki was with Reuben all the time.
His wife Polly hardly ever saw him.
But would that give her
concrete motive for killing him.
Come on, we're going to
the Natural History Museum.
Meet Kanan Dutta.
Kanan Dutta?
The Oxford Campaign for Assisted
Dying.
He works there.
This Dutta, who did he lose?
A teenage daughter in a diving
accident.
She was in a persistent vegetative
state for a year.
Why do you think it's personal?
Most advocates of euthanasia
have seen a loved one suffer.
It overwhelms their belief
in the sanctity of life.
Sorry for the delay in getting back
to you.
I presumed you'd
got in touch about the campaign.
No, that's not what this is about.
We've been investigating a murder
where, to all intents and purposes,
the victim's been put to sleep.
Our pathologist says it has
all the hallmarks of euthanasia.
Most murder is unplanned and
violent. This was planned and
pain-free.
Sedated with barbiturate,
murdered with Etorphine.
That's a bit over the top.
A single drop can kill a man within
seconds.
Are you familiar with the drug?
My wife and I used to work
as conservationists in Angola.
We often used it to anaesthetise
large animals.
Elephants mostly.
The barbiturate was in a slice of
cake.
Barbiturates are traditionally
bitter-tasting.
A sweet cake would disguise that.
So the victim was given cake?
Sedated and then killed?
Are you sure it wasn't
some form of mercy killing?
He wasn't killed immediately.
We have reason to believe he
was kept alive for some time.
The whole point of euthanasia
is to prevent prolonged suffering.
It sounds like your murderer knew
the technique and callously abused
it.
I'm sorry but Katherine, my wife, is
waiting.
Was there anything else?
I'm sorry, by the way, about your
daughter.
It must be, well...
Just trying to remember her as she
was before.
Celebrate that, you know.
What was she like?
She was so...
full of energy.
She came on all our conservation
trips from the age of five.
And after the accident, we convinced
ourselves there might be a miracle.
Classic denial.
But as time dragged on, we soon
realised that all that lay ahead
for Jo was just lying there.
Wired up to some machine.
Feeling God knows what.
Terrified maybe.
We knew that her life
was being needlessly prolonged
but we were refused permission
to do anything about it.
We wanted to protect her,
spare her from suffering.
Any parent would feel the same.
We brought her home.
It just felt like the right thing to
do.
And then fate intervened.
A chest infection.
Not many people in our situation
have that blessing.
My wife torments herself about it
every day.
Why weren't we able to do anything
to help her.
Whereas you've found a way to move
on.
At least keep moving.
And you still think it's wrong
to want to put somebody out of their
pain?
Just because I'm uncomfortable with
it doesn't make it wrong.
Who are they?
Detectives.
I don't like the police hounding us
at every turn.
It wasn't about the campaign.
They just had some technical
questions about a murder case.
How was your morning?
Well, I made it.
To the hairdresser's.
They had no idea what to say.
Which makes a change.
Why keep the clairvoyant
experiment a secret?
Crane likes to have his imprimatur
on everything.
The plan was to do the research
without anybody knowing about it
and then make a big splash in their
own right with some kind of book.
But why didn't he tell his wife?
Were Reuben and Vicki
more than just colleagues?
Not according to Vicki.
Somebody went to his office with
the sole intention of scaring him
half to death
before finishing the job off
with an animal tranquiliser.
There must be some significance
to the way he was killed.
Well, he abused a lot of
vulnerable people's trust.
We need to know who they are.
Here, listen to this.
National DNA Database has got an ID
match on a hair follicle found in
Reuben's office.
Belongs to a Justine Skinner.
She's in our system for breaking into
a neighbour's house and killing their
cats.
Bring her in.
Yeah, I'll do that. You go back to
Reuben's flat.
Check that Uniform didn't miss
anything.
OK.
Reuben's death, yes.
I hope this won't compromise things
too much.
As you can appreciate, I've...
Thank you, Vicki.
You won't find anything.
The college have cleared it out.
All trace of us gone.
Like we were never here.
Where are you living now?
My mum's.
It's fine.
Except the fact she's there.
I want to have good memories
but all I can think about is him and
Vicki.
I hate the thought of her grieving
for him.
She has no right.
You took your time.
You were expecting me?
Yeah, Reuben told me you'd come.
I didn't find anything.
Except for Polly Beatty.
She's not in a good way.
Is this the woman
that killed the cats?
Yes. She was arrested for burglary
and criminal damage just under a year
ago.
She broke into her neighbour's house
and lethally injected four cats.
CPS decided not to prosecute because
of her mental health issues at the
time.
Maybe she's had a relapse.
Turned her attention from cats to
people.
Reuben came to me not long after he
passed.
He told me you'd need my help.
Justine, the questions I'm about to
ask you have nothing at all to do
with the spirit world.
Do you understand?
I'm not stupid, Inspector.
We know that you visited Reuben
on the day he died.
Why was that?
I wanted to talk to my mother.
My channels were blocked.
I get angry, you see.
No good for anyone.
So I thought I'd try new blood.
But he was no good.
A charlatan with a fake name.
How did that make you feel?
When you found that out.
Disappointed.
I told him so, too.
He won't tell me how he was killed.
He was given a lethal injection.
Sound familiar?
I wasn't well.
What did you use to put your
neighbour's cats to sleep?
I can't remember.
I had blackouts.
Daze.
Grief.
Drink.
Anger.
It all broke down.
Who were you angry with?
I was my mother's sole carer
for 25 years.
She had cats.
Four of them.
When she died,
she gave them to the neighbour
and everything else to Cats
Protection.
Left me with nothing.
I could hear them next door.
Mewling, taunting me.
So I broke in.
I did to those cats what I wished
I'd done to her.
She let me down.
Reuben Beatty let you down.
And now I can't get rid of him.
Are you OK?
Justine? He's trying to tell me who
killed him.
There's a woman in danger.
Who?
Such anger in his office.
Someone wants him to feel terrible
fear.
A woman.
No. No. A man.
Justine, if you're trying to
throw me off the scent here...
I know him.
He's a psychic.
Frank. Frank...
McLean.
Thanks for coming all the way out
here at such short notice.
You're worried about being seen with
me.
No of fence but you look like a
policeman.
Oh, dear.
Promise me this stays off the
record.
That I'll be safe.
It's about Reuben. You want us
to find whoever killed him, don't
you?
You loved him, didn't you?
Three weeks ago
I was asked by Professor Crane
to help him devise an experiment
for an external agency.
What sort of experiment?
Sleep deprivation.
And how it affects willpower.
Breaks it down.
And the external agency?
Let's just say... there's military
involvement.
Whose military?
Ours, the state, private contractor?
And for what purpose? Torture?
I honestly don't know.
Reuben got wind of the project
and told Crane he thought it was
unethical.
He was probably right
but I think he was just pissed off
Crane asked me to assist and not
him.
Because he'd miss out on a fee?
It was more of an ego thing.
How did Crane feel about Reuben
finding out?
Reuben told Crane, if he didn't pull
out, he'd go to the department board
with a complaint.
And that would have stopped
the project?
I don't know.
It might have been enough
to jeopardise Crane's involvement.
So what are you telling me?
Crane had Reuben killed
in order to silence him?
You told me that Reuben
was killed using two drugs.
Barbiturate and Etorphine?
Mm.
Well, some barbiturates are used
to form the basis of so-called
"truth drugs".
Used by intelligence organisations
all over the world.
Isn't it possible that they used
that to find out what Reuben knew
about the project?
And killed him
when they realised he knew too much.
Why didn't you tell me this before?
I've never felt this scared before.
Some of us don't have the safety net
of life after death.
I should go.
Do you want a lift?
No.
I can't be seen with you.
Hello?
Frank McLean?
Who wants to know?
Detective Inspector Lewis.
You want to talk to me about
Randolph James?
Er, yeah.
Present your warrant card to the
camera.
Lovely place.
Business is clearly good.
I never subscribed to the belief
work should be its own reward.
I much prefer actual money.
You must be very good at what you do.
We're the only creatures aware
that life has a beginning, a middle
and an end.
Every life has a story
and for a small fee I help my
clients find a shape to theirs.
Using psychic ability?
Whatever you take me for, Inspector,
don't take me for a fool.
You and I both know that I'm one
step up from the fairground.
The skill lies in presenting
the logical as mystical.
For example, how did I know why
you've come to see me?
Because I've got a notorious website
on which I'm roundly critical of
fellow "practitioners".
And I also assume
you've seen my latest blog post.
I haven't, actually.
"Randolph James.
A terrific stage name
that sadly wasn't matched
by his cold-reading skills."
Unless we maintain a certain
standard, we all get tarred
with the same brush.
Someone's got to sort the wheat from
the chaff.
And that's you?
I don't trust anyone else.
In this world or the next.
I take it you know that
Randolph James has been murdered?
I heard a whisper, yeah.
So when did you post this?
Tuesday night.
If you didn't know about it,
how come you're here?
Did somebody point you in my
direction?
I'm not at liberty to say.
Keith Poland?
Liz Burkewood?
Jodie Osbourne?
Justine Skinner?
Randolph James' real name
was Reuben Beatty.
How hostile did you really feel
towards him, Mr McLean?
When did you visit him?
I always go twice.
The first to check them out
and the second to confirm my first
impression.
I afforded Randolph the same
courtesy.
And then I destroyed him.
What?
Online.
Aye.
I don't think Frank McLean's our
killer.
He needs phoney psychics
to prop up his self-esteem.
How was your secret meeting?
Worrying. Meet you outside
the Department of Psychology.
Yeah.
What's this about?
Crane was devising
a secret military experiment.
He wanted Vicki on board but not
Reuben. Reuben threatened to
sabotage it.
What kind of experiment?
It means that Crane, Vicki
or whoever Crane was working for
had ample reason to want him out of
the way. Yeah, but what...?
Oh, isn't that... That's Vicki.
Vicki, can we talk?
Vicki!
Excuse me.
Vicki!
Vicki!
Look after her.
Help me.
What's the matter?
Someone get an ambulance, please!
Tell me I'll be OK.
You'll be fine.
Get an ambulance, please!
I'm frightened.
Pray with me.
When she told me about Crane,
she was scared for her life.
You know, we're no different, you
and I. Except your subjects aren't
criminals or liars.
Anyone make out if they're male or
female?
Why did you go to Reuben's office
the day he was murdered?
Who was that?
What do you want?
You see anything? Nothing.
Professor Crane!
Just a little bit. One little bit.
Yeah?
Good girl. Good girl. Good girl.
OK.
Yeah? Good?
Good girl. Good girl.
Were you taken to church as a child?
This is not about indoctrination.
God was in my life before I was born.
And is that what they taught you?
At church.
Is God the law?
Yes.
Can he see you doing wrong?
Of course.
How's my gorgeous girl?
Both my gorgeous girls.
Hello.
Reuben. She's having her lunch.
She needs routine.
She needs changing, I'd say.
Then Daddy came back just in time,
didn't he?
Beans on toast OK?
Why not?
It was yesterday.
Are you afraid of God's judgment?
He is gracious and merciful.
He's also vengeful.
Angry.
Like any concerned parent.
Yes. One who imposes irrational
rules no child can follow.
It's up to us to rationalise what's
in the Bible.
The essence of faith is love.
Hello?
Hello, Mr Beatty. It's me.
Don't forget your first one's in
half an hour. Yeah. I'm on my way.
Who's that?
Vicki. There's a department meeting.
She was just reminding me.
Reuben.
Love you.
Your CD must be scratched.
Don't you find the repetition
meditative?
If meditative's another word for
monotonous, then yes. Very.
Highly effective in combating
stress.
Yeah? But I'm not stressed.
You don't think you're stressed.
You've assimilated it.
God, man, watch out!
Come on!
There is someone trying to get
through.
She's a little disorientated.
She didn't expect to go so soon.
Can you see her?
Does she look OK now?
She's standing on a road.
There was an accident?
Yes.
A car crash.
She's in a safe and peaceful place.
Any time you need to talk.
If you can get a word in edgeways.
Ha! That's Tina for you.
I can't thank you enough, Mr James.
Randolph, please.
Thanks.
Not the best way to get a copper's
number.
It wasn't her fault.
It was the woman who crossed the
road. She...
You're sounding a bit tense, James.
Remember to grab your CD from the
car.
Brilliant.
Mack.
Who's Mack?
Was anyone in your family known as
Mack?
My name's McLean.
I'm sensing an older man.
Grey hair.
I can smell smoke.
It sounds familiar.
He's very proud of you, Frank.
It can't be my dad, then.
Oh, I think it is.
He's saying he appreciates
everything you did for him towards
the end.
But it was a great relief to go.
To escape my mother?
He's laughing.
He loves you very much.
He's with family now.
On the other side.
This is so strange.
It shouldn't be.
You see, my dad...
is in the pub down the road.
So I looked through his phone...
Poll...
Found a text message from his
colleague Vicki.
She's pretty, super-bright.
So are you.
With lovely shiny hair
that doesn't smell of baby sick.
What did it say?
"This afternoon was fun.
Can't wait to do it again."
Right.
And a kiss.
Not a word to Mum.
Hell no.
She'd kill to have you back home.
You and Sarah.
Give us our little fleapit any day.
He'd better not be cheating, Josh.
Not after everything I've given up
for him.
Neck OK, is it?
After your shunt?
Mm-hm.
Give it time.
Hello?
Mr James?
Mr James?
Mr James?
She's in the car.
Get back a bit, please.
Thank you.
The door was open?
Yes, so I went in.
Did you see anyone in the building?
No. No-one at all.
Any lights on in any of the other
offices?
I don't think there were.
Have you been here before?
Yes.
I'd come to talk to Geoff.
Who's Geoff?
My husband.
Does he work here, too?
No, he's dead.
Randolph James is a psychic.
Oh, right. I'm sorry.
Sarge.
Found this on the body.
Geoff and I always liked a natter.
I tell him all my news.
About the kids. Footy.
Randolph James, you say?
Well, he hasn't been shot,
strangled, stabbed, beaten,
bludgeoned or had his neck broken.
If we're listing things that haven't
happened,
why not include that he hasn't been
struck by lightning or savaged by
wolves?
Robbie, do I stand in your office
asking "Have you caught them yet?"
What is it about those eyes?
Strong painkillers, warm bath.
That's Robbie sorted. How about you?
Witness identified him as Randolph
James but he's Reuben Beatty on his
debit card.
So he's leading a double life?
Randolph James is a practising
clairvoyant.
He certainly looks like he's seen a
ghost.
He was at the department.
Maybe it's not Reuben.
Someone could have stolen his card.
That's why we need him identified.
Do you need a minute?
I need to know.
Thanks.
Mrs Beatty, is it Reuben?
What happened?
We're still waiting for the autopsy
report.
Until we decide otherwise, we're
treating your husband's death as
suspicious.
What was he doing in some office?
We've reason to believe
he was moonlighting as a psychic.
That's absurd.
He's a junior research fellow at
the Department of Psychology. He's a
scientist.
He investigates systems of belief,
why people believe.
Could it have been part of his
research?
Well, he never mentioned it.
Then again, he was hardly home.
Are you sure?
One of his clients found him.
She knew him as Randolph James.
It just gets worse.
What does?
"We'll never have secrets."
That's what he said.
"When love strikes like this,
you've got to trust it."
We met at a fresher's ball.
Took us six days to get engaged.
And when we weren't together,
we were incomplete.
Couldn't function.
Whirlwind romance, eh?
That's what my mum said.
The sooner we get her back home the
better.
Right. Thanks.
Not one word.
There was no meeting in the
Department of Psychology yesterday
afternoon.
Not cancelled. Never scheduled.
Reuben Beatty lied to his wife.
Why doesn't that surprise me?
Yeah, poor lass.
Lost not only her husband
but all her faith in him, too.
Stuck at home with a little 'un,
no idea what he was up to.
Probably thinking the worst.
If he was moonlighting,
she didn't get a whiff of any cash.
Bearing in mind what she was used
to, it could have driven her to
desperation.
Not kill, though, surely.
Well, she said her husband
investigated people's belief
systems.
He destroyed hers.
According to the landlord of his
office building,
Randolph James
was six months into a 12-month lease.
The rent was paid out of a building
society in the name of Reuben Beatty.
He and his wife had a joint account
but this one was set up in secret.
And he topped it up weekly
with wodges of cash.
Found no other trace of Randolph
James.
It seems to be an identity
confined to a psychic's chair.
Why would Reuben,
a postgrad scientist, moonlight
as Randolph the clairvoyant?
Well, lots of scientists have
irrational beliefs.
Isaac Newton thought the Bible
was a cryptogram set by the
Almighty.
Walking Wikipedia.
Only more accurate.
We found four sets of 40 quid at the
scene, which means he was doing it
for the money.
Just taking advantage of
the recently bereaved.
Some people are so gullible.
Well, if believing in the spirit
world gets them through, who are we
to knock it?
Get on to his colleagues
from the Department of Psychology.
Yeah. Maybe they had some idea what
he was up to.
Sorry to hear about your bump.
Thanks, ma'am.
Must bring back memories, the collar.
Only when it itches.
This is my home.
You're not thinking clearly.
Why is it whenever I make a decision
you don't agree with I'm not
thinking clearly?
This flat belongs to the college.
Reuben is no longer a student here.
A bit of compassion wouldn't go
amiss, Mum.
Someone has to keep a clear head.
We can always rely on that from you.
Yes, actually, Joshua, because
I'm the one that brought you up.
If I was pushy...
Only you could turn Reuben's death
into a platform for your sacrifices
as a single mother.
At least I got a good settlement out
of your dad. Reuben's left you with
nothing.
You always hated him.
I hated how he rushed you
when you had so much potential.
They're going to ask you to leave
sooner or later.
I can't. Not yet.
I've got your old room ready.
You'll have my support.
I know how hard it'll be.
Think about it, Polly, please.
Apologies for the delay, gentlemen.
It took some time to find.
But if you screw your eyes up really
tight,
you'll see a tiny puncture wound.
A bite?
Eight-millimetre hypodermic needle.
Delivering what? An extremely
powerful paralysing agent
called M99.
Pharmaceutical name Etorphine.
It's a controlled substance
strictly for use on large mammals.
Etorphine's a sedative. He didn't
seem very sedated when he died.
That's because first of all
he was fed barbiturate.
How?
Piece of cake.
For you maybe.
He was fed a piece of cake
soaked with barbiturate.
Surely the barbiturate would have
eventually stopped him breathing.
Why two drugs?
If you want him dead...
Barbiturates operate in three broad
stages.
Sedation stage, unconsciousness and
death.
Based on his weight and height,
I've calculated he was only given
enough barbiturate to sedate him.
So his murderer wanted him woozy
but not completely out of it?
Yeah, and then some time after
injected him with a lethal dose of
Etorphine.
Like James said, why not just finish
the job with a lethal dose of
barbiturate?
That would involve a complete loss
of control and a lot of wild
thrashing about.
Could be messy, noisy.
Attract unwanted attention.
Mm. Whereas a massive overdose
of Etorphine would shut down
respiration in seconds.
It explains the look on his face.
Conscious enough
to know what was happening to him
but unable to do anything to stop it.
But no physical pain.
On that front his murder was as
considered as the most compassionate
form of euthanasia.
If this Etorphine's used to knock out
animals we should get on to all the
local vets,
see if any significant dosage has
gone missing.
'Guess what, we're not here
but you know what to do and when to
do it.'
'Hello. It's Vicki.
'Vicki Walmsley from the department.
'I just wanted to say, Polly, I'm
really sorry.'
Hello.
Parapsychology...
The study of contested mental
phenomena
such as telepathy,
near-death experiences,
clairvoyance, psychokenesis...
If any of you believe in such
phenomena, then knock three times.
Or should I say, more fool you.
No other species lives
within such a complex framework
of competing beliefs.
You will learn under my guidance
how to conduct a rational attack
on the subject's beliefs,
thereby identifying the mechanisms
that retain them.
Thank you very much. That's all.
Gentlemen...
Professor Crane?
Inspector Lewis.
This is Detective Sergeant Hathaway.
I didn't have you down as
volunteers.
It's such a shame about Reuben.
Professor Crane...
This is Vicki.
She worked alongside Reuben.
We're sorry for your loss.
Do you know how he was killed?
He was sedated and then given
a lethal injection of Etorphine.
Oh, my God.
Excuse me. That's mine. Sorry.
It came as a great shock to the
department.
Have any idea why someone
may have wanted him dead?
None whatsoever. He was well liked,
he was very popular.
He was one of my best postgrads.
A true sceptic.
What, he didn't believe
in the paranormal?
Of course not.
Were you aware that he was practising
as a psychic in the centre of town?
I'm sorry.
There must be some mistake.
Excuse me. I'm sorry.
I'm going to have to take this.
Gentlemen, please. Thank you.
Excuse me. Sorry.
Excuse me.
Yep?
Vicki?
Who's Vicki?
Hi, Mum.
Darling, it's a truly terrible thing
that's happened
but you need to think about
restarting your life.
Yours and Sarah's.
She needs you to be strong.
Polly.
Polly.
Yeah. OK, Mum.
What the hell was Reuben up to?
Going out on a limb,
going against everything he ever
believed in.
Maybe he was questioning
the rationalism imposed on him
by Professor Bumptious.
Excuse me.
I wasn't as honest in front of
Professor Crane
as I might have been.
About what?
Reuben.
What he was doing.
Crane is old school.
Conducts all his experiments
under laboratory conditions.
Our subjects know what they've
signed up for.
Reuben had this idea
that he'd get better results in the
field.
Real people.
People who've just lost their loved
ones, in the depths of despair.
Nice.
Do you believe in God, an afterlife?
No.
But I don't believe in conning
people, either.
How about you? I don't think that's
relevant, is it?
We all know there's nothing after
death but people cling on to the
idea.
They carry their lives on as normal.
Why aren't they running
down the street telling people
that no-one really dies,
or why aren't they killing
themselves to be with their deceased
loved ones?
Faith and rationality aren't
mutually exclusive. That's what we
wanted to investigate:
the mechanism that allowed
that exact dissonance between what
we believe and how we behave.
So you taught Reuben the art of cold
reading,
rented an office
and stuck an ad in the local press.
Yeah. Tuesdays and Wednesdays.
Took money from people.
To pay the office rent.
Well, there's the best part of two
grand left over.
Reuben reckoned there was no
difference between him or any other
clairvoyant.
Apart from he knew
it was nothing more than a trick.
He still helped them.
Do you have any idea how lonely it
feels?
Having this discussion
without him to back me up.
If you want to know what loneliness
feels like, ask his wife.
And she could have done with
some of that money.
Were you having an affair with him?
No.
Do you have any idea who his clients
were?
He kept an appointment book.
I never saw it, never knew their
names.
Why would you? They weren't
important. They were only subjects.
That appointment book
wasn't in Reuben's office.
Maybe he kept it at his flat.
Take a look.
Was she lying, do you reckon, about
an affair?
Not sure but I do think she loved
him.
Vicki's defence of Reuben was that
he knew he was exploiting people.
That's disturbing.
I'd find it more disturbing if he
actually believed he could talk to
the dead.
Vicki was with Reuben all the time.
His wife Polly hardly ever saw him.
But would that give her
concrete motive for killing him.
Come on, we're going to
the Natural History Museum.
Meet Kanan Dutta.
Kanan Dutta?
The Oxford Campaign for Assisted
Dying.
He works there.
This Dutta, who did he lose?
A teenage daughter in a diving
accident.
She was in a persistent vegetative
state for a year.
Why do you think it's personal?
Most advocates of euthanasia
have seen a loved one suffer.
It overwhelms their belief
in the sanctity of life.
Sorry for the delay in getting back
to you.
I presumed you'd
got in touch about the campaign.
No, that's not what this is about.
We've been investigating a murder
where, to all intents and purposes,
the victim's been put to sleep.
Our pathologist says it has
all the hallmarks of euthanasia.
Most murder is unplanned and
violent. This was planned and
pain-free.
Sedated with barbiturate,
murdered with Etorphine.
That's a bit over the top.
A single drop can kill a man within
seconds.
Are you familiar with the drug?
My wife and I used to work
as conservationists in Angola.
We often used it to anaesthetise
large animals.
Elephants mostly.
The barbiturate was in a slice of
cake.
Barbiturates are traditionally
bitter-tasting.
A sweet cake would disguise that.
So the victim was given cake?
Sedated and then killed?
Are you sure it wasn't
some form of mercy killing?
He wasn't killed immediately.
We have reason to believe he
was kept alive for some time.
The whole point of euthanasia
is to prevent prolonged suffering.
It sounds like your murderer knew
the technique and callously abused
it.
I'm sorry but Katherine, my wife, is
waiting.
Was there anything else?
I'm sorry, by the way, about your
daughter.
It must be, well...
Just trying to remember her as she
was before.
Celebrate that, you know.
What was she like?
She was so...
full of energy.
She came on all our conservation
trips from the age of five.
And after the accident, we convinced
ourselves there might be a miracle.
Classic denial.
But as time dragged on, we soon
realised that all that lay ahead
for Jo was just lying there.
Wired up to some machine.
Feeling God knows what.
Terrified maybe.
We knew that her life
was being needlessly prolonged
but we were refused permission
to do anything about it.
We wanted to protect her,
spare her from suffering.
Any parent would feel the same.
We brought her home.
It just felt like the right thing to
do.
And then fate intervened.
A chest infection.
Not many people in our situation
have that blessing.
My wife torments herself about it
every day.
Why weren't we able to do anything
to help her.
Whereas you've found a way to move
on.
At least keep moving.
And you still think it's wrong
to want to put somebody out of their
pain?
Just because I'm uncomfortable with
it doesn't make it wrong.
Who are they?
Detectives.
I don't like the police hounding us
at every turn.
It wasn't about the campaign.
They just had some technical
questions about a murder case.
How was your morning?
Well, I made it.
To the hairdresser's.
They had no idea what to say.
Which makes a change.
Why keep the clairvoyant
experiment a secret?
Crane likes to have his imprimatur
on everything.
The plan was to do the research
without anybody knowing about it
and then make a big splash in their
own right with some kind of book.
But why didn't he tell his wife?
Were Reuben and Vicki
more than just colleagues?
Not according to Vicki.
Somebody went to his office with
the sole intention of scaring him
half to death
before finishing the job off
with an animal tranquiliser.
There must be some significance
to the way he was killed.
Well, he abused a lot of
vulnerable people's trust.
We need to know who they are.
Here, listen to this.
National DNA Database has got an ID
match on a hair follicle found in
Reuben's office.
Belongs to a Justine Skinner.
She's in our system for breaking into
a neighbour's house and killing their
cats.
Bring her in.
Yeah, I'll do that. You go back to
Reuben's flat.
Check that Uniform didn't miss
anything.
OK.
Reuben's death, yes.
I hope this won't compromise things
too much.
As you can appreciate, I've...
Thank you, Vicki.
You won't find anything.
The college have cleared it out.
All trace of us gone.
Like we were never here.
Where are you living now?
My mum's.
It's fine.
Except the fact she's there.
I want to have good memories
but all I can think about is him and
Vicki.
I hate the thought of her grieving
for him.
She has no right.
You took your time.
You were expecting me?
Yeah, Reuben told me you'd come.
I didn't find anything.
Except for Polly Beatty.
She's not in a good way.
Is this the woman
that killed the cats?
Yes. She was arrested for burglary
and criminal damage just under a year
ago.
She broke into her neighbour's house
and lethally injected four cats.
CPS decided not to prosecute because
of her mental health issues at the
time.
Maybe she's had a relapse.
Turned her attention from cats to
people.
Reuben came to me not long after he
passed.
He told me you'd need my help.
Justine, the questions I'm about to
ask you have nothing at all to do
with the spirit world.
Do you understand?
I'm not stupid, Inspector.
We know that you visited Reuben
on the day he died.
Why was that?
I wanted to talk to my mother.
My channels were blocked.
I get angry, you see.
No good for anyone.
So I thought I'd try new blood.
But he was no good.
A charlatan with a fake name.
How did that make you feel?
When you found that out.
Disappointed.
I told him so, too.
He won't tell me how he was killed.
He was given a lethal injection.
Sound familiar?
I wasn't well.
What did you use to put your
neighbour's cats to sleep?
I can't remember.
I had blackouts.
Daze.
Grief.
Drink.
Anger.
It all broke down.
Who were you angry with?
I was my mother's sole carer
for 25 years.
She had cats.
Four of them.
When she died,
she gave them to the neighbour
and everything else to Cats
Protection.
Left me with nothing.
I could hear them next door.
Mewling, taunting me.
So I broke in.
I did to those cats what I wished
I'd done to her.
She let me down.
Reuben Beatty let you down.
And now I can't get rid of him.
Are you OK?
Justine? He's trying to tell me who
killed him.
There's a woman in danger.
Who?
Such anger in his office.
Someone wants him to feel terrible
fear.
A woman.
No. No. A man.
Justine, if you're trying to
throw me off the scent here...
I know him.
He's a psychic.
Frank. Frank...
McLean.
Thanks for coming all the way out
here at such short notice.
You're worried about being seen with
me.
No of fence but you look like a
policeman.
Oh, dear.
Promise me this stays off the
record.
That I'll be safe.
It's about Reuben. You want us
to find whoever killed him, don't
you?
You loved him, didn't you?
Three weeks ago
I was asked by Professor Crane
to help him devise an experiment
for an external agency.
What sort of experiment?
Sleep deprivation.
And how it affects willpower.
Breaks it down.
And the external agency?
Let's just say... there's military
involvement.
Whose military?
Ours, the state, private contractor?
And for what purpose? Torture?
I honestly don't know.
Reuben got wind of the project
and told Crane he thought it was
unethical.
He was probably right
but I think he was just pissed off
Crane asked me to assist and not
him.
Because he'd miss out on a fee?
It was more of an ego thing.
How did Crane feel about Reuben
finding out?
Reuben told Crane, if he didn't pull
out, he'd go to the department board
with a complaint.
And that would have stopped
the project?
I don't know.
It might have been enough
to jeopardise Crane's involvement.
So what are you telling me?
Crane had Reuben killed
in order to silence him?
You told me that Reuben
was killed using two drugs.
Barbiturate and Etorphine?
Mm.
Well, some barbiturates are used
to form the basis of so-called
"truth drugs".
Used by intelligence organisations
all over the world.
Isn't it possible that they used
that to find out what Reuben knew
about the project?
And killed him
when they realised he knew too much.
Why didn't you tell me this before?
I've never felt this scared before.
Some of us don't have the safety net
of life after death.
I should go.
Do you want a lift?
No.
I can't be seen with you.
Hello?
Frank McLean?
Who wants to know?
Detective Inspector Lewis.
You want to talk to me about
Randolph James?
Er, yeah.
Present your warrant card to the
camera.
Lovely place.
Business is clearly good.
I never subscribed to the belief
work should be its own reward.
I much prefer actual money.
You must be very good at what you do.
We're the only creatures aware
that life has a beginning, a middle
and an end.
Every life has a story
and for a small fee I help my
clients find a shape to theirs.
Using psychic ability?
Whatever you take me for, Inspector,
don't take me for a fool.
You and I both know that I'm one
step up from the fairground.
The skill lies in presenting
the logical as mystical.
For example, how did I know why
you've come to see me?
Because I've got a notorious website
on which I'm roundly critical of
fellow "practitioners".
And I also assume
you've seen my latest blog post.
I haven't, actually.
"Randolph James.
A terrific stage name
that sadly wasn't matched
by his cold-reading skills."
Unless we maintain a certain
standard, we all get tarred
with the same brush.
Someone's got to sort the wheat from
the chaff.
And that's you?
I don't trust anyone else.
In this world or the next.
I take it you know that
Randolph James has been murdered?
I heard a whisper, yeah.
So when did you post this?
Tuesday night.
If you didn't know about it,
how come you're here?
Did somebody point you in my
direction?
I'm not at liberty to say.
Keith Poland?
Liz Burkewood?
Jodie Osbourne?
Justine Skinner?
Randolph James' real name
was Reuben Beatty.
How hostile did you really feel
towards him, Mr McLean?
When did you visit him?
I always go twice.
The first to check them out
and the second to confirm my first
impression.
I afforded Randolph the same
courtesy.
And then I destroyed him.
What?
Online.
Aye.
I don't think Frank McLean's our
killer.
He needs phoney psychics
to prop up his self-esteem.
How was your secret meeting?
Worrying. Meet you outside
the Department of Psychology.
Yeah.
What's this about?
Crane was devising
a secret military experiment.
He wanted Vicki on board but not
Reuben. Reuben threatened to
sabotage it.
What kind of experiment?
It means that Crane, Vicki
or whoever Crane was working for
had ample reason to want him out of
the way. Yeah, but what...?
Oh, isn't that... That's Vicki.
Vicki, can we talk?
Vicki!
Excuse me.
Vicki!
Vicki!
Look after her.
Help me.
What's the matter?
Someone get an ambulance, please!
Tell me I'll be OK.
You'll be fine.
Get an ambulance, please!
I'm frightened.
Pray with me.
When she told me about Crane,
she was scared for her life.
You know, we're no different, you
and I. Except your subjects aren't
criminals or liars.
Anyone make out if they're male or
female?
Why did you go to Reuben's office
the day he was murdered?
Who was that?
What do you want?
You see anything? Nothing.
Professor Crane!